The roar of Dylan's voice shook us both, "DO NOT FORNICATE IN FRONT OF ME!"
The force of his voice caused Clara to drop to her knees and cover her ears.
Josh steadied me against a plinth and calmly walked towards Dylan, "You need to learn to chill, Pastor Dylan. Whispering in my friends ear is NOT fornication, my friend."
Dylan's voice lowers, "It is one of many pathways that may lead to sinful fornication, you must resist, we need to deliver you with pure souls."
I see Josh's eyebrow rise, "What makes you think I'm pure? I might be a very bad boy," he says.
I hop over and steady myself on Josh's shoulder, "I might be a whore for all you know, just imagine what Lucifer will think if Pastor Dylan offers him a slutty soul," I say.
Josh splutters and laughs but Dylan's raised voice, harsh and invasive jolts us both, "THE FIRST SIN IS INTERCOURSE, AND YOU ARE BOTH FREE FROM THAT!"
"How do you know, have you installed CCTV in my boudoir, your perv?" Asks Josh, a hint of irritation in his voice.
Dylan steps back, "My congregation choose well, they don't make mistakes," he says.
He takes another step back, his silhouette half covered in shadow. Josh stepped closer to the bars, "Don't go Pastor Dylan, we is having decent chit-chat," he says.
"No more chat. Now is the time for your preparation," He said.
Josh chuckled, "And how are we prepared: preened and plucked, like a chicken?"
"You shall be washed, fragranced and your purity will be taken by my elders, as a gift from me, for their work in delivering your souls to Satan," he says, stepping further back into the shadows.
"AS IF – that ain't happening, Pastor Dylan," says Josh, with a chuckling confidence.
"Don't fight it, accept your fate. We have you, there's no way out. My elders will be here soon, to de-flower you both in readiness for deliverance," said Dylan, with a sinister lilt in his voice.
With an impressive speed and agility, Josh's arm shoots through the bars and he grasped and grappled for Dylan. But he'd gone, disappeared somewhere, fast.
Josh sighed with exacerbation, "Clara, is there some sort of door behind you?" He asked. She stood up, her voice weak and resigned, "No, he jumps down a trap doo..." her words cut short by her sudden drop downwards, followed by the shunt and clatter of a closing trapdoor.
I looked around this sinister gallery space with its sacrificial skulls morbidly displayed, and curse my own mother for leaving her phone at home and having a loved up night out while I'm trapped and frightened.
"Josh, phone your parents, while we still have some battery, NOW!" I exclaimed. He lowered his head, "I can't phone what I don't have."
"Then phone a friend, quickly, we need out!"
His head dropped further, as if in shame, "I don't have any friends," he said. He looked up at me, a look of sorrow and sorry in his eyes, "I only have me." He lifted the phone, "It's time to involve the law, I'll dial 999," he said, tapping the phone.
He tapped the phone twice, before it flew from his hand, thwacked the ceiling with force and smashed into smithereens on the concrete floor.
Josh shook his hand and was clearly winded, "That was a bullet, Benita. These guys mean business, " he said, walking towards its source.
I was about to tell him to come back, but I didn't need to, he stopped in his tracks.
Two white robed, hooded figures stood in front of him. One face is obscured by a Prince William mask, the other a Princess Kate. The incongruity of the masks gave an added sinister dimension to their malevolent presence.
