by Alexie Aaron
“Maggie, come!” Bacon Man commanded. She ran to him and over to the house where the people were milling around. The Bacon Man soon forgot about her as the others were shouting to each other.
The smoke was thick, but Maggie managed to navigate as she identified the other scent, the one from the hillside. She followed it to see the bouncy-haired woman being dragged off behind the barn. She followed, waiting for her opportunity to bite the black-clad legs carrying the woman away. Another set of heavy footpads confused Maggie, and she saw a larger man carrying one of the bead wearers.
“Maggie, home!” shouted the Bacon Man, and she had to obey.
Mia released her. “Ted!” she shouted.
“Here,” he said, running to Mia.
“They’ve got Audrey and one of the priests. I think it’s Santos. They were headed west through the woods behind the barn.”
Ted got ahold of Tom, and he radioed the information to Ryan. Soon every able person on the farm was searching for the invaders and their prizes.
Mia ran into the barn. Angelo, who was pacing the floor, looked at her.
“They got Santos and Audrey,” she said. “They need your eyes. I’ll watch the box,” she promised.
Angelo shed his clothes and flew off.
Mia drew a salt ring around the vault, stepped inside and sat on the box. A soot-darkened Father Alessandro staggered into the barn.
“I was looking for Angelo,” he said.
“I already sent him in search of the kidnappers,” Mia explained. “How did I miss this? Here I was playing hostess while the enemy was planning an attack.”
“Mia, there was a houseful of very intelligent people, in which I humbly include myself, alongside you. Still this happened. Time to stop lamenting and start fighting. I’ll watch the box. This old man’s not going to be able to get there in time. You, on the other hand…”
Mia waited until the priest sat beside her before she bilocated out of her body. She moved through the back of the barn and headed in the direction Maggie had last seen the kidnappers take. Mia passed by the men. Lorna did a double take as Mia picked up speed. She had made the road in time to see the Escalade drive off in the direction of the hollow. She didn’t have any ley lines to use so she was dependent on her own power. She couldn’t catch the car, but she kept it in sight and managed to enter the gates behind it as they were closing.
CRACK CRACK CRACK!
Mia heard Murphy’s alarm sounding. She moved upward and narrowly missed colliding with Angelo. “They have taken them into the middle house. You bring the others. I’ll stay here and do what I can,” she said to the startled bird.
Angelo flew off in the direction of the search team.
Mia looked down longingly at Murphy and willed him to stay behind, but the axeman cut through the fence like it was butter and followed her to the graveyard where she took temporary cover.
“Bad day, bad place,” Murphy said when he arrived.
“Why them?” she asked.
“Easy prey,” he said.
“I should have looked after her,” Mia moaned.
“Me too,” Murphy said, understanding the angst she was feeling.
“We have to be with them. We can’t let them face whatever is in there alone. Both of them don’t have the sight. Santos can read minds, but that’s about it,” she told Murphy.
“He has God.”
“Really, don’t you think God’s a bit busy to be here? Besides, that’s what we’re for.”
“Got your back,” Murphy said, lifting his axe.
“Got yours,” Mia said, morphing into a replica of her friend.
“Not funny, bad Mia,” Murphy scolded.
She changed into a little bird and flew up and perched on the ghost’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Audrey woke up in darkness. She tried to move her hands but found them bound to the arms of the wooden chair she was sitting in. After trying unsuccessfully to move her legs, she guessed that they were bound to the legs of the chair. Audrey arched her back and felt it move away from the back of the chair. She could also move her head from side to side. She heard someone moving near her. “Hello?” she squeaked out, finding her voice too airy to carry.
“Hello,” the accented voice of Father Santos answered her. “Can you see anything?”
“No, Father, something’s over my head.”
“I fear I’m in a similar situation.”
“I appear to be tied to an armchair.” Audrey jerked her body and heard the chair move against what sounded like concrete or rock. “I think we’re in a basement or maybe a cellar?”
“I agree with you. But the question is why? What is the last thing you remember?”
“Heading for the barn to get buckets and brooms. You?”
“I just finished turning on the hose and was making my way around the house. The way my head feels, I think I was knocked out.”
“I was able to fight a little. Something on the gag he - yes, it was a he – forced into my mouth made me pass out.”
“Unusual way to chloroform a person,” Santos commented. “Perhaps it was something else?” he asked himself.
Audrey tried to be patient with the priest who seemed more interested in pondering the details than trying to escape. “Father, I’m going to try to move towards you…”
“That wouldn’t be advisable,” a velvety male voice said in her ear. “You may hurt yourself.”
Audrey absorbed her fear as the black bag was lifted off her face. She was disappointed to find darkness.
“Who are you? Why am I here? I demand to be let go,” she ordered.
“So many questions,” the voice hissed. “Does the worm question its existence on the end of a hook? Or the fish ponder the sharp barb hidden inside the tasty morsel?”
“Bait, we’re here for bait?” Audrey asked.
“You’re here for bait. The priest, however, is here for another reason. He’s here to witness. Just as the French monks, so long ago, were witnesses to my rise.”
“Since I have no idea who you are, I doubt they told anyone,” Audrey scoffed.
“Oh they did, but I expect their writings were denounced by the church. The church censures things that don’t fall in line with their agenda. Am I right, priest?”
“I can’t speak for the French,” Father Santos skirted the issue. “As you say, I’m Roman Catholic.”
“It appears to me, we have a comedian keeping us company,” the voice observed. A creepy chuckle echoed off the walls.
Audrey was confused by the comment. She didn’t find it at all funny.
“If I am to witness, you’ll have to let me see. Take this bag off my head.”
“It won’t do any good, Father. It’s pitch black in here,” Audrey informed him.
She heard a faint rustling. She assumed the man was lifting off the priest’s blind.
“Is that better?” she asked.
“No, it’s as you say, child, too dark to witness anything.”
A match was struck, and a flame pierced the darkness. Audrey followed it as it moved across the room. She thought she heard the tinkling of glass being lifted off of metal. Soon the tiny flame became two as some kind of wall lamp was lit. The match, no longer needed, was extinguished. She saw a pale hand emerge as the glass was lowered over the flame. She could just make out a hooded man as he trimmed the wick and light pushed away the darkness of the room. The creature moved around Audrey and lit the remaining lights until she found herself in a chamber of some kind. Father Santos was sitting across from her a few yards away.
“This is impossible. I myself sealed this horrid place!” an outraged Santos exclaimed.
“If you’re referring to that depraved playground, you did. You’re not there. The ground is riddled with these marvelous little chambers. The builders of the hollow found them quite useful. A place to keep the ice cold, the meat from rotting, the cabbages firm,” he listed. “Little did they know, one of them was already occupied.�
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“If they opened up your prison, why did you not leave?” Santos asked.
“You know why.”
“I’m sorry, but I do not.”
“Liar!”
Audrey did her best to remain calm as the creature lifted the chair holding the priest upwards and tossed Santos across the room. He fell on his side, still secured to the sturdy wooden chair.
“Are you alright?” Audrey asked.
The creature spun around and walked towards Audrey. She couldn’t see past the few inches of the hood but assumed a face lay just beyond that.
“Are you asking me?” the thing asked. “The answer is no.”
“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“Give me back what the woman of the house stole from me.”
“I’m sorry, but I need more information. You see, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Audrey lied. “I’m not from around here.”
“Clever little slut. Brentwood said you were tricky. I’ve been waiting for you to OOB.”
“Audrey McCarthy doesn’t OOB,” Santos informed their jailer.
“The fools have taken the wrong woman!”
“Who did you think I was?” Audrey asked, knowing the answer.
“This is unacceptable. They will pay,” the creature said before he stormed off beyond the lights into the darkness.
Audrey jerked her chair forward towards Santos. She found a rhythm, and soon she was inches from the man lying too still on his side. He had his eyes closed, his lips moving as if in prayer.
“It’s a hell of a time to do your Hail Marys, Father.”
Santos opened his eyes, and they crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “I’m afraid Mary would say, you’re on your own, Santos Old Man, but she’d be wrong. I have a courageous woman with me.”
“You have a very confused woman here,” Audrey admitted.
“Tell me what is bothering you, and perhaps I can help,” he said, struggling against his bonds. “Well, I can listen and talk.”
“There is so much that doesn’t ring true here. If this thing is so powerful then why doesn’t it leave? If it once had what it is seeking, then why didn’t it leave then?”
“I think it may have something to do with what it is seeking and how it was sealed. I’m surprised at its command of the language of our times. The intelligence of this demon - yes, that’s what it is, Audrey - must be vast.”
“I thought you couldn’t contain a demon, Father.”
“You can’t kill a demon, but you can contain one,” he corrected. “In this case, there is a missing element to the creature,” Santos said, well aware that the walls may have ears. “Whatever this is, it seems to be contained in some way that the creature can’t access itself. It binds him to this spot. The thing can give powers to others in hope of retrieving what it has lost. Unfortunately, it’s at the mercy of these… I’m at a loss for words. Let’s call them caretakers. They could just be content with keeping it here and drawing from its power. It may be a victim as well as a demon.”
“A victim?” Audrey was flabbergasted. “I find it impossible to see a demon as a victim. Am I supposed to feel sorry for it?”
“No. But it may help you to understand both our and its predicament here.”
“Alice May’s mother called the demon forth and imprisoned it?”
“No, the demon was already imprisoned here,” Santos corrected.
“Wait. The demon caused Alice May’s mother to…”
“Seek out power, dark power. In doing so, she became attached to the demon or it to her. It filled her mind with corrupted thoughts. I think that it’s quite possible that’s how Mrs. Blackwell became a skin-walker. Skin-walkers could fall under the realm of this type of demon, just as soul-jumpers do. Angelo would know more about that.”
“Angelo, he’s the fish.”
Santos’s eyes brightened, and he nodded.
“Mia’s the bait. There’s nothing Angelo wants more than Mia. Angelo could free the demon, or knows how to,” Audrey said quietly. “This whole thing, Brentwood being summoned back, Mrs. Blackwell killing and displaying her kill publicly in the graveyard, was to get the attention of Angelo Michaels.”
“Or someone like him. There are many sects that fight the fight, Audrey. The two spirit hunters for example. They are governed by the Council of Women.”
“Mia said she wondered why you didn’t finish what you started here in the hollow. Did you know the demon was here?”
“No, but I had this feeling that I needed to leave. When I left, Angelo left. It could have been more than my cowardness and ineptitude that had me walk away from this place. I relied upon a kind gentle spirit to watch the hollow.”
“Daisy.”
“Yes.”
“So her leaving was the catalyst?”
“No, it presented an opportunity. An opportunity that couldn’t be passed up.”
“So this demon called for the soul-jumper who took control of Thaddeus Maynard who bought the hollow. How strong is this thing?” Audrey asked.
They heard a scraping of something moving down stone steps.
“I fear, Audrey, we are about to find out.”
Chapter Nineteen
Murphy walked down the street, bold as brass. He walked up onto the porch of the middle house and tapped on the door lightly with his axe.
The door was opened by a woman he remembered as Alice May Blackwell, the spinster of the Blackwell house. He tipped his hat and said, “You may not remember me, but I’m Stephen Murphy.”
“Chastity’s poor husband,” Alice said coldly.
Murphy refused to be pulled down that dark hall of memory. Instead he said, “I was wondering if you may have seen two friends of mine. A little redheaded woman and a priest wearing… well… priestly garb.”
“I honestly can’t tell you. The woman that was carried in here wore a bag over her head. Had she red hair, I couldn’t tell you for certain. But there was a man in the costume of a Roman Catholic with her,” Alice informed the farmer. She looked at Murphy and tried not to turn her nose up at his ragged clothing. Not everyone had a tailor or dressmaker at their beck and call. Chastity Murphy didn’t seem too concerned with the state of her husband’s collar or cuffs from what Alice could see. He had a little bird perched on his shoulder. It was most unusual. “That bird, what kind is it?”
Murphy moved his hand to his shoulder. The little bird hopped on, gripping his forefinger tightly as Murphy brought the bird closer to Alice. “I’m not sure what it is,” he admitted. “Doesn’t seem bigger than a finch, but its plumage isn’t gold nor purple.”
Alice put her finger out, and Mia hopped onto it. “Let’s take a look in Papa’s book, shall we?” Alice asked, inviting the farmer in.
Murphy made an attempt to knock the soil off of his boots.
“Come, Mr. Murphy, we know better,” Alice said, leading him away from the door and deep into the house.
~
While she sat under the hairdryer at the beauty salon, Susan Braverman could not stop thinking of what her son had revealed to her. What possessed her to take the first available appointment at the salon? She didn’t need her hair done. Susan was there for other reasons. She and the women of her church had decided to take it upon themselves to form a watch group. Each of the stalwart, middle-aged women had decided that no one was going to mess with the women and children of their community.
After her last conversation with Tom, when she had first broached the subject to the group that the children and women of their community were in danger from the graveyard, they looked at her like she was out of her flipping mind. Susan figured this was how Mia felt anytime she tried to explain why she acted the way she did. She quickly amended her speech to mention the prevalence of pedophiles seen recently in the graveyard. She hoped God wouldn’t punish her for this lie. The women didn’t ask her how she knew this; they all knew her son was in law enforcement. She also did everything but point her fi
nger at the Maynard Mining company owner who had taken up residence in the old hardware store. He was to be avoided, but she couldn’t tell them why. She would leave it up to their imaginations to come up with something horrible enough to give this man a wide berth if they saw him.
Susan had already enlisted the help of the county weed control people. She had them walking the edge of the graveyard, spraying at the emerging dandelion population. Having the gray-jumpsuited men there would hopefully dissuade any attempts to breach the fence line. She also had personally talked to the principal of the elementary school about an outbreak of poison ivy that she suspected was growing on the fence of the Big Bear Lake Cemetery. Another of her group had likewise reported this to the head mistress of the nursery school. Until further notice, the children would be confined to the gymnasiums and playrooms for their free time.
It wasn’t Tom mentioning the hollow’s problem that had Susan so angry. It was the unholy nature of the cemetery. How could the graveyard not be consecrated? She had folks buried there. Could Aunt Phyllis be persuaded out of her rest to kidnap children? She dismissed the idea. Aunt Phyllis hated kids in life, and so in death, she would avoid them like the plague. But her second cousin Mavis was another matter. She’d always been jealous of people with children. Susan wouldn’t put it past her to take a child if given the opportunity.
Susan pushed the cap of the dryer up and walked over to the window. Did she see something at the edge of the fence?
“Mrs. Braverman,” the hairdresser asked, “are you dry already?” The woman walked up and started prodding a well-manicured finger under the large pink rollers.
“I swear I saw… Yes, there it is. Is that a goat?” Susan asked.
The stylist looked in the direction Susan was pointing and nodded.
“Excuse me a moment,” Susan said and pulled out her cell phone. “Tom, they’re using baby goats to try to attract the women and children!” she shouted into the phone.
“Ah, look baby goats,” squealed a young woman sitting, facing the window while getting a pedicure.