A/N: Hello, everyone…

Grandpa died while we were in New York, and he went peacefully and painlessly.  He came out of the coma long enough to say goodbye to all his children, and that is just…something, for lack of a better word.  Thank you for your prayers and your thoughts…they were much appreciated.  You should all be made saints for your understanding.  Again, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

Emerald Embers: I too am Roman Catholic, so it's all cool.  Thanks! ^_^

Fanboy: One thing I've noticed is that when people write badly, they ask for reviews.  I let the reader decide for his/herself whether the story is WORTH reviews.  And I find it hardly motivates people to say, "GIVE ME REVIEWS OR I SHALL BREAK YOUR KNEECAPS!  KNEECAPS, I SAY!!!"

Now then…I believe you all are in need of another chapter, ne?  Here you go.  I know I promised this would be the last chapter, but it got too long and I've several more scenes to write in.  Plus, I figured you'd start sending me hitmen to make me write more…heh.  But here you go, my faithful readers…another chapter.

Let the hounds sleep, they need their beauty rest.  This story will be finished before Christmas, I swear it.

Pax!
~Rumer ("I'm the master of fright, and a demon of light and I'll scare you right out of your pants…")

Autopsy Report: Chapter Sixteen

When someone's pointing a high-caliber shotgun at you at relatively close range with intent to harm/kill, you have one of three options.  You can sit there and take the shot and ultimately die.  Yeah, right.  Like I was just going to sit there and go quietly.  Wrong-o.  You can try to run, which will only make shooting you a little harder.  With blood seeping down my chew-toy of a leg, I doubted I was going anywhere without help.  Or, for the last choice, you can throw yourself towards the shooter and hope that he wasn't already squeezing the trigger.  The last option is a 50/50 chance- a gamble.  If it works, then most likely you'll come out of the struggle on top.  If it doesn't, well, then you don't have to worry.  You'll be dead before you have time to think about it.  Not much room for improvisation, but beggars can't be choosers, now can they?

Considering the situation I was in, I opted for choice number three.  I lunged at James as well as my chewed leg would allow, and despite the white-hot pain rocketing through my leg, I hit something solid.  I had slammed right into my target, and with a loud cry we hit the pavement.  James slammed the butt of the shotgun into the ground and apparently pulled the trigger, and it went off.  The round hurtled harmlessly into the night sky, and I scrabbled for the weapon.  A moment later, I had the shotgun and James was lying in the street, staring up the barrel.  Heh, how was that for turning the tables?

"Get up," I said in a voice that would have melted steel.  James stood slowly, eyes fixed on me.  "Face the wall, and lean against it with your arms."  He complied, and I suppressed a sigh.  I had him right where I wanted him.  If only I had my cell phone, I could get this guy behind bars without having to march his sorry ass to the station at gunpoint.  Yeah, they must have some law about that too…somewhere.  Buried in the state constitution.  And despite all that mess, someone manages to read it, so even if I did march him down there, I'd probably get the book thrown at me for intended assault.  Go figure.

Before I could worry more about finding suitable means of detainment, a car horn blared through the silence and a pair of bright lights pierced the night.  I let out a cry and tried to shield my eyes from the light, but to no avail.  My one moment of being impaired was all James needed, and before I knew it, I found myself being grabbed from behind, arms held tight.  Something swept my feet out from under me, and I was on my knees in a split second.  I felt James kneel on my ankles, keeping my legs in place.  The shotgun had long since fallen from my grasp; I could barely see the glint of metal in the glare of the light.  Then, as quickly as it had come, the light vanished.  I closed my eyes for a moment to adjust, and when I opened them again, I was face to face with Mary Sunderland.

Shit.

Actually, I could barely make out who it was. My sight was still full of dancing stars and spirals, so focusing was sort of out of the question. So how did I know it was Mary? Pretty simple: I sensed her. Yeah, right. Me, the average girl, sensing anything? Now, I've pretty much been normal as far as the standards go. But this was something else altogether. This was sort of a vibe. Mary's power rushed over me in a wave, washed along my skin, made goosebumps rise. And her name was written all over that little typhoon. I started to get scared, and when I get scared, I get stupid. Shit.

"Mary?" I growled, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Mary walked over from the lights to stand directly in front of me. From the position James had me in, I could only see her stiletto
heels. In my opinion, she didn't come to fight, or she would have worn different shoes. Heels are damn hard to run in. I'd done it several times before, but never fought. That thought was painful enough. So I banished any thought that Mary was going to try to hurt me. James, on the other hand, tightened his grip on my arms. He didn't confirm a thing, and that's what started to bother me.

"Kira Devereaux," Mary began in a slate-cool voice, "You shouldn't be here. All odds were against it. But here you are, and here we are, and I suppose you want an explanation."

"If you don't mind," I snarled. James pulled on my hair and I shut up. I rarely got into trouble with silence. Apparently I wasn't getting stupid quite yet.

"It's very simple, really. James, let go of her. She will stay." Complying with Mary's request, James let go of my hair and arms, and got off my calves. I staggered to my feet, and promptly fell against the wall. My leg was screaming at me to sit down, so I did. Relief washed over the bite and I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. At least I didn't pass out. Yea, Kira! But considering the situation, I'd pat myself on the back later.

"Okay…I'm not going anywhere. Tell me what's going on." I winced as white-hot pain crept up my leg, paralyzing nerves and lighting them afire. I'd have to remember to get a tetanus shot later, you never know what's in people's mouths. Animal mouths too, for that matter.

"Well, Kira, you seem to be in quite a fix. You started out doing your job, then you started to play the detective. Not a good choice. Didn't you ever watch ANY scary movies? The one who decides to investigate is the one who gets the unhappy ending. But, in any case, it's too late. You got yourself into this, and you'll have to see it out."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Kira, you've interfered with a millennia-old ritual, in which members of the Cult of Samael ritually attempt to raise him. I assume you know who Samael is."

I glared daggers at her.  "Never forget, Mary, that when you assume, you make an ass out of you and me."  Harry's words echoed in my ears.  They seemed fitting for the moment.

"You're talking like Harry.  I know you've visited him, and he is a fool.  But from your answer, you do know who Samael is.  A demon.  Well, the ritual of which I speak is very important, so important that several sacrifices are needed to make it work."

I did not like the way this conversation was going.

"The sacrifices, by law, cannot be members of the cult itself. So, we were to choose several people to become sacrifices. Oddly enough, those early sacrifices were the ones that you yourself performed autopsies on."

Oh my God…

"Earlier this year, Samael was indeed risen for the first time in centuries, and he was then banished by one Harry Mason. Why is he in the asylum? Because no one believed that he didn't kill those people, that he stopped a demon for turning the world into a hell. Well, hell in his idea. Paradise in ours. You see, both James and I are members of this cult."

By this point, my jaw was halfway to the ground and still dropping. James banished the demon, and because his story was so crazy, he was put in the asylum for it? True, the story is pretty unbelievable, but still…

"It was pretty amusing. Poor Harry had gotten into a car crash with his daughter, and when he woke up from the crash, she was gone. Shame that she was chosen to be the avatar for Samael's rebirth. Anyway, he found her, but all the same, he wound up killing her. Everyone he had met in the town died. They were all sacrifices. He was just the extra variable, and that one extra was able to make the entire thing fall apart. That made us mad, Kira. So mad that we condemned him in this life and the next, and after our anger had cooled, we decided to try again.

"However, our plans were almost ruined. Before Harry banished Samael, Samael had mistaken the leader of our cult for an enemy and killed her. So we were leaderless, until fate stepped in.

"Before we knew about Samael, I grew very sick, and James, out of mercy, decided to kill me. So he smothered me in my sleep. I died, and he lived. Later, he came to Silent Hill to find me. He had grown so regretful about his decision to kill me that he came to the town and tried to seek me out. But James didn't realize that dead is dead, and it was pointless. But somehow he survived the town, and afterwards, he became a member of the cult. He revived me with the ancient rituals and we took the lead. And then, we decided to try again to resurrect our lord. This time, not with a child, not with an innocent…but…with you."

I nearly choked. "With…me?!"

Mary nodded. "That's right. You seemed the ideal choice. You knew about Silent Hill, you knew that things were happening. But sadly, our pawn that was supposed to deliver you to us failed. She was to lure you to Silent Hill on the basis of having a body for you to dissect. Well, it happened that the body you dissected was the body of our old leader, Dahlia Gillespie. Dr. Ling was supposed to corner you and take you to the summoning circle by force, but she had a sudden attack of morality. Did you notice how shaken she seemed after you saw her for the last time? Pale? Sweating? That's because she knew what would happen to her for hesitating. That's why she committed suicide, because she didn't want to face the consequences of her actions. True, what she did was wise, because we wouldn't have killed her quickly. We would have drawn it out. It would have been long, slow, and painful."

So much for the "Miss Congeniality" nomination.

"So we decided to let you continue your work for a while, and that's where I stepped in. I had to make you come to me, and with the right clues, you did."

I found my voice. "You mean…you planted that library book? You wrote the address? You steered me here?"

Mary nodded. "That's right. By the way, did you know that you're incredibly easy to manipulate?"

Rage filled my mind and I found myself lunging out at her, to beat her senseless, to choke her, to kill her. But my leg wouldn't allow it. As soon as I started to move, jets of pain shot up my leg, and I couldn't move an inch. I had to gasp for breath and pray for relief from the pain. Me, pray? Sure. In this situation, why not?

"But…what about the girl…?"

"Laura? Oh, that's the next little surprise…" Mary knelt down next to me, her face mere inches from mine. "She's going to be our next attempt…"

My eyes grew wide. "You're going to sacrifice that little girl?!"

Mary stood up again and looked down at me. "Sacrifice Laura? Oh, no. We're merely going to give her the great honor of being Samael's host!  Perhaps she'll be a better avatar than you…or Alessa…or even Cheryl."

Cheryl…Harry's daughter…she was a sacrifice?!

I heard Harry's voice in my ear: "I predict you will be seeing my daughter soon, Kira.  I think…she will be a client."

The blind rage took over again and I lunged forward.  Before I'd gotten a foot from my starting point, I received a kick in the ribs from James, who had been standing nearby like a sentinel the entire time. I clutched at my ribcage, massaging the point where his boot had made contact. I rolled on the ground, fighting to regain my lost wind.  Tears welled in my eyes.  "I swear to God, you stupid bastards…if you hurt that little girl…I will make both of your sufferings be double hers…"  James silenced me with another kick.  Such a ladies' man.  I coughed once, and blood spattered the pavement.

"And Kira…no matter where you go, no matter who you tell, no one will believe you. We are willing to let you go, provided you leave quickly and quietly. If you refuse...we have more than one way to silence you."  Wow, James had finally decided to speak.  And those two little sentences pretty much made up for all his silence.  Still, I wondered if these promises and threats were truly valid ones.  James seemed pretty determined to beat the shit out of me no matter what I did, and Mary was more than capable of destroying me socially.

I thought it over in my head. With the blood pounding in my ears and the adrenaline racing through my bloodstream, it was amazing I could think clearly at all, but there you go.  But back to the problem: should I go away and never speak a word to anyone about a secret demonic cult that's planning on sacrificing a child to a demon, or should I try to stop it?

Take a wild guess what I chose.

Without giving myself time to think about it anymore (and ultimately decide against it), I launched myself at James. He held the shotgun, and I figured that if I had that, I could stand a chance. Before he knew what was happening, I grabbed the butt of the gun, wrenched it around, and suddenly it went off. James had somehow pulled the trigger when I jerked it around.  He screamed once, a sharp, cutting sound, and his insides were suddenly plastered against the side of the brick wall.

James stood for a moment, looked at the gun, looked at Mary, looked at me. Then he toppled over like an overbalanced scale.

I gasped for breath, feeling the rush of adrenaline flooding through my system begin to fade, and slumped against the wall, cradling the shotgun in my arms. I felt the slimy remains of James' innards as I slid my way to the pavement.  The pain began to replace the sense of euphoria the endorphins and adrenaline had provided, and, letting out a sigh of defeat, I passed out.

The last thing that went through my mind was that James' threat wouldn't be fulfilled.  Joy.

But the problem was…neither would mine.

~~~

Reviews=ONE MORE CHAPTER!!!  I PROMISE!!!…and maybe an epilogue.  *grin*