Demons Rising

By Anthoni C. Deymt

The Spiritual world and the "Real" world have been connected since the beginning. The divine and the supernatural all have their influences, but nothing more so then the denizens of Hell. A collection of stories, including revised editions of Ancestral Vengeance and Bastion of Hell. These chilling tales describe how spirituality and reality overlap and can be found anywhere. In 5 stories, 7 mortals and 3 immortals arise in conflict, setting the stage for A Divine Awakening.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anthoni C. Deymt
• Release date: Jun 5, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463211984

Anthoni C. Deymt

HelloWelcome to my wonderful world of storytelling genius. I have been a writer for a while, but now breaking into the mainstream.I have done a huge range of jobs, and am a loving and (possibly too) doting parent, with a new baby expecting. I am also currently studying at Birkbeck College for a creative writing degree.If you like my work, please feel free to submit any comments or reviews and I hope you enjoy the escapism that is reading.

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Demons Rising

Copyright 2020 Anthoni C. Deymt

Smashwords Edition

Cover Design by Anthoni C. Deymt.

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Contents;

Ancestral Vengeance.

Medusa’s Curse.

Bastion of Hell.

The Halloween Experiment.

The Stone-Carver’s Angel.

Ancestral Vengeance.

Taihashe Seil bounded down the quiet road she lived on, accompanied by the dawn chorus. The deep dark blue of the morning sky spread above her; a few faded stars still twinkled a build-up of dark clouds in the distance. A grin stretched across her face as she opened a corner shop door to the chime of an old-fashioned bell. Inside incense burned, the smoke tickled her nose. She grabbed a can of cheap, sweet, energy drink from the cold drinks fridge and walked up to the counter at the back of the store. A journalist droned on the television.

The manhunt for the Oxford Hacker is still ongoing. The local people should be extra vigilant…

Hello Tai, you look happy. Must be better news than this. The shopkeeper pointed the remote towards the screen to mute the volume. His cheerful voice always made Tai smile. The Indian accent was very thick, but after twenty years a customer, since she got her first pocket money packet, Tai could understand it easily.

Hello Harry, Yes, a package is due from seven, I intend to be at the archives in time.

Today? What is it?

An old scroll discovered at an abandoned church in London amidst its renovation. The scroll would be perfect for my dissertation.

That’s good news. But a Sunday delivery?

Yes. The CSAD have been trying to get it for ages. I offered to pay the extra for the Sunday Courier. Time is running short, and I need to copy it and translate it today. The professor wants it for the remembrance display tomorrow.

Why would an old scroll be for that?

The church, Saint Dunstan’s in the East, was damaged during the second world war. It did not get rebuilt, the story is that funding was scarce, but rumour has it, that the church has some dark secrets, so to speak.

Well done. You were always into secrets. I remember, when you were a baby…

Thank you, Harry. Tai interrupted, Harry was prone to reminisce, only natural after such a long time. She paid the shopkeeper and turned to leave.

See you tomorrow. She called over her shoulder.

OK, Tai, have a good day.

Tai ensured the shop door had closed as she left and made her way towards the high street and to St Giles road, where the CSAD was based. She breathed in deeply the fresh morning air tingled on her tongue and mixed with the taste of toothpaste. The late autumn chill and the lack of car exhausts made the high street seem a different road before the hustle of the day began.

Three weeks ago, she had a conversation with the director of the Centre for the Study of Ancient Documents. Professor Edwyn was an elderly gentleman and had studied ancient texts for six decades.

A scroll has been discovered, hidden in the crypts of Saint Dunstan in the East, London. It was amidst the renovation of the spire, that and the remnants of the courtyard walls were the only surviving structures of a once magnificent cathedral. The courtyard has already been restored and had become church gardens, but only recently, the All Hallows House Foundation have begun refurbishment for business purposes. The director had a frustrating habit of digressing. He was the only man, Tai knew, who could turn a simple statement into a ten-minute lecture, although Harry came a close second.

I wish you would shut up,

What about the document?

Oh yes, do forgive me. The contractors discovered a loose flagstone underneath one of the sarcophagi they moved. They uncovered a brass scroll case; it turns out there were runes inscribed upon it. I believe you are familiar with such runes as part of your studies of ancient texts. I have suggested we acquire the document for your dissertation. Fortunate timing for you, and not so fortunate in-so-far as that it should be available for the remembrance exhibition. The church was almost destroyed completely during the blitz. Stories of witchcraft and of dark satanic rites circulated after the Church announced that St Dunstan’s would not get rebuilt. Theorists use this as the explanation for the turning point in the Battle of Britain. Hitler was winning but decided to cease the blitz. Something had changed his mind.

Is he patronising me? I will do the best damn thesis to prove him wrong.

Thank you for your thoughtfulness professor; I look forward to studying it.

She smirked at the memory.

Tai’s smirk was wiped clear by a burst of wind that cut through her white padded bomber jacket as she proceeded through the empty high street. Chills slithered up her spine when she heard a can rattle, kicked nearby. The sound echoed through the still morning air. There was a flicker of movement at the edge of her vision. When she snapped her head to the source, she stopped dead and studied the darkened alleyway, in-between two terraced shops. Was she being followed or watched?

What was that? Tai’s breath, misted in the frosty morning air, her skin felt clammy and cold dampness stuck her jeans to her skin, A shade...?

Nothing - she was alone.

The engine of a white van brought life back to Tai; it drove past on the road beyond the alleyway.

Well, at least I haven’t woken up to a ghost town. She smiled to herself, breathing in relief, at the ridiculousness of the idea.

She continued and paid no more heed to her thoughts after she was distracted by the waft of the bakery’s freshly baked bread. Her mouth watered and she hurried onwards, glad of the trainers she wore. It was just another morning, only earlier.

****

Greg, the courier felt strange, he was alone on the road and had no passengers, but he didn’t feel alone. Whenever he checked the mirrors, there was always a glimpse of a shadow. The brown package on the passenger seat was supposed to have a brass scroll case inside, Greg was not overly interested in what he delivers, and his job was to deliver them. The air in the cab was stuffy. The old van vibrated, it found every bump in the road and Greg felt a weight on his shoulders. The streetlights did not flicker as he passed them anymore; the early light was drowning them out. However, the clouds in the distance looked ominous. The knot of unease in his stomach fled briefly. He could have sworn he saw a shadowy shape of a man whoosh out of the cab. However, his unease returned, and he shivered.

I’m thinking like a madman.

It angered him; there was no need for the feeling of discomfort, it had been a constant annoyance since he left London, like a mosquito buzzing in your ear and being unable to swat it. He drew a cigarette from a packet on the dashboard and dropped it. Greg unleashed a torrent of expletives before he thought to draw another one from the packet. The lighter was also on the dashboard and resting his chin on the steering wheel, he quickly lit it up and inhaled deeply.

What the bloody hell is with me today? Greg thought. He genuinely could not understand his behaviour.

This is just another night and just another job.

As Greg brooded, he missed the turn-off. When he realised, another torrent of expletives burst out in full colour. He drove around a residential block to backtrack and found his way onto the main road, St Giles.

Now where’s this bleedin’ building?

He slowed to read the names and numbers as best he can to find out exactly where he needed to go ignoring the build-up of traffic behind him. One solitary person walked along the path. It was a young lady carrying a shoulder bag. Her long hair flowed, the jeans were blue and tight accentuating her slim figure. The white bomber jacket stopped on the waistline. Greg ogled her backside, watching it sway with each step. Greg’s instincts rose. When this woman turned around, Greg saw a pretty face twisted with a look of disgust; she shouted something that was drowned by some angry hoots from the vehicles behind. Greg laughed until he saw the fleeting shadow again.

The shadow flitted out of the cab window along with his passion and bubbling rage. Greg shook his