Sanctum Arcanum

by Alexander Kautz

  “Father--,” I had looked to the elderly priest, “How is it possible for a dog of that size to have managed to get between the narrow bannisters, and then been caught in this way?”

  “It isn’t possible.” He just stared back.

  Without comment I had slid that page toward my awaiting friend, his eyes still wide from what he had previously read and just heard….

  The house had remained unoccupied until purchased in April 1950 by the new town doctor, Henry Charles Thorne. He had arrived with his sister Agatha, a self-proclaimed mystic and reader of futures and fortunes through cards. Understandably, father Delaney had already known of these accounts, as he had previously recorded them according to signatures and dates. And, although quite reserved in his documentation of the events and those involved, it revealed a certain discourse for the woman and her personal conduct. In 1951, when Agatha Thorne had relatives exhumed from foreign lands and interred upon the grounds, father Delaney had been livid. He had written on how he had been denied attendance during the private service, and how the burials had been conducted upon unsanctified ground. Furthermore, he had described how neither of the Thornes had ever attended any of his services, and how Agatha offered séances and other services of a questionable nature.

  The parish record concluded with the death of Agatha in November of 1956, an apparent heart failure under questionable circumstances. In the absence of his beloved sister the grieving Henry had retired, listed the house with the realty company, and simply left town. According to the accounts, the house had remained empty until the Lumberton’s fairly recent purchase of the estate in spring of 1970.

  Having noticed that I had finished reading the records, father Delaney clasped his hands together as though in prayer, “I was there and saw the poor animal. Its skull had been crushed in order to pass through and between the rails of the bannister.” He swallowed hard, his eyes wide, “And its body had been raised some fifteen feet in the air from the opposite side, so as to pass the head through, and allow the rest to be suspended….”

  “Was it still just a pup?” Rich appeared as though he doubted his own ears.

  “It was a full grown animal--,” Father Delaney frowned, “Well over one hundred pounds.”

  “What was your conclusion in the matter?” I scribbled into my notebook.

  “Well--,” He thought for several moments, “One would expect an animal of that size to have fought off an attacker, or at least made a great deal of noise. But in this case, the animal did neither.”

  “Likely because it was already dead before it was shoved between those railings.” Rich sipped at his tea, nervously looking between the priest and to where I sat, “But how would anyone lift the animal that high in the air, without making any noise, or using a ladder?”

  “Because it was not someone—it was something.” I looked to our host, “You were present at the scene when Agatha was discovered, is that correct?”

  “Yes, I attended the scene--,” He had already assumed what I was going to ask, and said, “She had all the symptoms of a heart attack, and was discovered in the main room in her chair before the hearth. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth hung agape in the manner of a scream.” He swallowed hard, “She was still tightly gripping the arms of her chair, her features pale and bloodless. The doctor explained that this was quite common in the event of a coronary incident.”

  “Do you honestly believe that this was due to natural causes?” I slowly tapped the pen upon my pad, patiently awaiting an answer that seemed to never arrive. He had looked about apprehensively, visibly disturbed and terribly nervous before he finally spoke. “I believe that something very bad is happening in that place—though I am not entirely certain of the source.” He finally replied, swallowing a mouthful of tea and coughing, before saying, “And that the Lumberton family is in serious danger if they remain in that house.”

  “Have you approached them with these concerns?” Rich appeared utterly dismayed.

  “I have attempted to on several occasions, but they stopped attending regular services--,” He shrugged in obvious disappointment, “They still make appearances, but I refrain from discussing the matter further, for fear of causing them to cease attending altogether.”

  “Do you believe that whatever is happening on that property has anything to do with Henry and Agatha?” I politely filled all of our tea cups from the carafe.

  “It began long before them--,” He stirred cream and sugar into his cup, his eyes seeming dreamy as he spoke as though lost in time, “Whatever existed in that place was there long before the house, barn or any of us came here. It’s an evil thing, a shadow that seems to come in the winter months and when the snow is at its worst. Shapeless, it moves in the night and claims the lives of all and anything in its path….”

  “How do we fight this thing?” Rich became pale, his features drawn with obvious dread.

  “You cannot fight such a thing, my friend.” Father Delaney’s expression softened, resting a reassuring hand upon Rich’s shoulder, as he quietly said, “Our only hope resides within faith, and the power of the Lord.”

  “And that’s wonderful--,” Rich looked to the elderly man, a great disappointment darkening his features, “But while we’re sitting here talking about the Lord—something is out there with that family. Something, that tried to take their little girl last night.”

  “They must leave that place--,” Father Delaney turned to look at me, “And never look back.”

  “Everything that they have is invested in that old farm.” Attempting to reason out the purpose in fighting, I pleaded, “There must be some way—a possibility of driving off or cleansing that place of whatever evil is haunting that property, and invading their home.”

  “In the many years that I have been here—,” He whispered, his eyes filled with obvious fear, “And all that I have seen and known, I can honestly tell you, is that some things are simply best left alone. I know that something sinister wanders those grounds. It’s an ancient evil that has always been there. But, my friends—all that we can do, is try to help those people by convincing them to leave that accursed place.”

  “Does this mean that you don’t intend to help us?” Rich became frustrated, his eyes like those of a cornered animal, “Because, those people are part of your parish—and as their priest, you owe it to them to guide and protect them. Deliver them from evil, save them from their own ignorance in the face of the enemy.”

  There was obvious shame in the kindly old man’s gaze. I felt pity for him as he swallowed hard, looking away, and slowly nodded, “Truer words have never been spoken, my young friend.” He looked back to Rich, his features bent, broken as he barely muttered, “But, in my seventy second year and at the end of my service, I am simply unable.”

  Unwilling to allow Rich to continue punishing the remorseful old man, I interrupted with a hand-shake, thanking him again, “I truly appreciate your hospitality and guidance, it means more than you know.”

  “I’m sorry--,” Father Delaney moved from his seat, speaking politely as he motioned toward the doorway, “But I have to prepare a sermon, I have a service this afternoon.”

  “Thank you for having us--,” I felt terrible for my friend’s rude and demanding behavior, following the elderly man to the doorway and shaking his hand, “And thank you for sharing your records, it might help to make a difference in the end.”

  “I will pray for all of you--,” He firmly took my hand into both of his, his bright blue eyes burning with sincerity as he apologized, “And would be there—if I could be….”

  I felt bad looking upon the man. There was a terror beyond words that now twisted his otherwise kindly features. He followed while leading us back to the main door, and watched solemnly as we began making our way down the stairs.

  “Oh—that sermon--,” Rich had halted me part-way down the steps, looking back at father Delaney, and said, “You should consider James 2:13 ‘for judgement will be merciless to one who has sho
wn no mercy; mercy triumphs over judgment’.”

  There was a sudden sadness in the priest’s eyes that broke my heart. It was as though he now considered the worth of his very soul weighted against the value of the family’s lives.

  “Please--,” Rich had beckoned to the man--,”Don’t abandon those people when they need you the most….”

  The door had slowly closed behind us as we hurried back toward the truck. The sound had a solemn finality, seeming to echo like thunder in my heart and mind….

  The grocery store had finally been open as we made the return trip. And people now shoveled the walks as we hurried inside. I had been at a loss for words since Rich’s last comment to father Delaney. Having been uncomfortable with Rich’s behavior, I agreed with the quote in parting.

  “I know—you’re not particularly happy with me at the moment for what I said back there.” Rich held the door as we made our way into the grocery store, “But, I just couldn’t help myself. Priests are always going on about faith and God, but where are they when Hell really breaks loose? Hiding behind excuses, sermons and big words….”

  “I’m not going to make excuses for anyone--,” I grabbed a shopping cart and moved toward the dairy aisle, “But he’s an old man—so I wasn’t expecting too much. I’m just glad that he gave us the opportunity to look over the Parish records. Also, he did examine those Latin words for us and was honest about everything.”

  “I still think that he knew more than he told us.” Rich grabbed the milk and eggs and loaded them into the cart, “He seems really scared. Did you see his eyes when he told us about the place?”

  Moving into the baked goods aisle, I reached for several loaves of bread, “He’s had generations of experience with the history of that place. He also witnessed what happened there—you can hardly blame him.”

  Directing me toward the meat counter, he ordered a beef roast, several large racks of ribs and a large number of steaks, “I noticed that they were a little light on groceries, I thought that we would help out.”

  “Add a few chickens to that order, please.” I had asked the elderly man behind the counter, “I’ll pitch in as well.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to be Mr. Porter, would you?” Rich had inquired as the kindly old fellow wrapped our orders in paper and placed them on the counter.

  “I certain am, young man--,” He winked, “Do I know you from somewhere? I don’t recognize you from around town.”

  “We’re just visiting with friends--,” I had interjected with a smile, moving Rich along before he troubled the man about anything concerning the house, “Thank you sir, have a terrific day.”

  “What did you do that for?” Rich appeared surprised as I directed him toward the check-out, and I said, “Because we don’t need any more attention than we already have. I would rather keep our presence here quiet, at least for the moment, anyway.”

  “And that must be Theresa--,” He spoke quietly now while nodding at the teller, ‘I’ll bet that she could tell us a lot more about that incident than the priest did.”

  She had looked toward us while ringing in our items with a smile. She was tall, heavy-set and had greying blonde hair tied back in a pink bow. It was quite apparent that she was the daughter, but I had no intention of involving or upsetting the woman. I had just looked to Rich, ushering a warning with my eyes. It was something that he had immediately acknowledged, as he refrained from further conversation at the till.

  We had carried the groceries out in a large cardboard box and hurriedly loaded them into the back of the truck. The snow had returned and as the blinding flurries continued, we navigated out of town and back toward the house. A single snow-plow had passed us on route. As plowing the road, it left a trail that swiftly filled from behind.

  I’m not certain as to whether things had become far darker, or if it just seemed that way? But the return trip seemed to have been a far longer journey. With all that I had read and heard in town, I could only attribute this to a sinking sense of dread and impending doom. I had attempted to remain optimistic, but thoughts of Father Delaney’s warnings kept running through my mind. It now felt like a voyage into a deepening darkness from which there might be no return….

  “I still think that we should have spoken to them” Rich struggled while navigating through the deep snow, “they might have been able to tell us something that could have helped in some way.”

  “I really don’t think that they would have taken lightly to strangers asking even stranger things--,” I looked to my friend, “Small town people rarely do.”

  Rich had moved to comment, but something had held his tongue in the last moment. His expression softened, the frustration and disappointment having been replaced by a compassionate, though solemn composure.

  “Our only concern is for the family at that farm, right now. Not stirring up old ghosts for people who might turn this entire affair upside-down, given time and opportunity. You might be very surprised as to how damaging and dangerous gossip can become in these places.”

  “You’re right--,” He shoved a stick of gum into his mouth, “It never even crossed my mind.”

  “We have to consider their reputation above all other things. We’re not even sure of what’s going to happen at this point. But for the moment, they still have to live here.”

  “That’s another thing--,” The frustration grew in his eyes, “If that was my wife and kids, I would’ve been out of there like a shot, money or not. I don’t know what the hell this guy is thinking? My family would always come first.”

  “In his mind, this is everything that they have—and he’s doing what he thinks is best for all involved. You have to remember, most people don’t believe in things that go bump in the night. They haven’t seen or experienced the things that we have.”

  “If they didn’t believe that something was really happening--,” He thought aloud, his eyes never leaving the road, “Then why did they contact us for help? Why didn’t they listen to that old priest when he told them to leave?”

  “Because, like many other families who have invested their life savings into a home and property--,” I assumed the obvious, “They refuse to leave and are desperate to salvage what they consider to be their lives.”

  “Is it worth risking loved ones to keep an old property?”

  “When it’s the only home that you have—and you feel there’s a hope,” I shrugged, “You fight for your loved ones—sometimes blindly…”

  “We both know that there’s something really bad happening out there.” He chewed at his gum, “And that according to those Parish records and Father Delaney, it’s been going on for a long time—and likely always will. So, what can we possibly do to change things—or help these people?”

  “The only thing that we can do at this point--,” I leaned back into the seat, rubbing at my eyes, and said, “Is try to wait this out and protect them from whatever is in that house and on that property.”

  Rich had pondered my words briefly and then quietly looked back, “But, what if we can’t?”

  “I really wish that I could answer that--,” I stared out into the worsening storm, “At the moment we really don’t have any other choice. Unless you’re prepared to just pack it up and leave them?”

  “No way, man--,” He growled, “I’d never leave those people and kids alone out there, especially in this storm.”

  “Then the rest is history, my friend--,” I leaned back into the seat and stared into oblivion, “All that we can do now is sit tight and see what happens….”

  The blizzard had become a blinding fury, burying everything beneath an icy shroud. It had taken everything for Rich to maneuver the truck safely back through the swiftly deepening snow. It seemed all too familiar, that insufferable sense of hopelessness while being caught within the howling and raging winds. It was as though the ice-storm had returned from Hedley, and now followed us back down the old country road. The souls of those lost still caught in the devils icy breath, wailing
as all was buried beneath a bitter cold and ashen path….

  “Do you remember when you asked me about that freak winter storm in Hedley--,” I shivered, reminding my friend, “And, how I just couldn’t properly describe it for the life of me?”

  “If you’re going to say what I think you are? It’s coming down on us right now.” He struggled to maintain control as we now slipped and skidded down the road.

  “We were caught in a blizzard like this—that night on the mountain-side--,” I remembered vividly, “With those things hunting us—and the ice and snow taking its toll. If it wasn’t for dear old Tim coming for us with the car—none of us would have made it through the night….”

  “I can’t even imagine having to deal with that--,” He corrected as we almost slid from off the road, “Just driving through this nightmare is bad enough. I don’t think that we’ll be getting too much farther after tonight. These roads are almost impossible—even with this truck.”

  “As long as we make it back to the house--,” I felt an icy lump form in my bowels, “We’ll have to figure the rest out in the morning.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” It was obvious that his instincts were causing him to suffer with second thoughts, “I mean, staying there any longer than we have to? Maybe we should just get them out of there? Go back into town.”

  “It’s not a good idea to take them back into town. Too many unwanted eyes and ears, if you catch my drift.”

  “Then we could get motel rooms—that place where we stopped to eat on the highway is just a few hours away.”

  “We can’t keep them there indefinitely--,” I had attempted to rationalize things while thinking aloud, “But, maybe we can reason with Gregory—convince them that leaving might be the better choice?” I knew and understood what Rich was experiencing, for it now terrified and haunted my every thought as well. With all things considered, there was still only one logical path. “Either way, we need to give the plows a chance to clear the main routes--,” I argued, dreading being caught in the storm and out on the open road, “We can’t afford to take them into further danger by risking this storm. If we went off the road somewhere, we would be buried, possibly freeze to death. It’s more than likely that we wouldn’t even be discovered until the spring.”