Skeletal hands held him, blocking the way like entangled tree limbs in a tar pit, fingers drilling deeply into his flesh, bone touching bone, keeping him immobile as the wicked play commenced on the shore. The Jake-demon backed away from Kristin, gripping his swollen black staff, squeezing it tightly as acid-semen pooled out from the urethra and sizzled on the ground, yellow smoke, rising upon contact. Kristin, still smiling, stood and waved to Bev, blood and excrement pouring down her legs. “Come to me Daddy!” she cried happily. Bev tried to move but the skeletal hands counteracted his efforts. “Go to her, Bev. She needs you,” came a reassuring voice from beside him. Bev turned. Father Danto stood beside him, unruffled by the searing flow. He wore his collar and robe, a silver crucifix centered on his chest, glimmering despite the gloom. “She needs you. We need you. There is a long battle ahead.” Bev looked toward the shore. Rebecca Haviland was there now—she, too, naked—standing beside the Jake-demon.
