Evil Spirits

by Mark Lukens

  “It was just a dream, Angie,” Begay told her, but he felt the chill dancing across his skin and the pit of fear in his stomach. After the things he’d seen in the ghost town seven years ago, anything was easy to believe, including any premonitions his wife had.

  “No,” Angie said sharply. “The killer in the dream showed me what was coming. I saw a ghost town in the desert. And then there was this tidal wave coming, a black wave at least fifty feet high, blocking out the sky as it came. But it wasn’t water; it was just blackness, like a solid thing, like a wall. It was wiping everything away, eating up everything in its path.”

  Begay wiped at the tears in his wife’s eyes with his big thumbs. And then he hugged her again, holding her tight for a few moments. For such a strong woman she felt so small and fragile in his arms right then. “It will be okay,” he whispered. “I’m not going to let anything happen to us.”

  Angie trembled in his arms, and she seemed to be relaxing a little. But then she ripped herself away from him, staring at him. “He’s here,” she hissed.

  Just then there was a loud knocking at the front door.

  Angie turned and stared at the door that led into the kitchen, and then the dining room and living room beyond that.

  David and Awenita were in the doorway a moment later, both of them staring at Begay and Angie. “Someone’s at the door,” Awenita whispered.

  Begay drew his pistol from the holster on his hip. “Come in here,” he told David and Awenita. “Wait over there by the bar. You too, Angie.”

  All three of them hurried over to the bar.

  Begay went to the door that led into the kitchen. He looked back at his wife, Awenita, and David; he gestured at them to get down behind the bar.

  The knocking continued at the front door. The knock seemed urgent, but not as forceful as before. Begay crept through the house, passing the dining room, and then he entered the living room. Most of the lights were off. The TV was still on, providing the only light in the room, but either David or Awenita had turned the sound all the way down when they’d heard the knocking at the door.

  Begay moved closer to the front door. There was no window in the front door, but there was a peephole. He thought about peeking out the living room windows that looked out onto the front porch, but he didn’t want to be seen by whoever was out there. Instead, he would look through the peephole. The front porch light was on and he would be able to see who was out there.

  But he still hesitated. He’s here, Angie had just whispered right before this person started knocking at the door, right after she had told him about her nightmare.

  Was it the killer out there? Had Angie sensed him coming? But if it was the killer, why would he knock on the door at ten o’clock at night, standing under the glare of the porch light? Why would he give himself away like that? Or were there others with him? David said he dreamed of only one killer. Palmer insinuated that there was only one suspect in the killings in Colorado. But maybe they were both wrong, maybe there were two killers. Or even more.

  The knock sounded again, so loud now that Begay was this close to the door.

  “Captain Begay,” a voice yelled from behind the door. It was a man’s voice, a deep voice.

  Begay recognized the voice but couldn’t think of who it was right at that moment.

  “Captain Begay, open up,” the man said.

  “Who is it?” Begay yelled. He was still a few steps away from the door, his gun aimed at it. “Identify yourself.” His years of police training were automatically taking over.

  “It’s me,” the man said, “Billy Nez. Let me in. I have come to help.”

  Billy Nez was here? It took a few seconds for Begay to wrap his mind around that. He took three steps to the door and peeked through the peephole. In the fisheye view through the lens Begay saw Billy Nez standing on his front porch. Billy was a few steps back from the door like he knew Begay would want to see him through the peephole. Billy wore old faded jeans and a bulky black hoodie with the hood down. He carried a small black duffel bag. His dark hair was pulled back into one long braid and under the porch light the strands of gray were showing. The wrinkles were etched in his tan face and his prominent brow hid his eyes in shadows.

  “Captain Begay?” Billy said.

  Begay unlocked the door and opened it. “What are you doing here?”

  Billy Nez’s face remained solemn, almost devoid of all expression as he stared at Begay. He lifted the duffel bag in one hand just a few inches, just a shrug of his shoulder. “I came to help.”

  Begay looked past Billy into the front yard, but all he could see was darkness out there beyond the light. He didn’t think Billy had driven to his house because it never seemed like Billy had a vehicle or even a driver’s license.

  “A friend dropped me off,” Billy said like he was reading Begay’s mind.

  “I thought you said you couldn’t do anything to help us,” Begay said. “When I brought David to you today, you said there wasn’t anything you could do.”

  Billy shrugged again. He hadn’t moved a muscle; he was still standing in the same spot.

  Begay heard Angie, David, and Awenita gathering behind him in the living room. He turned and glanced at them. There was something about the way they were staring at him, the fear in their eyes.

  That’s when the thought popped into Begay’s mind. He remembered being in that ghost town seven years ago when David had battled the Ancient Enemy. He remembered how easily the Ancient Enemy had controlled animals and people, even dead people. He had seen the Ancient Enemy controlling the two dead people who wore David’s parents’ skinned faces over their own faces like masks. He remembered the spiders pouring out of the woman’s mouth, all of the snakes and birds trying to get inside the church.

  Was that really Billy Nez out there, or was the Ancient Enemy already inside of him?

  Begay looked back at Billy Nez and realized that he had left the front door wide open. Billy was only a few feet beyond the threshold, standing very still. The wind out there had picked up suddenly, a blast of howling wind roaring across his front yard, rattling the leaves of the cottonwood trees. It sounded like things were moving around out there in the darkness. Dangerous things. Poisonous things.

  I don’t know if I can do this again.

  Begay still couldn’t see Billy’s eyes under his brow, his eyes lost in shadow. Billy still waited on the front porch to be invited inside.

  Like a vampire.

  Begay aimed his gun at Billy Nez. “How do I know it’s really you?”

  CHAPTER 24

  David

  Iron Springs, New Mexico

  Billy didn’t even flinch as Captain Begay aimed his gun at him. He didn’t try to run or raise his hands in surrender. He didn’t take a step back or show any fear at all. It was like he’d been expecting this from Begay, like he’d been prepared for it.

  “How do I know it’s really you?” Begay said again.

  “I am me,” Billy said. “I am Billy Nez.”

  David knew the Ancient Enemy was out there somewhere in the darkness, but he also knew it wasn’t inside of Billy Nez right now. He took a step towards Captain Begay. “It’s okay,” he told him. “It’s really him. The Ancient Enemy isn’t inside of him.”

  “You’re sure?” Begay asked without turning around to look at David.

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  The wind was blowing harder now, sand swirling at the edge of the front porch that disappeared into the darkness. The wind blew Billy’s clothes, rippling them, but he stood very still, washed in the front porch’s light.

  Begay let out a breath and lowered his weapon. He stepped back and gestured at Billy to come inside.

  Billy entered quickly and Begay closed the front door on the wind. He twisted the little knob on the door handle, locking it.

  “An evil is coming,” Billy said, looking right at David. “I believe you that it’s happening again. I want to try to help.”

  “I t
hought you said you couldn’t do anything to help,” Begay said.

  Billy shrugged. “Maybe I cannot, but I can try.”

  “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Begay told Billy. “I don’t know if you really understand exactly what is coming, what it is and what it can do.”

  “I want to help,” Billy said. If he was offended by Begay’s words, he didn’t show it. “I have to try to help. I have to honor my ancestors. If I die tonight, then I die. Any day is a good day for a warrior to die.”

  “Okay,” Begay said. He nodded down at the big black bag Billy was holding. “What’s that?”

  “My medicine bag,” Billy said with a secretive smile.

  Begay didn’t question Billy anymore; he went back to his chair and sat down, wincing like his feet were hurting. He picked up the remote control and turned the TV off. The living room was mostly lost in shadows now with only the light in the kitchen on.

  Billy walked into the dining room and set his medicine bag on the floor. He unzipped his hoodie and took it off, folding it neatly over one of the dining room chairs.

  Angie was in the kitchen now, and she seemed to relax a little now that Billy was inside and the front door was locked again. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “We have some leftovers in the refrigerator.”

  “No, thank you,” Billy said to Angie, but then he looked at David. “We do not have much time. We must prepare.”

  David entered the dining room as Billy opened the large black duffel bag. He pulled out a small jar of red liquid that looked like paint, but David knew that it had owl’s blood mixed in with it—the same thing Joe Blackhorn had used in the church. Billy pulled out a small paintbrush. “Sit here,” he gestured at the dining room chair at the head of the table.

  Angie went back into the living room and sat down on one end of the couch. Awenita was at the other end.

  It took almost an hour for Billy to paint all of the ancient symbols onto David’s hands and forearms. He never spoke as he painted, but he sang old and powerful songs under his breath in Navajo. He also burned some herbs in a small dish that gave off a pungent but somewhat pleasant odor.

  When Billy was done painting the Anasazi symbols onto David’s skin, he put the “paint” and brush away. He pulled out a necklace of beads from his bag and handed it to David. “Do you know what these are?”

  “Ghost beads,” David said.

  Billy nodded.

  Joe Blackhorn had told David about ghost beads before. The necklace was usually made from dried juniper berries with holes drilled into them so a thin piece of leather could be run through them to create a necklace. The ghost beads could give the wearer protection and peace from evil spirits. And the Ancient Enemy was the worst of the evil spirits.

  David put the necklace on. It laid on top of the other necklace that Billy had given to him this morning, the one with the silver charm on it that held the lock of his own hair from over a hundred years ago inside. He looked down at the necklaces against his chest, then he stared at the symbols painted on his hands and forearms. He didn’t know what the symbols meant, but at the same time he did. He had written these same symbols before, drawing them in a spiral notebook in Tom Gordon’s cabin that Stella had given to him. Those symbols had helped him, Stella, and Cole before in that cabin when the Ancient Enemy had attacked, maybe they would help again.

  “These things will help,” Billy said as if reading his mind, gesturing at the necklaces that David wore. “But the power lies within you. It always has.”

  David just nodded. He wished he knew what to do. Everyone kept telling him that he already knew what to do, but he didn’t. He had no clue what to do.

  The wind picked up again outside, sand pelting the windows of the house. Begay kept watch in his recliner lost in the shadows of the living room. He kept his gun in the holster on his hip, and he had the shotgun down on the floor beside him.

  Angie and Awenita were still on the couch, both of them quiet, beginning to nod off.

  David looked back at Billy. “I’m sorry I said something about you being a witch earlier today,” he told him in a low voice.

  Billy smiled. “It is okay. Witchcraft is not something to be afraid of. There is not only light in this world and there is not only dark in this world. They exist together. Sometimes they overlap, and we must know both worlds well.”

  David just nodded again.

  Billy’s smile disappeared. He hesitated for just a moment like he had something difficult to say. “I have to make an apology to you.”

  “To me?” David asked. “For what?”

  “Earlier, when you and Captain Begay visited me, I should have told you something. It is the reason I am here now. There is something you need to know.”

  David didn’t say anything; he just waited for Billy to continue.

  “Before Joe Blackhorn died two years ago, he told me that he had something for you.”

  David’s heart jumped with surprise. “What?”

  “He did not tell me what it was. He said it was something that could help with your training. Something that could help with a spirit walk.”

  “A spirit walk?” David asked.

  Billy nodded.

  “But he didn’t say what he left for me?” David asked.

  “No.”

  David was going to ask Billy why he had waited two years to tell him about this, but Billy spoke before he could ask. “Joe Blackhorn wanted you to have this when the time was right.”

  When the Ancient Enemy came back, David thought.

  “Where is it?” David asked. “Do you have it with you?”

  Billy shook his head. “No. It is at Joe Blackhorn’s home. Hidden somewhere. But he told me that you would be able to find it.”

  Billy Nez and Joe Blackhorn had obviously been friends. David wondered if that meant Billy knew that he had walked away from Joe Blackhorn and turned his back on the training? The heat of embarrassment flushed him for a moment.

  Billy took David’s hands in his gently, glancing down at the symbols painted there. “The thing Joe Blackhorn left for you will help. And these symbols and our songs will help. But it is you who must fight the evil out there. Only you.”

  David nodded, but he still wasn’t sure what to do, and it didn’t seem like Billy was going to be much help when the time came.

  CHAPTER 25

  Stella

  Costa Rica

  All day Stella had been telling herself that Cole was right, that she had been hallucinating and having night terrors, that the things she’d seen lately weren’t real. She had slipped back into that cycle of fear that had dominated their lives the first few years they were down here in Costa Rica. He had suggested that something had triggered her sudden fear, and he suspected that it was the story of the eighteen villagers that had been slaughtered. It was a big story around here. Costa Rica didn’t have as high of a crime rate as some of the other countries it bordered, but there was still crime. Murder could happen anywhere.

  “It was just a drug deal gone bad,” Cole had told her earlier in the day when he had suggested again that the slaughter of those villagers had triggered her sudden panic. “Someone ripped someone off and they had to pay. They made the person pay by making him watch all seventeen people getting hacked to pieces before they finally killed him. It’s a common practice with drug cartels.”

  If anyone would know, it would be Cole. And his explanation seemed to make sense. But the only thing that didn’t make sense in Cole’s explanation was the rumor that the pieces of the hacked-up bodies had been arranged and displayed, like the bodies in the cave at the dig site. It was too much of a coincidence for her to overlook.

  Cole had just shrugged off her worry, automatically dismissing those details as exaggerations or rumors. People lied. Sometimes they passed rumors on that they knew weren’t true and the stories grew like a snowball rolling down a hill.

  Cole had seemed to be getting a little defensive at that point, and
she had let it go. She began to believe that the story of the murdered villagers had been in the back of her mind when she was at the dig site in the jungle, where she thought she’d seen Jim Whitefeather standing in the brush. In that split second everything had converged and all of her fears had come back. But either there had been a man in the jungle and she had projected Jim Whitefeather’s dead and eyeless face there, or no one had been there at all. Both were equally frightening.

  It bothered her that something like a murder spree could trigger all of this fear again so easily, that she could nearly be back to the place where she had started when they had first gotten here. She was upset that all of her years of hard work of getting past her fear could be erased in a few days.

  But it was just a temporary setback, she told herself. She would battle through her fear again. She would get better again.

  Stella and Cole had gone back to bed last night after her sleepwalking episode. After she had crawled back into bed, Cole had stayed awake in the chair for a while, watching over her like he used to.

  She’d fallen into a deep sleep and dreamed again of the ghost town where David had made his stand against the Ancient Enemy. And again in this dream the ghost town was the town of Hope’s End that it used to be in the 1890s. The same people were in the saloon. She didn’t know them, but at the same time she recognized them. It felt like something was outside the saloon, something out there in the darkness coming for them.

  They had both slept in late this morning. Cole cut up some fruit for breakfast when they got up. He didn’t go into town to the bar as evening approached; he stayed with her. He knew she needed him around tonight, and it seemed like he was a little jumpy even though he would never admit it.