by Naomi Canale
All rights reserved
Copyright © 2013 by Naomi Canale
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized distribution is prohibited.
For information:
http://naomicanale.com/
“His Dark Ways is full of palpable action careening toward a breakneck conclusion. Plus, hot guys.” -Bookalicious
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Acknowledgements
His Dark Ways
A novel by
Naomi Canale
For My Husband
Because you’ve always seen me
“And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell.”
– Mathew 10:28
Chapter 1
Thrill Seekers
Tonopah is the only seven-letter town I’ve known my entire life. It’s a small town where everyone seems to be concerned for the pastor's daughter and the lack of resources flowing out of the mines. It's a place that has more churches than grocery stores, and my parents are the proud owners of one of them, The First Baptist Church. I've been cooped up in it ever since the last wall went up, staring at a plastered Jesus that's only two bolts away from falling off the wall. Maybe sitting in that place year after year watching the first seven bolts unwind is making me lose my mind. Or maybe it's all the "prayers" everyone's saying for me. I don’t think they’re working; otherwise, I wouldn't be making up lies and driving across the desert, kicking up dust in a beat up Ford with Amy, Lucky, and Red.
As we go over a speed bump the door shakes from rusty hinges, and Amy attempts to gloss her lips with black as she stares over Lucky's shoulder. The book they're holding freaked me out when they first showed it to me, but that was back when I was a shy little redhead with freckles, afraid of sunburns and not doing everything perfect like my mom. But after reading it—meditating on it, I'm starting to see things. The Bible says books like these open doors that should never be opened, or so my dad keeps telling me. He shouldn't have told me that—his parental advice left me curious, addicted.
It’s our first visit to the Goldfield Hotel, well not really our first visit. We’ve been here before but never had the guts to break in until now. Every thrill we accomplish, the bigger we want the next one to be.
As we arrive in the black of the night that seems darker than most, we park. Lucky rolls her eyes at my dog Red. “How in the hell are we supposed to get him in there?”
I smush Red’s furry cheeks together with my hands and give him a kiss. “You’ll figure out how to get in there, won’t you, big boy?” His hazel eyes get glossier, and he tucks his wet nose under my arm for a hug. “See. He’s all good. He won’t make any noise.”
Lucky hops out. “Okay, just so long as there’s not a repeat of what happened last month.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say as I try to avoid a reenactment of our first night in jail. Jail in Tonopah consisted of twelve empty beds and a few drunks who participated in bar fights. It wasn’t that bad. The worst part was our parents banding together to “help us”, except for Amy’s mom. She’s doesn’t participate much in life anymore ever since Amy’s dad died in Afghanistan.
I hop inside the back of my truck and untie the tarp covering our stuff. As I move it out of the way dirt kicks up all over my face. Unlike Amy and Lucky, I can just wipe it off. I hate makeup and the two of them cake it on. I’ve never understood the stuff, especially if you live in a desert. There’s nothing that grows long enough out here to hold the dirt down so I’m constantly rubbing dirt off my face, especially now since the wind is pulling in winter and seems to be pissed with everyone that lives in this town. When the snow finally falls, it adds a stillness—a peace we don’t have all year. There’s no more flying dirt, just the wisp of the wind carrying pieces of snow all over these old grounds that people abandoned long ago.
With a quick zip of a suitcase, I toss the girls their flashlights and backpacks, I grab the crow bar. My boots are laced up snug around my calves, and I take the lead with Red trailing by my side.
We did our research before coming out here and decided we’d try to break in through the back. I grasp the crow bar harder, wondering if I’ll be able to pry particle board off a door frame that’s taller than me. But when we get closer, Lucky walks the opposite direction. “You guys,” she shouts, “come here, a window’s already opened.”
Lucky climbs in first and I follow in last after I heave all seventy-five pounds of Red up through the window. Amy shines her flashlight over a door in the room and tries to open it, “Damn, it’s locked.”
“Well that’s an easy fix,” I say as I twist the crow bar around in a small flip and make a crack in the door frame while lifting the lock free. The door slowly creaks open like we’ve entered a real haunted house. Together we laugh. “That’s pretty cool.”
There’s nothing eerie about this place. People can be crazy, always trying so hard to believe in something. I shouldn’t judge because I guess I’m delusional too for trying so hard to feel something real besides the life that exists before my eyes.
Together we make it into the entrance area. An old chandelier, dusty desk, and a bunch of building material piled up and partially brown from rot is all that stands out through the streams of light from my flashlight. Amy sits on an old seat surrounding one of the pillars in the room. “Look, guys, it’s still bouncy. Me and Eric could definitely come back here for a good time.”
Lucky socks her in the shoulder while sitting down next to her. “God, Amy, you two are so slutty.”
Amy clanks her tongue ring against her teeth. “Oh and like you and Jared aren’t?”
They continue their banter and I try to stay out of it. I’m tired of them calling me the soon-to-be sacrificial virgin. But I’m not big into guys, let alone sex. I’m happy not having some immature boy in my life, plus I don’t want to feel all attached to a guy like the two of them feel. Even though I don’t believe in religion or a god, I still want to follow Dad’s advice about abstinence. It’s worked out well for him and Mom before they got married and seems like good stuff to live by. I think.
Lucky shines her light over Red. “Oh, looky at Red, his eyes look all creepy. Come here, Red, baby.”
Red just sits there with his head turned sideways, tongue out, and ready to play. He’s eight years old and still likes to toss around squishy toys and won’t go to Lucky unless she has one. She gives up on Red and rubs her hands across the hard cover of His Dark Ways. “So where are we doing this, ladies?”
Amy stands up, fixes the bottom button on her cowgirl blouse, and flips her braid over her shoulder. “The basement’s supposed to have the most activity.”
Lucky leads the way. “Let’s do this already.”
After a few laps around the bottom of the hotel, we locate the stairs of
the basement. There’s a damp draft as we get closer to the bottom. Our book says that if everyone in our circle believes in the spirit world, then we have more of a chance of an event taking place, but nothing’s ever happened except for the cup moving off of our Ouija board the last time we used it. I’m the only one who doesn’t believe in anything, maybe that’s our problem. But ever since I saw that cup move across the board, I started having more dreams; maybe it will help with today’s séance since I’m tapping into it more.
The wide hallways give off shady vibes, but it’s probably because it’s a creepy old basement with a mine shaft. I never did understand why they originally decided to build a mine shaft inside a hotel. You can supposedly hear a baby crying from the bottom of it, but all I can hear are Amy and Lucky breathing heavy from our walk around the building and Red’s claws scuffling along the concrete.
Amy stops in the middle of the hallway. “Let’s do it right here. It might be better than confining ourselves to one room, yeah know? Like maybe we’ll end up picking the room where there are no ghosts. Let’s lure them out of their rooms.”
“Sounds good to me.”
It must sound good to Lucky, too, because as I move my flashlight in her direction she’s already spreading out a bright blanket for us to sit on. The sunny colors under the blue flowers remind me of the last time Mom was home. She wanted to freshen up the house for me and Dad before she went on another tour for the United Nations, and Lucky’s blanket makes me miss her. Three more months and she gets to be home for an entire year. But ever since Amy’s dad died, I’ve been haunted with the idea of losing someone I love and now I’m more scared for Mom. The insane rebels running the crumbled village she’s helping in, like to hunt down the American volunteers. Bastard rapists and killers is all they are. Dad tells me to have faith, but that’s all just fairytales to me, like how I used to have faith that Santa Claus would bring shoes for the kids in Africa Mom used to tell me stories about—it’s all crap, people need to get off their asses and actually do that stuff.
After our candles are lit, we join our hands together as we attempt a new ritual. I need to clear my mind, but it’s hard to take this ritual seriously when all I can picture is the little demon in His Dark Ways next to this séance. He’s this dancing cartoonish demon with miniature horns, a flappy long tongue, and red eyes.
Amy introduces the séance. “Dearest spirits, this is Amy, Lucky, and Savanna. We would like to talk to you tonight and ask what happened here. Or who you are?”
My back is towards the stairs. Footsteps are heavy from behind. Did someone else break in? If so, I’ve got my crow bar ready for whatever weirdo comes at me. I break the circle by grabbing my flashlight and shining it toward the stairs. The girls open their eyes. “What’s wrong?”
There’s nothing there.
Amy puts on a curling grin. “Is the famous nothing-can-scare Savanna Christy actually getting the creeps?”
I flip my flashlight off and grab their hands. “No, and as a matter of fact there’s been something I’ve been wanting to say during these séances. Close your eyes. My turn.” I take in a slow breath and go against everything my parents taught me. “Dearest spirits, the Bible speaks of opening doors that shouldn’t be opened, tell us, can you open these doors? Do they really exist?”
We wait—nothing. “If you can, can you open one of these doors? A big one?”
A rumble echoes into my ear. It’s Red’s growl. He doesn’t do it often and it makes me think more strangers really did break in, or worse, the property owner. I’ve heard he’s a pretty nice guy, until people break in. Then he turns psycho. We should’ve closed the bedroom door behind us when we came in. Red’s changed position toward the stairs when we open our eyes. Homeless people have been known to stay in many of the abandoned places around here. Winter is coming after all. Red’s growl gets louder and he starts to bark. He never barks. When the three of us look at each other and back down at Red, he’s already running up the stairs. I take off after him. Amy shouts out to me. “Savanna, wait!”
Besides the girls, he’s my best friend. I can’t let something bad happen to him. The end of his tail whips around a corner on the second floor and before I can grab onto his collar, I’m swept off my feet by an unseen force.
My cheekbone slams against the splintered wood floor. I watch as my blood smears across boards filled with rot. Splinters penetrate my face and I try to twist away, but someone strong is holding onto me, tight. I can barely change positions. I lift myself up enough to flip on my flashlight, I want to look this psycho in the eye—but I see nothing, only my foot dangling in the air. Amy and Lucky’s screams radiate through the hotel and my nerves come undone. A faint fog inside my head blurs my vision and ability to think clearly. Whatever thing, or spirit, has my foot in its grip yanks onto me as if I’m a dead body already being dragged toward its place of rest. My arm flops down and cold metal spears my wrist. It pulls on me again. I scream out, trying to unhook my wrist from an old nail sticking out of the wall. It pulls again, and the sting of layers of flesh tearing loose unhinges my fogged brain. Whatever this thing is, I can’t let it drag me to where it wants to take me. I grab onto the door jam and kick my legs free.
Footsteps come toward me. It must be one of the girls.
It’s not, and I’m thrown into a room with my lungs being drained of air as my back slams into an old heater core.
The door slams shut.
White specks of paint dust the air as fingernail indentations etch their way down the door. A gush of air moves through the tiny specks and they burst like a small paper bomb into the streams of light. The door opens, slams shut, and the growl of a monster pierces my ears. A pounding from the other side of the door starts to crack the wood down the center and I pace my breath, trying to move toward a window to loosen it free. It doesn’t budge, and I’m reduced into a ball under the darkness of the window ledge. Deep inside, stupidity seems to corrode my insides and I question my desire of ever wanting a thrill again, if I survive.
There’s silence, except for the sound of my pulse damaging my ear drums.
Steps. I count them. One, two, three, four, five…
They stop. I keep myself wrapped up tight in my arms.
Cool air enters the small tunnel of my right ear and causes a shiver to blanket my body. “It’s okay,” a voice whispers, “the monsters have gone.”
I look up. No one is there.
The voice is comforting, yet, leads me to doubt. I quickly scan the room. Empty.
I’m suddenly dizzy and use my wounded wrist to lift myself up off the floor. As I begin to fumble back, my hand comes into contact with something and I have no choice but to quickly face what it is.
Intense black eyes with only the dim light of the moon bringing them to life look into mine. A boy about my age stares at me confused, startled, and out of breath. I pull away—he disappears.
I’m about to run, but something inside, in the pit of my stomach, tells me to stay.
Warmth covers my bloodied wrist. His touch calms me. “Danger has passed,” he reassures me.
Again, I reach out into the darkness. It’s him. My touch seems to give his spirit flesh. Dark hair, a face painted by death, and a beauty I’ve only read of in Bible stories. He reaches for my face and leans in as if he’s never seen a living breathing human being. Our energy radiating through each other making him real, assures me he’s not a lion after a lamb. I can’t move my hand from his face, nor can I move my eyes from his and I stare into the unknown Dad always said existed.
Chapter 2
Breathe Deep
Large pebbles shake the window pane above my head. Our stare breaks. The girls are crying out for me. In what must have only been moments, feels longer, I don’t want to let go; I want him to stay. I keep my hand steady while moving my fingertips along his cheekbone and down his ivory neck lined with a uniform collar. One of my fingers stops on a metal star sewn onto the shoulder of his jacket. He must have
been a soldier. My hand keeps going and stops at the end of his wrist. We lift our hands up palm to palm, fingertip to fingertip, and I admire everything about him. His lips hazed in purple, eyes filled with stories, and a physical beauty I’ve never seen on earth. Our hands interweave and we both hold on. I find it difficult to speak. I stutter, “What’s your name?”
“Daniel.” His voice is deep and resonant. A smile grows. He reaches for a strand of my hair and moves it around my ear.
Panic sets into the back of his eyes and a brush of cold air seeps into the room. “You need to leave. Take the fire escape.”
“But the window, it’s jammed—”
He lets go and disappears. On the farther side of the wall a window opens.
As I climb out, I see Red pacing below the fire escape. The old wood frame screeches shut as I pull out my last leg. The girls sound startled. “Damn it, Savanna, you freaked us out!”
I look back into the empty room. I know they’re worried, but now I’m more concerned about Daniel. His touch was addicting, like a drug. I place my hand on the glass. Warmth covers my palm and fogs the window pane. Amy calls out to me. “Are you okay?”
The glass grows cold and the shape of his hand fades, I slide my hand away and climb down.
Dust kicks up as my feet hit sturdy ground and I’m greeted with Red jumping up at me, whimpering. I reach down and hug him, tight. “I was so worried about you. Don’t ever take off like that again,” Amy says. Her voice is shaky.
The girls look like crap. They both have mangled hair, skinned elbows, and dirt covered clothes, but they’re staring at me like I’m the one with problems. Lucky points out my wrist, apparently I do have problems. “Damn, Savanna, are you okay?”
The pulsing pain penetrating through my nerve endings worsens as I’m reminded of my wound. I refuse to assess the damage until I’m home. “Yeah. The two of you kind of look like crap. You okay?”
Amy seems concerned. “We look like crap? Jesus, Savanna. Should we take you to the hospital?”