Grant was carried through an air conditioned building on the back of a strong armored man for several minutes. He tried to sense the building's layout with feeling and sound since he couldn’t even make out lights from under the black hood his captors had put on him. They didn’t go up any stairs or into any elevators. Grant heard them pass through several automatic doors.

The man carrying him stopped. “Don’t struggle,” he said, and Grant felt himself being cuffed to a table. He fought to keep his cool. He wondered if he was laying on an operating table for torture.The hood came off.

Grant glanced to the left and right and saw that his companions were strapped to tables just like his. They were in a brightly lit room with plain concrete walls. He could just barely make out the glass walls behind him by craning his neck.

“Terrific,” Grant grumbled.

The tables they were strapped to suddenly began to tilt forward like the chairs dentists put their patients on. Grant was spun around slowly to face the glass wall. On the other side was an audience sitting in rows of what could only be described as movie theatre seats. Grant felt like a death row inmate. He felt nervous for the others and humiliated.

“Dammit!” he heard Roruke swear. His friend was struggling against his restraints and was positioned furthest away from him. There was an armed guard on either side of their little display room.

“Rourke stop it,” said Estelle. “Even if you broke free these two genetlement here will simply put you in your place at gunpoint.”

Grant eyed the man to his left guarding a solid looking door. He had a pistol holstered at the hip and wore heavy tactical gear. In his hand he gripped an MP5K submachine gun.

From off to the side a bald man in an off putting priestly gown stepped onto the stage right below their display room.

“Welcome brothers and sisters,” the priest said, his voice amplified by a microphone he was wearing. “We are all very lucky to witness this historic event in our century old organization. As you all know we have been brought together by a common purpose. That purpose has always been to serve the prophetess. For too long she has been lost to us, trapped within a painting. Though heretics these young persons before you may be, we must be grateful to them for brining the prophetess to us. Even unbelievers can be put to good use by the gods.”

“What are you going to do to us?” Estelle demanded. The priest ignored her, though Grant wasn’t sure if he could hear through the glass.

“Bring out the prophetess!” the priest ordered, waving his right hand.

Two men in suits rolled the painting on a mobile display onto center stage. Many men and women in the crowd averted their eyes likely out of a sense of reverence.

“Don’t tell me the prophetess is that thing we saw back home,” said Sophia. “But it got out!”

“I saw something strange in the basement,” said Grant. “I don’t have time to explain but I think the woman in the painting and this prophetess might be two different beings. I can’t say for sure though.”

Grant couldn’t make out clearly what was going on with the painting facing away from him but the priest seemed to be caressing the surface of the artwork while mumbling nonsense.

“Yes!” the priest wailed. It was a sensual wail that sent a shiver down Grant’s body. “It seems the ritual has been partially completed!”

Grant exchanged alarmed looks with Sophia. Clearly they were both thinking of Franklin.

“My god,” said Sophia. “Franklin brought out a monster. There was an actual woman inside.”

“Franklin might want to reconsider his commitment to the relationship after he sees her,” said Grant, almost wanting to laugh despite the situation they were in.

Rourke was still struggling against his restraints. The guards themselves seemed invested in whatever the priest was doing. They made no attempt to stop Rourke.

“Rourke just quit it,” said Estelle wearily. “You're just making a fool of yourself.”

“Grant!” Sophia squeeked.

Everyone fell silent and all eyes fell on the painting. Grant could make out a pair of thin pale, pasty skinned feet landing gently on the stage. He watched with morbid fascination. He could not help but be curious as to what the priest and then men and women in the audience was going to do next.

Grant’s mouth almost fell open. The entire crowd was undressing. The priest himself undressed as well. Within ten seconds everyone man and woman beyond the glass was naked and staring with reverence at the woman who had been released from the painting.

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“Take us!” the priest cried out, spreading his arms.

“Take us!” the crowd repeated in unison.

“Grant I’m scared,” Sophia whispered.

Grant swallowed. “Yeah me too.”

The woman extended her hand towards the priest who had his eyes closed and was posed for an embrace. Her head shot forward and bit right into the man’s face before pulling back. The priest fell back, a hole left where his nose should have been and deep puncture marks in his neck from the woman's nails.

“Oh shit,” said Grant.

The painting fell over, giving Grant a clearer view of everything on the other side of the glass. The woman had leapt into the crowd and was now tearing into everyone in sight. Men and women were tossed and ripped apart like confetti. Everyone was screaming and fighting to get to the exit.

“Security to the auditorium!” the guard next to Grant screamed into his radio. “I need a tactical--just send everyone!”

With a cry Rourke broke free from his restraints and struggled with the guard on the other side for control of his weapon.

Clearly startled by everything that was happening so quickly, the guard beside Grant fumbled at his weapon. He managed to raised his weapon before a bullet took him in the head.

“Christ,” said Grant, staring down at the man as his body toppled to the floor.

Within half a minute, Roruke had everyone freed. The massacre on the other side of the glass continued on. Grant tried not to look.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” said Estelle, as Rourke passed her a pistol. Grant picked up the submachine gun.

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” said Grant. “We didn’t go up or down on any stairs of an elevator so the exit should be on the same level as us.”

Grant inspected the guard that Rourke had just shot and snatched up a keycard. The door that led out of their display room was not electronically locked but Grant figured it would be of great use later.

“Stay together,” said Grant, as he led them out the door.

“Sure you can find us a way out of here?” Estelle asked.

Grant let out a low nervous laugh. “I have a feeling the people that brought us here are heading the same way. Right now the woman from the painting is the real threat. I’m going to see Franklin after we break out. He owes us a proper explanation.”

“You think my brother’s been keeping something from us?” said Sophia.

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

The hallways of the building they were in looked no different from the typical hallways of a city office building. Ravaged corpses lay on the floor. Estelle stooped down to check for survivors to no avail. They came to a pair of electronically locked doors. Grant noticed a black keycard scanner. He took out the card and held it out. The doors opened with a beeping sound. As he stepped through he noticed several rows of thin strip plaques on the wall to his left.

“We are on the right track,” said Grant. “It’s this way to the loading bay. We must arrived there.”

The sound of gunshots, muffled as they came through the walls, reach Grant’s ears.

“Looks like these people weren’t expecting this from their prophetess,” said Grant.

“We better hurry before it finds us too,” said Sophia.

The continued down the hallways quickly yet cautiously before finally reaching the loading bay behind the building. As Grant approached the driver’s side the armored van parked there he noticed a man in tactical gear slumped in the driver’s seat.

“Hey!’ Grant barked, raising his weapon. “Step out!”

The man stirred. He seemed to be injured. “D-don’t shoot!” he stammered. “I don’t have any fight left in me. Passed out before I could drive off.”

“Get out,” said Grant, throwing open the door.

“OK ok,” said the guard, slowly exiting the vehicle. “Just take it easy.”

Grant pulled him to the ground and kept the submachine gun trained on his back. “I’m going to ask you some questions and you're going to answer them.”

The guard groaned. “Ok ok but make it quick. I feel cold.”

“Who are you people exactly and what is the painting really? Who is the woman in it?”

The guard sighed and winced. “This place is like a cult hideout disguised like an innocent office building. I’m part of a mercenary group hired by the cult to search the globe for any leads on the Grace of the Fountain. The story goes that the young lady in the painting is named Gabriella. She was...sealed in the painting by a man jealous of her fiance. He wanted her only to himself so he trapped her in the painting with the help of a demon. They share a body in a sense. The painting anchors the demon to this world but also keeps Gabriella from leaving.”

Grant remembered the look the woman in the painting gave him. She was trying to warn him about the demon. “But the demon is free. So why hasn’t Gabriella come out?”

“Its power is also keeping Gabriella from leaving. Look I don’t understand the details and mechanics of it that well alright? Maybe the high priest--”

“The high priest is dead,” Estelle interrupted bitterly.

“Oh,” said the guard. “Well shit. Fucking bitch of a demon got me good too. At this rate I may be following him.”

“No, you're going to serve justice,” said Grant. “I’m calling emergency services. You got a phone?”

“No, but there’s an on board computer in the vehicle.”

Grant peeked into the van and saw that there was indeed a military grade laptop positioned on a little dock. The keys were also already in the ignition.

“Let’s go,” said Grant, signalling to the others with a jerk of his head. “Get inside.”

“What about the painting?” Sophia asked as Roruke and Estelle hopped into the back of the van. Shouldn’t we take it with us?”

Grant snorted. “You want to go back inside and get it?” More gunfire from within the building sounded off. “Be my guest!”

“Right,” said Sophia, and quickly hopped into the van.