Franklin’s final attempt at bringing his daughter back to life occurred on a steamy August night in Montana in a cave with a group of Satanists. He had reservations about people who claimed to follow the Devil, but God, if he existed, obviously took a big dump on Franklin when he took Grace away.
He watched with detached interest as Torquemada, the leader of these weirdos, plunged his short sword into a living goat’s flesh repeatedly while his followers chanted in what sounded like Latin; probably demon’s name or something ridiculous like that.
Torquemada lifted the dagger, now caked with the goat’s blood and chunks of its organs, and walked over to the pentagram he and his followers spent two days drawing on the cave floor.
Franklin’s mind screamed this was wrong, that it was time to let Grace go.