In Shadows

by Chandler McGrew

  Cramer frowned. “Ogou don’t work that way. He just help us.”

  “Why do you talk that way sometimes?”

  Cramer shook his head. “Memere starts to come out in situations like this.”

  “Keep watching.”

  Cramer slapped him on the back. “Nothing to watch. You’re stronger than any bad spirits. You proved that the night you were here with Mandi.”

  But Jake could tell by Cramer’s eyes that he wasn’t that sure.

  Jake glanced over his shoulder as Mandi approached. Pierce appeared to doze in front of the fire. Suddenly he remembered Pierce’s words.

  It’s not bad. I think it’s broken. I can feel something wrong in it, like a bad circuit.

  There was a bad circuit in the thing, all right. A circuit that drove men to murder their families, that drove strangers to kill each other and sometimes themselves. The more Jake thought about it, the more he concluded that their best bet would be to survive the storm and then return to the head of the valley with a whole box of dynamite to blow the jewel, the amethyst, the chapel above them, and even this old house to hell and gone.

  “I’ll make us something to eat,” said Mandi, brushing by them.

  Cramer eyed Jake and nodded toward the kitchen.

  IERCE’S MIND DRIFTED. He could feel the satisfying warmth from the fire as he lay on the mattress with his eyes closed. But with his hand clenched around the jewel he kept being drawn down into it. And the more he gave himself up to the sensation, the more he almost understood the workings of the machine within.

  The gem seemed like some kind of transformer. It was meant to take one kind of power and amp it up and then give it back. And some of the power that it stored had given him his senses of sight and hearing, and healed his limp. But he also sensed that in doing so the bauble had used up almost all of the last of its power.

  So what did it have to do with the monster that lived in the woods, the whispering darkness that had been living in the valley? It was almost as though the two were connected in the same way that radio waves are “connected” to a transmitter. But because the gem was broken in some way, its message, the whispering thing, had been created or become flawed, as well.

  He was pretty sure that if he could fix the jewel, the whispers would just fade away, the way a radio signal did. But he was afraid. More afraid that he’d ever been in his life, because down in the hole with Jake he had begun to get just an inkling of what might be involved in repairing the jewel, of what the cost might be.

  Jake leaned over Mandi to take down a pot she couldn’t reach. When he handed it to her their hands met. They both sighed at the same time, and finally she returned his smile.

  “I’m sorry for everything, Mandi,” he said at last, hoping that she knew that by “everything,” he meant things in the distant past and in the past few hours, as well.

  She shrugged. “We’ll work it out.”

  Jake shook his head. “You have no idea how bad it hurts that I had a son all these years, and I wasn’t there for him. That I wasn’t there for you.”

  “You didn’t know.”

  “I won’t ask him for the jewel again. No matter what, I won’t ask that.”

  Setting the pot aside, she moved into his arms, and he held her close. “What if that’s the only way?”

  “There’s got to be another answer. There has to be.”

  He wanted desperately to believe that as much as she did. He could feel the soft lift and fall of her breathing beneath his hands, her warmth against him. She raised her lips to his. The kiss was soft and gentle, and yet Jake’s entire body tensed. Finally she pressed her hands against his chest and eased a couple of inches between them.

  “This old house brings back a lot of memories,” she whispered huskily.

  Jake nodded, but even as he reveled in the feel of her against him once more he had the sense of viewing his surroundings through two different sets of eyes. He felt his hands slipping slowly up her back, pressing her more tightly against him, worming their way up toward her throat, and an unspeakable horror overcame him as he realized that he had no more control over himself than he had had on that long-ago night. He struggled, willing his hands to relax . . .

  “Mandi,” he managed to gasp.

  She looked up at him with those bright, trusting, loving eyes, and her expression turned questioning just as Jake began to hear the whispers echoing inside his head.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, concern in her face.

  Jake’s fingers seemed to slow but not stop, and he searched frantically within himself for control. He could feel his hands beginning to clench, testing, the fingers worming their way up to her collarbone as she twisted in his grasp.

  “You’re hurting me,” she gasped, trying to shake loose.

  “Run,” he sputtered, somehow managing to break his grip but not shove her away.

  She staggered backward, confused, unsure.

  “Run,” he gasped again, staggering toward her, watching her turn and race away down the hall.

  Jake sat at the table, barely able to return Cramer’s stare. “You’ve got to lock me up.”

  “What?” said Mandi.

  “Do it,” said Jake. “It’s the only way. If that thing gets inside me again none of you are safe.”

  “We’ll watch you closer,” said Cramer, shaking his head.

  “The only way you’d be able to stop me is by shooting me. I’d rather you didn’t do that.”

  “What if it happens to one of us instead of you?” asked Virgil.

  “So far it hasn’t affected any of you.”

  “That jewel did something to Pierce,” said Virgil.

  Jake sighed again. “It didn’t do anything bad to him. And besides, Pierce isn’t big enough to hurt you or Cramer. This is the only way. I barely had enough control just now to stop myself from . . . It’s the same thing that happened that night Mandi and I came here together. I don’t know why or how I controlled it either time. But we just can’t chance it happening again.”

  “He’s right,” said Virgil reluctantly, glancing at Cramer who frowned but nodded.

  Mandi was still shaking her head. “No. You’re not locking him up.”

  “It’s for everybody’s good,” said Jake. “When this storm blows over we’ll burn this old house and the chapel to the ground, bulldoze them to powder and bury them, then turn this end of the valley into a no-man’s-land. If we have to, you and I and Pierce will move far away from here. But for now we have to make sure I don’t hurt any of you. We have to.”

  “Please, Jake.”

  Jake closed his eyes, shaking his head. When he opened them again the tears in her eyes stung him.

  “All right,” he said, nodding at her. “You can keep the keys. How’s that?”

  “Please don’t do this—”

  “Mandi.”

  “How long?” she asked. “How long are you gonna stay locked up?”

  Jake considered. “Just until the storm blows over. Once we can get out of here, we’ll tear the place down or burn it and get the hell away.”

  She just stood there with her arms crossed, shaking her head.

  “So where?” asked Cramer.

  Jake frowned. “I’d rather not be locked down cellar. And I guess the pantry is the next most secure place in the house.”

  So, in the end Cramer dragged one of the mattresses in from the living room and managed to fit it snuggly in the pantry. When they had Jake situated as comfortably as possible, Virgil, Cramer, Pierce, and Mandi stood at the door. There were more tears in Mandi’s eyes, and Cramer still seemed uncertain, as well.

  “You sure about this?” he asked Jake.

  Jake just nodded toward the door.

  “Sorry, partner,” said Cramer.

  The clicking of the tumblers in the lock grated on Jake’s nerves, and the room seemed half its size with the door closed and the lamp hissing. The mattress reached from wall to wall, and the old chamber pot f
rom upstairs had had to be placed on a lower shelf. He didn’t want to think about using it in the confines of the closet, but the odds were heavy that he’d need to before he got out.

  Mandi had given him a plate and utensils and plenty of fresh canned goods and an opener, along with a large jug of water. He wasn’t going to starve, but he might well die of boredom. He sank to the floor against the far wall, staring at the door and then at his watch. He couldn’t hear the rain anymore, but he knew one of the others would tell him if it stopped. He could hear them muttering through the door, but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  He was afraid it was going to be a long wait.

  IMMY SPOTTED THE LIGHTS of the house through the trees ahead and knew he’d found his quarry again at last. Tracking the group through the darkness and the storm, getting lost and staggering through water and mud up to his armpits—only to finally find the trail again by luck as much as training—the cold and exertion had driven him to the limits of his endurance. And he was fast running out of anything resembling patience.

  He stropped the knife against his bare leg, massaging a bloody scratch that ran up his thigh and across his swollen scrotum. The bullet wound through his left arm was painful but clean, and he’d bandaged it with a scrap of cloth he’d ripped from the old woman’s blouse. He wished now that he hadn’t killed her outright. But he’d been in such a rage when he caught her that there was no controlling himself. And besides, he’d have probably killed her dragging her here through the woods, anyway. But none of his prey here could know she was dead for sure. That would work to his advantage.

  He was hungrier than he’d been in years, and he wished he’d managed to snuff the little dog, too. But he’d gotten one near miss with the blade and a glancing kick at the fucking mutt, and it had cringed away into the night. Too bad. It would have made a good meal. But the fuckers inside the house had to be eating something. Soon he’d have whatever they had.

  He cleared his throat, spitting into the mud between his bare feet. Then he gave a low guttural howl, not loud enough to be heard in the house, just stretching his vocal cords. Finally he let out a high-pitched, feminine shriek. But to his ear there was still just a little too much masculine feeling to it, so he tried again. Higher, louder.

  Like a woman terrified or in pain.

  Mandi had taken Pierce back into the study. Cramer and Virgil shared the kitchen table. Outside, the sparse light was dying so fast it looked as though the clouds had finally drowned the sun.

  “It may be the right thing to do. But I still don’t like locking him up like that,” whispered Virgil.

  Cramer glared at him. “Do you think I like it any more than you do? He said the same thing happened to him before in this house, and he was convinced for years that he nearly killed Mandi. What choice do we have?”

  Virgil shrugged. “None, I suppose.”

  Cramer shielded one ear. “Did you hear something?”

  Virgil shook his head. “A whisper?”

  “No. I thought I heard—”

  A shriek outside caused both men to race to the back door. By the time they reached the stoop another scream rent the air, like a woman scared out of her wits.

  “Barbara,” said Virgil.

  Cramer shook his head. “We’re a long way from where we left her.”

  Another shriek, this one closer. Then silence.

  “Damn, I can’t take that,” murmured Virgil, his fingers tickling his pistol. “Whoever it is, she’s getting killed.”

  “But by what?” muttered Cramer, glancing around as Mandi and Pierce appeared at the back door. “Or who?”

  Yet another scream cut Virgil to the heart. He had to do something.

  Suddenly a masculine shout echoed around the clearing. “You fuckers got no cojónes!”

  “Jimmy,” spat Cramer, staring into the woods.

  Virgil disappeared back into the house, returning gripping the shotgun in both hands.

  “No, Virgil,” said Mandi, following him outside. “You can’t go out there.”

  Cramer kept his eyes glued to the dark woods. “It’s a trap, a setup.”

  “I know that. But Jake said Jimmy was left with just a butcher knife last time he saw him.”

  “Jimmy with a knife in those woods is nothing to sneer at.”

  “I know that too,” said Virgil, with a heavy finality.

  Cramer nodded. “All right,” he said, waving Mandi back into the house. “You’re right. We can’t just leave her to him. I got your back, then.”

  But Virgil shook his head. “You have to stay here with Mandi and Pierce. They have no one else with Jake locked up.”

  “You and Jimmy mano a mano is bad juju, and it’s what he wants. He’s taunting us, using her like a staked goat.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Virgil as another scream slashed the air. “I can’t just let him kill her.”

  Jimmy’s voice wailed through the trees. “You fuckers gonna let me butcher this bitch?”

  Virgil stepped down into the rain, Cramer still with him, shaking his head.

  “Think!” said Virgil. “If we both go, Jimmy can lose us in the woods, and Mandi and Pierce will be unprotected in the house.”

  Cramer grunted, but Virgil could see he’d won the argument, even though the last thing in the world he wanted was to have to face Jimmy Torrio alone again. But he knew it was the only thing to do. It was his job. Luckily Doris wasn’t badgering him at the moment.

  “Watch your back,” said Cramer reluctantly, slapping him on the shoulder. “And I’ll ask Ogou to watch it, too.”

  Virgil smiled. “I’d much appreciate Ogou doing that.”

  But even before he’d made it across the lawn to the nearest trees, the screams had stopped. He stood for just a moment, glancing back at Cramer, who regarded him with a baleful expression. Then a low keening moan came from the forest to his left, and Virgil hunched his shoulders, slipped his finger onto the trigger of the shotgun, and crunched through the bracken into the woods.

  ANDI LEFT CRAMER standing on the back porch, staring into the forest and the storm. She stood over Pierce in front of the fire, trying to gather its warmth, but an inner chill would not leave her. She couldn’t get an image of Virgil—old and haggard and alone in the dark woods—out of her mind. As much as she felt sorry for Barbara, and guilty for leaving the old woman, she wished Virgil hadn’t gone after her, because she feared he wasn’t coming back.

  When she turned, she noticed that Pierce was awake and had that faraway look on his face that he got when he claimed to hear the thing whispering. But try as she might, she couldn’t make out anything but the steady patter outside the window. When his eyes cleared suddenly the terror she saw there caught her breath in her throat.

  He clambered to his feet, snatched her hand, and jerked her frantically toward the hallway, but she grabbed his arm and whirled him around.

  What are you doing? she signed.

  Although he was shaking with fear he managed to signal back.

  It’s here.

  Inside the house?

  He shrugged, quivering with fear. It’s here!

  But she still could not hear the eerie whispers, and other than the incessant patter of rain the house was deadly silent. She snagged one of the lanterns, and her knees shook as she let Pierce creep ahead of her to the parlor door. The lantern light sent darting shadows everywhere, turning the old mansion into a haunted house.

  But there still seemed nothing to worry about inside. It was outside now where the danger lay, and at the moment that danger was Jimmy. Even with Pierce tugging at her arm she couldn’t get Virgil—out there in the storm with that monster—out of her head. He was an old man, wounded, frail. He was no match for a trained killer. They should have let Jake out of the closet and then Cramer could have gone with Virgil. She stared into Pierce’s terrified face, and suddenly she knew what it was that he sensed.

  Is that thing inside Jake? she signed.

&nbs
p; Pierce shook his head slowly, staring into her eyes, and suddenly she knew. There was no reason to be afraid of Jake even if the thing did manage to possess him. Jake was locked safely away.

  Cramer.

  The image of the giant black man, naked to the waist, flashed across her mind, and she saw her own recognition mirrored in her son’s eyes.

  Memere tole me I was too open to the spirits. Too easy for ’em sometimes.

  It couldn’t be. Surely they hadn’t locked up Jake, only to have Cramer possessed by the whispering horror. But once again his words echoed in her mind like a threat.

  You got to be careful with Iwas or other spirits. They can get into you.

  They both glanced toward the kitchen, and then Mandi nudged Pierce toward the front door. On the porch, rain pummeled both of them, and the lantern bobbed and swung in her hands as she closed the door behind them. Pierce signaled for her to follow him. But she couldn’t.

  Go to the chapel, she signed.

  Pierce frowned at her, shaking his head.

  I have to see if Jake is okay, she signed, pushing him toward the steps.

  I’ll wait here.

  She knew she wasn’t going to get him to go by himself, and there was no time now to argue. She rested her lantern on the porch and slipped quietly back through the door. She padded down the hall, hating that the water dripping from her pant cuffs sounded like hammer blows against the hardwood floor. The light through the kitchen door spotlighted her as she approached, and every creak of the old house shattered her nerves. She rested her fingers tentatively on the door frame as she leaned slowly around to glance into the kitchen.

  Cramer sat with his back to her, staring at the lantern in the middle of the table, and for just a moment Mandi was tempted to believe that Pierce had made a mistake, that nothing was amiss. But the longer she stared at the man’s giant shoulders, the more certain she became that Pierce was right. She noticed Jake’s pistol under Cramer’s big paw, and there was something strangely different, something weird about the way he sat, the way he held himself.

  “Ogou,” he gasped. “You gotta help this here boy. I got things trying to get in. Bad things . . .”