In Shadows

by Chandler McGrew

  Jake nodded. “I hate to say this, but we can’t save Barbara by getting everyone else killed. We need to get to the old house.”

  “Because we may have more to worry about out here than Jimmy?” asked Cramer.

  Jake shrugged.

  Virgil shook his head. “Barbara isn’t either of your responsibilities. She lives in my jurisdiction. And I’m sworn to protect her.”

  “And Mandi and Pierce,” Jake reminded him.

  “You two can get them to the Crowley house.”

  “And if we don’t? If Jimmy’s waiting ahead in ambush while you’re running around like a loose cannon?”

  Virgil shook his head obstinately, stepping to the tree line. “Barb! Can you hear me? Answer for God’s sake!”

  “Virg,” said Jake, “if Jimmy doesn’t know she’s out there, you’re gonna tell him.”

  Jake could see the reasoning slowly sinking in. Virgil didn’t like it. But Barbara would have to be written off, at least for the moment. Jake didn’t like it, either. But there it was. If Virgil insisted on going out searching for her now, he’d just be playing into Jimmy’s hands.

  “Damn,” muttered Virg, hanging his head.

  “Come on,” said Jake, wrapping an arm around the old man’s shoulders and nudging him back to the group.

  Mandi didn’t care much for the idea, either. But when Jake explained about Jimmy, and that staying where they were was endangering Pierce, as well, she reluctantly acquiesced.

  But Virgil kept glaring out into the trees as they hiked, and Jake had the feeling that Jimmy made a far worse enemy in this backwoods valley than he’d ever managed to in Houston.

  HE SUN MUST HAVE RISEN, but the only light flashed irregularly from the storm still thundering overhead. To their right the mountain sloped upward into the gloom. To their left it dropped away precipitously into equal darkness. The rain-laden wind gusted and swirled.

  They hadn’t heard the dog barking for a couple of miles. And Jake was afraid that the gutsy animal and its master had run afoul of a homicidal maniac. Whenever he glanced over his shoulder he saw Cramer and Virgil scanning the trees uphill and down.

  Most of this trail ran high up along the mountainside away from any landmarks, and it was surrounded by forest and overgrown from years of disuse. If it hadn’t been for deer and the occasional hunter it probably would have disappeared altogether. Jake tried to estimate how much farther it was to the old house, but the twists and turns and fourteen years away from the valley conspired with the storm to disorient him.

  They stopped under a maple tree for a breather, and Jake nudged close to Cramer. Virgil eased up alongside.

  “Shouldn’t be too much farther,” said Jake.

  “Meaning you don’t know,” Cramer replied.

  “What do you think about lynx now?”

  “I wish I was one.”

  Glancing around, Jake wondered if this wasn’t the worst place they could have chosen to rest. They were on the inside elbow of a sharp turn that reminded him of the spot on the burnout trail where Ernie had been shot. He had to peer in either direction around the bulk of the trees to make out the way they had come and the way they were going. And the forest was denser here, lined with bracken and brush. A distant sound caught his attention, and he stiffened, holding out his hand to Cramer for silence, but he could barely make the noise out over the slapping of the rain on the foliage. Then it was gone.

  “Did you hear it?” Jake asked.

  Cramer frowned, checking out the terrain. “Hear what?”

  “The whispering.”

  “Great. Which way was it coming from?”

  “I couldn’t tell. Maybe it was just my imagination. I’m jumpy.”

  “Ain’t we all?” muttered Virgil.

  “Pierce heard it,” said Jake.

  The boy seemed to be searching the storm with his blind eyes as Mandi tried to communicate with him.

  “How the hell could he do that?” asked Virgil.

  “I don’t know,” said Jake, shaking his head. “How the hell did he fix my car?”

  “How good a look did you get at Jimmy?” asked Cramer.

  “Maybe thirty feet away. He’s still naked. He had the knife and the rifle.”

  “Thirty feet?”

  Jake frowned. “Yeah.”

  “And you missed?” said Virgil.

  “Damn, boy,” muttered Cramer.

  “I shouted for him to drop his weapons,” said Jake.

  “And when he aimed the gun in your direction you did what?” said Cramer. “Try to shoot it out of his hand like Roy Rogers?”

  “It happened fast,” said Jake.

  But he knew it was his fault now if Barbara was dead. And he wondered which was worse, maybe letting the demon out, or keeping it hidden and allowing someone else to do the killing. Pierce started flailing in Mandi’s arms, and the three of them edged back toward the boy, watching as Mandi tried to break through. But Pierce continued to ignore her.

  “He wants you,” Mandi told Jake, holding out Pierce’s hands.

  Did you hear it? Pierce spelled quickly into Jake’s palm.

  Jake glanced at Mandi, and sighed before spelling back. Yeah. I think I heard it again just now.

  Pierce nodded. It knows you.

  Jake frowned. What do you mean?

  I think it knows both of us.

  Jake stared at the boy for a long moment, ignoring the rest of the group who watched in silence. He turned slowly to Mandi with the question on his lips, but when he faced all of them in the gray cavern of rain he couldn’t voice it. This definitely wasn’t the time or the place.

  When we get inside again we’ll talk, spelled Jake, extricating his hand and making sure that Mandi had a firm hold on Pierce again before starting down the trail.

  They moved at an even slower pace than before, eyeing every shadow, but as they rounded yet another bend in the path a large, jagged boulder jutted out of the mountainside, and Jake smiled, pointing it out to Mandi. She nodded in response.

  “What’s that?” asked Cramer.

  “Indian Rock!” Jake shouted back to Virgil. “We’re close to the swimming hole.”

  Mandi’s shoulders sagged from exhaustion, and Jake stroked wet hair out of her eyes.

  “Put Pierce between us. It gets steeper here.”

  The path began to slope downward along the mountainside. The trail was as slippery as wet ice, but the sodden grass and pine needles alongside were no better. Several times Pierce bumped into Jake’s back, causing him to lose his balance.

  “Everybody watch your step,” he shouted.

  When Pierce stumbled and caught himself against Jake’s hip, Jake felt the gem in his pocket pressed into his side. He glanced at the boy and saw realization in Pierce’s face. Even through the wet cloth, the boy knew what he’d felt. Why was it so important to him?

  He steadied the boy and led on.

  HE OLD HOUSE SOARED over the landscape like an albino vulture, with wide overhanging eaves for wings and dark window eyes blinking at each bolt of lightning. Grass grew as high as the porch floor, and an apple tree that had been shattered by some long-ago storm stood rotting in the front yard. One shutter slapped wildly in the wind. But it was Albert’s bulldozer resting beside the porch that held Jake’s attention.

  “What’s that doing here?” he asked.

  Virgil shook his head. “Bert Murphy said he heard Albert drive it up here a couple of days before he was killed. Got no idea what he was planning to do with it.”

  “We have to get inside,” said Mandi, feeling for the key over the door. “Pierce is freezing.”

  As Jake’s hand rested on the doorknob he stared at his reflection in the darkened glass, but saw instead a boy of ten, eyes wide with terror, jaw clasped shut. He stared into those eyes for what seemed an eternity, wondering if this house really was the cause of all the horror somehow.

  Mandi’s hand slipped over his, and he let her twist the knob, listening to th
e creaking of the old lock. They pushed the door open together, and when he turned to look at her she nodded.

  “There’s nothing in there to be afraid of,” she whispered, too low for the others to hear. “Just old memories.”

  But Jake knew better. The ghosts of his past were hidden beneath the sheets covering chairs and tables, concealed in every nook and cranny.

  Pierce sneezed as they entered, then coughed and cleared his throat. Mandi signed to him, and he nodded.

  “What did you tell him?” asked Jake, dumping his pack onto the floor.

  “I told him where we were and what the smell was. Pierce has never been around this much dust.”

  “Reminds me of home,” said Cramer.

  Jake noticed Virgil standing in the doorway staring out into the storm, and he slipped beside the sheriff.

  “There was nothing you could do to save her,” insisted Jake, knowing that Barbara’s disappearance would eat at the older man until he found her—alive or dead.

  Virgil sighed. “I think maybe this valley really is cursed.”

  Jake nudged him gently aside and closed the door.

  Mandi was trying to get a shivering Pierce out of his dripping rain gear, and Jake could see by the tears in her eyes that pent-up fear had finally taken its toll. He went to her and wrapped his arms around both of them.

  “It’s over,” he whispered into her ear. “We’re safe now.”

  She shook her head. “No, we’re not. That killer is still out there. That thing is still out there. And now maybe Barbara’s dead, too.”

  Seeking refuge in the old house did seem like jumping from the frying pan into the fire. But what else could they have done? Events seemed to have conspired inevitably to this conclusion, from the killings on the beach, to the storm, to Jimmy. Jake felt as though he had been herded here against his will, but he could find no way to reason them all out of the dilemma.

  “Who’s got the candles?” asked Cramer, waving his flashlight.

  “There used to be kerosene lamps and matches stored in that closet,” said Jake, reluctantly releasing Mandi and pointing at a door.

  “All fueled up and ready to go,” said Cramer, digging out a lantern and shaking it.

  “That’s funny,” said Jake, unscrewing one of the caps and swishing lantern fuel around. “I would have thought the fuel would have evaporated by now.”

  Cramer shrugged, lighting lantern after lantern until warm, golden light flooded the hallway. “Shall we?” He waved toward the parlor, and the others followed him inside. “Here we have the sitting room, complete with Victorian decor. The floor is done in old-world dust, and the windows are frosted with same.”

  Mandi chuckled. “It does need a woman’s touch.”

  “It needs the Women’s Army Corps,” said Cramer.

  Mandi started pulling sheets off of furniture. She shook one out and wrapped it around Pierce, who was still shivering.

  “There may still be wood out back,” said Jake, heading into the hall again.

  “Jake!” said Mandi, freezing everyone in place.

  He turned.

  “Be careful,” she said at last.

  He smiled reassuringly. “It’s okay. Just getting some firewood. I’ll be right back.”

  “Need me?” whispered Cramer.

  Jake kept his own voice low. “Jimmy’s wounded, at the very least, and all he’s got now is the knife, anyway. If I get into trouble, I’ll yell.”

  “With your reflexes a knife might be all he needs,” said Cramer, frowning.

  “I’ll be all right,” growled Jake.

  “I’ll stay with the housekeeping staff, then,” said Cramer, wadding up a sheet and tossing it into a corner.

  S JAKE PASSED THROUGH THE KITCHEN he was struck by haunting memories.

  He recalled surprising his parents at the sink. His father had Jake’s mother wrapped in his arms, nuzzling her neck while she giggled and shifted flirtatiously against him. That was a good memory and one that hadn’t surfaced in a long time. He tried to hold onto it, but the scene faded, replaced by the night he and Mandi had snuck up here together. He could remember the beginning of that night, picture the house, smell the dust and Mandi’s perfume. Regardless of what he’d told her, he did recall making out furiously just before he began to sense the presence in the house.

  What in the world had he been thinking, letting her talk him into coming here? Even a horny twenty-two-year-old should have been smarter than that. But by that time he’d pretty much convinced himself that Virgil and Pam were right, that there was no such thing as the Crowley curse, that what he remembered of his mother’s death was the imagining of a terribly traumatized child’s mind.

  Only it wasn’t.

  As much as he wanted to, he still couldn’t recall making love that night. He remembered lying on the mattress in front of the fire, his arms around Mandi, the feel of her, the smell of her hair. He recalled wanting her and her wanting him, her eyes closed in anticipation and desire, her breath like a hot breeze against his throat.

  Then the memories became disjointed and surreal. But what he did remember most vividly was the sound of the whisper, creeping through the old house, the sudden sense of something inside his head. Most horrifying of all, he witnessed his own hands as they slipped slowly around Mandi’s throat and began to tighten, her eyes confused, then angry, then panicked, then paralyzed. He had no control of those hands, as though he were outside his body, screaming at himself to let go, watching helplessly as he committed the murder of his beloved.

  When he came to the next day he was afraid to open his eyes. But Mandi was sleeping soundly, curled in his arms. She was shocked when he awakened her and told her to get dressed. He had no idea what had happened in the night. But he feared that something similar might have happened to his own father on the night his mother was killed. And he knew that this had been his only warning. He couldn’t allow anyone close to him again.

  For fourteen years he had believed that his decision had been the right one. For fourteen years he had watched himself constantly for signs that the monster was taking over again. But it hadn’t happened. Until the fight on the beach he had never hurt anyone. But he hadn’t killed all those men, either. So, had his father gone crazy? Or had there really been a monster that had killed his mother? Could it have been some combination of the two? There was definitely something that seemed to exist outside his head. Other people had heard the whispers. Hell, even Pierce heard them.

  Whatever it was that plagued his family—whether madness or monster or both—some part of it had finally followed him to Houston. It had killed outside the valley. But it had to end here. Now, where it began. Because he wanted Mandi back. He needed her back. And he would not allow it to have either her or Pierce.

  A bolt of lightning zigzagged through the trees behind the house. Silhouetted by the flash, the branches waved a thousand tiny hands in warding gestures against some approaching menace, and the outline of the old Crowley family chapel flared, pointing an accusing finger skyward as a peal of thunder rocked the house. The storm center was right over their heads and gaining in fury.

  Pellets of rain battered Jake as he stepped out into the wind. A stack of cordwood—rotten and ingrown with fungus and weeds—rested against the house beneath a narrow shed roof. Jake tossed the pulpiest pieces off the top, searching for drier, firmer wood beneath. He gathered as much as he could carry and hurried back up the porch steps. Before he could cross the threshold, though, a singsong whisper wove through the rain and wind, setting the hair on the back of his neck on end. A shadow deeper than the surrounding darkness meandered through the trees as the sound competed with the furor of the storm.

  Jake shone the flashlight across the tall grass as he backed into the house, kicking the door closed behind him.

  When he dumped the wood on the hearth in the living room Cramer knelt beside him, giving him an appraising look. “Wood’s half rotten. Gonna need a lot more.”

&nb
sp; “We’ll go get it together, then,” said Jake, refusing to look him in the eye.

  He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Pierce standing over him. When Jake glanced at Mandi she shook her head.

  “He got up off the sofa . . . He went right to you.”

  Jake took Pierce’s hand. What’s up?

  Can I have it?

  Jake knew instantly what the boy wanted. Hesitantly he reached into his pocket and handed the jewel to Pierce.

  The boy held it in one open palm, the chain dangling, fingering the facets with his other hand. He nibbled his lip thoughtfully. Finally, he nodded his thanks and dropped back onto the couch.

  “Jake . . .” said Mandi, staring uncertainly at the necklace.

  Jake shrugged. “I don’t think a piece of jewelry is gonna hurt him.”

  IERCE HUDDLED ON THE SOFA, soaking up the warmth of the fire. He had yet to figure out what drew him to the necklace. But there was a definite attraction, and he knew the jewel wasn’t just a jewel. It buzzed in his hand like some kind of machine. Only it was broken, somehow. It still had power. But the power seemed to be leaking or switching the wrong circuits.

  Vibrations tickled the floor, and when he turned he sensed three vague figures. But not through the vibrations. Through his eyes . . . It felt similar to the sensation he’d had for just an instant on the day Dary Murphy had been killed. He waved his hands slowly in front of his face, following their silhouette, trying to understand how this new phenomenon—comprised of familiar darkness and what had to be light—worked, but when he aimed his fingers back in the direction of the figures the talent suddenly disappeared, and he felt a terrible sinking sense of loss.

  He squeezed the jewel tighter, feeling a higher-pitched vibration tingle through it. Then the odd sensation shocked him again. Light and dark. Movement and stillness. That’s what it had to be.

  He was seeing.

  Mandi watched Jake and Cramer heading down the hall toward the kitchen as she busied herself with making beds for all of them on the floor. She’d enlisted Virgil’s help to drag mattresses down from the rooms upstairs, and they had scattered four of them around the fireplace. Now they were covering them with musty-smelling old blankets. Once that was done she intended to dig out the canned goods from the packs and see about rationing out a first meal. She also needed to put pots and pans out front to collect water.