Necro Device

By Riott Night

Mary and John Hilt are hired to restore the Mandiev mansion isolated between four surrounding towns. In the past, the Mandiev brothers had a fatal accident which killed hundreds of local citizens. The event marked the beginning of a device that would control its creator and the community for years to come. Mary will soon discover the madness that spawned from its awakening and unravel the deadly secret behind the device. The Necro Device is a mystery, suspense thriller loaded with hidden agenda, multiple twists, and a diabolical plot. It all begins with a betrayal, a machine, and a darker intent...
It has a purpose

• Language: English
• Publisher: Riott Night
• Release date: Jan 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215129319

Riott Night

"The only freedom you truly have is in your mind, so use it." - M.T. DismukeRiott Night/MT is an American Thriller Author born in Vicenza Italy. He's now lived in Colorado for over 35 years and has studied Electronics, Software and Industrial Engineering. He began writing at a very young age which included interactive stories, computer games, campfire tales, and short stories. After receiving his college degree, he focused more on writing. In 2003 he wrote his first novel the Necro Device which later would become his first published novel in 2011.Crypto donations on Free downloads go to Riott/MT and are greatly appreciated:Bitcoin: 3NB8ifH3nLdthJ4wvhMT4SHSq294oTCqaHDoge: DGDJupRwD12C2AXhCgSCBrqCLU8LSyPSuCEmail: [e-mail]

Book preview

Chapter 1

Thirty-three years ago on a starlit night with the smell of roasted peanuts, children ran about with their hands filled with delicious candies. Mystical sounds of music filled the air from a small hometown popper band, and the glow from a distant moon faded on the face of a large man standing in front of an enormous big top.

Step right up... Step right up, the burly, farmer clown yelled to a surrounding crowd while waving his work gloves in the air. Come see the one and only, the annual performance of the Mandiev brothers!

Patrons gathered around him dropping money into his leathery hands, each hoping to be the first inside to see the show that had made headline news across the nation. Meanwhile, men and women wearing silly, baggy outfits walked around juggling burning torches. Venders sold homemade candies and kettle popcorn that smelled so delicious that it drained the mouth of its drooling fluids. Standing inside one of the smaller tents was a tall puppet master wearing a black trench coat. He had a ragged, dark beard and thick, hairy eyebrows which looked as if they’d crawl right off of his forehead. He dangled doll-like figurines from a cross and skillfully induced lifelike movement into them. Sparks of hidden amusement filled his eyes as he had them kill one another. A grin of insidious evil wrapped about his face when the dolls came to their end.

Beyond the small tents towered two torches that designated the big top’s main entrance. As people gathered, some alone and others hand in hand, they began to fill the entrance way, shoving and pushing, until there was standing room only. Then from behind the tent there was a loud burst of noise. A large sparkly object shot into the air at an amazing speed, and with a final explosion, it expanded into a breathtaking shower of green and red sparkles. Once the last spark fizzled and faded into a young mind’s memory, the band broke the silence with an alarming introductory song, indicating the start of the show. The doorway lifted open and whispers rose to a roaring cheer. As everyone swarmed the entrance, the puppet master began yelling, This surely will be their finest performance of all time! Haa hee… eee.

Through the eyes of a child, the interior of the tent was godly in size. Ropes and nets were strung across it, and towering to the roof were several large wooden pillars. The arena was divided by three separate rings for performers, and surrounding them were crates filled with spectacular looking objects that glittered. In the rear corner there was a backstage that held even more items which were even more breathtaking than the others. The splashing colors of gold and red made the entire tent look magical, and the sparkling yellow banners spread across both ends of the tent gave it that flashy Las Vegas feel. Several oil torches flickered from all corners of the arena casting a web of shadows over the roof, and while the tent continued to fill up, a group of men, sadly disguised as clowns, gathered near the backstage.

…is all in place? The first of the clowns asked.

Yes but... but, I’m not sure if all will go well.

What! What do you mean you’re not sure?

Well I did as planned, but I fear that with the size of this audience that something… something might go wrong.

If anything screws up it’s your ass, not ours! A third clown yelled.

I know! I know. Well if we all stick to the plan, things will be fine.

Just make sure your part is done correctly and mine will be as easy as plucking a head from a doll… Haa hee… Eee. The first clown replied.

As the last of the patrons entered the tent, a quick scan brought sadness to their faces knowing that a seat of choice was no longer an option, so they squeezed in any available space, even at the base of the stands. Soon after, when all had designated a spot, the bands melody came to an end. Whispers replaced idle chat, and everyone soon gave in to the power of silence.

The torches slowly became dimmer, and a shadowy figure emerged from the backstage, into the spotlight, and approached center ring. Wearing a shiny, black cape and top hat, the Ringmaster stopped in the center ring, waiting patiently. Seconds felt as if minutes, and with everyone at full attention, he raised a microphone to his mouth and began speaking.

Welcome one and all to the event of a life time... The annual, the must see show of the year, the show that has made front-page headlines across the world... Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you… Removing his top hat, he whisked it into the air, the Mandiev Circus!

At that final note, a shower of silvery sparks filled the center stage, and four large fiery balls of gas ballooned to the roof, breaking the code of silence. A large glittering banner marked with the Mandiev insignia, an M overlapped with a V, unrolled from the top of the tent, and the audience roared with cheers.

Meanwhile, buzzing around the ring, stagehands began construction on things to come. Laughter burst from the audience as clowns played tricks on one another. Dogs and cats ran wildly in circles around the Ringmaster, and the crowd laughed at his silliness as he ran around chasing them off. Dancers dressed in dazzling costumes began swarming the arena, and soon after, the chaos faded and a parade emerged. Beautiful women blew kisses, clowns tossed candy, and men ten feet tall all waved as they paraded by. They marched their way around the tent and stopped at the backstage, forming a line.

And now… The Ringmaster shouted, The stars of the show! Cheering sprang forth, yelling and whistling from excitement, and when it calmed, he continued, Feared across the land… a man who put the dare into devil. A man who has no understanding of the word fear! It is my pleasure to introduce to you… Marcus Mandiev!

Fireworks soared from all corners of the arena when suddenly a loud crashing sound echoed from the top of the tent. A man slammed into a high-beam and fell, tumbling toward the ground. He kicked and screamed frantically. His cries called to the audience for help, but nobody dared look into his eyes. And with a final lash, he repositioned his body into a headfirst dive.

The audience screamed in horror as he soared toward the ground. The stagehands covered their faces in terror as if something major had gone wrong. The Ringmaster began yelling, screaming at stagehands. The madness was too much, and the faint of hearts could no longer watch. They covered their ears and closed their eyes. And within the final moment, men, women, and children all turned their heads away, and for those who continued to watch, they gazed on in shock as he spread his arms open like wings.

Moments passed but no sound of shattering bones could be heard, and the silence exploded into cheering. Dressed in a full suit of sparkling yellow and black, Marcus Mandiev dangled in mid-air by a rope. His dark-hair hovered above the ground only a few inches, and he blew a double-handed kiss to the audience.

And that ladies and gentlemen… The Ringmaster shouted. Is why Marcus Mandiev is the world leading Daredevil!

Still in disbelief, the audience cheered and clapped for him. Marcus, still swinging, bent upward and with a flip of his wrist, the rope was undone, and he displayed a magnificent dismount landing feet first and bowing. The audience, still mesmerized by his accomplishment, continued to cheer at the spectacular event they had just witnessed.

Once again the Ringmaster spoke, You’ve felt the winters chill… You’ve felt the burn of bitter cold… But ladies and gentlemen, have you ever felt a temperature so cold that your very eyes became frozen? Well I would like to introduce a man who has; a man who has the most recorded cases of frostbite. The ice cold… Christopher Mandiev!

Stagehands struggled to drag an enormous cauldron of boiling liquid into the center ring. Ice crystals began forming on the rim, and a gassy substance curtained down its sides, creeping over the entire arena. The cold, gaseous cloud quickly lowered temperatures to that of a chilled biosphere. The band played a slow melody, and lights began flashing throughout the tent. But Christopher still did not appear, and the audience became impatient with whisper.

Minutes continued to pass and whispers rose louder. Finally, the low toned music began rising to a suspenseful haunting tone, and in the cauldron, an image slowly emerged from the gassy surface. A shiny bald head, glistening from the lights, drifted higher above the surface followed by two silvery eyes. Once at full stand, his body shimmered with spectral power, and he placed both hands upon the ice encrusted rim of the cauldron. Slowly and in flawless motion, he lifted his entire body up and out of the cauldron to an upside down position. Streams of freezing gas flowed from his sparkling blue suit towards the ground. Ice shards snapped beneath his clenching hands, and with a quick flip, he spun forward from the pot landing before it. He peered into the front row of the audience.

The front row shied away as he raised both of his clammy hands above his head and leaned closer toward them, and with a release of untamed power, he pounced toward them, throwing his arms back and letting out a hissing growl. Gas flowed from his mouth, and his silvery eyes penetrated their fears. The entire row lashed back, but all he did was take a deep, chilling bow.

And that ladies and gentlemen… is Christopher Mandiev! The Ringmaster yelled, breaking their trance.

He then continued, The fear for life… The fear of death… What if, life and death are already known? What if, one man can change the outcome? A man who can see into your mind, your future, and your death! Ladies and gentlemen... It is my honor to introduce… The teller of fortune... The mind bender… Phillip Mandiev!

The torch-light slowly dimmed and darkness swept over the entire tent while backstage two other torches burst into brilliant flame. Flickering with reflected light, a hooded figure approached center ring. His black outfit hung low to the floor, covering his feet. He wore a long, golden cape that rippled in the wind behind him. His movement was swift, and it seemed as if he floated across the arena as he slowly approached center ring.

Slowly Phillip Mandiev removed his hood revealing his stern face and shoulder-length black hair. Raising an eyebrow, he studied the anticipating crowd in question. For he who is willing to die... And for he who is willing to kill... Please step down to my presence.

A man stood up from his seat and yelled, Me! I’ll do whatever and show everyone that you’re all nothing but a bunch of freaks! He stumbled slightly.

The crowd looked upon him as if he, the drunken one, was the only stupendous being in the entire gathering to speak up. Awkwardly, he forced his way toward the center ring shoving those close at hand out of the way. Confronting Phillip, he stood tall and untarnished in his presence.

Phillip Mandiev focused and in thought, gazed upon him as a barrier of silence shielded the arena floor. The drunken man glared back into Phillips eyes and staggered toward him splattering tongue riddled spit onto his face as he spewed a whisper, Do what you will but the night will be ours. You filth! And with that final exhaust of toxic air, he began to wheeze.

Phillip, unscathed by his words, extended his arms before him. Staring deep into the drunken man’s eyes, he began chanting in whisper. Opening his fists, two chrome spheres dropped into view and hovered; one below each of his palms. Moving his hands back and forth before the drunken man, the spheres began rotating. With his eyes locked upon the man, Phillip whispered, Feel… My… Pain…

Suddenly, the man belched in pain. His heart pounded in chaos. He grasped his chest and fell to the ground straining for air. The audience jumped to their feet in shock as he arced forcefully on the ground with his chest expanding and contracting. He screamed in agony as his heart pounded into his ribcage, thrashing into it with force. Spewing blood-riddled spit, he begged mercifully for it to stop.

Stop this madness! A woman cried out from the audience. Stop, please stop! She pleaded.

Phillip jerked the chrome spheres from view, back into his palm, and whispered a single word, Release. The man keeled over, face first into the dirt. He was fine. There were no cracked ribs. No pounding pain. The audience only witnessed him pleading for an unseen pain to stop.

The woman raced down to comfort the man. Throwing a look of hatred back at Phillip, she helped the man to his feet and out of the arena. The audience laughed at them both as they left, but before exiting, the man turned and gazed upon Phillip, peering dead into his eye as if revenge would be his. Not noticing his glance, Phillip bowed deeply to the audience with both hands open and the chrome spheres spinning within. And with a sharp clutch of his hands, both spheres disappeared from view, and he turned, flipping his cape into the air, and returned to the backstage leaving the floor to the Ringmaster.

And now ladies and gentlemen. A wonder of eye-catching thrill is about to enter the ring. Please, I ask, do not run in panic for this amazing spectacular is controlled and all safety measures have been taken. Ladies and Gentlemen please welcome… A man who bathes in flame… A man who can withstand the temperatures of hell itself! The raging…. The Blazing… Ryan Mandiev!

Torches burned with intense flame, and the air became thick with heat. From the roof, a silky cloth unrolled to the center floor. It was three-feet in width, and it shimmered in the torch light. Stagehands scurried around it, filling the center ring with smoldering coals. Smoke began clogging the upper atmosphere, and the heat continued to increase. Stagehands lit the ring on fire, and a swirling wall of flame raced around it, stretching higher into the sky. Far above it, a man came forth onto a platform. Wearing a full body suit of red and yellow, both of his arms were blazing in fire, and like a phoenix in flight, he spread his fiery arms out and took a daring leap for the cloth. A trail of fire burst onto the cloth as he slid down it into the fiery typhoon below. A curtain of smoke engulfed the entire ring, rising to the roof, and the cloth burned in the center like a pillar of fire.

The cloth burned uncontrollably with flames fanning higher and higher. The fire reached to the roof as if the tent were next to take victim. The audience became uncomfortable as they watched the flames devour him inside the center ring. And without warning, a fireball ballooned up from the center, startling the entire crowd. A sunder of flames began bursting above and panic was over riding what the Ringmaster had warned.

The fire spread rapidly up pillars and across beams forming a burning Mandiev insignia. Smoke swelled at the roof, suffocating the entire tent. The audience began standing from their seats, ready to flee. And just as the fire seemed out of control, a blast of liquid sprang forth from the top of the tent. Mist showered down drenching the entire ring and extinguished the flames within seconds. Large vents opened in the roof, releasing the smoke. The blazing cloth burned to a brilliant flare, and then phased out. The swelling fires were reduced to smolder. And in the center ring, Ryan Mandiev stood glowing in the intense heat with both of his arms fanned out like fiery wings while the cloth spun above him reading Ryan Mandiev in bright smoldering letters.

The Ringmaster threw his arms into the air screaming, Let the show begin!

Swiftly the acts moved along. Marcus, Christopher, Phillip, and Ryan all performed breathtaking stunts. The audience was in pure awe of the marvels as the brothers masterly performed them over and over again. Each brother displayed miraculous talents, and with their combined powers, they continued to upstage their previous act. The shows were filled with showers of sparkling lights, balls of raging fire, and stunts so breathtaking that the audience could not peel their eyes away from center stage.

The night moved along swiftly and anticipation rose as the final act approached. After several minutes of preparation, huge platforms were lofted high above the left and right rings. An ice coffin was positioned into the center ring, and a large human-sized cannon was placed in the left ring. Dozens of fifteen-inch spikes with solid steel shafts were mounted in the center ring, and finally in the right ring, a huge cage was constructed. The sight was a grim one, and after a long night of heart thumping thrill, the audience was almost at ease knowing that this would be the final performance.

The crowd seemed very busy shifting about in their seats. Whispers wailed throughout the tent as if a hymn of the damned was being chanted in soft tongue. Several of the patrons began to make way for the exit taking their children with them while hundreds remained behind to witness the final death-defying act.

Stagehands rushed along fitting the last pieces in place. The Ringmaster, once again, made his final approach to center stage. Darkness covered the entire tent. Silence washed over the crowd, and a single beam of light shined down upon the Ringmaster.

Tonight’s show, ladies and gentleman, was the event shown worldwide, and here tonight… For your entertainment only… The final act! The most dangerous stunt ever performed by the Mandiev brothers. It required weeks of preparation and years of training. For the first time… The most spectacular event ever will take place in this very tent! I ask that all be patient and to remain seated throughout the entire show. Like as the night has shown… All is not what it is made out to be. So please do not panic and remain seated at all times. Pausing for a moment, he took a deep breath, Ladies and Gentleman, in the center ring I have placed a coffin of ice. In this coffin freezing water is filled to the rim. And inside this coffin, Christopher Mandiev will lay closed in an icy silence and bound by three unbreakable locks. Meanwhile, the remaining brothers will perform a breathtaking act that will require each of them to skillfully perform. Each will have a key, and each key will fit one lock. If they can perform their stunt and make center ring, they each will be able to free their brother from this prison of death. One brother will be placed inside the cannon. Another will be placed high above the right ring cage upon the platform. And the final brother will be high above the left ring cannon. Dangling above the bed of spikes, there are two swings harnessed into position. Just below them, a thick safety net. Timing is everything, and all three brothers must make center ring to remove the locks. Inside the cage we placed two roaring tigers that await any mistakes. One slip up, by all means, will be certain death.

All four brothers lined up just outside of the center ring. Each was wearing a shimmering gold suit covered with black runes. The Ringmaster bowed in a moment of prayer then looked over to the brothers. Christopher Mandiev… Will you please take center stage?

Silence captured the audience. Planting themselves firmly in their seats, they tried not to make a sound during the final act. Christopher stepped forward slowly. The lid of the coffin was removed by stagehands, and they quickly stepped aside for him. He slowly climbed upon the rim of the coffin and sat facing the audience with a firm, unbroken look.

In deep concentration, he began a ritual of breathing. In and out, he filled his lungs with air rapidly picking up the pace as if he were to overdose on oxygen itself. He eased himself down inside the coffin, the displaced water overflowed onto the ground followed by a chilling cold fog.

With his head surfacing just above the water, he took his final breath and sunk beneath it. Silence and darkness surrounded him, and a faint hum of liquid swished around as the lid clamped tightly above him. ‘Clank, Click, Snap’. The three locks latched shut. Christopher peered through his silvery eyes for one last time before shutting them.

Immediately, the lights flashed brightly in the tent. All was at stake now that the clock was ticking. Each brother, without hesitation, rushed to their designated locations. Ryan Mandiev quickly, with one hand over the other, lifted his entire body up the rope in the left ring to the first platform. Once in position, he began pulling on the towrope and bringing in the first swing.

Phillip Mandiev, moving just as swiftly, grabbed onto a rope ladder that drifted just outside the cage in the right ring and vaulted up to the second platform mounted high above the cage. The Ringmaster began yelling, Hurry, hurry! Pull in the swing! Open the cannon! Tie down the ladder!

The band played a high tempo beat that only added to the pounding of hearts. The last brother, Marcus Mandiev, made his way through the minefield of spikes to the open end of an enormous human-sized cannon. Stepping atop a small foot-ladder, he climbed inside the barrel feet first, and while inching his way down the fifteen foot barrel, he noticed that something was not right.

What the… He stomped on the platform below him. No! The cannon is overloaded!

Noticing that the platform mounted inside the barrel was several feet above the target depth, he began trying to climb back out. Inching in is one thing, but climbing back out was another. His suit was rigged to fit snug inside the barrel in order for a clean, straight launch, and it prevented him from escaping.

Get me out! Please, somebody, can you hear me! He screamed at the top of his lungs.

A shadowy face appeared at the end of the barrel and Marcus yelled to him, The cannon is overloaded! Pull the bags! Pull the bags! But the shadowy face just grinned at him evilly. ‘Clamp’ a large cap was placed over the end of the barrel and darkness filled the chamber. Noo! Marcus screamed at the top of his lungs but nobody could hear his calls.

Meanwhile, the lead brother, Ryan, watched for hand signals that all was ready. Phillip Mandiev, on the second platform, signaled to him with a nod and positioned himself into a crouched pouncing position. Dizzily far below, he tried not to pay attention to the rattling cage as mammoth-sized tigers tore into it. Looking down now, Ryan focused on a group of clowns who stood behind the cannon – specifically, the clown who held the torch.

The torch wielding clown signaled a wave back. Swiftly, the other two clowns took hold of a cart filled with bags, and at a very rapid pace, they moved it away from behind the cannon. Ryan Mandiev bowed his head and gave another hand signal to the crowd.

Breaking the silence, the Ringmaster suddenly yelled again, And now for the hidden element of surprise! He burst into a cursed laughter as he signaled for the nets to be lit on fire. Yes! Did you actually think these were safety nets? He burst out into a more hideous laughter as a raging inferno flared from the net.

Ryan Mandiev waited patiently for the clown to light the fuse, but the clown hesitated. Ryan, once again, exaggerated another hand signal. The clown scanned slowly across the tent and took a step back.

Now! A second clown raged at him. Light the cannon!

His clown smile dropped to that of a nightmarish dread. His heart thumped inside his chest with panic. And with one final scan over the tent, he sprang out with a crawling laughter, Haa Hee… Eee! He quickly positioned the torch to the fuse while the audience gasped at him in complete dismay.

Seeing the fuse lit, Ryan Mandiev launched himself high into the air, arcing on the swing, and began his timely descent. The clowns that once darkened the backside of the cannon all fled from view. Sparks fizzled from behind as the fuse slowly burned. The audience clammed up and silence swept across the tent.

Moments ticked by. Anticipation was at an all-time high, and then, all in an instant, the fifteen-foot barrel thrust back, crashing through the canvas side-wall from an explosion so enormous that it shredded the barrel to pieces and bubbled the entire tent, ripping it apart at the seams. Phillip, knocked from his perch, tumbled down into the lion cage. Spectators standing to close were sent hurling through the stands as the force swept across the audience.

The shredded, mangled body of Marcus ejected from the barrel. Darting at a tremendous speed, it skewered right through Ryan as he swung across the canopy splitting his torso in half and catapulting it from the swing. It spiraled down through the flaming net, exploding it, and plunged into the bed of steel driven stakes. Fiery net fragments burst into the air, and like brimstone, it rained down from above. The force of the cannon explosion sent surrounding fuel torches hurling into the stands, scattering flammable liquids and drenching everyone. And when the burning net fragments dropped to the ground, a roaring fire ignited. Within moments blistering heat sweltered inside, and the tent became a raging inferno, consuming everything in sight.

Children screamed for their lives. People blazing in flame trampled one another as they raced for the exits. Screaming could be heard across the fields as hundreds bathed in flame. The raging inferno consumed all leaving nothing behind except smoldering ash. And as the mayhem continued, the projectile remains of Marcus had rocketed through the upper corner of the tent. His fiery carcass soared for several meters and wrapped around a large post that stood just outside a cylinder-shaped building.

Chapter 2

Present time...

Driving along a dusty road, a white truck emerges into view with a cloud of rock and dust exploding into the air behind it. Fiddling with the radio, Mary Hilt, a thin attractive woman with shoulder-length brown hair, sits in the passenger seat. She is just over five feet tall and in her late thirties. She is tired from the drive, and she asks, Honey, are we almost there yet?

John Hilt, her husband, has a bit of scruffy look with his day old beard and a stern, natural look in his dark brown eyes. He replies, Closing in honey. It’s probably about five more miles up the road. Glancing up into the rear-view mirror, John notices his daughter’s car closing in on his truck. Why is she driving so close? I swear that girl can’t pay attention. How she hasn’t wrecked that car yet is beyond me. Remind me again why we got it for her?

Well you did promise it to her after her first year of college. Mary replies.

I know, I know. But still, you would think she’d take a bit more care of it. He quickly changes the station back to his country music and clutches onto the steering wheel tightly with both hands.

‘Clank’ a large rock flips from under their truck into the air and bounces off Felicia Hilt’s new Ford Focus.

Damn them! Felicia exclaims. Why can’t he speed up? Middle of the damn country and he’s driving like an old lady. She reaches over and turns the volume up on the stereo, jamming to a rock song.

Head banging slightly, her dark-haired ponytail flips back and forth while tapping on the steering wheel with one hand. In her other hand, she has a lit cigarette. Several papers are scattered on the floorboards of her car, and a stack of books is packed into the passenger seat. An open soft drink is set to the side of the books, close to her reach, and they all shift to the motion of the car as she guns the gas pedal, riding close behind her father’s truck.

‘Clank’ another rock spins into the air.

Felicia lets off the gas pedal and taps on the brake to avoid the rock. Her soft drink tips in the seat and some ice cubes and soda splash out. She reaches over and catches the cup with her hand accidentally stabbing her cigarette into the books, breaking the cherry off. In the attempt to grab the drink, she pulls the steering wheel to the right, and the car tears into a side slide. She stomps the brake again, and all the books slide off the seat onto the floor.

Shit! She exclaims and jerks the steering wheel back.

What in the hell is she doing now? John notices her driving in the rear-view mirror.

Felicia, reaching over to pick the books up off the floor, pushes the steering wheel to one side