Flickering lights from below made me feel as if I were descending into the Inferno itself. The odd collection of smells and bizarre chanting did nothing to dispel that image.

I was almost to the bottom of the stairs when a voice, this time in English for the most part, cut through the chanting. It was a strong voice, one I had heard before, except now it had an odd, gurgling echo as if something inside it were repeating every word it said.

The voice of Morgan Price intoned: “The Pathway has been established; the Sacrifice is made ready. Prepare, oh great Lord Tenjgrath, Ruler of the Void, to come to us and grant us a taste of your vast power so we may ease your eternal loneliness!”

Several other voices repeated this.

Then the words that spurred me into motion came: “Let her blood open the Vortex so that you may enter our world!”

I burst out onto a scene that was more bizarre and marginally less terrifying than what my imagination had put together. In addition to the expected players - Morgan Price, old man Mercotti, Dominic Mercotti, Carmine Gorman, and Vincent Dacosta, I also recognized Mayor Carlton Scanlon, Justice Carlos Santiago and Police Commissioner Nathaniel Whelan. Santiago was the only real surprise - for the first six of his nine years on the local bench, he had been one of the fairest and most honest judges in the city. Then, suddenly, he changed - he started letting connected suspects skate on warnings or minimal fines while the less fortunate had the book thrown at them. There were rumors of an investigation into his behavior being initiated, when suddenly he was appointed to fill a vacancy on the state Supreme Court. And now he was here…

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Dominic stood off to the side; each of the other men except Morgan Price stood at different points of what looked like a seven-pointed star carved into the floor. At the center was a seven faced stone slab with the flat side facing the stairs I had just come down. On top of the slab, spread eagled with her hands and legs in metal cuffs built into the stone, was Carol. She was still gagged, but somehow they had put her into a white dress of some sort, a dress that was already torn and stained from her constant struggling.

Flying - yes flying! - above her with what looked like a whirlwind surrounding his useless, shriveled legs and supporting his portly torso, was antiques dealer Morgan Price. In one hand he held a wicked looking dagger with a wavy blade that looked serrated on one side. The other held an ancient book of some sort. I was not sure then and even now, but it looked like he had a third arm that showed up to turn the page but then vanished.

In front of the slab - altar? - I saw something that looked mostly like a wolf, but with longer legs, dark red fur, and smoke coming from its nostrils. I had a strong hunch this was the source of the wound that so distressed our Medical Examiner, though I somehow doubted she would accept my word on this matter at the moment.

Heck, I was not sure that I would accept my word on the matter at that moment.

Anyway, seeing this tableau (see? I did pay attention in English class. Or was that art class?), I knew I had to do something… so I did what felt right, and natural, and fully bone-headed.

I charged down the stairs, and, in my loudest voice, declared: “all right, everyone, hands in the air. You are all under arrest!”

At least I got their attention…