Shepherd's Warning

by Cailyn Lloyd

  The fire grew stronger, brighter; the rumbling weakened. The old man reached inside his parka and pulled out a gold cross. Swapping the gold for the pewter cross, he triumphantly held it high. It was beautiful. A polished gold Celtic cross, it glowed with its own light and grew brighter.

  The turbulence near the window reached a frenzy. The air condensed into a dense fog, a diminutive storm filled with snow and dazzling arcs of lightning. The floorboards beneath it cracked and splintered and were sucked into the maelstrom. The cross was shining, brilliant, filling the room with light. The fire in the hearth flamed into a huge blaze.

  Shepherd spoke the final words of an ancient incantation:

  “Gǣð ā wyrd swā hīo scel! Áblinnest!”

  A terrible howling filled the room. Laura dropped the cross and clapped her hands over her ears. Wind rushed out the window in a fierce gale, drawing out snow and wood, debris, and glass in an explosive decompression. Laura huddled over Dana, but Shepherd stood there and withstood the squall until the winds died and it was over.

  Laura uncovered her ears.

  Silence.

  A lamp lay on its side, spinning beneath the window.

  The silence felt calm. The ticking of the grandfather clock, which had somehow survived, was soothing. Even the storm outside had ebbed to flurries.

  Finally, Laura sat up. “Now? Now is it over?”

  Shepherd was silent, his eyes closed. He seemed to be in a trance.

  “Well?”

  His silence was unnerving. She was about to shake him when he turned and looked at her with a resigned expression.

  “No,” he said wearily, “it isn’t over. That was only a temporary victory.”

  “What?” Laura said, alarmed, voice rising. How could it not be over after that calamity?

  “That wasn’t Anna Flecher, nor her ghost. It’s the house itself.” Shepherd scanned the room. “I’ve misinterpreted what’s happening here. The house itself is the source of the haunting.”

  “What? Why?”

  “When Anna died, her spirit was trapped here.” He looked old and weary; shoulders slumped with an air of regret. “I did that. I didn’t fully understand the consequences at the time. Of course, I didn’t know that she was still alive. Somehow, she found a way to bond with the fabric of the house to preserve some essence of her being. I suspect when your husband opened the tomb, they gradually finished merging and became one.”

  Laura looked around the room, the gravity of his words dawning in fearful comprehension.

  “I didn’t understand why I never actually felt her presence in the house.” He shook his head, lips pursed. “Now I know. In essence, Anna is the house and the house is Anna. They are one in the same and they are becoming immensely powerful. We have very little time. We’ve weakened them but we need to—”

  There was a crack above. Something shifting, breaking. As Laura turned her head upward, a twelve-by-twelve oak truss fell, struck Shepherd in a glancing blow, and knocked him to the ground. The gold cross flew and skittered across the floor.

  Too stunned to move, she watched helplessly as a second truss fell, crushing his chest. Laura gasped, paralyzed. Shepherd looked gravely injured, near death. He feebly raised a hand, beckoning her. Laura crawled over on her knees and took his hand. Felt a warm infusion flow up her arm. The same sensation she felt taking Sally’s hand. It was a message. He was passing the solution to her.

  He mouthed two words, Finish it!

  Shepherd coughed and his head lolled to the side. Dead. Eyes open in surprise, a thin rivulet of blood running from his open mouth.

  Finish it?

  No no no!

  I’m not finishing anything. I’m grabbing Leah and Dana and getting the hell out of here!

  But his dying thought had lodged in her brain, held her in a trance. Blossomed like a flower. The solution was clear. She needed to dismember the beast. The necessary tools sat outside, in the Range Rover.

  Seventy-Three

  Dynamite and gasoline.

  Shepherd had decided he might need to destroy the house to destroy Anna Flecher and, in the end, he was right.

  He had come prepared for every contingency. Fifteen sticks of dynamite and ten gallons of gasoline. Those were the tools that would end this. Slowly, Shepherd’s plan unfolded in her mind, a series of vivid images. All along, it had been the house. Anna was dead, had been for five hundred years. Somehow, she had transferred her power and anger to the house itself, and the house had become the monster.

  She needed to kill it or they would never be free of it.

  On the floor, Dana stirred. She slowly sat up and looked around the devastated room, a baffled expression on her face. She then looked at Ashley and screamed loudly. Laura stepped in the way and blocked her view—she had to get Dana out of there. Away from the horrors in the room before she came fully unglued or fainted again.

  Laura tugged at her, trying to get her to her feet. “Get up! Get up! There’s no time to explain! Take Leah and get out of here.”

  “What about you?” Dana tried to look at Lucas. Laura took her by the shoulders, turned her, and pushed her toward the kitchen.

  “I’ll follow you. Take Leah and go. You’re not safe here.”

  She snatched the truck keys from the table where she’d left them, one of the few things in the room left unscathed by the mayhem that had just visited.

  Another truss fell. Laura dodged it but could feel the house regrouping, rallying to kill her too. She cluttered her thoughts and tried to hide Shepherd’s planning under a screen of banal thoughts. This was about more than the house. The outcome would mean life or death for the remaining MacKenzie line. Perhaps she was irrelevant, but Dana and Leah were not. She needed to save their lives and end this madness once and for all.

  She pushed Dana through the arch into the library, the sitting room, and finally the kitchen. They dressed Leah together. She pressed against Dana a few times just to feel her close, to draw strength. Helped Dana with her coat when she wasn’t moving fast enough. Laura grabbed the silver amulet and tucked it into a pocket in Dana’s parka. Pulled the zipper shut.

  “Keep that in your pocket. It’ll keep you both safe and should protect the truck as well.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “End this. Now, go slowly and carefully, but go! Go to the White Birch or, better yet, all the way to Auburn if you can. I’ll be minutes behind you.”

  With final hugs and kisses, she pushed them out the door. The storm had intensified again and flashes of lightning lit the night sky, illuminating the fury of the storm. She watched Dana and Leah struggle toward the Silverado, leaning against the wind. Strapping Leah into her seat. Jumping into the driver’s seat. Looking back one last time at Laura, Dana waved.

  “Don’t forget the four-wheel drive!” Laura yelled.

  She heard the engine rev, and the truck crawled up the drive, turning onto the fire lane. The taillights slowly disappeared, lost in the snow.

  Laura slipped into her parka and ran outdoors to the Range Rover. Popped the hatch and found two five-gallon gas containers and a wooden box with the dynamite. Inside the box, the sticks were wired together, attached to a small device with an antenna. It was all clear. She latched the case shut and grabbed the rope handle on the left side. Lugged it to the front door. It wasn’t as heavy as she expected.

  The front door wouldn’t open. The latch was rigid—frozen. Laura couldn’t budge the latch or the door, and in that moment she understood. The house knew the plan as well and had locked her out. She couldn’t do it from here. Knew how sturdy the house was from the propane explosion that had injured Nate. Shepherd’s plan was specific. The dynamite and gasoline had to be in or near the center of the house. A blast from the outside would be ineffective.

  The hollow sensation of defeat fell upon her.

  She kicked the door and yelled, “Fuck you!”

  Her voice was barely audible over the wind. She was freezing. Had
to get out of the wind to think. There had to be a way. She ran back to the Range Rover. Set the case of dynamite in the trunk and slammed the hatch. Hopped into the driver side, pulled the door shut, and pushed the heat to high. An invisible clock was ticking. She was running out of time. The house was winning.

  Laura had a sudden flash of insight. The vehicle was her way in. She would drive right through the wall.

  She knew the construction of the house well enough. Remembered Nate and Lucas talking about it and quickly realized the door and porch were too strong, too solidly constructed. She would never break in there. Something about twelve-by-twelve timbers supporting the center mass of the house. In contrast, the sitting room was close enough to center, and that section of the exterior wall only contained smaller support timbers.

  Laura started the Honda and moved it to the edge of the drive. She would need it to leave. Climbed into the Range Rover and backed up the drive, aiming the truck to roll down and hit the sitting room wall.

  She snatched a small remote control detonator from the center console and slid it into her pocket. Shifted to drive and jumped out, stood and watched, rubbing her hands together, which were frigid from the wind.

  The Range Rover lurched forward and rolled fifty feet, striking the house directly under the sitting-room windows. The wall barely moved. Reluctantly, Laura walked down and climbed in, throwing the vehicle into reverse. She didn’t know if the impact with the wall would detonate the dynamite, but it hadn’t. Good. She would need to drive the SUV through the wall.

  Laura noticed an amulet on the dash and intuited its significance. It protected the vehicle.

  She revved and backed up fifty feet. Hit the accelerator and rolled forward, slamming into the house.

  The wall buckled inward.

  Another strike or two would do it. Laura was desperate, obsessed with ending this now. The safety of her family, Leah and Dana, depended on it. She backed up and smashed into the wall again.

  And again.

  On the fourth attempt, she backed to the top of the drive and stared at the wall, willing it to fail. Jammed the accelerator to the floor.

  It was an exhilarating ride. The Range Rover bolted down the drive and crashed through the wall, plowed across the sitting room, demolishing chairs and tables before slamming into the fireplace. The airbag blew, knocking her senseless for a moment.

  She came to, confused momentarily by the smoke from the airbag and looked around. Jammed against the fireplace, the Range Rover was close to the center of the house. She tried pushing on the door, but it was jammed shut by debris. Tried to shift sideways, to kick the window out or slip out the back, but an intense wave of pain stopped her cold. Lightning shot up her leg to her spine in a paralyzing jolt of agony. She cried out in pain.

  Laura looked down. Her leg was jammed between the seat and the lower edge of the dash which had been forced down by the impact. She was stuck. Any amount of movement was excruciating. Her leg must be broken. She was further hobbled by her broken arm, couldn’t pull herself free. Couldn’t move, couldn’t reach the gas pedal, but she could touch the brake. Laura shifted into reverse, hit the cruise control, and began bumping the speed up. The engine revved. The Range Rover shuddered, but it too was stuck. The wheels spun uselessly on the hardwood floor. She was going nowhere.

  The house trembled. The floor shook and tilted. Laura recognized the danger. The house was fighting back. It would vomit the Range Rover out like bad shellfish, outside where it would be useless.

  Time was running out. She had one move left. Laura knew it and didn’t fight it. Resigned to the idea there was no other way, she reached into her pocket and grabbed the remote control detonator that would end this. She was surprisingly calm, or numb, she didn’t know which. It was over. Everything was over. Lucas, Jacob, Ashley, her marriage, and finally, her life. All over. Not how she saw her life ending. She had always imagined herself growing old with Lucas, surrounded by oodles of grandchildren.

  She embraced the calm feeling and focused on her breathing, finding a mindful state. Fixed an image in her mind, of Leah and Dana, of Lucas and Jacob in a better time. She said a small prayer for Dana and Leah. That they find safety. That they find happiness. That they find freedom from this house. She knew Dana would love and care for Leah as she had. She closed her eyes. Believed the house would be destroyed once and for all.

  Laura pushed the button.

  Seventy-Four

  Dana pulled the sundress over Leah’s head and drew her hair back in a ponytail. Gave her a kiss and said, “You’re beautiful, Leah. You look just like your grandma.”

  It was true, and a constant reminder her mother was gone. Four months had passed. Not that she needed reminding. There were few moments that she didn’t think about the death of her parents and the violent explosion that destroyed the house that night. Her memories were fractured bits and pieces that returned most often in her dreams, when she slept at all. Her physician explained she suffered from post-traumatic stress and it might be some time before she slept normally. Mostly, she tried to block and forget the things she’d seen and poured her love and attention into Leah.

  They were off to visit Uncle Nate. He’d regained consciousness the month before, after being in a coma for almost seven months. He was still having difficulty dealing with the death of his brother, his wife, and Laura. Dana knew he needed all the love and support they could muster, and she and Leah had gone to visit him most days since.

  There had been a continuous procession of law enforcement people coming to visit in the past few months. So many unanswered questions.

  What had transpired between her mother and father?

  She didn’t know. Nor did she want to know.

  Did she know Shepherd?

  She didn’t. Had never met him.

  Why was Shepherd at the house?

  No clue. While she could guess, she wasn’t going there. It was easy to sidestep all the questions with a lack of knowledge because she didn’t live there. Her parents weren’t getting along and had been fighting. They were in the throes of a divorce and, beyond that, she knew little. Her parents were dead. She wanted to be left alone. That was her story and defense in the end. She had left that night before events reached a climax.

  The house was destroyed by the explosion and subsequent fire. After law enforcement released the property, Dana called an excavating contractor and had them bury the remaining debris from the house in the ditch that was once the basement. They removed the drive and covered the lot with fresh soil. A blessing and purification rite was held, and she donated the land to the Kettle Moraine State Forest.

  That aspect could be closed. The death of her parents would never be closed. In the end, she wasn’t sure what happened. The few bits of the story she did know were too crazy to tell. The explosion and fire had been devastating, and the State Crime Lab was unable to draw any definite conclusions about how Shepherd, Lucas, or Laura had died. No one could make any sense of the circumstances. Shepherd’s presence, the dynamite, none of it. Death by misadventure was the final ruling. The story briefly made the national news. The sensational destruction of the house and the bizarre circumstances surrounding the deaths all made for compelling copy. The writers and producers, who saw the elements of a movie, came next. Dana turned them all away.

  Dana never told Nate the whole story. Never would. The nightmare that was Ashley she buried deeply and imperfectly, vivid enough in her dreams. She saw a therapist once a week, and he was helping, indirectly anyway. She didn’t tell him the full story either. There was no rational way to describe it, no rational answers. None. She gave him the same story. She was gone before the crazy started.

  They pulled up to the Evergreen Rehabilitation Center. Nate was sitting outside on a bench in the warm spring sunshine. He waved. They waved back. He was finally walking again, slowly. She thought of Ashley for a microsecond and pushed her away. It was a new day.

  “Hey guys.” Nate waved again.
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  Leah ran to him. “Uncle Nate! Let’s go for a walk!”

  “Yep, let’s do that, pretty girl.”

  “Uncle Nate?” Leah was quite articulate now.

  “Yes, sweetie?”

  “Did you lose your wallet?”

  Nate frowned. “Yeah. How’d you know that?”

  Leah cracked an angelic smile. “I know where it is.”

  “You do? Where is it?”

  “Inside your sofa. I had a dream, and I saw it there.”

  Thank you!

  Thank you for reading Shepherd’s Warning. I hope you enjoyed it. As an independently published author, I rely on all of you wonderful readers to spread the word. If you enjoyed Shepherd’s Warning, please tell your friends and family. I would also sincerely appreciate a brief review on Amazon.

  Again, thank you!

  Cailyn Lloyd

  www.cailynlloyd.net

  Acknowledgments

  Many people had a hand in helping me finish Shepherd’s Warning. Many thanks to Nancy Boyle who encouraged my first attempts to write this book and Jennie Lloyd who pushed me to finish it. Also, Lucy Snyder who helped me turn an unwieldy mess into a novel, Michael Garrett, Michaelbrent Collings, and Susanne Lakin for their insightful critiques, and Amanda Robinson who copy edited the final draft.