Sanctum Arcanum

by Alexander Kautz

  It was apparent that he didn’t agree. But after several moments of contemplation, he quietly conceded, “Your right—the risks on the road are just too high. We don’t have any choice--,” He struggled with the steering wheel, “We’re stuck in that place for another night, whether we like it or not….”

  I had silently turned my attention back onto the road, barely able to see anything beyond the headlights. The snow and wind were causing huge and flowing drifts. It was like an ashen and icy veil. As we navigated through the lengthening shadows of late afternoon, I felt as though I were traveling back in time through that demonic storm. As having previously escaped death’s embrace, I now fell helplessly into an empty grave, which silently awaited the corpse’s final return….

  Chapter Fourteen

  3:45 p.m.

  We had returned with the groceries and, seated before the hearth with Gregory, explained the information we had shared with father Delaney. The girls had been kept busy with their mother, baking cakes in the kitchen, as their father now stared in absolute horror.

  “Nothing of these events was ever revealed to us before purchasing this house and property.”

  “It’s astounding how realtors neglect to share these little details at the time of a sale--,” The sarcasm was all too revealing in Rich’s statement, “But, as much as we hate to say this, if I were you, I would seriously consider selling and getting my family as fast and far away from here as possible.”

  “Everything that we have or ever had is invested in this place.” Gregory now became visibly disheartened, appearing utterly destitute, “I would never risk my family—but what are we to do? Where would we go—we do not have relatives in this country, or know anyone beyond this community.”

  “I would be willing to help you--,” Rich looked between the grief-stricken man and to where I sat beside him, “Until the house is sold—I could make you a loan, interest free.”

  “I could never accept that—there would be no guarantee that I could honor the deal.”

  Catching a movement in the corner of my eye, I had turned toward the kitchen. Startled as little Colleen stood there and just stared at me. She appeared as one caught in a trance, her eyes wide, empty and focused as though without a single thought of her own.

  My companions having noticed, both now turned to look upon the child. She had not even taken notice of them, as entirely focused upon me, she suddenly smiled. Not a pleasant or childish smile, but something filled with dark malice.

  “Colleen--,” Her father called to the girl, “What has come over you, darling?”

  Her features twisting with something more animal than human, she slowly peered back at him. It was in that moment when we had simultaneously realized what we now looked upon was no longer his daughter, but something very different! But before any further comment could be made, she slowly backed into the kitchen, vanishing from the doorway. A moment later there was a blood-curdling shriek shattering the stillness!

  “Dear God—what have you done?” Laura wailed as we all leapt from our seats, scrambling through the doorway and into the little kitchen, and stood aghast! For there stood little Colleen with a large butcher knife, grinning while standing over the bloodied form of her elder sister! Trudy cowered on the floor and wept, huddled against her mother and nursing a hideous gash upon her right forearm! I had panicked, my gaze searching for little Paula, gasping with relief while noticing that she remained unharmed, and concealed beneath the table!

  It had only been by a swift movement on Rich’s part that spared the elder sister what might have certainly been a fatal blow! As shouting, he struggled with little Colleen, wrestling the knife from the child’s hands!

  Her father had grabbed her, and pulling her aside, cried out as she clawed at his face, leaving five bloodied and deep gouges! She had leapt free of his grasp and fallen directly into ours as we drew her down upon the floor, swiftly restraining the girl!

  “What are you doing to her?” Laura had rushed forward as we moved away from the child, who suddenly appeared fine! Looking between us as though having no recollection of the incident, she burst into tears. “My God—what is happening here?” Gregory wailed, clutching and holding the little girl in a loving embrace, “God—help us…..” He trembled terribly, the tears flowing like a hot rain. Holding little Colleen and gently rocking the child in his arms, he silently prayed.

  “We should get her to a hospital--,” Rich offered, reaching a hand toward Trudy as Laura politely declined. “I have had some training as a nurse, and the laceration is just a flesh wound, it’s not very deep.” She climbed unsteadily to her feet as Rich now picked up and held little Paula.

  “That loan--,” Gregory now peered pleadingly upward from where he held his daughter while kneeling upon the floor, “I’ll do anything—please help me to get my family out of here.”

  “Daddy--,” Colleen appeared calm and collected and as though having awoken from some dark and disturbing dream, “What happened—and why is mommy crying?”

  Rich had looked to me, both of us realizing that there was little purpose in postponing the inevitable, regardless of good intention. Laura cleaned and dressed Trudy’s wound at the kitchen sink, winding a bandage about the arm. Looking around at the distraught and utterly lost family, Rich nodded while conceiving a plan. “If we can manage here for one more night—and avoid the worst of the storm.--,” He spoke softly, directing his attention between Gregory and Laura, “And the two of you pack the little things that you will need for the girls and yourselves, just some clothing and hygiene items. I can assist you with everything else. We will take you all out of here, first thing in the morning.”

  Trudy had politely interrupted, nursing her wounded arm, and said, “I can help mother pack—if you want to stay down here with Colleen and Paula.”

  “I’ll watch over them--,” Rich promised our dismayed host, “Like I said: There’s no need to pack anything but immediate necessities and some clothes. We can worry about the rest later.”

  “It’s going to be dark soon--,” Gregory had looked fearfully to his wife, “Gather what we will need for a short stay somewhere, and do it swiftly, please.”

  To this she had just nodded and hurried off, with Trudy and Rich in swift pursuit. I felt my nerves tingle, every molecule of my body alive with unspoken fear….

  5:35 p.m.

  I had shared tea and insisted upon helping to prepare the evening meal. Rich had been busy with Laura and Trudy packing. Carrying down their luggage, he placed it in the hall near the front door. Although the darkness had slowly taken us, the house shone while brightly lit. We had generously stocked the hearth and turned on every light switch that we could find in the place.

  The storm had continued unmercifully, and as I had looked out the kitchen window, was disheartened while noticing that the truck was already partially buried. It had also become evident that all of our previous tracks and any evidence of our passage had already vanished beneath the deepening snow. My attention had traveled up and out toward the road, as unable to see anything through the bitter and blinding veil, I fell silent. I knew the nature of these terrible winter storms, and they never receded before claiming a few lives in passing… Even if we managed to avoid whatever haunted that property, there was little hope of escape….

  We had prepared two large chickens, which we roasted with stuffing, and served with potatoes and corn on the cob. The heat from the old cast-iron oven was soothing, and the aromas of the cooking food helped to ease my troubled mind.

  Little Colleen now sat quietly in a corner, coloring, and silently observed our every movement. Although the shadow of evil had seemed to pass, there was still something entirely unnerving about the girl. Paula had remained closer and stood next to her father as he prepared a salad. “I was once a short order cook for my college--,” He proudly exclaimed, “I worked part time to afford the tuition. It never hurts to learn how to manage yourself in a kitchen, as you can quite plainly see.”


  “I learned from my mother, bless her soul--,” I was saddened with the memory, but managed a smile, “She always said that I would starve, if I married a Canadian girl. Old world ethics—she said, either I learned to cook, or learned to appreciate hot dogs and macaroni and cheese.”

  Gregory had laughed, “It sounds as though our mothers sprouted from the same firmly-rooted and morally-founded tree. Do you see her very often? I feel terrible—my mother is quite elderly and still resides in England, we have little opportunity for visits.”

  “I lost her some time ago--,” The memory caused me to look away, “I regret not having visited more often—but time and life seems to pass by all too fast.”

  “I’m terribly sorry--,” At a loss for words, he changed the subject, “Are you married—do you have a family—I’m assuming that you called your wife?”

  “Yes—my wife Caitlin--,” I sighed deeply, thinking of her alone and so far away, “She is the greatest love of my life. Our maid Eva is a dear woman and like a mother to us both, more like extended family than hired help.”

  “Caitlin—that sounds of Irish or Scottish descent?”

  “It was originally an old French baby name. But, the name Caitlin is borrowed from the Irish Catriona, the Gaelic form of Catherine.” I explained, “In Ireland, its meaning pertains to the devotion of Saint Catherine, revered for her purity and courage.”

  “And the name Michael refers to the patron Saint—God’s soldier and savior of the sick and suffering,” He looked to me, “It sounds as though you were destined to be together, and that you love her very much.” He had turned from the counter as he placed the salad in the fridge, and gently patted my shoulder, “I’m certain that you are a blessing upon one another.”

  “At times I’m honestly not so sure--,” I had admitted, following him to where we joined little Colleen at the kitchen table, “I’m often away for long periods of time, due to my specific field of research.”

  “It’s never easy to be away from the ones that we love.” He looked to Colleen, gently taking hold of her hand, and sighed, “But when the need for the greater good arises, who are we to question the powers that be?”

  “Thank you--,” His words had touched me deeply, “Can I ask what grade and class you teach?”

  “I teach tenth grade history--,” He shrugged with certain resolve, “But I was a philosophy major in University and still follow the Greek masters.”

  “That’s beginning to smell very good” Laura returned with Trudy and Rich, placing the last few articles of baggage at the front door before joining us at the table.

  “That storm isn’t showing any signs of letting up--,” Rich peered nervously out the kitchen window before coming to the table, “Maybe we should just load everything and everyone, and stay in town for the night?”

  “A plow comes through here on a regular basis through the winter months.” Laura advised while serving coffee and tea, “This is the main road and the only way in or out of town.”

  “We should be just fine--,” Gregory attempted to comfort his daughters, “After supper, we can toast marshmallows and drink hot cocoa until bed-time.”

  “Where will we sleep?” Little Paula cast dark suspicion upon Colleen, “And what happens if she hurts one of us, again…?”

  “Please! Let’s not have any of that.” Laura corrected the child, “It wasn’t intentional—she was just sick.”

  There had been a sudden tension about the table as eyes fell upon Colleen. But not a single word was uttered again from little Paula, who now appeared ashamed. Rich had drawn attention as he took up some cutlery, and proceeded to place a soup spoon between pointer and thumb, while doing his rubber cutlery impression. The youngest had watched in fascination while the rest were just pleasantly amused. It had taken the edge from off the moment, as he now also did it with a fork.

  He had always seemed to know just how to break the solemn stillness. A blessing in the darkest moments, he kept them all occupied with the illusion while teaching them the trick.

  9:10 p.m.

  It had been long after dinner when we all sat quietly around the hearth. The couches had been drawn closer about the fire, and several oil lanterns been lit. The youngest ones already slept soundly as their mother had sweetly sung them to sleep. We were taking no chances as the storm continued to rage beyond, sincerely dreading that the power might soon go out. There was a wind that howled like demons in the chimney high above. And the bitter gusts rattled like bony fingers upon the storm-shutters, which we had struggled to keep closed.

  We sat gathered about the roaring flames, the warmth and light offering little comfort as we silently watched. Something kept drawing my attention to the darkness at the top of the stairs. I was uncertain as to whether there had been anything there, beyond my own steadily growing fear. The icy wind crept and whistled through cracks and crevices, moaning as it swept through the darkened halls. The old house creaked and groaned as its ancient bones cracked and the stone foundations settled in the night.

  Not a word had been uttered as we had all just silently sat about, leaping to each crack or creaking, and dreading every suspicious shadow. The wind had reached gale force, howling like some fiend from high above, as the power suddenly went out! We all drew closer, looking to one another as we remained speechless in the impending shadow.

  “It’s nothing unexpected—or anything unnatural--,” Gregory had whispered as he held his wife close, “It’s just the wind and storm—it brought down the power lines.”

  Rich had peered across at me from the chair where he sat guard over the sleeping girls. Trudy had moved closer to where I sat on the couch facing the hearth, fearfully looking toward her parents.

  “Now, your father is right--,” I had sought to comfort the girl, attempting unsuccessfully to force a smile, “It’s nothing but the wind and weather—and we will all be just fine.”

  “I have a gas generator in the truck--,” Rich had suggested, “And electric lights and spare lanterns as well.”

  “We have wood to last through the night--,” Gregory had reassured us, “And besides, the sound that those generators make is absolutely beastly, none of us would sleep a wink.”

  “It’s best that we remain inside, anyway--,” I had assured my friend, “And stay altogether until the morning.”

  The wind howled from somewhere in the night, the resounding echo of its force pounding against the shutters as though the devil were at the door! Still, we remained calm for the sake of the family, struggling, attempting to maintain some semblance of reasoning in circumstances beyond control.

  Once more my attention was drawn back into the darkness at the top of the stairs. But this time I thought to have seen a shadow. It was the dark impression of something large being hung, and slowly dangling down! Closing my eyes tightly and attempting to avoid being noticed, I fearfully peered back upward and to the top of the stairs. My heart racing and mouth falling open as something with pale and burning eyes now stared back! But just for an instant, and then it was gone!

  I had moved with a sudden start, which Rich had noticed, but blinking, those eyes vanished back into the dark! He had stared to where I had been looking, and glanced back in question without remark. It was apparent that he had realized that I had seen something, but was cautious not to cause alarm.

  “Is everything alright?” Gregory had noticed our exchange of glances and become concerned, “Did you see something on the landing? I could not help but notice you both looking up there.”

  “It was nothing to be alarmed about—,” I sighed deeply while rubbing sleepily at my eyes, “It’s just been a very long and cold day, and I’m feeling a little drowsy, that’s all.”

  And then, as we had all settled back down, there was a loud and very distinct thump! The sound of which, obviously coming from the stairs behind us, caused us to all turn and look.

  “It’s only the foundations of the house settling--,” Gregory had nervously shrugged in response,
“The old beams and boards creaking and groaning as the night slowly cools down….”

  Rich had reacted quite calmly, though his dark eyes revealed apparent fear. The firelight glistening from off his glasses as he slowly looked to the stairs. The night had become absolutely still, the soft breathing of the sleeping girls barely noticeable above the embers crackling in the hearth.

  Laura had placed a kettle above the coals while preparing to make coffee and tea. The flames having died down considerably, but the shadows now danced demonically about the room. In the darkness nothing stirred, but the hairs stood on the back of my neck. Looking to Rich, I now felt a sudden shiver that caused the flesh upon my arms to crawl, the short hairs standing on end as goose-pimples formed!

  “There is nothing there--,” Trudy had whispered as though speaking from out of a dream, “Nothing in the darkness at the top of the stairs, or the shadows that crawl at the floor.” She crept deeper beneath a quilt, revealing only her wide and terrified eyes.

  But, although I could not see it, I had no doubt that it was there. An unspeakable horror, which creeping ever downward, drew ever closer with each and every bated breath, ever so cautiously while quietly making its way up from behind us, and where it had watched from the landing on the second floor.

  Rich had been staring blankly, as though waiting for some kind of signal or warning to a threat of which he was painfully and already aware. With the slightest motion, I had gestured with a hand toward the sleeping children, and he moved closer in their defense.