Ravens Cove

by Mary Ann Poll

  “Guess so,” he said, half meaning it.

  “Make yourself comfy, Amos.” Kat offered him a cup of black coffee, packets of fake cream and real sugar, and a red stir stick.

  Amos relaxed and gave Kat a warm smile. Coffee was the détente talk of Ravens Cove. Kat returned his smile and left to tackle the all-elusive report.

  Josiah walked toward the small church at the end of Main as fast as his aged body would allow. He passed the adult shop. Late morning though it was, the place was silent. The lights were off. The lack of activity spoke volumes.

  Josiah's morning prayers had confirmed to him that another death had occurred. He knew someone connected with Ravens Cove was the victim. His heart grew heavy. The owner of this place had welcomed evil into his life. Josiah knew that meant an eternal soul had again been lost to the evil one.

  “So many, O God, so many!” Anger, then urgency, replaced sadness.

  The Thing, all he could call it, as he did not know its name, was growing stronger at an even faster rate than he had first expected. It had to be drawing strength from a source in addition to the victims.

  As if to confirm this, the Congregational Alliance building drew his attention. He had chosen to walk on the opposite side of the street to get a better view of the black being guarding the door.

  What a beautiful building to accommodate such evil. Understanding dawned. Josiah realized that this church, and what went on behind its closed doors, was the other source of the thing's strength. Just like all evil beings, worship gave it as much, if not more, strength than the violence it so craved.

  “Pride goeth before the fall, dark one, pride before the fall!” He whispered the well-known verse of Proverbs to the dark being covering the door. Atramentous shivered as if a cold breeze had touched his black core. Just a word from God's mouth, from the Holy Bible, was enough to frighten it. Evil cannot abide the spoken Word of God.

  “It is not you I fear, but the One who is true and just. Fear Him! In the mighty name of Jesus Christ!” Josiah's voice had risen and caught the attention of a passerby. That person was uncomfortable enough to cross over to the sidewalk in front of the Congregational Alliance. Unknown to the pedestrian, she walked through the tail of the mist. Atramentous felt stronger as soon as he encountered the passerby's fear.

  “The deceit is endless, O God. How are we to know?” Josiah lamented. He continued to his destination.

  Paul Lucas was again praying. He had just been informed of the death of Miggie Salisto. He had never condoned Miggie's business. Nonetheless, he was in agony because of the eternal fate that had awaited Miggie. Yes, Miggie was a faithful member of the Congregational Alliance. And so Paul grieved for another lost soul. How a church could sanction its members practicing the black arts and peddling pornography was beyond his understanding.

  “How, O God, can that be?”

  The door opened and Paul turned. His heart sank.

  “We must talk, Pastor Lucas.” The man's face had deeper lines than Paul remembered. Paul felt shocked when he took a good look. There was a burden on him Paul had not even recognized yesterday.

  “Forgive me, Lord.” Paul stood.

  “What can I do for you, Mr … ?”

  “Josiah Williams. Please hear me out before you cast me from your church as a crazy old man. I was not always the way I am now.”

  Paul motioned for Josiah to sit beside him on one of the folding chairs that served as the pews for his church.

  “First, I am a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ. I was not a believer until a few years ago. I was living what I thought to be a wonderful life. I had a beautiful wife and two beautiful children. I was home little or none of the time. I traveled for work, and when in town I was at the local bar, most nights until it closed. My friends were my drinking buddies.”

  “Where is your family, now, Mr. Williams? Why are you in Ravens Cove without them?”

  “They are dead, Pastor, have been for over ten years. And it is my fault.”

  Alarm bells sounded in Paul's head. Was this the murderer making a confession? He prayed for guidance and help.

  “How is it your fault, Josiah?” He placed a shaky hand over the man's brown, wrinkled one.

  “I wasn't there for them. They were murdered while I was at the bar. You see, a great evil began to take over my town. A place that was not much bigger than Ravens Cove. They became victims of that evil. In my wife's most dire time, I was not there. Can you imagine her terror and heartbreak in those final moments? I can. I do.

  If I had been there, I might have stopped it. They might still live. I killed them, sure as life.”

  Relief flooded Paul. Guilt-ridden and a little off, maybe, but not a serial killer. Grief can drive a person to the brink of insanity. Paul had seen it many times.

  “My heart breaks for you. And I am amazed that you say you are a believer now after such a horror happening in your life. Many turn from God at those times, yet you turned to Him. Why?”

  “I have always had an ability to see things, things that no one else can see. Do you understand?”

  “No.”

  “As a child, I played with imaginary friends. As I grew older, these friends did not leave but no one else could see them. I learned to be quiet as I was beginning to get a crazy label.”

  No kidding, thought Paul. Sometimes, for a pastor it took everything to just listen and not judge. “Abba Father,” Paul prayed, not uttering a sound, “help me to help this man.”

  Josiah had stopped talking. He was searching Paul's eyes. “Thank you for trying to be open, Pastor Lucas. This is hard for all to understand, most of all me.”

  Paul said nothing. Josiah continued.

  “Anyway, the older I got the more I turned to anything to make these visions leave. I tried drugs as a teenager but they made the images worse. I started to sneak alcohol and found relief. So I hid in the bottle more and more. And, that's where I was on the night the thing murdered my family and almost my entire town.”

  “The thing?”

  “I don't have a name for it. But it is a strong servant of the evil foe. From what I've been able to discover, it moves around the earth. After destroying one town, it goes on to another of its appointed places. Ten years ago, a believing minister and his congregation, threw it out of my small town. At the final hour, several people of the town chose to believe the minister and joined him in the battle. I believed the nightmare was over.

  “Then, five years ago, a small town in China was destroyed. The Chinese government said there was a mining accident. Since mining accidents are prevalent in China, it was a good cover. But the odd thing was that these “miners,” which included women and children, all died within a five-day period. And though the government said that they weren't found for days and that was the explanation for the extreme decomposition of the bodies, a family member was reported to have spoken with one of the victims a day before the discovery. I realized then that I had made a mistake by believing this thing had been destroyed.”

  “So you think this thing is here? Why here, Mr. Williams?” Paul was not convinced, but he wanted to help this man.

  “I don't have that answer, Pastor. I didn't even know why I was compelled to come to Ravens Cove until I arrived.

  I could not go to China, but that did not stop me from seeing the destruction taking place in my dreams and morning prayers. This is a horrible affliction! Our God knows why I have the gift of dreams and visions. But because I do, I could not stay away. I can't stand by knowing what will happen as the thing works in secret to destroy this town. I must try to help!” Josiah's voice rose well above its natural calm.

  Alarmed, and in an attempt to placate the hysteria Paul thought he perceived, he again placed a hand on Josiah's. “Why do you need to see me, Mr. Williams? What can I do to help you find peace?”

  “This thing will not stop until it destroys every person in Ravens Cove. Its mission is to murder believers, at the hand of unbelievers, and take as man
y souls as it can before they can reach the Lord.” Josiah paused.

  “Ravens Cove is ripe for the picking, Pastor. There is a wickedness here that has festered like a boil for many years.” The blackened door of the Congregational Alliance swam into his mind's eye.

  It was Josiah's turn to put a steadying hand on Paul. “I can no more judge this town than I could commit suicide, which I tried so many years ago. I say this only because there is a black spirit covering the Congregational Alliance and that place, for all its outward piety, is a magnet, a draw of power for this entity. Otherwise, the black mist would not be there.”

  Paul wished this were true. It would explain the loathing spewed at him from, and on behalf of, Martin Plotno since the day Paul arrived in Ravens Cove. He had prayed and prayed for reconciliation, to be shown his sin that had caused such a—he did not want to even think it—hatred toward him. His small church had lost more than a few people because of the lies perpetrated by the parishioners and the head of the Congregational Alliance. Martin Plotno misunderstood his intentions and Paul could allow that Plotno was misguided, yes. But evil?

  “I know this is hard to believe, Pastor. I know. I have seen the destruction firsthand and still must pray to believe what cannot be proved by cold, hard facts. I would much rather forget it and move on with my life.

  “This thing has surfaced here. There are sure signs. It sucks the soul and blood from its victims. The body shows signs of advanced decay. The bones are pulp; the eye sockets are empty. There is no skin. The muscles are red but mushy. The stench is that of a corpse long dead,” Josiah took a breath.

  “There is one unmistakable sign that confirms these are not murders at human hands and it is the thing we are up against. Once the eyes are cleared, as will be done in an autopsy, there will be a pinprick through the back of each eye socket. The brains of the victim have been taken out through those pricks. There is nothing left.”

  Paul felt he had made a hasty decision on this man's innocence. If this was all true, this man was involved.

  “How would I back up these facts, Mr. Williams?”

  “Go to the sheriff; tell him what I have said.”

  “Why don't you go to the sheriff, Mr. Williams?” Paul knew that was a stupid question. He'd be arrested on the spot and sent to the closest psych ward. Paul was trying to figure out how to get Josiah there himself.

  Josiah rose to leave. “We'll speak soon.”

  Paul did not look forward to another of these conversations. He did, however, look forward to talking to Bart Andersen.

  Josiah had given him permission to relate their conversation to the sheriff and he was going to do just that. As soon as he felt enough time had passed, Paul jogged to the station.

  The bell swung in a wild back and forth motion from the force with which Paul opened the door.

  Kat jumped. The phones and steady questions from the townspeople had lulled. She was focused on the second paragraph of the report on Miggie. Her shoulders slumped at the frustration she felt once again. Kat straightened and turned toward the counter. Pastor Paul Lucas, white as a sheet and out of breath, stood silent. He had to be one of the most polite people in Ravens Cove, contrary to all the rumors.

  “Hi, Paul. What brings you here today?”

  “Need to see Bart,” Paul said in between gasps for breath.

  “Busy. Second body in two days.”

  “I believe I have information about that, Ms. Tovslosky.”

  Kat looked at him.

  “I'll get the Sheriff. Sit down and catch your breath. Want some water?”

  “Thank you. Water would be great.”

  Sheriff Bart had closed his door because the constant barrage of visitors and phone calls had made it almost impossible for him and Ken to finish a thought, much less a conversation. Kat knocked. No answer.

  Kat cracked the door and looked at Bart. She heard him saying, “sulfur is a main component in that goo coming out the eyes …”

  Kat did a fake-cough. Bart stopped, raised his head and glared.

  “What is it?”

  Kat ignored his testy tone. “Pastor Lucas is here. Says he has information about the case. Where do you want him?”

  Amos was still it the coffee/interview room, writing out a statement of what he had seen, and anything he could think of to clear him of being the prime suspect. He had come to the realization that solving these murders was more important than his fishing routine, especially when he was apprised of the fact that he was a “person of interest.”

  “Good question. Give me a minute to get ready, and then bring him in here.”

  Paul was ushered in, the door whispering to a close behind him. Whatever Paul was saying to them had Bart studying the medical examiner's report. He looked back at Paul. Fifteen minutes later, Bart and Ken thanked Paul and followed him out the door.

  Bart hesitated and turned around. “Back in a bit. Tell Amos he can leave when his statement is complete. Think we have a better suspect.”

  Before Kat could ask any questions, the bell chimed and the door closed, leaving her in midsentence.

  “Where do you think we can find this Josiah Williams?”

  “Well, as there is just one place to stay in town, I think we'll start there. This is when a small town is great. The man can't get far without someone seeing him.”

  Kenneth smiled. That was one upside he could see to this place and right now any upside would do. If you counted the beautiful Ms. Tovslosky, and he did, there were two upsides to Ravens Cove.

  Chapter 7

  Secrets and Truths

  Anita burst through Atramentous and the door he covered. She felt a chill and took it for excitement over the man of her dreams. She rushed up to Plotno, fell in his arms, and sobbed.

  “Did you hear?” she said.

  “Indeed, one of our brothers is gone. He has been taken from us and in such a horrible way. A martyr for our god.”

  Anita wiped the forced tears from her eyes, but lingered against his strong, firm chest. She pulled back and looked up into those flint-colored eyes.

  “He will be missed. He was such a help and encouragement, even if he did run that odd little business.”

  “ To each his own, Anita, to each his own. Our god uses all for his purpose. We are not to judge. Just to love.”

  He was so wise, she felt her heartbeat rise in pride to know such a wonderful and caring man.

  “You're right as always. I'll be happy to plan the funeral. So many would want to say goodbye.”

  “Under the circumstances, I believe a memorial service would be better. I don't think there is much left to be viewed.”

  “True. I'll call Starr and Autumn to help.”

  “You're such an asset.” He touched the curve of her cheek and smiled into her eyes. “Thank you.”

  In a silent but clear dismissal, Plotno turned back to the sermon he had already written and been practicing for the memorial. This must be a pep talk for the congregation to see how special and right they were. One of their own sacrificed because of their goodness. He smiled and took a moment to bask in his talent to both write and persuade. Important when a leader must whip up his followers to do an evil deed in the name of God. This was just the opportunity he needed to fan the fire of their smoldering hatred.

  Anita watched her beloved at work. He exuded strength and power. And he would be hers. She thanked her god that Miggie died after her visit. She could never have gotten what she needed to cast her spell of love and bondage on this man. She headed for the door.

  Anita shot through Atramentous again. He hated not being recognized for what he was and who he was. He gave her a slight push. Anita lurched forward. Her guardian, Venenose, distracted by the boring task of watching this creature, so happily and unsuspectingly going to her doom, snapped out of his mental haze. He caught Anita before she tumbled, headfirst, down the concrete stairs.

  Iconoclast had reminded Venenose of this woman's import just minutes before, threat
ening Venenose with eternal imprisonment in the abyss if he failed to protect her. This was too close. Atramentous giggled the laugh of a small, mischievous child.

  Venenose glared into Atramentous’ dead black pools, and bared his red carnivore's teeth. “You'll pay, you dumb lout. You almost cost me my freedom and I won't forget it.”

  Atramentous hissed in reply but did nothing. He knew, but would never admit, that Venenose's strength was superior to his and believed if Venenose ever got the chance, he would not hesitate to exact revenge.

  Anita looked back to the church door. She was sure she felt something physical right before she tripped. Just like when her little brother would push her from behind and she had not heard him coming. She shivered and took each step with care, gripping the railing until she reached bottom. At the sidewalk, she made a hard right turn, almost running into an innocent citizen just passing by.

  Her look was one of both disdain and accusation. Then she broke eye contact and quickened her step toward her home and goal.

  I have two hours before I'm missed at work. She smiled. Plenty of time to begin the spell.

  She unlocked the door of her small wood home. It sat a few blocks from the library. The white lace curtains in the windows, the blue-green door and the grey siding presented a beautiful, well-kept home that said, “warmth.” It contradicted what was inside.

  She stepped through the front door, Venenose her shadow, and hurried to the basement to begin preparations. She thrilled to the thought of consummating her love, and was impatient to begin her new life with Martin Plotno.

  “Soon, my love, soon. That wife of yours doesn't stand a chance!”

  Venenose sneered at her naiveté. She would definitely end up in the same place as Plotno, after the demon feast.

  Like Atramentous, he awaited the day he could eat his fill of her fear and terror. The anticipation brought a malevolent smile to his lips, revealing sharp, bloodstained teeth. But waiting was hard. It had been so long since the last banquet of flesh and bone and souls. Commander Iconoclast had already had his fill of two.