The shadowy room was lit by many candles. A blonde girl, wrapped in a crimson blanket, lay huddled, motionless, on the bare wooden floor. She looked about Jack's age. That creepy noise seemed to be coming from a group of sinister figures in the room, dressed in dark hooded robes. Jack listened, transfixed, as the strange guttural words, seemingly only half-formed, left their mouths and lingered in the smoky air. What the hell was going on? Was this something Maski had organized, or just the way his followers got their kicks?
A stooped elderly-looking figure came into Jack's line of vision, also clad in a long dark robe – and clutching a curved knife in trembling hands. He began to intone another series of weird words and humming sounds, his voice booming with a depth and resonance that seemed at odds with his bent old frame. Even from up on the roof, Jack could sense the power emanating from him.
The girl started to twitch and jerk, like a puppet on invisible strings.
