Venenose comforted himself knowing he would be first to eat, after Iconoclast, because of his rank. His blackness increased in size at the pride of his name, Fatal, given him by the great evil one. He had snatched many souls from the One who had created these horrible mortals in the first place.
He shrank in fear at the idea that he would one day face the One who was dead, yet lived. The One who had power over death and Hades. He could not say the name; it would destroy him. Venenose knew the truth. He had seen God's glory before he joined the great rebellion and was thrown from heaven.
Venenose came back to the present. This stupid mortal was getting ready to screw up the whole spell. He had to do everything; thus, he deserved to eat this human as soon as he could. He would take his time so he could relish the pain and fear. She was nothing but a horrible annoyance and each day she became more so.
“Stop,” he spoke into Anita's mind. Anita had been working at a fevered pace, impatient to begin her life with Plotno. She became a human statue.
“You are doing it all wrong. Read!” The hatred and loathing shot out before he could stop it. He fought for control and when he spoke again, the sickening-sweet tone made him want to throw up, if he could throw up.
“Read the book; look at the spells, Anita; you are doing it all wrong. You want that man; you need that man; you can't live without him, we know that. So slow down and take note.”
Anita relaxed. She was not sure who that first voice belonged to, but the second was her guardian's gentle whisper. She felt safe now. She stopped and reviewed the instructions and realized she had almost made a terrible mistake and would have murdered her beloved instead of capturing his heart. These things were tricky.
“Thank you again, Guardian,” she whispered.
Anita focused all her attention on her concoction, measuring and chanting the words with care. It must simmer for a while, twenty-four hours to be exact, untouched, in darkness. She would have to leave it for now and return to her character of librarian. How she wished for the day when she would reveal herself, the powerful witch she was, so that all would admire her! Another time, she thought, another time.
She took one last look at the small kettle, rounded at the bottom, a combination kettle and pressure cooker, beginning to simmer on the cooking stove and smiled.
“Tomorrow a new day and new love awaits!” She ran up the basement stairs, grabbed her coat and whisked out the door. Venenose stayed behind. This concoction had to be watched; if it burned, the deceit would not be complete and the plan could fail.
“What an dolt! Believing this is a spell. So easy to fool most of these people.” Venenose knew it was Iconoclast's many minions who fanned the lust in Plotno to a point where he couldn't resist the woman. Profligacy had entered Plotno, just another of the many who lived inside Martin Plotno and masqueraded as his idea of God. Venenose felt pleased with where this was going, very pleased indeed.
At the same time Anita was entering her domain at the library, where she was admired as being so organized, so thoughtful and so good at her job, Josiah Williams was being ushered into the sheriff's station, being led in under suspicious eyes that thought they had found their killer. Josiah was escorted into the coffee room, but not offered anything to drink.
“Mr. Williams, can you tell me what brings you to our small town, at an odd time of year, I might add?” Sheriff Bart asked.
“Business.”
This made no sense and the cryptic and calm answer was not what the sheriff had wanted to hear.
“What kind of business, Mr. Williams?”
Here we go. Josiah braced himself for the ridicule, the look that said, “crazy as a loon.”
Well, he could only blame himself. He had indeed talked to Paul Lucas to both enlist his help and in hopes he would bring Josiah to the attention of the sheriff. It had worked.
“God's business.”
There was the look. Not as much from the sheriff as the man leaning against the wall at the front of the room, semiguarding the door and analyzing Josiah's every move.
Kenneth had had his doubts about this man being able to pull off these particular homicides. Now, he wasn't so sure. It was amazing the strength that these murderers possessed when they were in the act. He had seen one case in which a 5-foot, 100-pound woman, lugged a corpse to the edge of a cliff and rolled it down. She had been a bodybuilder. Her strength doubled by adrenaline. When it came to getting rid of a body, people could accomplish feats that couldn't be done under normal circumstances. Kenneth straightened.
Bart cut him off. “God's business? Please explain to us,” he motioned to include Kenneth. “What is so important in the isolated and small town of Ravens Cove that would cause God to send you here?”
“I don't ask questions, sir, I just go where the Lord directs.”
This was like pulling a king salmon from the river right as it came in from the ocean. This man wasn't going to give any more than he had to. Bart looked at Ken and nodded. Maybe they'd get more if they teamed up. At least shake him up a little.
Ken strode forward, stood across the table from Josiah.
“It has come to my attention, Mr. Williams, that you have much knowledge about the murders that have been occurring in this small town.”
Yes, Paul had been to see the Sheriff. This was good.
“Yes, I do.”
“You can see why you have become a person of interest, and in all honesty, our main suspect in this investigation?”
“Yes.”
“Then, please explain why you have detailed knowledge of the murders, when even the newspapers have not reported on some of the details you shared with Pastor Lucas.”
Josiah sighed then prayed, Lord, guide me. You promised to give words when needing to convince the authorities of my truthfulness. In your name Jesus, I pray for that now. Amen.
“I have seen this before, in my own town, ten years ago. I researched it and found the same thing that happened in my town happened in China five years ago. Those details were harder to confirm because the Chinese government did its best to keep the facts out of the world press. And I was instructed, through much prayer and meditation, to come to Ravens Cove. I did not know why until I arrived.”
Sheriff Bart and Agent Melbourne turned cold and unbelieving eyes to Josiah.
How many times, O God, must I relive the horror of losing my family? How many times must I share these most intimate and painful memories with strangers? Josiah held back the tears.
In a strangled voice, he continued, “I'm sure Pastor Lucas told you my story, as much as I shared with him anyway.
“As I told him, my family was murdered. So was 90 percent of my hometown. What I did not tell Lucas is that some of the deaths were attributed to others in the community; people who had never been violent in their lives.
The initial deaths were just as you have seen with your first two victims. The deaths at the hands of the townspeople came after.
The odd thing, though, is that all of the deaths had one common thread. There was a pinpoint hole in each eye socket and the brains were gone. Even if they had been shot, hatcheted, bludgeoned and remained intact otherwise, they had no brains.”
The police in his small town had allowed Josiah to look at the crime scene photographs. The first time was to shock him into a confession. The second was at his request after he'd been cleared of charges.
“My babies’ brains were missing; my beautiful wife's robin's-egg blue eyes were missing. But neither my wife nor my children had purple and black seeping from their eye sockets. And she and the babies had been found, each baby curled against her as if sleeping. No horror on their faces; in fact there was a peace I never understood.”
Sheriff Bart cleared his throat. Josiah had gone silent, lost in thought for a minute.
“I apologize. I'll continue. I have not seen these bodies firsthand in Ravens Cove. But I could not help but overhear the townspeople gathered on Main Street when I came into town. Parts
of those conversations confirmed my assumptions.”
“Maybe I could believe this,” Ken replied, “if it was just the rumors you heard. But it's not.”
“Agent Melbourne, I am not a murderer. Well, I am one by neglect. I should have been protecting my family against the evil that overtook my home but instead I was drinking with my buddies while the mayor of our small town obtained entry into my home and proceeded to shoot my wife and two children down and then turn the gun on himself.”
Kat had watched Sheriff Bart and Ken Melbourne escort Jo-siah into the office. She remembered him from yesterday and shivered. That man had known her name. She had forgotten her concerns until they brought him back.
She wanted to hear what was going on. To her good fortune, the interrogation room sat by the copier and she could always find something to copy.
“This man is nuts,” she muttered, and then threw her hand over her mouth, hoping Bart had not heard her. He really got peeved when she eavesdropped.
Josiah, knowing Kat could hear him, and hoping he could touch her spirit with his words, continued, “if this is what I believe it is, there will be at least two more deaths. One tonight and another the night after.”
“Not on my watch!” Bart said.
Josiah looked at Bart, eyes patient and unbelieving. “I'm afraid so, Sheriff. You can't control this. It is not a man doing these killings. At least not yet. This is the work of a spirit.
It has various places it claims as its dominion on this earth. If anything has been built on its ‘home,’ as it were, during its time away, then it becomes a feeding ground. If not, he checks all his various domains until he finds a feeding ground.
From what I can tell, going back through as much history as I can, this entity and others like it claimed many areas on this earth. It visited Ravens Cove at a time that coincided with Captain Cook's voyage to Alaska in 1778. If I'm not mistaken, there is a legend that confirms this.”
“Don't start on that, Mr. Williams! Every time something that cannot be explained in Ravens Cove occurs, that legend is blamed. It is a local legend, a story to stop children from wandering too far from their homes. Nothing more!”
“Not true.” He held up his hand, “I will speak of it no more for now.”
The sheriff relaxed. He was getting ready to blast Josiah for correcting him; he did not.
“As I was saying, this thing has numerous areas on this earth it considers home. And Ravens Cove, although uninhabited for many years, has now been settled and is a prime hunting ground. There is much going on that you do not know that has invited this thing to stay and destroy. There are members of your community who worship it and its type. Their flagrant hatred contradicts all that God considers good and is the bait, as it were. Their acts grow more brazen every day. At the right time, these people, these ones you have known well and accepted as family in this town, will turn on you. They will do all they can to destroy the true believers and then burn the town to the ground.”
“If what you say is true, then this thing is not logical at all,” said Kenneth. “Ravens Cove is tiny. I could see it somewhere like, say, New York, where the population alone is staggering.”
“It has designated dwelling places. It has no authority anywhere else. So, it destroys all it can when it can. There is enough here to satisfy it and its authority. One soul is a great loss to God. It prizes that.”
“Are you trying to tell us that the devil is here in Ravens Cove?” Bart had had about as much as he could stand. The rantings of this crazy man could be tolerated for just so long before the guy had to be reined in.
“Not the devil, but one of his most valued servants. One that has grown more powerful over the centuries from destroying out-of-the-way, unknown towns and villages. One that knows how to stay under the radar, as it were. Evil works in secret; once exposed to the light of truth it loses its power.”
“Well, I'm going to take this opportunity to exercise my power, Mr. Williams. I believe that you have given me enough probable cause to keep you here for at least twenty-four hours. And I'm going to do just that. These ramblings, and that's what they are, sir, have just won you a free night in the town jail. And, even if I wouldn't have held you before, the threat that more will die tonight, makes it my bound duty to keep you here.”
Josiah shrugged, looked the sheriff in the eye. “Do what you must. It will not stop the murders from occurring. Unless you listen to me, they will happen, as sure as the moon will rise tonight, they will happen.”
“Well, I'm doing my part to make sure it doesn't.” Bart motioned Josiah to stand and ushered him to the little-used cell in the back of the station.
Bruit, Iconoclast's lookout, had listened to the entire interrogation. He scurried from the room, headed to tell his boss the good news.
Small in height, a more solid form than Atramentous and Venenose, his darkness projected a small shadow, as he ran through the sunbeam that had peeked through the otherwise grey sky. He growled. Light revealed his true form and it sapped his strength. Winded by the brief encounter, he dove underground and back to the commander.
Kat turned her head. She was sure she had seen a child's shadow on the wall below Bart's office window. Nothing there.
“Great, all the crazy talk has me seeing things.” She looked toward the window facing Main to revel in the sunbeam that brightened the dark day.
The inactivity on Main Street was disconcerting. People must be huddled in their homes, at Jo's, at work. Ravens Cove had been abuzz the last evening.
Today, it was as if a blanket of invisible snow had fallen and insulated the town's normal noises. Footsteps and closing doors seemed muffled. She couldn't hear the birds.
“You okay?” Agent Melbourne asked.
“Fine, thanks, FBI man.” She turned back to her copying.
You are one cold fish. How could such a warm and inviting-looking young woman be so full of frost? Sad, he thought. He had hoped to get to know her better, maybe even a date, a tryst before he returned to Anchorage.
Every word of her body language shouted, “not happening!”
Kenneth turned his attention back to solving the murders. He was curious about this legend. Bart had snapped shut like a clamshell when he asked. He mulled over the possibility that Kat might have some answers. He decided against that. He did not need to court rejection, she was all too happy to oblige that emotion at the first opportunity.
The library was the next, most logical source. He hoped it was, anyway.
A cold wind was blowing from the north as Ken stepped into sunshine that had fought its way through the low-hanging clouds. It gave no warmth. He yanked his jacket collar up and around his neck to ward off the bitter chill. The cold emphasized the spooky quiet on Main Street. He believed he could hear a pin drop. Ken was not a nervous sort, but right now, he was jumpy. His survival instinct had come to full alert. He scanned the street, all directions, and saw nothing that looked the least bit menacing. It had to be that old coot's ghost stories.
“Get ahold of yourself, man,” he muttered.
A passerby looked at him and walked just a little faster.
Great, now I'm talking to myself and scaring the fine citizens of Ravens Cove. Hope that doesn't make it to the grapevine. If anything could set a town afire, it was rumor and speculation about a stranger, second only to rumor and speculation on a well-known member of the community.
He arrived at the library, walked up the grey, cold steps. Not a welcoming exterior for a library. Ken's library memories were warm ones. He loved the buildings, large or small; he loved the smell of books and seeing walls and rooms lined with bookshelves. This one, however, felt as cold as a butcher's walk-in refrigerator.
He stepped in and strode to the counter. An acne-plagued teenager was squinting at a rather new-looking computer screen. There was no one else at the counter but that didn't stop the teen from ignoring all of Ken's 6-foot-some-odd structure.
Kenneth looked down. “Please ri
ng bell for service. Someone will be with you shortly.”
They had to be kidding. Could this punk not see him standing here?
Ken cleared his throat, no response. He drummed on the counter, no response. He rang the bell. The young man finished typing into the hidden memory box, straightened and turned to Ken.
Unbelievable. Who could understand small-town logic? That kid would have been tarred and feathered in LA.
“Can I help you?”
“Where's the section on Ravens Cove history?”
The kid, Gary by name, graced Ken with a blank stare. He was still returning from byte land. Anytime, now, Partner.
“Umm, Ms. Conner, where's the stuff on Ravens Cove?” he yelled. So much for a silence policy in this library. Kenneth looked around and he didn't see anyone other than himself and Gary.
A trim, attractive woman stood up from behind the counter. She had hold of several large periodicals. Scowling at the intruder, she dropped the periodicals on the desk behind the counter and pointed to Ken's left.
“Next room, second aisle from the windows, bottom shelf, but there's not much there. Ravens Cove is a pretty boring little town.” She forced a smile at Kenneth, not covering her irritation at all. In fact, that smile looked like it might have hurt to plaster on that face.
“Thank you, ma'am.” The ma'am came out with as much ease as that smile came over Anita's face.
“Welcome.” Anita popped back down to continue cataloguing.
Right where she said it was. And just as she said, not a wealth of information on the topic of Ravens Cove. Kenneth began to wonder if this town existed at all. Maybe, just maybe, he would wake to discover that this was all a dream. In just a day, he felt like he had jumped down the rabbit hole and entered Alice's Wonderland. Stifling the desire to pinch himself, he stood up and walked back to the counter.
He rang the bell without hesitation. He began speaking before the teen had looked him in the eye. “Not there. Is there anything on legends or myths of Ravens Cove and its surrounding areas?”
Anita popped up. She didn't like this stranger asking that particular question, but she didn't know why. He was an attractive and polite man, why was he such an irritation?
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