The door to the chapel creaked softly as it opened, and Dixon looked at Chad with a disbelieving expression on his face.

"Creaking old doors, seriously?" Dixon asked. "Can't they do something more legitimate for a haunted house?"

Dixon sighed in disappointment and strode purposefully toward the altar at the far end of the chapel.

Rows of pew benches were lined up on either side of the central aisle. Made from varnished wood, the benches were hard and looked very uncomfortable, but they could seat a dozen people each. Candelabras mounted on the walls near the windows provided only minimal amounts of flickering illumination. At the front of the chapel was a carved table of the same gray stone as the floor. A crimson cloth was draped over the altar, and a gold plated cross sat in the center.

"Here we go," Dixon said as he found the switch at the base of the altar. The switch was nothing more obvious than a thumb sized piece of stone sticking up from the floor. Dixon pushed it down, and a slight click sounded. The floor behind the altar sank an inch before sliding back and out of the way to reveal a set of stone steps leading down into the darkness below the chapel.

Chad knelt down at the top of the steps in order to get a better view of what was below, but he couldn't see anything.

Dixon grabbed one of the candelabras and marched purposefully down the steps.

"Man up," Dixon said over his shoulder when he noticed Chad hadn't moved from the top of the steps.

Chad swallowed hard and dried his sweaty palms on his jeans before following Dixon into the secret room.

Three feet wide pillars of stone supported the ceiling and framed the perfectly square room on all sides. Situated in the center of the space was a gargoyle crouched on a stone pedestal and looking ready to attack intruders.

The gargoyle was vaguely humanoid in shape but larger than Chad or Dixon. Layers of powerful muscles covered the stone creature, and pointed claws were present on its hands and feet. At the end of a long neck, the face of the gargoyle sharpened down into a beak similar to a snapping turtle. A pair of straight horns extended up and back from the top of its skull. Expansive bat like wings were spread out behind and above it, preventing access into the rear of the room.  A pointed tail curled around the feet of the creature like a snake.

Clutched inside the clawed hands of the gargoyle was a stone. The central rectangle of the stone had a pyramid shape mounted above and below to give the elongated stone sharp points at either end. From top to bottom, the stone was covered in glowing red glyphs, pulsing with light from within.

"Dixon," Chad cautioned when his friend reached for the stone. "Do you really want to be messing with that?"

"What is your problem?" Dixon demanded as he turned on Chad. "Haven't you ever heard of fiber optic lighting? It's just a prop. Watch."

Dixon reached out and grabbed the stone. The red glyphs intensified in brightness before leaping off the stone to expand outward in a cloud of crimson. As the cloud rushed away from the stone in all directions, it dispersed to nothing.

"That was weird," Dixon said.

Chad didn't answer, staring wide-eyed at the stone, his face pale. Dixon followed his friend's line of sight and noticed the glyphs had vanished from the stone. Additionally, neither of the two boys could find any indication of where they had originally been.

"Let's get out of here," Chad encouraged.

"Whatever," Dixon answered in a bored tone.

As the two boys climbed the stairs, neither of them noticed the small bits of stone flaking off as the gargoyle's clawed fingers curled ever so slightly.

Once back in the main part of the chapel, Dixon pressed the trigger switch again to close the secret staircase. Taking the stone they'd retrieved, Dixon and Chad hurry outside to hand it over to Malcolm.

The old man smiled eagerly when he beheld the stone in Dixon's hands.

"You got it!" Malcolm praised.

"There were some weird red lights on the stone that vanished when Dixon picked it up," Chad explained. "I don't know what happened to them."

"It's not important," Malcolm dismissed. He still waited outside the fence but reached to the limit of his arms. "Give me the stone."

As they exited the chapel grounds Dixon offered the stone to him, and Malcolm grabbed the artifact in a manner similar to a starving man who'd found a loaf of freshly baked bread.

"Finally!" Malcolm shouted with unbridled excitement. "The warding stone is mine!"

Chad was about to ask Malcolm what he meant, but he noticed the old man holding the stone by its sharpened ends, the points digging into his palms. As Malcolm's blood began to drip from the twin puncture marks, he whispered in a low and guttural voice. Without warning, the stone broke apart in Malcolm's hands, collapsing to dust and shattered fragments.

"How about our money?" Dixon prompted. "And, where is this haunted site you promised us?"

"Money is irrelevant to you now," Malcolm said while smiling evilly. "You wanted a haunting? Just wait, for you have unleashed my Master upon the world!"

A column of flame erupted from around Malcolm's feet and shot into the sky, completely hiding the old man from sight. When the flames vanished, Malcolm was gone as well.

"What's going on out here?" demanded a stern voice.

Dixon and Chad turned toward a small cottage where a man was standing in the doorway. Dressed in black with a white clerical collar, the middle-aged man was clearly the priest in charge of the town chapel.

"What did you have under your chapel?" Chad questioned.

"This town isn't for tourists," the priest said in a tone indicating he'd had more than his share of trouble from inquisitive visitors. "Go home. Find your entertainment elsewhere."

The ground rumbled and shook, but the strongest vibrations seemed to be coming from the direction of the chapel. With an inhuman roar, a leathery winged shape tore through the roof and vanished into the dark sky. Shingles scattered in all directions in a resemblance of a flock of frightened bats.

"Impossible," the priest breathed in disbelief.

"What did you have under the chapel?" Chad asked again with greater insistence. "And, what do you know about a warding stone?"

"Warding stone?" the priest repeated. He turned away and began pacing in front of his home, muttering to himself. "Is it possible? No, he's crazy. It can't be. But, it escaped from the chapel, so could he have been telling the truth?"

"What are you talking about?" Dixon demanded, snapping the priest out of his questions to the empty air.

"You need to talk to Kairos," the priest suggested. "He may have the answers."

"Fine," Chad agreed. "Who is he?"

The priest hesitated before answering. "He's the town drunk."

As the priest escorted Chad and Dixon to the local tavern, the citizens of the town were emerging from their homes to see what the commotion was around the chapel for everyone had heard the primal roar of the thing as it broke free from the building.

"It's alright," the priest soothed. "Please return home. We are doing everything needing to be done, so please do not concern yourselves."

Most of the townsfolk either ignored the priest or chose to disregard the warning as none of them moved to go back inside.

When Chad and Dixon reached the tavern, the priest opened the door and led the way inside. Chad followed, and Dixon brought up the rear. When the door started to swing closed, Dixon grabbed hold of the door to keep it open long enough for him to enter, but he immediately pulled his hand back with a shout.

"What's wrong?" Chad asked as he turned to look back at his friend.

"Blasted splinters on the door," Dixon grumbled while inspecting his injured hand. "I'll live."

The tavern was rustic with most of the furnishings looking hand carved from local timbers. A roaring fire had been started in the fireplaces at either end of the main room. The priest noticed the person they were here to see and guided Chad and Dixon over to where a man in drab and hole filled attire sat in front of one of the fireplaces.

The man peered at them over the rim of his tankard as he took a large gulp of a native brew. Despite his shoulder length hair being stringy and unkempt, his green eyes seemed to maintain their focus, silently appraising the three people approaching him.

"We need to talk to you, Kairos," the priest began.

"I didn't come here to talk," Kairos answered. "I came here to drink, but you're more than welcome to join me in a pint or two, perhaps five."

"The priest thought we should come to you," Chad spoke up. "He said you knew about a warding stone."

"Oh, that," Kairos said with increased disinterest. "No one believed me before, why should they believe me now. You'll sit, listen, and then leave thinking I'm just a crazy drunk."

He picked up his tankard and took another large drink before waving the container lazily at them.

"Suffer no illusions, gentlemen," he told them. "I am a crazy drunk. Always have been; always will be, so why don't we skip the part where I tell you a bunch of nonsense you won't believe and get straight to the drinking part of the evening?"

"Something broke out of the chapel," the priest inserted into their discussion. "It flew into the sky."

"Let me guess," Kairos surmised. "The thing emerged after you removed the warding stone."

Kairos looked at their stunned expressions and shook his head.

"What were you doing tampering with the stone in the first place?" he asked.

"An old man requested our help," Chad explained.

Kairos set down his tankard and leaned forward, expressing intense interest for the first time. "Did he mention his name?"

"Malcolm Feldman, what of it?" Dixon answered in a demanding tone.

"Feldman," Kairos mused. "Fel man. The Fallen One. Do you know why he wanted you to retrieve the stone? Of course you don't. The chapel sits upon hallowed ground, and he can't cross it. Fortunately for him, he had you two numbskulls trot right in and take the stone for him. Unbelievable."

Kairos leaned back in his chair and took another drink, shaking his head at their stupidity.

"We didn't know," Chad protested. "He was just some old man who asked for a favor."

"According to the ancient texts, a demon of great and terrible power was confined below the chapel," Kairos explained. "It was imprisoned by a warding stone used by an order of holy warriors. Now, it's loose in the world again, and there aren't any of the warriors left alive to put it back."

Kairos looked over his shoulder toward the bar and lifted his tankard in the air. "Barkeep, how about something a little stronger for the next round?"

When Kairos turned back to the group and saw their grim expressions, he chuckled without humor.

"Don't be so depressed; it's only the end of the world," Kairos told them. He looked toward the wooden beams of the ceiling as if trying to read something carved there. "What was that saying? Ah, yes. 'Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.'"

Kairos' hopeless laughter lasted for only a short time before he drowned it in a drink from his tankard.