Excerpt
Dan reaches over
to his bag and pulls out his math book. In the front pouch, I notice a small
novel with a black cover. “Hey,” I say, nodding my head in the backpack’s
direction. “Whatcha reading?”
“Uh, nothing,”
he answers, shrugging his shoulders.
I put out my arms and tap my fingers together like a baby grasping at
something. “Lemme see it!”
“Nah. It’s
really nothing,” he repeats, but he’s unconvincing, and it makes my curiosity
burn a hole in my brain.
Kit’s curiosity
is piqued as well, so she stands up and moves behind the chair with the
backpack. “Now, now,” she sings. “No secrets here, Dan!” She grabs the bag from
the chair and pulls out the book. “The Satanic Bible?”
Dan quickly
shoots up from the chair, snatches the book away from her, and cradles it to
his chest as to hide the cover from us. “Shhhh…” he admonishes as he looks side
to side, assessing if my mother was in the vicinity or not.
I hold out my
hand again. “What are you reading that for?” I ask. “Give it here.”
Reluctantly, he
turns the book over to me, and I examine the cover, the spine, and the back
like an investigator studying a piece of crime-scene evidence. Only, I don’t
have on rubber gloves. I’ve known about this book. Heard about it. Knew the
story of the author, Dr. Anton LaVey, and his Church of Satan. Practically,
every youth ministry I had attended had mentioned the evil of this piece of
literature at some point in time: If you even look at the book, you can be
possessed. Being in its presence alone can have a profound effect on your
heavenly soul. Dare not open or read the pages for fear of infiltration by a
powerful demonic force. But as I actually hold the book for the first time in
my life, I feel … nothing. No fear. No wonder. No spooky taboo. I press the
book in my palms trying to feel for any ‘other-worldly’ vibrations or
indication that if I open it up I will be damned to hell. But no. Nothing. Zip.
Zilch. And more lies and deception from my past teachers come into clear view.
“Dude. It’s just a book.”
“Yeah, I know
it’s just a book,” he huffs, grabs it from me, and shoves it back into his bag.
The three of us
sit back down in silence for a few minutes.
“You okay, man?”
Kit asks, concerned.
“Yeah. Fine.”
Clearly, he’s
not.
“Where’d you get
it?” I ask.
“Why’d you get
it?” Kit emphasizes.
Dan looks behind
him and scans the kitchen again. Then, he moves his upper body slightly across
the table as if to beckon me and Kit to huddle in. We oblige him and he speaks
in a soft, hushed tone: “Thomas. This guy from my school. He got the connection
with that Ricky kid and the Knights of the Black Circle.”
“The Knights of
the Black Circle?” I ask. “What’s that?”
Dan glares at me
and holds up his arm revealing the faded black circles drawn up and down his
arm, over and over and over. I had thought they were just silly drawings borne
out of boredom, but…
“They
wanted him to read the book and know some stuff before they accepted him,” he
continues. “Thomas said he could probably get me in, too, and told me what passages
to study and shit.”
Kit’s pretty
eyes widen, and her bangs touch her eyelashes again. “He knows the Acid King?”
A sneer forms on
Dan’s lips and he nods. “Uh huh.”
“Wait,” I
protest. “What are you talking about? Who are the Knights of the Black Circle?
What’s an Acid
King?”
“The Knights…”
Dan explains, “they’re a group. Local. They do stuff. They know stuff.”
