“You will go, or you will not see him again.” It was not my wish to do this, but she had no choice. Just as I had no choice. I folded my hands peacefully and took a step toward her. She would do this. It was my turn to leave. I’d been waiting for her, the bones declared her the inheritor, the proper wife for John Lamar. She would have to do all that was required of her. I had appeased her, coddled her long enough.
Mary would kill for her son, or she would die. I would keep the boy myself and continue to do what I had to do for the sake of my family.
Mary, Mary. What will you do?
Chapter Thirteen—Carrie Jo
My body shook. No, that’s not right. It was the ground shaking beneath my feet. Time shifted slightly as Marietta declared her intentions. My stomach lurched as I wobbled between her time and mine. Should I go back? Can I stay here?
Why struggle now? I appeared tethered to the dark events that were unfolding around me. The clash between Mary and Marietta had no predictable end. None that I could see. Was it possible that this entity wanted to re-emerge in Heather’s family? Is that possible?
Suddenly, a warm, living hand slid into mine. The honey hue often associating the entrance of my dream walks and dream catching reappeared. I caught my breathe at the sight of my husband’s handsome face.
“Ash? How did you get here?” I wanted to blurt out, but it was important to remain quiet in any dream situation and where was Rachel? Changing the past would bring about unwanted changes in the present and maybe even the future. I’d already made that mistake once. I didn’t want to repeat it.
There was no time to remind him of any of that. I was no longer in the house but in the boneyard—and now so was Ashland. A chilly mist rose from the ground. So strange. The warmth of the honey hue vanished quickly and was replaced by the shimmering white fog. We were in the center of the boneyard, dead center. The shaking! It had to be proof that the Beast approached!
As if he already knew, Ashland clutched my hand and we began to run. It was a natural instinct, to run from danger but we had to know how this would end. We needed to know, for Heather and her family and for all the lost ones who’d been murdered by this heinous spirit. Would the Beast attempt to force Heather to pick up where Marietta left off? Was the Watcher contributing to the supernatural storm that brewed here?
Yes, a storm. The air began to crackle with energy. The kind of energy that accompanied the paranormal. Something big was about to happen, about to emerge into this in-between reality. I tugged my hand back because I couldn’t run. I couldn’t do it. I saw Mary’s face. Her tear-filled eyes and quivering lips. Mary’s hidden child out there somewhere, facing darkness alone. Mary’s situation tugged at my heart. What if that had been me?
I could not leave. Not yet.
Rachel? Where are you?
My husband’s voice whispered my name but then he was gone. I felt his familiar warmth vanish. Torn between two worlds I hung in the middle. Ashland would understand. He would know why I was doing this. Everything would be okay, but I could not run from this. I needed to witness it all. I ran back to the center of the boneyard, but I lost my way. I ran far but could not reach the clearing on the other side.
The mist gathered higher. I could not see the ground at all. But as I ran, it swirled away, and I got a clearer picture. Not my feet! Not my body! The soft green grass felt wet, and the ground continued to rumble as if something horrible was about to erupt.
“Ashland!” I screamed as my terror level rose. He had come to rescue me, but I wanted to stay. I regretted that decision now.
“Run, Carrie Jo!” I heard his soft voice. But where had it come from? I was no longer Carrie Jo. I’d often experienced my dream catching sessions as someone else, but this had a different feel to it. My skin crawled continually, and my brain shuddered, I’d had a seizure once in my life. As a child, I fell off the merry-go-round and got a concussion which led to the seizure. This reminded of that. The sensation was similar in many ways.
No, CJ. Keep it together. Stay in the moment. Open your eyes and pay attention.
Strange how in these moments, my own voice warned me. Or was it my voice?
Momma? Are you here with me in the fog?
I heard footsteps walking toward me. Not Ashland’s footsteps either. I would know them anywhere, even in the dark. This was a woman’s footsteps. “Rachel?” No answer came but my visitor continued to make a beeline toward me. That weird brain shuddering continued. What was happening? Was I having a seizure? Clearly, I was not quite myself. I didn’t recognize myself.
Closer, closer, the footsteps grew closer.
“Momma?” I whispered hopefully. Maybe that had been her voice I heard. Maybe. Anything is possible in the dream world or on a dream walk. Which one was this? Or was it something else altogether?
Barreling through the fog it came, the two footsteps becoming four. As the fog rolled back, I could see clearly now. The horror of Marietta, the hell hound thing, the Beast--it was not a grim but a Beast—came barreling toward me. Black with scaly skin, no fur at all. Even its eyes and gums were black, but those sharp white teeth practically glowed in the dark. It did not make a sound as the ground shook beneath me. All around me were the cries of the dead. The dead beneath me, all around, warning me.
“Oh, God! Ashland!”
That was all I could say or think before I was thrown on my back, the wind knocked out of me. The Beast, twice my size, flung its shaggy head back, a drizzle of spit poured out of the corner of its mouth as it roared. A rising moon peeked out of the clouds, as if to strengthen the creature, to witness my death. The dead were rising, their moans and groans horrible to hear. My terror continued as the ground shook beneath me, but it didn’t matter.
I was certainly going to die here in this dream. Death was a surety.
The Beast placed its huge paw on my chest, and I could not regain my breath. It pulled its’ face closer to me. Those teeth, I could not take my eyes off them. They snapped once and then twice.
The face of the Beast began to contort, twitch and change. What was happening? The dark furry face evolved into a horrid, familiar face. This was no mindless creature! No grim or hell hound!
This was Marietta Lancaster! Somehow, she and the Beast were one. It had taken on her likeness, not Adam Crossley! She had become the thing of nightmares! Her body remained that of a large wolf, but her face morphed between the two. Was this really happening?
I am going to die. Me and my child. We are about to die. My baby…I am so sorry.
Mary’s voice folded over mine. The two of us were one. Now I know what happened to Mary. The Beast took her. She had been the sacrifice! Mary’s voice infiltrated my brain.
Murdered me. Help me. Find my baby! Evil that will not stop…
Then I saw everything. Even as I twisted beneath the Beast’s paw, struggling for breath, as near to death as I’d ever come, I could see it all.
Mary would not stop talking. Someone needed to know what happened to her. And that someone was me.
Wanted me to do evil but I would not offend God. Demanded I offer a child, but I refused and set the boy free. She pinned me to the ground with stakes and ropes. Sally cut me, made me bleed. I screamed and screamed but nobody came. Nobody rescued me. I heard voices…
John Lamar!
He saw me, came to me. Smiled at me. At last, he would know, and he would rescue me. At last!
But he did not untie me. Merely stared down at me curiously. Still smiling, but that smile was not one I recognized. So cold and calculating. Unfeeling, unloving. I had been a fool. He whispered to his mother and left me screaming and crying in the rain. Sally retreated from the Boneyard, clearly concerned at what was about to happen. It wouldn’t be safe to be here.
No, John! Do not leave me! God help me!
John and Marietta walked away and disappeared into the fog…
I heard the chanting of the Native Americans; they were trying to intercede even back then. These dead we
re not dangerous or evil, only moaning and groaning to mourn the sacrilege that continued to take place here. They wanted to stop the evil that had taken over their sacred burial land.
But they had no one to help them. The Watcher could not rise. He could not stand against this wicked Beast. It was too strong.
Poor Mary—and now poor me. I would die to. I suddenly felt ropes wrapping around my wrists and ankles. The pounding of stakes.
How had this happened? I could see no one, except the Marietta-Creature which thankfully stepped back while roaring over me. The fog wrapped around it, but it would not be gone for long. Finally, air filled my lungs. I took in big gasps of air. The pain in my back was real but I was still alive. Still alive. But for how long? How was this possible? The dead weren’t supposed to have this kind of power. I’d never been attacked like this on a dream walk. As soon as I could breathe good, I began to scream for Ashland and Rachel. I didn’t care who heard me.
I didn’t care what happened to the future.
I had to think of my baby. And my poor AJ. And Lily Bean. Tears flowed down my face as I struggled with the ropes. The ground staggered beneath me. The soil loosened, as if something were burrowing up to take me. To pull me under, just as it had taken Mary and before her Portia and before her so many others.
Oh God! No!
“Ashland!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Muncie! Where are you? Please, don’t let me die here. Please!”
Just like Mary had been tricked and trapped, so was I. Tricked, and trapped and soon to be dead.
This was about to be the end of Carrie Jo Stuart. Now and forever.
Chapter Fourteen—Rachel
I heard her before I saw her. It hadn’t been easy to breakthrough into the dream world. This was not a natural talent for me. Focusing and calming my mind were the hardest things for me on any given day, much less now. I screamed at the sight of my sweet friend pinned to the ground with dirty ropes. The ropes were wrapped around bones that were being used as stakes. She was clearly meant to be a sacrifice to the Beast here at Marietta. I could not stop screaming at her.
“Carrie Jo!” I hung back a moment to survey the situation.
Ashland was here, I could hear his voice. Only he wasn’t by himself. A tall native American man—no, this man was a ghost—walked beside him and he carried a strange staff in his hand. “Ashland!” I screamed at him just as a bony hand clutched my shoulder.
Out the corner of my eye, I could see that this hand had skin, it was skeletal and strong. A voice whispered in my ear, but I could not understand the language. I sensed I was being warned not to interfere but how to be sure? Whatever the purpose, the hand terrified me. As if it knew this, it clutched me tighter. I whimpered in pain afraid to turn around and look. I was unable to do anything, certainly not move.
Ashland raced towards Carrie Jo, the ghost streaking beside him. I don’t think he saw the Beast at first. Ashland was on his knees beside his wife, trying to untie her from the stakes. The ground moved beneath her. Any moment she would be lost, she would be lost forever. Swallowed up by the undulating crossed ground.
I had to go. I shoved the bony hand off my shoulder but as I began to move, it was as if an invisible force made it impossible. It was as if I were running against a blast of wind. My short hair blew around my face, my jacket flapped back but despite the resistance, I continued to push forward. I could only move a few inches. Inch by inch I reached for my friends. Even though I was stuck in some weird sort of slow-motion resistance, Ashland was hustling to set his wife free.
“Behind you, Ashland!” I screamed but the sound of my own voice came back to me.
Apparently, they couldn’t hear me. Could they see me?
I couldn’t be sure, but my heart was breaking for her—for both of them.
The Beast charged Ashland as he untied yet another rope. Carrie Jo’s hands were free now, and she was sobbing as she worked the ropes at her feet. Fortunately, she looked up and saw the creature stalking towards them.
Drenched in mud, her long dark hair matted around her, the corpse of Marietta Lancaster roared angrily. She began scratching at the air as she came closer to Carrie Jo. Even from twenty feet away the black fingernails appeared long and dangerous.
“Mine! My sacrifice! Give it to me!” The voice gurgled as if it were stuffed with mud and hatred. “She belongs to me!”
The Watcher had disappeared from my view but his chanting I heard perfectly. Ashland had the medicine stick in his hand. “You have no power over us, Marietta. No power over my baby!” Carrie Jo screamed her warning, the ground beneath shook and rumbled in response. The red dirt flew around her. This powerful entity was determined to steal her away.
And then Ashland swung his stick at Marietta but missed her completely. She moved too fast for him.
In fact, she struck him, slicing his flesh with its fingernails. I heard Ashland’s muted scream, but the chanting was getting louder. She was changing again, morphing into the Beast.
The chanting grew louder and louder still. I mumbled along with the invisible ones. The Watcher was with us, not against us! The injury caused Ashland to fall to the ground, but he didn’t stay down long. He was back on his feet and struck the Beast again. This time he struck it solidly on the back.
The dead around us, they were invisible to me, moaned and groaned their warning pitifully. The Watcher chanted and I found myself chanting along with him. Was he using me? How did I know these words?
I heard the Watcher’s voice in my mind and his words streamed from my mouth. As I spoke, the resistance that had kept me in my place began to weaken, the skeletal hand released me. I couldn’t run yet, but walking was much easier.
Ashland was fighting the Beast. It kept morphing in and out of view. One minute it was a bizarre looking beast with black fur; the next moment the Beast became a rotting Marietta Lancaster!
The chanting continued as I made my way to my friends. I wanted to cry but the tears would not come. My heart beat faster. My heart might explode if I wasn’t careful. I had heart issues; I was born with them. I never told anyone about them. It was my own cross to bear and normally it didn’t bother me. The occasional skipping heartbeat.
The occasional racing pulse didn’t usually trouble me, but this situation had me in a bad way. I was in danger. Truly, in danger.
A sacrifice must be made.
The last one and the curse will be broken.
The Watcher’s voice was soft but insistent. I was surprised to hear him speak English directly to my mind.
“What? What do you mean? Oh no! Carrie Jo! Ashland! I’m coming!”
There was no chance to ask more questions, Ashland was badly injured, Carrie Jo lay flat on her back again. The Beast was on top of her, I worried about her baby. She’d get crushed if it remained on top of her.
“Get off of her! Your reign of terror is over, Marietta!”
The Beast roared at me, but I didn’t have a chance to be frightened. The Watcher was in my ear again.
Get the staff. Use the staff and make the sacrifice. The last one and the curse will be broken.
“No! Not Carrie Jo!” I argued back. I assumed the Watcher was speaking of my pregnant friend. “Ashland! Use the staff!”
Like me, Ashland and I had no idea how to use the staff. Not really. This situation was getting out of hand. The fog thickened again, the air chilled substantially. I grabbed the staff. I was panting and crying—almost screaming.
I banged the staff on the ground and to my surprise, the ground shook a little. Wow, that was amazing.
“Get her out of here, Ashland! Marietta won’t be satisfied without killing her. Let’s go! Help me get her up!” I stood like Gandalf from Lord of the Rings but without the magic and confidence. The chanting continued. I struck the ground again and held the staff tight. I continued to chant along with the Watcher. The chanting was all around us. Marietta had shifted again, not a Beast now. Only a rotting woman, her black mouth wide a
nd snapping. She twisted abnormally but there was no mistake. She planned to continue pursuing my pregnant friend. Ashland dragged Carrie Jo away as she finally clambered to her feet. Her wild brown hair hung in dirty ropes. Her long dress was dirty, and she tripped over the hem.
“Rachel! Come on! We must go back together! Please!”
Even as Marietta scowled at me, I could see part of her skull.
My sacrifice!
“Marietta, have you forgotten who you are? This isn’t you, Marietta. This isn’t what you wanted.” I spoke to her with sympathy but honestly, I wanted to drive this staff through her chest. But did I have the strength? Or the courage?
What the hell was I doing?
“Rachel!” Ashland yelled at me. “You can make it!”
But I couldn’t make it.
I wasn’t going to make it.
I knew what the Watcher meant and even as I ran toward him, toward the Beast. Yes, she was a beast again, I screamed against my own fate. “No!”
The Beast paced in front of me. I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t do anything but scream. Until I couldn’t scream any longer. Ashland called me again, but I waved him away. When I found my voice, I commanded him to run.
“Take her and go!”
Maybe this was my purpose. One good deed. I needed good karma.
Angus…I regret you the most. I loved you, Angus but we were born in the wrong time. I always knew it, but I didn’t want to believe it. I dreamed about you before I met you. You were the love of my life. This life. Maybe the next one.
The Beast ran to me. I clutched the staff with both hands as it clamped its teeth around it. The Watcher chanted in my ear, and I repeated those words. Words I did not know but felt deeply in my soul. The staff practically vibrated in my hands.
Footsteps of Angels (Marietta Book 2) Page 11