Becca groaned as she heard the Audi screech to a halt outside. He was a day early. A whole day early. He didn't normally grace the estate agents' shop with his exalted presence until Wednesday. She knew she'd be in trouble now.
 
She straightened up and kicked the drawer of the filing cabinet closed, just in time for the front door to swing open.
 
'Afternoon ladies,' Gary Sutton shouted in that intimidatingly booming voice. 'You girls made me a lot of money so far this week?'
 
There were three women in the shop. All were slim with long dark hair. Two wore skyscraper heels and short skirts that barely reached the tops of their thighs.
 
Unfortunately – for her – Becca wasn't one of the two.
 
'Becca,' Sutton bellowed, his booming voice reverberating off the walls. 'What the fuck are you doing?'
 
'Sorry, I don't--'
 
'What the fuck do you look like?'
 
She knew, of course, precisely what he meant. He was very particular in how he liked his staff to dress.
 
'You're wearing trousers, you stupid bitch. And flat shoes. Who's going to want to buy a house from some dowdy frump looking like that, eh?'
 
'No one, sir,' she whispered, trying desperately to weather the abuse without breaking down and crying. It wasn't the first time he'd flown into a rage at her. Not by any measure, but after the first couple of times, she'd developed mental defences to counter the assault.
 
'Next time I catch you looking like that, you're fired. Got it? I don't employ you for your fucking brains. I pay you to look good, charm the customers and sell property. That's your job.'
 
'But Mr Sutton--'
 
'Don't you fucking "but Mr Sutton" me!' he mocked in a cruel parody of her voice. 'You know the dress code: short skirt - shorter the better, high heels and a tight top - low necked as well. No one's going to want to fuck you looking like that.'
 
She felt a tear escape her eye and trickle down her cheek, the words penetrating her veneer of strength.
 
'And don't give me the fucking waterworks. Sort yourself out or I'll get someone else. Plenty of other tarts out there looking for a good job like this.'
 
At that moment the door opened again as a pair of customers entered. Mercifully, he lowered his voice to just a whisper.
 
'You better take these two,' he said, tossing his head in the direction of the two young women who had just walked in. 'Pair of dykes might fancy you looking like that. No other fucker would.'
 
With that last stinging comment he strode off and out to the back office. Becca took a moment to wipe away the tear and compose herself, before draping a smile across her face and walking over to the newcomers.
 
'Good afternoon,' she said brightly. 'Can I help you?'
 
There was a slight hesitation before one of the women spoke up. 'Hi, we're looking for a house.'
 
'Well, you've come to the right place. Have you any area in mind?'
 
'No, anywhere as long as it's cheap,' the girl laughed.
 
They spent the next few minutes discussing the women's requirements before sitting down and getting to the nitty-gritty. Their names were Tina and Michelle, and they were just about to start working in the area.
 
'Have you been to Wenstone before?' Becca asked, getting a feel for these two unremarkable characters.
 
'No, it's our first time here,' Tina said. 'Pretty little town.'
 
'It is, but I'm biased. I've lived here all my life. What sort of price are we looking at,' Becca asked, opening a fresh file on the computer.
 
'The budget is really tight. Anything up to a hundred thousand pounds.'
 
'A hundred thousand?' Becca repeated, sucking the air between her teeth. 'I know we have a few studio apartments on file for that sort of money, but I'm not sure we have any houses.' This wasn't exactly true. She knew damned well that if they wanted a house for that, they were going to be out of luck.
 
The women looked deflated, obviously hoping that there would be something. Becca typed in the search details anyway, and half a dozen properties came up. She turned the screen so all three of them could see it.
 
'See? Several very nice apartments, but no houses.'
 
'What's that one at the bottom?' Michelle asked, pointing a well-manicured fingernail at the entry at the bottom of the screen.
 
Becca peered at it with a frown. This was the only property with no photograph, and she knew why. It was practically derelict and had been sitting on the estate agent's books for months.
 
'That property,' Becca said hesitantly, 'would require considerable modernisation. It's been unoccupied for a number of years.'
 
'Tina!' Michelle said excitedly. 'Look at the price!' She tapped the screen several times to emphasize the point. 'Eighty-five thousand. We could afford that with money to spare.'
 
'Like I said, the property would require considerable investment.'
 
'But we only need it to be liveable,' Tina said, clearly the more level-headed of the two. 'It wouldn't do any harm to have a look, would it?'
 
Becca was trying to find a way to delicately steer the two away from the property. She knew that there was no way they would want the dilapidated old house once they saw it, and didn't want to waste time going through the formalities.
 
But they both seemed keen, and she was a good enough judge of people to know when argument was pointless.
 
'Okay, we can arrange a viewing tomorrow if you like?'
 
'Can't we see it today?'
 
Becca glanced at the clock on the wall. 'Well, we'll be closing in a few minutes.'
 
'But didn't you say it was unoccupied?'
 
'Yes...' She knew where this was going.
 
'Well why don't you give us the keys now and we can go and look at it. We'll drop the keys back in the morning.'
 
Becca visibly winced, agonising over what to do.
 
'We really are interested in this place,' Michelle said. 'We're not time wasters and it can't do any harm, can it?'
 
Becca took five seconds to weigh up the situation. No, it couldn't do any harm. And if she did manage to shift this place, Sutton would be thrilled. He might treat her as a human being for once. He might even thank her. No, maybe that was going a bit far. But no estate agent in the town had had any luck selling this house in years, and it would be a real coup if she were the one to do it.
 
'Well, I suppose it'll be all right.' She reached into a filing cabinet and withdrew the appropriate file with the keys. 'But you must get these back to me in the morning.'

Becca spent the next morning looking anxiously at the doorway. As the hours ticked by there was no sign of the two women. She tried phoning them, but there was no response from either number she had been given.
 
What had she done? She had visions of an all night party going on in the dilapidated old house, of the police arriving at the shop, demanding to know which fool had given the two girls the keys to the property. She could see the images in her head of Sutton standing over her, bellowing into her face, belittling her, reducing her to tears. She heard the stifled laughs of the other girls, felt the spittle on her face as the enraged man railed at her mercilessly. How could she have been so stupid?
 
But they had seemed so genuine...
 
Perhaps they had just forgotten to return the keys. Yes, that was possible. Maybe even likely. But that didn't explain why they were unreachable by phone now.
 
She slept little the following night, tossing and turning as visions of Sutton's face, contorted in fury, swam in her head.

​As Becca dressed the next day, grudgingly dragging on a miniscule skirt that was barely worthy of the name, she realised that she had no choice but to go up to the house and survey the damage. Perhaps it wouldn't be too bad? They might even have left the keys for her to retrieve.
 
This was unlikely, she knew, but blind hope was rapidly becoming her only option. She had to go up there so, as soon as her lunch break came round, jumped in the car and drove up to the house on Hob Lane.
 
Even in the grey light of midday the house looked forbidding. Clouds swirled overhead and autumn leaves danced in extravagant pirouettes around the central tower, as if trying to hold the menace within inside as crows screeched angrily from the trees.
 
It had felt pleasantly warm when Becca left the office, but now an icy wind whipped around her bare legs as she trod carefully up the gravel path, her stiletto heels sinking into the damp ground.
 
The house was an uninviting grey stone, swathed in a mesh of dying ivy. She could see why it had never sold. No one would want to buy the house in this state, and a clause in the deeds prevented it from being bulldozed and rebuilt. The two girls must have taken one look and driven away as fast as they could.
 
Becca reached the front door, an imposing slab of oak, covered in peeling green paint and rusty fittings. But the most disturbing sight was that it was open, just a crack.
 
Beyond that small opening was impenetrable darkness, and she gingerly pushed the door open. The rusted hinges creaked and squeaked in protest. They seemed to be complaining that they'd been awoken after all this time.
 
The grey light of the day flooded into the house, illuminating the first few yards of the entrance hall.
 
'Hello?' Becca said quietly, then more loudly: 'Hello, is there anyone here?'
 
Silence greeted her. There was no sound of life within the house. She stepped inside, the sound of her heels echoing in the ancient hallway.
 
'HELLO!' she yelled, and waited for a response as the echoes of her own voice died away, but still there was nothing. She moved further inside, breathing musty air that smelled like rotting meat. This house might not have had human occupants for years, but animals had presumably taken up residence.
 
A gust of wind suddenly roared from outside and that great oak door slammed shut with a frightening, almost unnatural ferocity. Becca ran to the door, yanking at the handle, twisting and pulling it. But the door remained firmly closed.
 
She was trapped.
 
'Hello Becca,' a female voice said from the shadows to her right.
 
Becca swung round, peering into the gloom for the source of the voice.
 
'We were hoping you would come.'
 
Michelle emerged into the dim light that filtered through the ivy-covered windows. Becca's eyes went wide. The girl was completely, utterly naked.
 
'Yes, we were hoping you would come,' Tina repeated, stepping from the shadows to her left. She too was naked, her breasts glinting with a sheen of perspiration.
 
Becca stared from one to the other in confusion. They had seemed quite similar when she had first met them. But now, in their nude state, their physical differences were quite apparent. Tina's breasts were large and pendulous, whereas Michelle's were smaller, more pert. And as she glanced down she saw that Michelle's pubic mound was completely shaved bald, while Tina wore a thick mound of hair almost like an emblem.
 
'What...' Becca floundered. 'What is going on here? You're not supposed to be here.'
 
'Oh, but we are,' Tina said in a voice that seemed so confident, so utterly in control.
 
'Yes, we are,' repeated Michelle. There is nowhere else we are supposed to be.'
 
'No, nowhere.'
 
'But you have to leave!' Becca said in little more than a whisper as she looked from one naked woman to the other. 'I need you to give me the keys and leave this house.'
 
A look was exchanged between the two women, almost as if a message was being conveyed and a decision taken.
 
'We have a secret, Becca,' Tina said.
 
'Yes, we have. A wonderful secret.'
 
'And we need to show you our secret.'
 
'Yes Becca, come with us. Let us show you our secret,' Michelle said, her eyes moving to the grand staircase at the end of the hall.'
 
Becca wanted this bizarre game to end. She wanted more than anything to get those keys and leave this house, but knew she would have to play along for now.
 
'Okay,' she said tentatively. 'If I let you show me this secret, will you give me the keys and leave?'
 
Another look was exchanged, and Tina spoke first. 'If you come with us, then you can have anything you wish.'
 
'Yes, anything you wish at all.'
 
Tina turned and headed for the staircase.
 
'Come,' Michelle said, gesturing for her to follow. 'Come.'
 
With one naked woman ahead, and another behind, herding her in the right direction, she moved through the house, through passageways and up stairways until they reached a door, which opened easily at Tina's touch.
 
The room was at the centre of the house, presumably just below the clock tower that had not chimed in a hundred years. It contained no furniture, no ornamentation. The only feature was a large hearth dominating an entire wall. Crisp, brown leaves nestled in the corners below peeling wallpaper and four grime-encrusted windows. Gossamer thin cobwebs hung from ceiling beams.
 
'There's nothing here,' Becca said, looking around her at the squalor.
 
'Oh, but there is!' Tina said excitedly. 'You are so lucky.'
 
'Yes, so lucky,' repeated Michelle again.
 
Tina moved to stand just in front of her, abnormally close and Becca stepped back, only to find Michelle blocking her retreat. Her eyes darted left and right, seeking an escape. But there was none.
 
'Do not be afraid, Becca,' Tina said, moving her naked body closer still, until they were almost touching. 'This is such a wonderful secret.'
 
Becca felt a cold hand on her wrist and flinched, but a second later felt icy metal replace it. Before she was aware of what was happening, both wrists were bound and she looked down in horror at the cuffs.
 
'Hold her,' Tina instructed, and Becca felt Michelle's hands snake around her waist and grip her breasts.
 
She shrieked.
 
'Scream if you wish,' Tina said, retrieving a length of rope from the floor and proceeding to tie it around the links between the cuffs. 'The Master loves it when we scream.'
 
'The ... Master?'
 
'Yes, the Master,' Tina said, tossing one end of the rope into the rafters for the end to fall on the other side. 'Michelle screamed the house down, didn't you Michelle?'
 
'Oh yes, I screamed the house down,' cackled Michelle. 'Screamed like I was on fire, I did.'
 
'Screamed like you were going to die. The Master loves it when we scream. The louder the better.'
 
'Oh he loves it when we are afraid. He loves the look of terror on our faces.'
 
Tina tugged at the rope and Becca felt her arms lifted until they were above her head. She tried to fight it, to keep her hands at her waist, but Tina's tug was too strong, as was Michelle's grip on her torso. Eventually she had to succumb and felt herself lifted until her stilettoed feet dangled six inches above the ground.
 
'Please don't hurt me,' Becca whimpered, a tear rolling down her cheek.
 
'Why don't you scream?' Michelle asked. 'The Master would love it so much if you screamed.'
 
'Yes, scream for the Master.'
 
Michelle moved down Becca's body to grip her ankles in a weird bear hug, while Tina reached into a pile of leaves and withdrew a large knife, its blade nine inches long, and three deep.
 
'No!' screamed Becca. 'Don't, please!'
 
The knife flashed before her, glinting in the diffused light. 'Please, for God's sake, don't.'
 
Both women spat onto the floor in disgust.
 
Their mien seemed to have changed instantly, and Tina began to cut away at Becca's skirt until it fell away.
 
'You will appreciate the Master when he comes,' she said as she sliced through black, lacy panties. These too fell away, needing just the gentlest tug to be removed from between her buttocks.
 
She then began to unbutton Becca's blouse as Michelle removed her shoes, which dropped with a thud onto the old wooden floor. The knife hacked its way through the shoulders of the blouse until that too was discarded. After her bra had received the same treatment, the two women stood back to admire their handiwork.
 
Becca sobbed quietly as she hung there, naked and defenceless, resigned to whatever fate these two evil women had in store for her.
 
But she could not have imagined what was to come. No rational person could foresee what was about to happen to her.
 
'You will need to be purified for the Master,' Tina said. 'Michelle?'
 
'Yes, purified,' the other girl said, scurrying off and quickly returning with a bucket of soapy water.
 
'You must be cleansed,' Tina said, dipping her hand into the water and splashing it over Becca's feet.
 
'Yes, cleansed.'
 
Both women began to wash her, ice-cold hands moving over her body, dipping into every crevice as she was bathed in this unnatural way.
 
'Please let me go,' Becca said quietly as she shivered with cold and fear, knowing her words were wasted but saying them anyway.
 
'The Master wants you,' Tina said. 'You are the most important thing in his world. You will complete the triangle. The flesh of three corrupt souls will be defiled to herald his return.'
 
Michelle's hands roamed over her body, spreading soapy lather over her breasts and working it into the soft, pliant flesh.
 
Tina's hands worked their way up her thighs and between her buttocks, a single, gelid finger sliding into her anus while the other hand worked its way into her vagina.
 
Icy fingers slipped inside her slit, over her clitoris. So many fingers had done this to her before, but none had ever done this with such cold, unfeeling determination. Whereas she had always found it enjoyable in the past with her various partners, this time it was done without love or lust. This was a clinical purification as fingers of evil slid inside her.
 
She was unable to resist, her body frozen in terror as she realised that she would never leave this room. She was about to die.
 
'The purification is complete,' Tina said at last, and the two women moved to stand in front of her as frigid water dripped down her naked body.
 
'She is ready,' Michelle said.
 
'She is. The Master will be pleased with us.'
 
And then something else happened, something even more terrifying than being stripped and invaded by the two women.
 
They began to chant.
 
'Roshun requiem beslata. Norum, bethlesium statum quintessum. Fashus en batlusa Be-elsebus. Welcus thine terriblus. Wentus tu disciplus. Tush weh rhan.'
 
And the walls began to bleed.
 
It began at the edges, blood seeping from cracks in the faded wallpaper, and then started to cascade down the walls in crimson rivulets, splashing onto the dried and cracked floorboards.
 
Becca stared in horror as blood ran down the walls, splashing onto the feet of the two naked women.
 
'Welcus thine terriblus. Wentus tu disciplus. Tush weh rhan.'
 
Blood began to drip onto her lustrous black hair and shoulders, and she realised the ceiling was bleeding as well.
 
Becca screamed. She screamed at a sight she had never thought possible - had never even imagined.
 
A light appeared.
 
'Welcus thine terriblus. Wentus tu disciplus. Tush weh rhan.' The chanting grew louder.
 
It began as a flicker of flame in the fireplace, swiftly growing, feeding on the ancient logs within the hearth.
 
As blood trickled across the floor it met the fire and sizzled, an acrid smell of burning death filling the air.
 
She yanked at the ropes holding her, trying desperately to escape, swinging her legs and writhing in the air as she attempted to release herself. That fire was unnatural, growing and feeding like no fire ever should.
 
But Becca suddenly stopped struggling as that awful thing materialised in the flames. Somehow she had known it would come, had foreseen the inevitability of its appearance. But that did not diminish the horror.
 
She screamed as she never had before, with a terror she did not know she could experience.
 
The figure grew within the fire, its body coalescing and achieving the form of a man, but a man unlike any who had ever walked this Earth.
 
It stepped from the flames, its bare feet causing the lake of blood to bubble and spit.
 
'Welcus thine terriblus. Wentus tu disciplus. Tush weh rhan.'
 
The chant had become an awe-struck whisper, the two girls, coated in a glistening film of blood, scurrying aside to press themselves against the walls.
 
'The Master has come,' Tina whispered. 'He has come for you, sacred woman of Wenstone.'
 
Becca hung there, unable to move, unable to fight, unable to offer any defence against the beast.
 
'With your body you will restore the Master this day.'
 
It was hideous: a burnt, putrefied mass of flesh, like a roast just removed from the oven, but carrying a stench of decay and corruption.
 
It raised a single finger and lightly touched her breast, and Becca, who had momentarily been shocked into silence, screamed again at this inhuman touch.
 
'Yes,' cackled Michelle. 'Scream for the master. He loves it when we scream for him.'
 
'Scream for your master, wench,' Tina said. 'Scream loudly. He loves it when we scream.'
 
The charred hand that now cupped Becca's breast felt cold, but she could sense the fire that burned beneath its cracked skin.
 
It gestured to the two women and they instantly scurried to its side and gripped Becca's ankles, pulling them apart.
 
'The Master wants you,' Michelle whispered.
 
'Yes, you are indeed honoured,' chimed Tina.
 
Becca fought against them, trying desperately to keep her legs together. But they were too strong, possessing a power too great for ordinary humans. She hung there with her arms stretched taut above her head, legs now spread wide and breasts heaving as she gasped for breath.
 
Then the creature smiled, its hideous features contorting into a mask of mirthless delight.
 
She could no longer scream, could barely breathe, transfixed as she was by that awful face. But she tore her eyes from that visage to look down and, as she had feared, saw a large, foetid phallus pointing straight at her.
 
A more awful thing she could not imagine. It was thick, long and moved with throbbing life as the creature moved toward her. This was to be her fate: to be defiled by this abomination.
 
Its hands gripped her waist and she felt its body press against hers.
 
This could not be happening. This was some insane nightmare, she kept telling herself, but it felt far too real to be any kind of dream.
 
The tip of that shaft touched her thigh, inching its way up, up...
 
It pressed its chest against her breasts and she felt the heat within its body. And then the tip found its goal.
 
Becca was instantly impaled on it as the creature thrust forward violently, feeling the cracked and burnt skin crumble away, and her vagina burned.
 
Her mind began to shut down. This could not be happening, it said. This was too much for a single consciousness to assimilate. As she felt it begin to thrust into her, her brain drifted off.
 
This wasn't happening; this wasn't happening…
 
Her body began to burn, a fierce, tearing nightmare of pain as she was taken by the creature.
 
Her mind swam in a sea of fog, unable to focus on anything but the pain and the fear. But then the mists began to clear and she saw… a path. A path leading into a small hamlet.
 
In the other world her body was being engulfed in a conflagration of fire and corruption, but here there was no pain. She felt nothing, except a cold that was unlike anything that existed on Earth.
 
At the centre of the hamlet, a throng of people ringed the square. They were dressed oddly, as if from another time, and she instantly knew that she was no longer in her own century. This was an era long since passed, a time of fear, and cold, and superstition, and death.
 
'The witch must die,' the crowd mumbled. 'The witch must die.'
 
On a raised stone platform stood a set of stocks - a pillory for punishing thieves, sinners and evil-doers. It was a simple but sturdy wooden device with five holes: three at the top to hold the victim's head and hands, and two at the bottom to hold his or her feet.
 
She saw a young woman dragged through the crowd into the centre. She made no effort to fight them, the expression on her face one of sad resignation, her cheeks streaked with tears.
 
'The witch must die.'
 
As Becca stared with pity at the hapless girl, she realised that face was familiar. She knew that face. She had grown up with it, staring back at her from the mirror.
 
The face was her own.
 
The girl shivered in the cold, the first snowflakes of winter beginning to fall, swirling in eddies around the pillory.
 
'The witch must die,' the crowd continued to chant solemnly.
 
There was no compassion from the mob, only a cold, hate-filled malevolence that wanted nothing more than to see her dead. Only one pair of eyes did not share the loathing the crowd displayed.
 
From behind a hand cart peered a child, a girl of no more than five, staring with horror as the scene unfolded. Her tears matched her mother's, as did her features. The child was about to witness something no child, of any period, should have to see.
 
A man moved forward, carrying a small wooden cross. He touched it to the shaking victim's forehead and whispered a few words of prayer.
 
But then he ripped her blouse from her, swiftly followed by her skirt. She stood there, still making no attempt to flee, merely shivering naked in the cold, knowing that she was about to die and bearing it with whatever dignity she could muster.
 
She was moved forward, eager hands clamping her into position. It looked hideously uncomfortable which was, of course, the intention. She made a feeble attempt to struggle before her body sagged into resigned compliance, finally accepting her fate.
 
It was only then that Becca noticed the leather buckets scattered around the pillory, filled with stones and rocks.
 
'This was the place,' she heard Michelle's voice whisper in her ear. 'This was the time, and the place where this small village won its name.'
 
The crowd reached into the buckets, gathering handfuls of stones, eager to be the first to strike the naked, defenceless girl.
 
'Wench!' bellowed the man. 'You have been found guilty of witchcraft and consorting with demons. You are to die this day by the hand of man, to return to your master in purgatory.'
 
'As you have done,' Tina whispered, 'this wench heralded the coming of our one true master.'
 
The girl's breathing quickened as she braced herself for this hideous execution.
 
The first stone flew through the air, smashing into the girl's head. She screamed in agony. More stones struck her, crushing her skull, pounding into her defenceless body.
 
'And this place will forever remember the sacrifice she made.'
 
Her face was a mask of blood, her body slashed and beaten as her life ebbed away...
 
The child waited until the body moved no more, stones still hammering into the lifeless corpse, before she ran silently from the village to face her grief alone.
 
For the next hundred years, the world cowered beneath this cloak of evil as the Master wrought his terrible will over it. Crops withered and died in fields, famine ravaged the land in what history came to know as the "Little Ice Age".
 
'This is where our Master's wench was stoned to death. The place that was for many a year called Wench Stoned, now known simply as Wenstone.'
 
The scene before Becca was lost in mist as she felt herself drawn back through the ages as her own life was slipping from her. The consummation of the Master's return was at hand, and this simple, insignificant chattel was to be cast aside, her body as ruined as her ancestor's, all those centuries before.
 
He was now free to reign again, to exact vengeance on a world that had come to dismiss him as a myth.
 
For the next one hundred years, Satan would be ruler of the Earth.