by J. D. Barker
Their eyes were on his back as he ran, their angry cries drifting from the darkness. He dared not look back, knowing that if he saw one he would no longer be able to move. To face them meant death, a death he wouldn’t wish upon anyone.
The Draper lived in this miserable place. Only by their grace would he be allowed to leave. He knew them well, for they lived within the pages of his next book, Keepers of the Rain. A novel he would ensure never saw the light of day. He would destroy it along with all the others—they would burn in a fire kindled by that damned journal.
Thad ran, the thoughts of his wife and daughter pushing him beyond the pain.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
Day 3 – 07:05 a.m.
“TAKE HER UPSTAIRS,” THE old woman instructed the large man at her side. “Place her in bed and see that she is comfortable.”
Rachael inched backward as he nodded his head and bounded toward her in large, awkward strides.
“No, Mommy! No!” Ashley cried at her side, clutching her arm.
“Perez, hold her back,” the man said.
“How do you…,” Rachael breathed, glaring first at the man, then back at her housekeeper.
Perez turned away, unwilling to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry, Ms. Rachael. I never meant… they help me get this job, get to America—”
Rachael lunged at her, but the large man held her back. “You bitch, how could you? We let you into our home and treated you like family!”
Ashley was sobbing; Perez put her hand on the young girl’s shoulder. “It’s for the best, Ms. Rachael. You will see this. I do this for you, for you and little Ashley, and the whole world.”
“Come on,” the large man told her, lifting her to her feet. The blood rushed from her head and she suddenly felt weak, her vision turning to white.
“She’s fainting,” someone said. “Get her upstairs—pour her a glass of cold water.” It was Eleanor. Even through the thick veil of unconsciousness, Rachael knew her voice, her harsh voice, so much like that of the old woman in her dreams.
From her fog, Rachael watched the minions clear a path and follow them up the steps to the second floor. She tried to cry out for her daughter but found herself unable to make a sound.
Ms. Perez spoke with Eleanor, both smiling. Two old friends.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
Day 3 – 07:20 a.m.
WHEN THE CAR CAME into view, Thad nearly collapsed in the muddy earth. His legs were numb, his heart and lungs throbbing within his chest. The box grew heavier with each step. Only the rain comforted him now, the thick, cold drops running against his thirsty skin, tingling with energy and life.
This place held more secrets than he could possibly imagine. Thoughts of good and evil did not enter his mind, for he never saw anything in such black and white. The forces living within this forest were different, one of the shades of gray in between. He did not pretend to understand, nor did he believe he ever would. The forest didn’t want him to remove the box but nothing stopped him. The creatures, the Draper, they had observed him but did little else, spectators at best.
The Draper were real?
He had to focus. He had to think about Rachael and Ashley.
“They miss you, buddy,” a voice said.
At first Thad couldn’t tell where the voice had come from. Perhaps another trick of the mind? Then he saw the shadow of a man standing beside his car, a large man, familiar.
“Del?”
Del stepped forward into the gray morning, his clothing soaked. “You were right, Thad. It’s one helluva book. Couldn’t put it down to save my life. I can’t remember the last time I actually read a manuscript straight through, but goddammit if you didn’t come up with one crazy story.”
Out of breath and exhausted, Thad stumbled to his car, set the heavy box on the hood, and leaned against the door. “What the hell are you doing here?” he finally said, the words scratching at his raw throat.
Del frowned. “Christ, that’s not a very warm welcome for an old friend. And to think, I came all this way. Maybe I should head back to the city and let you fend for yourself?”
Thad forced another breath. “How did you find me?” His own voice sounded different to him, ragged, tired.
Del’s eyes fixed on the box and he stepped closer, reaching with a cautious hand. “I’ll be damned. That’s it, isn’t it? I pictured something a little larger based on your narrative. We’ll need to work on that, but otherwise it’s exactly the same. His fingers slipped across the smooth surface, tracing the carvings on the sides. “It must be heavy, right? Lined with lead and all.”
Thad stepped between Del and the box, forcing him to take a step back.
“Easy, Hoss. I only want a little look-see, that’s all.”
“Del, how did you find me?” Thad repeated. Something wrong, something different about him.
Del smirked and took a few steps toward the trees, catching the rain in his hands. “Funny story. Nowhere near as good as yours. Not that I could ever put it on paper, but it’s a good one nonetheless, a real page-turner. If I told anyone else, they’d probably lock me up and study this fat head of mine, but you, I think you’d understand. I think you might believe me.”
Thad watched as he stopped at the edge of the forest, his gaze peering into the darkness, as if able to see well beyond the trees.
All the way to them. Could he see the creatures? Their eyes? The Draper?
“You can tell me, Del. We’re friends; you can tell me anything.”
Del snorted. “Best of buddies…you’d never tell anyone, right? After all, I kept your secret: the horror writer dancing with antipsychotics. That’s just between us buddies,” he winked.
Thad grew impatient. He had to get back. “Tell me, Del. I don’t have time for this.”
“No, I guess you don’t, do you…,” he agreed, glancing back at the box.
He knew. Somehow he knew. He was part of this.
Thad charged him, but Del raised his hand before he reached him. A force unlike any other threw him back against the car, nearly cracking the glass in the door. “She told me where to find you, Thad. She knew exactly where to find you.”
“Who?”
“She of whom we don’t speak, of course. Her. Tell me, Thad, do you know Her real name? ’Cause we need to call Her something. The ‘unspeakable name thing’ may play out well in a book, but not in real life. That bullshit is for reserved for Harry Potter and his little wizard friends. I thought I had it earlier, but I lost it. So much going on. When the reporters cover the story, they’ll want to call Her something, though, don’t you think? I know I need to call Her something. I’m guessing if anyone still knows Her true name, it’s you, am I right? I had it, right on the tip of my tongue, but now…”
“She’s not real, Del. It’s just a—”
“Story? Yeah, I get that. But you of all people know it’s more, much more. You can’t honestly tell me after going into that forest and coming out with the box you don’t believe? You know the power of this place, how it craves life, how easily it takes it. Christ, look at yourself! You’ve got all the proof you need!”
Thad had never seen him like this. He sounded like a madman.
“Look! Look in the mirror!”
Thad knelt down in the mud and turned the mirror on the door toward his face. The image staring back at him was no longer his own.
“See! How long were you in there? A few hours? You lost decades to the forest, to Her! The damn spell that trapped Her in an old gnarly oak robbed you of years. Luck of the draw, I guess. Better you than me and all that…”
“This isn’t possible.” His fingers ran over his leathery, wrinkled cheeks. He looked like an eighty-year-old man. “The spell…must be…”
Del approached him and knelt down at his side. “I tried one of the spells in your book too, Thad. Something told me it wasn’t some made-up mumbo-jumbo and I tried it. I’ll be damned if it didn’t work!” His voice dropped to a murmur. “She spoke to
me, Thad. She honest to God spoke to me! Stood right there in my house! In my bathroom, of all places. She told me everything. No…wait…she didn’t tell me. We didn’t have time for a conversation. When I saw Her I sorta knew, you know? Everything became so clear. Like a picture coming into focus. And it’s amazing! It’s so goddamn amazing, I don’t know if this world is ready for Her, but it sure as shit needs to be! It’s going to be incredible!”
Del glanced up into the cloudy sky and wiped the raindrops from his forehead. “She’s about to be reborn, Thad. None of this would have happened without you, none of it. Don’t think I’ll ever forget. I won’t let anyone forget, buddy.”
It was getting harder to breathe; Thad’s heart pounded within his chest, straining with each beat. Del frowned with concern.
“The aging process hasn’t stopped, Thad. I guess you were in that place too long. Doesn’t look like you’ve got much time left. I promise I’ll take good care of your wife and daughter. I’ll treat them like my own. They won’t want for anything; I swear.”
“Help me up,” Thad breathed, his throat aching with each word.
Del shook his head. “You’re too weak. You need to rest. Not much longer now.”
“You’ve got to get me home, back to my family. They need me.” Thad stared at his hands; nails long, yellow, and brittle. His skin, riddled with age spots. He dared not look back into the mirror. His mind reached out for Christina, but if she was near she didn’t respond.
Del laughed. “Wait until the book’s published, Thad! Wait until the world gets a gander at it… They’ll embrace Her. I know they will. All because of you!”
Thad watched as Del reached for the box. This time, he couldn’t stop him; he had no strength. Del took the box and held it in his large hands. “It’s warm, isn’t it? Unbelievable, even through all the lead…”
“You’ve got to help me, Del.”
Del smiled and placed a thoughtful hand on Thad’s shoulder. “I really should, shouldn’t I?It wouldn’t be right to leave you out here to die.”
Thad looked up at him, his eyes pleading.
With his large arm, Del pulled Thad to his feet and led him to his car. He used his free hand to pop the trunk with his key-fob, then eased the man inside.
Thad gave in to sleep before Del brought the trunk lid down.
Del shook his head. “Too bad you’re not going to be around to see all this, buddy. It’s going to be a helluva show.”
Reaching through the driver’s window, he dropped the keys on the seat.
“Adios, Thadios,” he sang.
With the box in hand, he started down the muddy path back toward the black Lexus, which he had left at the main road. He didn’t need to glance at his watch to know he had little time to get back to Charleston, South Carolina. He wasn’t one to obey speed limits anyway.
He reached the car and crammed his large frame into the driver’s seat as the sky opened up, releasing another round of thick rain.
“You got it!”
Del smiled and handed the box to Christina before planting a big kiss on her cheek. “You knew I would, sweet thing. I’m not about to let this party end just yet. How much time do we have?”
Christina closed her eyes for a moment. “Not long. Maybe fifteen hours at the most.”
“Well then, I guess it’s time we find out if watching NASCAR has improved my driving skills any,” he said, with a laugh. “You may want to fasten your seat belt. It’s Go time.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
Day 3 – 07:25 a.m.
ELEANOR’S EYES OPENED SLOWLY and she drew a deep breath.
The box was now in their possession, back where it belonged.
She was coming home; after so long, finally coming home.
The woman was about to give birth, all proceeding as scheduled.
Eleanor knew She would be pleased. She could hear it in the rain and thunder outside, feel it in the thickening air. She would be here soon and Eleanor would be her savior.
Eleanor dared to consider how she would be rewarded, the witch’s strongest and most knowledgeable ally. Surely she would be taken under her wing, guided in her ways. That was all she wished. As with the others, she dedicated her life to the teachings of the Shadow Cove witch. She was a woman of extraordinary power, whose light was extinguished long before her time by those who did not understand.
She only slumbered. Today would mark the beginning of a new era. One in which She would dominate, with Eleanor at her side.
The old woman smiled, her heart pitter-pattering in her chest.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
1692 – The Journal of Clayton Stone
THE NIGHT FELL AROUND us, choking the sky until its last breath escaped and it silenced in slumber. The air grew still and cold, nipping at my bones. I’m finding it difficult to write, as my hand has taken to shaking under the frigid air. I must, though; these events must be documented. As incredible as they may seem, as unbelievable as they may seem, her story must be told, if only as a warning.
Just how long we have walked, I am unsure. The large oaks seem to grow thicker with each step, swaying slowly with the heavy wind, dripping with the piercing rain falling from the heavens.
Time was uncertain. Not just to me, but to all. The Stranger said this was a typical ploy of hers. She had the ability to make minutes feel like a lifetime and years feel like seconds. She manipulated time as she desired. No one questioned him of this; it was simply accepted. All he had told us had come to pass, so we held no reason to doubt him.
He went on to say his pocket watch was protected from all witchcraft and with a quick glance exclaimed less than two hours had passed before it disappeared back into the deep pockets of his long coat.
Knowing this, I still found it hard to accept. She and her sisters (if she truly had sisters; for he had told us they were all really just her in different forms) lived such a distance from the town proper, in such isolation. It was unimaginable they would travel so far on such a regular basis, but it was clear they had. Not a day passed without a sighting of the peculiar group. As the moon had grown full of recent, they were spotted frequently—not on horseback but on foot. For they were rarely in possession of the supplies that one would expect to be carried on a journey of such hours. Sometimes they carried nothing at all.
I inquired this of the Stranger but he only shrugged, explaining that little of what was seen was true when it came to her. Much like the way she had escaped from the church and the bindings that held her, she could come and go from town with the same ease. The distance mattered little. She could cross oceans in an instant, appear in numerous places at once. She wasn’t bound to this earth as we. She was of the wind and sea, more a flicker in the mind’s eye than human—a nightmare born to the living.
His words confused me more than aided my need to understand, but I said nothing more of this.
Hobbs walked wordlessly but with purpose. Leading our small group through the thickets and trees, cutting down the branches that seemed to knot together before our path, attempting to slow our progress. Sweat trickled down his forehead—I believe it derived from fear rather than exertion. He had grown pale, his breathing shallow and fast. More than once he had stopped, and I thought he would turn and head back the way in which we came. But a glance from the Stranger had squelched such thoughts, sending him forward again and closer to her with the rest of us at his heels.
Around us, many eyes glowed in the moonlight, weary and bright as the forest creatures looked on from the safety of darkness. They didn’t follow, though, and I couldn’t help but wonder if we should take heed from this.
—Thad McAlister,
Rise of the Witch
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
Day 3 – 07:30 a.m.
ASHLEY SAT IN SILENCE on the family room floor, her back against the recliner, Buster’s head resting in her lap. Both of them eyed the strangers with suspicion and fear, especially Ms. Perez, now that she had exposed whose side
she was really on. Ashley was not surprised. She had never liked her.
Buster peered up at her with sad eyes, as if in agreement. She expected them to tie her up like they always did in the movies, but they didn’t. In fact, they were so wrapped up in hushed discussions she wasn’t sure anyone was even keeping an eye on her at all.
“Zeke?”
She looked around the room for a sign from him, but found none.
“Zeke?” she repeated, this time a little louder.
Buster tilted his head and whimpered.
One of the minions walked up to her, scratching his head with tiny fingers. Another came from behind the couch and stood beside the other. Both eyed her with curiosity. Buster drew closer, pressing against her side, his whine turning to a soft growl.
“Get away from me!” she told them.
Both stepped closer, their teeth bared.
She shuffled backward until her back pressed against the wall. Ashley pulled her knees tight against her chest. “No, stay away!”
Buster barked and lunged at them, sinking his teeth into the closer of the two—it let out a shriek before crumbling into a pile of dirt at his feet. Buster shook his head and whined, his mouth foaming. He fell to the ground and began scratching at his snout with both front paws. A moment later, it was over and he coughed, spewing dirt with a frustrated grunt.
The remaining minion had backed up and was observing from a safer distance, its face expressionless. Ashley wrapped her arms around the dog. “You saved me!” she breathed at his ear, unable to take her eyes off the pile of dirt where the creature had stood. The minion was now studying the dirt, too. It then turned to Buster, then back to Ashley, its eyes cold, lifeless. It held a spear in his hand, not much more than a sharpened toothpick, and Ashley thought for sure it would throw it at her. But it didn’t. Instead it continued to glare, occasionally turning back to the pile of dirt.
“You must be careful, child,” the old woman, Eleanor, said. Ashley hadn’t heard her approach. “They have nasty little tempers. I wouldn’t dare irritate them.”