Shadows of Eternity: The Children of the Owls (Frost and Flame Book 2)

by Rick Kueber

  “Hello?” Barb's voice was on the other end of the phone.

  “Hello Barb. It's Rick” I gave her a moment. “Well, hi Rick! To what do I owe the pleasure?” I could hear a giddy sound in her tone. She and Del were true fans of the paranormal and were excited that we not only investigated the Owl's Nest, but that we all had some incredible experiences while we were there.

  I laughed at her response. “I was just calling to see if you and Del might be able to meet with us this Saturday afternoon to discuss our investigation, and let you take a listen to a few e.v.p.s we caught during our time there.”

  “Oh, cool!” Barb sounded thrilled. “Yes! I'm here at the Owl's nest almost every Saturday and I can make sure Del is here too.”

  “Okay, that sounds perfect. We'll have everything ready and we'll see you Saturday. Is 4 o'clock good?” I questioned our arrival time.

  “Yep! That's after the lunch rush is over. See you at 4.” She confirmed. I sent the text to Jenn and Katie letting them know we were on for Saturday at 4pm, and quickly received responses from them both agreeing that they would be there. I put my phone on the charger and stripped down for a steaming hot shower. Though it was barely half over, it had been a long week already. The steaming deluge flooded over me like a spiritual baptism, washing away all of worries along with the dirt and grime of my construction job. With a twist of the shower head, the water began to pulse in a rhythmic pounding that beat against my shoulders and back. I stood under its massaging powers, melting away the stress until the water began to lose its steam.

  When I finally left the shower, I felt like a wet noodle. I toweled off and slid on a comfortable pair of shorts to lounge in. I chose a DVD from my collection on the rack and once it began to play, I kicked back on the couch with my second Mt. Dew and a tub of peanut butter filled pretzels. It was time to relax and be a vegetable, or more accurately, a couch potato. I stayed there all evening until it was time for bed. The mind numbing movie (which I had seen more than once already) was just what I needed.

  At nearly 10 o'clock, I began turning off the lights and electronics. Soon I slid myself between the sheets, and with the fan on high, I tuned out the real world and fell into a deep slumber. The time passed and the empty vacuum of unconsciousness ate away at the hours of my night, until I began to become aware of a new place of existence, a dream state in which I could exist for a few mystical hours, or minutes, until I would awaken.

  As the fog and mists cleared somewhat, I could begin to see a group of four young boys playing in a room filled with handcrafted, wooden toys and stitched animals, an elephant, a lion, a bear, and an owl. I watched as if I was looking through a glass wall, I could not approach them nor could they see or hear me. I watched as the youngest, a mere toddler of two years, or so, sat on the floor, playing with the animals and hugging the owl, under his arm, as his imagination brought the other wild 'fabric' animals to life, in his mind. Without warning, sound or reason, the white, frilled night shirt he was wearing burst open in the front with a small explosion of woven cotton, flesh and blood. He turned his head in my direction and his eyes met mine. He saw me, and I felt the pain and fear in him. The confusion set in, as his eyes went empty and called out to me...hauntingly staring, and silently crying for help. The white cotton shirt now had a small hole in it, and a small area around the hole was stained red. Quickly, the red stain grew as the cotton fabric became saturated with the life of the small child. As the blood soaked through his clothing, and began to spill onto the floor, the boy began to transform before my eyes. Much like the layers of grime I had washed away in the shower, the solidity of the boy began to crumble away leaving only a translucent shell, a ghost of the boy who once was.

  The three remaining youngsters froze in their places, stood still, and then eerily turned to stare at me with hollow, lifeless eyes and blank, expressionless faces. One by one they dissolved into specters of the children they had been, until all were ghastly, pale beings. The youngest stood and joined the others, and all were now facing me, side by side. I watched as their mouths fell open in silent screams and the once sparkling eyes turned black and empty. Like smoky vapors, the ghostly children who had stood frozen before me suddenly rushed towards me and their youthful innocence was replaced by a harrowing terror.

  “RING! RING!” My alarm clock startled me from an alltoo-real nightmare, so real in fact, that I had to question if I had been awake, or if I now was. I took a moment to absorb my alternate-reality experience, and then before it faded into foggy memories, I began to put pen to paper, and descriptively write every detail, yet even as I wrote, I could feel the images growing thin, transparent, and elusive.

  Chapter 8 HISTORY IN THE FOG

  It was a sunless June day, gray and dull. The world was hidden in a cloudy, foggy shroud, and though there were still people going about their daily weekend lives, the town felt lifeless...cold and dead to the reality of the spiritual planes of existence within it. Jennifer and Katie had decided to spend their Saturday morning visiting our downtown central library, and the old Willard library (which sat less than two blocks from the Owl's Nest), searching for clues, answers, and the elusive Allison Bettiger.

  They started out at the Willard Library, also known for its Grey Lady Ghost and famed as the most haunted library in America. The library's ominous pinnacles of its ancient architecture rose before them like a troubled castle, haunted and mysterious. The two women walked slowly towards the rising steps that led to the oversized double entry doors. As they neared the limestone steps, a cold drizzling mist began to fall around them, dampening everything it touched including them.

  Jenn pulled at the heavy wood door, opening it slowly and then rushing inside just as the rain grew steadier, splattering everything with fat, cold, soaking drops...absorbing into things like the concrete, bricks and tree trunks and branches, darkening them. In sharp contrast, the wetness clung to the black painted handrails, grass, and leaves, unable to soak into them, and causing them to slightly shine and glimmer in an almost magical way. In life, it should be the opposite. We should each try to repel those things that darken us, and absorb those that make us shine. The difficult part is deciding which is which, in time to make the right choice.

  The rain and mist in the air drew out the musty smell of dated fabrics, smoke-stained woodwork, and books...mostly books, and the smell of well worn, overly read, finger printed pages of, both ancient and relatively new, knowledge. Katie passed up Jenn as she entered, and with a smile, closed her eyes. She drew a deep breath, holding it in for a moment before exhaling an audible sigh.

  “I love the smell of old books.” She grinned at Jenn, and then looked around the familiar entryway, and stairwell. “I know, right?” Jennifer laughed back to her. “We may have better luck finding information about Allison Bettiger down at Central, but I love this library, and when it comes to history, there is no better place.” As if on cue, the two raised their eyes to the ornate carved woodwork, painted art of oil on canvas, and the rising stairwell before them.

  Without a word, they made their way to the upper level, where the oldest collections, and personal records were kept. Dividing up, Katie began searching through the files on the computer for any books and documents pertaining to the Bettiger family, and the historical homes located on Evansville's First Avenue. Jenn underwent the same task, but she searched the physical card catalog. Willard Library still maintained an index card style collection of files that contained information that had not been entered into the computer system yet.

  After making several notes, both women soon found themselves searching the Dewey decimal system notations on the book shelves and bindings. They collected books in their arms, packing them in ones or twos back to one of the long conference tables where they had decided to sit to do their research and note taking. Before long they had an assemblage of books, periodicals and newspapers that dated back to the 1870's, in several neatly organized stacks.

  Short, brass desk lamps wi
th green glass shades added to the air of the distinguished historical library, casting a friendly glow, and warming the gray filtered light of day that slipped through the tall windows that lined the walls. The girls plundered through the pages of old books both worn from use and yellowed from age. A few of these books had a spine so crisp, it would make one wonder if they had ever been opened since the day they were systematically put on their shelf, and when opened, made a near silent cracking sound which caused Jenn and Katie fear the bindings may actually crumble and the pages fall from the covers like a deck of cards that got loose during a shuffle. Their eyes poured over the pages, intently searching for any clue that may shed even the dimmest ray of enlightenment on this peculiar investigation.

  “I think I might have something here.” Jenn whispered across the table to Katie, never raising her eyes from the rather large, red cloth covered book.

  “Whatcha got?” Katie returned the whisper, filled with curiosity, peeking her nose over the edge of the literary work she was dissecting, and looking very much like a bookworm version of 'Kilroy'.

  “This book is full of family photographs from Evansville, circa 1870-1920. I found a Charles E. Bettiger in the index...and this is what I found under his name. She turned the book to face Katie holding it open by the top. The book was opened to a page that was nearly half covered in a brown tone family photo. A man stood on the right end of a Queen Anne style sofa. Across the sofa sat three small boys and sitting on the far left was a woman facing away from the others, holding a young child, only a couple of years old, in her arms.

  Katie scanned the details of the photo carefully, and read the names listed across the bottom caption, whispering out loud. “Charles, Donald, Timothy, Brian, Jonathon, and Amelia Bettiger.” Studying the details of the photo, Katie's eyes grew wide and her mouth opened slowly. “Is this what I think it is?” She quietly asked Jenn.

  “Family Photo?” Jenn asked back, puzzled slightly by Katie's expression. “Well, yeah, but I think this is a 'postmortem' photo. Look at the boy she's holding.” She directed Jenn. “Look at the little boy's head and face.”

  Jenn turned the book back to herself and scanned the young lad in his mother's arms. “Shut Up!” She said in a voice much louder than a library voice. She swiftly looked back and forth, but it seemed that no one had paid the girls much attention. “His hat is on crooked, eyes are closed, and he does look kinda like a rag doll, now that you mention it.”

  “Might as well photo copy this page, huh?” Katie said rhetorically, and Jenn nodded back to her. The afternoon trickled by and the stacks of history, slowly melted away, revealing their hidden treasures, secrets, and clues. Though the sun grew higher in the sky, the day outside only grew darker, and more gray. Index searching and page turning, note taking and photocopying, were the order of the morning until noon had come and past. Eventually Katie and Jennifer made their way through all of the piles of information, and began to whittle away at it, taking one or two pieces at a time back to the librarian's cart to be returned to their dark hiding places on the shelves where they were discovered.

  “I'm hungry.” Jenn whispered to Katie as she took one of the last books to the cart. “I know, right? Me too…” Katie smiled. “My stomach has been growling for the last half hour. You wanna go grab something before we go to Central Library?”

  “Heck yeah!” Jenn's voice rose slightly. “We're only a block from the Owl's Nest, and Barb said they have great plate lunches and it's almost noon.”

  “Perfect!” Katie grinned to Jennifer, thinking it was perfect, since they had been researching information on the family that originally owned the Owl's Nest #30 property.

  Jenn carefully carried the old newspapers and periodicals back to the librarian's desk for safe keeping, while Katie finished writing a few final notes from the last remaining book on the table. When she had finished, she placed it on the monstrous pile atop the book return cart. The two (momentarily nerdy) girls then closed their notebooks and organized the photocopied papers. Once everything was squared away in its place, the two left the upstairs room, and began their descent of the old wooden stairwell.

  Leaving the foreboding old library, they noticed the rain had all but stopped, though the day had not grown any brighter. It was quite unusual to have such a gray, foggy day in southern Indiana in June, but then again, the weather in the Ohio Valley was completely unpredictable. Neatly storing their research in the back seat of the Jennifer's Camry, the two made the short drive, just a block and a half north, to the Owl's Nest.

  Exiting the car, the two trotted quickly up the handicapped-accessible ramp, as the drizzle had once again emerged from the darkened sky. With their hair and clothes slightly dampened, but not their spirits, the two shook off the cold wetness upon entering the front door of the club. This wasn't their first visit to the club, but it was their first uninvited visit.

  “You do realize we aren't members here, right?” Katie asked nervously. “Crap... I didn't even think of that. Well, maybe Barb or Del will be here and can sign us in as guests.” Jenn tried to think of how they might get around not being members. She smiled a comforting smile to Katie. “Worse case, maybe one of us will just have to join.”

  Looking around the entry and hallway, memories came flooding back. Slowly, and silently they emerged into the open room. A thickset woman of about five foot nothing, wearing blue jeans, a Corona t-shirt, and a half-apron came bustling by with an empty glass and a bar towel in her hands. She glanced at the two girls as she blew by them, and within seconds, returned empty handed.

  “Can I help you?” She asked politely. “You two here for lunch?” Placing her hand on her hip, she awaited an answer to her questions.

  “We aren't members.” Katie blurted out, wanting to get that out in the open quickly. “But we were hoping to have lunch.” She stated with a concerned look.

  “You don't have to be a member to eat here today. Sit anywhere you want and I'll go grab you some menus.” and as quickly as she had appeared, the whirlwind of a barmaid disappeared.

  Jenn and Katie found a seat near the back wall where they wouldn't draw too much attention to themselves while they discussed their discoveries. The waitress took the orders, brought the cold sodas, and slipped away again, back to the kitchen to drop off the orders she had collected. The girls sipped the soda through their drinking straws, and bubbled over with excitement as the bits of history were tossed back and forth between them. Just as something in their chatter caused them to giggle simultaneously, a figure appeared unexpectedly at their table.

  “Hey, you two! What brings you here so early?” It was Barb, who was expecting the team to arrive much later to reveal the paranormal evidence we had found.

  “Well hey Barb, we just dropped by for a bite. We were doing some research at Willard's, and since this is so close, thought we'd stop in.” Jenn said casually, trying to contain her laughter from the prior conversation.

  Katie minimized her smile and added, “Yeah, we'll be back after-while with Rick, so no teasers... he wouldn't be happy if we let you in on anything without him here.”

  “Yeah, he's funny like that.” Jenn said, but this time she and Katie couldn't hold back the laughter. They knew I was always proud to reveal any evidence. It always made me feel like the person who had the best gift at the birthday party...and as wrong and selfish as that may sound... it was true.

  “I understand.” the words came slowly, and the disappointment in Barb's tone was far beyond obvious. The waitress brought Jennifer's 'gluten free' lunch choices, and Katie's bacon cheeseburger and fries. “Well, I'll leave you two to your lunch, and I'll see you in a few hours.” Soon Barb was back to bustling around the room and the girls watched as she made her rounds. When one of her conversations with the lunch crowd turned to the building's ghosts, the eyes would all turn towards Katie and Jenn.

  Soon enough, lunch was finished, and with the bill and tip paid, the two overly stuffed girls headed back to the cold mis
ty day outside. “Remind me to split a lunch with you next time we eat here.” Jenn groaned as she rubbed her tummy.

  “Yeah, no doubt...That was delicious, but way more than I needed to eat.” Katie spluffed, but with a smile. A few blocks through downtown Evansville and the diligent duo were pulling into the new Central Library, the largest collection in the metro area. Quick work was made of the enormous vault of information held within its doors. Before long, they had located several addresses for Allison Bettiger, and found records showing her parents to be Charles and Amelia Bettiger.

  “Why do you think she kept the Bettiger last name, you know...?” Katie questioned. “Not sure, I was kinda thinking that there wasn't a female in the records Barb and Del had. Isn't it odd that Linda knows her or knows of her, but there aren't many records of her, and no photos?” Jenn's reply wasn't an answer, but another question, and that is the way of these investigations... too many questions that sometimes are never fully answered.

  The search continued until nearly four in the afternoon, but the success was minimal, and incredibly disappointing. Very little was uncovered besides a few good leads on how to find the Bettiger's elusive, final living relative. From the moment they stepped from the car until they had completely finished and were once again opening the car doors to leave, the mood was melancholy at best. The atmosphere of the new structure, the smell of new carpet and paint compared to the total Willard experience, lacked the feel of having its own history. The library itself was fantastic, but from a paranormal investigator and historical researcher's point of view... well, it was like the difference between hearing a classic Beatles song on CD, or digital download versus hearing the scratchy white noise of a needle on an old vinyl L.P.

  Chapter 9 SPIRITS in a MIRROR

  The time passed swiftly, and soon it was time to meet up at the Owl's Nest as planned. The gray mist and drizzle had turned into a fog filled, late afternoon. The day only grew more dismal and dark as the hours wore on. I turned off the rhythmic 'tap, rub, tap' of the windshield wipers, and with a turn of the key shut off the motor of my convertible. Reaching to grab my laptop bag, I noticed a drip near where the passenger side window and the rag top met. The dreary day now seemed exponentially more depressing. I put the hood up on my E.V.P. hoodie and stepped from the car. Carrying my laptop bag carefully, I trudged up the ramp and waited outside for the rest of my team to arrive. The cars grumbled by slowly with their headlights on dim in the minimal light of the cloudy afternoon. I watched as each one passed looking for the familiar black Camry, or black pick-up. Breathing in the damp air, I wondered where this case was leading us, and how we would be able to help so many spirits, as well as the staff and members of the Owl's Nest #30.