Josh turned a full circle, taking the place in, and noticed a large, lumpy form covered in a tarp and a thick layer of dust. He walked over to it, scanning with his light, and searched for a corner. Upon finding one, he ripped the tarp off, sending clouds of dust into the air. Coughing, Josh waved the dust away to reveal a drum set, two guitar cases, and a few amplifiers. "Dude, check this out! It's like it's been preserved this whole time. Wouldn't be surprised if half of it disintegrated if we tried to play it, though." He laughed.
Frankie walked over. "Holy shit." She whispered, crouching down next to one of the guitar cases. "Heh, someone left a lyric sheet… in Latin. Should I try it?"
"Sure, man." Josh peered over Frankie's shoulder at the page. "Maybe someone here was working on a…fuckin'–revolutionary new music thing and just left it here, unfinished. Hell, we might be able to make money offa this."
Frankie nodded, mumbling the words left scribbled on the sheet, trying to get some sort of melody to match with it.
Josh left Frankie to decipher the lyrics and walked over to the drum set. He ran a finger over a cymbal, collecting a clump of dust, and tapped one of the snares. It felt oddly…new, even though this place had been shut up for years. He took his worn, knife-etched drumsticks out of his back pocket and curiously beat a couple of the drums. It made a louder noise than expected, and echoed in the empty space; he winced slightly. "Jesus, fuck. Sorry."
Frankie looked up. "No, no, keep going, one sec…" She carefully opened one of the guitar cases, letting out a low whistle at the deep red and black guitar. "Damn, she's a beauty…"
Josh used his hand to wipe the dust off the drum heads and pulled up a box to sit on. Tentatively, he tapped on each of the drums to make sure they worked. Strangely, they sounded practically perfect. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. It didn't seem right. He shook off the feeling of wrongness and tried out a simple beat. It echoed satisfyingly. "This place has got great acoustics, man…"
Frankie nodded, carefully picking up the guitar, throwing the strap around her and strumming a chord. "Perfectly in tune… holy shit!" She said, blinking. "This place had been abandoned since the early nineties! My guitar goes out of tune after two days! How the fuck?" She asked, picking up the sheet again. "Hey, should we take another look at this? I can't figure out how you're supposed to pronounce, like, three of these words…who was even writing in Latin?"
Josh got up from the drum set and took the page from Frankie. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the page. "Hm…doesn't look like anything I've seen before…Potens satanas?" He then proceeded to attempt reading the entire page out loud, intermittently trailing off, stumbling over words and often stopping to say a word a few times over, testing the pronunciation.
((the idea is that the latin on the page translates roughly to this:
Lord Satan, by your grace, grant me, thee the power to conceive in my mind and to execute that which I desire to do, the end which I would attain by thy help, O Mighty Satan, the one True God who livest and reignest forever and ever.
I entreat thee to inspire [name of demon] to manifest before me that they may give me true and faithful answer, so that I may accomplish my desired end, provided that it is proper to their office.
This I respectfully and humbly ask in Your Name, Lord Satan, may you deem me worthy, Father.))
((found that on the internet lol))
Frankie tilted her head. "Satanas… sounds like Satan. Guess they weren't helping with the Satanic Panic, huh?" She asked, brows furrowed. "Sounds like you're summoning a demon…"
(Can't wait almost there)
Josh wrinkled his nose and squinted at the paper. "This part's got some kind of brownish stain over it…ugh." He was on the last sentence.
"Hoc nomen mihi…rev–reverenter atque humilit–humiliter petere…tua, Domine Satanus, ut te dignum me, Patris."
As soon as the last word left his mouth, their flashlights simultaneously went out with an echoing pop. Josh jumped and let out a string of colorful swears.
Frankie looked around. "Okay, this is creepy…" She said, wrapping her flannel tighter around herself as the temperature started dropping, breath forming small clouds in front of her face. "Shit…"
Josh took off his leather jacket and draped it around Frankie's shoulders. He put a protective arm around her, just in case. A violent shiver ran up his back. "Fuck. Do you hear that?" It sounded like an impossibly deep voice chanting in some ancient, forgotten language, the volume slowly rising from barely audible to deafening.
((be back in a couple hours, gotta go do a thing))
Frankie nodded, covering her ears. "What the fuck?" She yelled, barely able to be heard over the chanting. "What's going on? What did we do?"
Josh gritted his teeth. "Shit, I don't know, man!" The chanting sounded like it was coming from inside his head and all around them at the same time, growing shrill and piercing. Then, out of nowhere, like a reversed scream, it seemed to be sucked up into the middle of the room, leaving complete silence.
He could feel his heartbeat in his skull, going faster than he thought possible. Ears ringing, Josh watched as the flashlights flickered back on. Then his gaze landed on a pair of red dots, glowing softly in the shadows on the other side of the room, and his heart leapt into his throat.
Frankie looked over, eyes going wide. "Who's there?" She asked, holding her flashlight in front of her. "Who-what are you?!"
