The Black Mass

This story contains blood sacrifices and other ritualistic scenes.

Black Masses

By Phillip G. Owens

William F. Jacobi was a big, middle-aged, broad-shouldered, heavyset man of medium height, with a mustache and a big, fleshy face. He was a detective-lieutenant with the Meadowbrook, Indiana, Police Department. It was a chilly Friday afternoon, October 20.

He was investigating a property that had been abandoned for several years. It was located on a lonely, backcountry road, a few miles outside of town. This morning, October 20, he had received some complaints from neighbors down the road about suspicious activities at the property, namely teenagers trespassing and campfires being spotted by the neighbors, whose properties were all hundreds of yards apart to ensure privacy, but trespassers could easily be seen, even at that distance, but at too great a distance to be recognized. These weren’t the first complaints.

He walked around the property and to the rear about fifty yards, found a small, circular area that had apparently been used for a campfire, as a dozen or more stones about the size of softballs had been placed in a circle, and the ashes of prior fires filled the middle of the circle.

Stooping, he took a nearby stick (in case there were still some hot embers beneath the ashes) and gently probed the ashes. Beneath the ashes, almost to the bottom, as if to intentionally preserve them, were the charred remains of a Catholic Bible and the Order of the Mass.

This is interesting, he thought. Why would a Bible and Order of the Mass of the same era be partially burned behind this house, ‘way out here, in the country?

“Jesus Christ,” he grumbled under his breath, as if there were anyone out there who could hear him. “Who in the Hell would burn these…and why?”

He turned to face the backside of the house. Even though it was October 20, he shivered, but he didn’t know why. Maybe it was the house that made him feel cold.

It was a huge, two and a half story, brick and stucco house, and had been built in the early 1860s by one of the first settlers to the area, a man named Elias Putnam. It was believed he was an emigrant from the Boston, Massachusetts area, but he neither confirmed nor denied it; he’d simply shrugged it off by saying. “Who knows? Maybe I am.”

The house was ell-shaped and in the crux of the ell was a tower with a rounded roof topped by a sharp point. It was at least one story above the rest of the house. Now, why was that tower that far above the rest of the house, he wondered?

As Jacobi studied it, it had occurred to him that the house had never, in his entire lifetime, been occupied. In fact, kids had never even tried to crash out there or take souvenirs from it. He wondered about that too? What had kept people away from it he wondered? He didn’t know.

As he shambled back to his private car, the sight of the charred pages of the old books came back to him. He opened the trunk of his car, took some evidence bags from a carrying case, and collected the pages and hard covers of the books, as well as other materials from the burn site, labeled, and initialed them. When he was finished, he had nearly four dozen evidence envelopes filled.

Underneath the remains of the books, he found a blackened, silver-colored but dull amulet of some kind with a demonic-looking face. It had long horns, long, pointed ears, and facial whiskers. It was connected to a beaded chain about eighteen inches long that had a broken clasp, obviously a necklace of some kind, and the person who owned it dropped it when the fire was kindled.

After he had collected the charred remains of the books and the amulet, he headed back to his office located in the police headquarters. He dropped the bags of evidence off at the forensic lab on his way. He described the location of his find to the man in charge, named Charlie Van Pelt.

“Give me an idea on how long these have been lying out there, will you, Charlie?” he asked, describing the area in which he found them. “And everything that’s in them?”

Jacobi pressed the fourth-floor button in the elevator and headed for his office.

*

He picked up a file folder and wrote his discoveries on a page of notebook paper, dated it, and inserted it into the folder.

Later that afternoon, Charlie called him with his preliminary findings. “You know that bone fragments have been found in the ashes of the previous fires?”

“Yes, so?”

“Some of those bone fragments were animal, and some were birds.”

“Go on.”

“The ashes you gave me this morning contained human bone fragments.”

“Human?”

“Yes, an infant.”

“A what?”

“Yes. Not only that, the kid was no more than a day or two old at the time of death.”

Jacobi sat straight up at this. “Charlie, you keep this under your hat, you hear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He looked up at the clock on the wall. It was nearly six o’clock. His partner, Sergeant Max Dietrich, would be home by now, so he called him.

“Yeah, whatcha need?” Dietrich asked.

“I need to come over to your house and talk to you about something.”

“Sure, come over now.”

Ten minutes later, they were in Dietrich’s den, and Jacobi was setting the files on Dietrich’s desk in chronological order. They studied the files, looking for some kind of connection. After nearly thirty minutes, Dietrich’s girlfriend, Lilith, entered the room, feeling neglected. “What’s taking you guys so long?” she asked, a little exasperated, glancing over at the files.

“Nothing,” Dietrich said nonchalantly, “we’re just going over these files.”

“Hey, that’s interesting,” she said, frowning.

“What is?” Dietrich asked.

“Those dates.”

“What about them?”

“They’re all witches' Sabbaths.”

“What,” Jacobi demanded incredulously. “Are you sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure.”

“How do you know?” Jacobi asked her.

“Because, in college, I did my historical thesis on American History, primarily in the Boston area. Anyway, I found out there are eight witch’s sabbaths each year,” she said and recited them from memory.

*

“The Imbolc, or more commonly known as Candlemas, goes from February first to the second; Ostara, which is the Spring Equinox, goes from March 20 to the 23; Beltane, also known as May Day, goes from April 30 to May 1. Litha, which is the Summer Solstice, goes from June 20 to the 23rd. Then, there is Lughnasadh, also known as Lammas, and it is only on August 1. After that, there is Mabon, also known as the Autumn Equinox, which goes from September 20 to the 23rd. Then there is Sah-win, which is spelled S A M H A I N, and that goes from Halloween to November 1, and Yule, which is the Winter Solstice. It goes from December 20 to the 23rd. Their power symbol is the pentagram, an encircled five-pointed star, with the main point pointing downward.”

“What about these ‘witch’s sabbaths’?” Jacobi asked.

“Well, they use the Catholic Mass service as an example, but instead of praying to God and Jesus, they pray to Lucifer, also known as Satan, Beelzebub, and Asmodeus. In other words, it’s a mockery of a Church Service, and they pray to the devil, not God or Jesus. And, they make blood sacrifices to the devil, starting with animals, then, as they progress, they get bigger and bigger animals, then they sacrifice humans, starting with a newborn baby.”

“What!” Jacobi exclaimed. “And you learned this studying American History.

“Yes. Well, I started studying the Pilgrims and went right through to the Civil War. In 1692, there were the witch trials in Salem Village, Massachusetts, now known as Danvers. They hanged nineteen people they thought were witches. Others died in the local jail of starvation and living in the squalor of the jail, including infants and small children.”

“She’s a smart little devil, isn’t she?” Dietrich said, grinning.

“Charlie Van Pelt said that in the first three piles of ashes were bone fragments of small animals, and in the last one were bone fragments of a newborn baby,” Jacobi said thoughtfully.

“Hey, do you think we’re going after Satanists?” Max asked.

“I don’t know, but I think we should check it out. I haven’t been to Mass in thirty years or more, but the first thing tomorrow morning, I’m going to ask the Pastor, Father Thompkins, if he knows of any devil worshipers in the area.” After a moment, he continued. “Of course, if anyone told him under the Seal of the Confessional, he’s prohibited, under Church law, from revealing it.”

“What about this…Sa-Win?” Dietrich asked.

“It translates from ancient Gaelic to Samhain and means summer’s End. It’s a big celebration in the rituals of the witch’s Sabbath.”

The three spent the rest of the night in cold silence, their appetites ruined.

*

After Jacobi returned home, he reviewed other reports of burn piles found and investigated by him and other police agencies. They, too, reported piles of ashes that contained the same things as the most recent pile of ashes Jacobi had discovered.

II

Monday morning at the office, he placed a map on a cork board and set it on a table, and leaned it against a wall. And using pins, he began to mark off the places where fires and bone fragments had been found in the last month. There had been five, and their placements made a five-pointed star, the last one pointing downward.

Good God, he thought, as he gazed at the configuration of pins on the map, the main point of the star angling downward, pointing toward the rear of the Putnam House. It’s almost as if the star was indicating the house was the high point of the map.

He was still gazing at it a few minutes later when Dietrich entered. “What’s that?” he asked, and Jacobi told him.

“Are you trying to tell me we have a witch’s coven in town?” Dietrich asked.

“I don’t know what I’m telling you. All I know is we’ve got something weird going on here, and I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either.”

III

Jacobi spent the next several days going back to the scenes of the previous campfires and sifted through the ashes. He knew the police had found the bones of a few squirrels, rabbits, and other small animals. He found at the site of the one that had been previous to the one at the Putnam House, pig bones. At first, he and the others thought the fires were set by people hunting out of season, but now, he had second thoughts after hearing what Lilith said about the witch’s sabbaths and the campfire sites being placed in a star fashion, the last being behind the Putnam House.

It was October 30, and he remembered Max’s girlfriend Lilith mentioning October 31, Halloween, as being a witch’s sabbath. He also remembered the main point of the star as outlined by the campfires pointed down at the rear of the Putnam house, and he remembered the two Putnam girls in Salem village, Massachusetts, in 1692, had accused their neighbors of witchcraft, then, themselves later confessing to being witches. He remembered Elias Putnam, the man who had built the house. It was rumored he had come from the Boston area and Salem Village, now Danvers, which was located near Boston. The distance from Danvers (or Salem Village) is approximately 33 miles, and Putnam would never reveal his origins. Could it be he was from Danvers, his own ancestors accused of witchcraft?

He didn’t know, but he resolved to go back to the Putnam house and investigate. He checked his watch. It was now eleven fifty PM. Five minutes later, shortly before midnight, he pulled into the driveway. The house looked deserted, almost desolate in the darkness.

Then he noticed a dim light within; it almost seemed to be gently flickering. Could someone have set a fire in the fireplace? No, it seemed to be coming from the center of the main floor of the house, not the living room. Where was it?

He mounted the front steps and tried the doorknob. It wasn’t locked, and he entered, flipping open the locking flap of his holster, his hand close by the gun. He crossed the foyer and entered the living room.

There was no fire in the fireplace, but, to his right, several people were gathered in the dining room, which was lit by several black candles. The people were all wearing monk’s habits, the long hoods shadowing their faces from the candlelight.

“We’ve been waiting for you, William,” a familiar voice said. A hand pulled back a hood, revealing a face on the right front of the congregation.

“Lilith!” he exclaimed.

“That’s right,” she said. “The first wife of Adam, but God found her unworthy, so He destroyed her and created Eve, a more satisfactory woman.”

“Yes,” Jacobi said. “I remember.” After a moment’s thought, he continued. “But, where did the baby come from?”

“From me,” another feminine voice said. She stepped forward, pulling back her hood, revealing her own face. “It was my baby. I offered him to my master.”

“You see,” a familiar masculine voice said. He stepped from the front of the crowd, revealing his own face. “Our master demands blood sacrifices, first animals, and then humans. The baby first, and now you.”

They all raised long, sharp knives and advanced on him.

“Oh, no you don’t!” he exclaimed.

Turning, he knocked over a candelabrum that held seven candles and fled the house, their flames igniting the carpet. As he left the porch, he turned and noticed the house was fully engulfed.

How was this possible? He wondered as he ran further away to escape the holocaust. How would the house be engulfed that fast? He didn’t know. Running to his car, he took out his cell phone and called for the fire department. Meanwhile, he could hear the people within screaming, but it didn’t sound like screams of agony or terror. It sounded more like screams of ecstasy, which puzzled him even more. How could people die in ecstasy while they were burning in a fire?

Later in the morning, as the fire marshal sifted through the ashes, he reported he found no human bones in the remains of the house.

By November 23, the day before Thanksgiving, the case was closed, and by January 1 of the next year, Jacobi retired from the force. He moved to a retirement condo in Florida and never returned.

The End