Cold Dead Past

by John Curtis

  Jay took the book and flipped to a page with a three-by-five sticky note stuck to it and pulled the sheaf of folded-up writing paper Gary had given him from one of his pockets. He set the book down on the table top and took the flashlight from Meg. After a short browse through the papers, he settled on one in particular and stood reading it for a moment before turning to the others.

  "These notes Abe made talk about a large circle and a pentagram."

  He slipped his flashlight under his arm and grabbed the edge of the table. As he dragged it to a spot against one of the walls, its metal claw feet gouged channels into the wide pine floorboards and ripped up the rotted woolen carpet.

  He pulled the flashlight back from under his arm, consulted the notes one more time, and took a look around the room.

  "I think that this’ll just about give us enough space. Yes."

  "Abe spent some time pacing this room off," said Gary.

  Jay continued poring over the notes and waved his hand at Meg. "Honey, bring that bag over here, will you, please?"

  She picked up the brown paper shopping bag and set it on the table next to him. He rummaged through it and pulled out a container of sea salt, a box of white chalk, and a package of short, fat votive candles. He smoothed out the bag on the dusty floor and set out the items next to it before kneeling down and setting the book and notes down upon it.

  "Why the salt?" Meg asked. "I’ve seen the chalk and candles in movies before."

  "Well, you haven't seen enough of them, then. Salt is a symbol of purity. It’s supposed to keep evil from breaking out of the circle. Hopefully, it’s going to hold him so we can get a bead on him with that." He pointed at the spear gun.

  "What about the pentagram?"

  Jay nodded his head. "That’s for us. We stand inside the circle while I read the incantation and it protects us from whatever forces I call up. Well, that’s the way it’s supposed to work, anyway."

  Gary stepped forward, the pool of light from his flashlight mingling with Jay’s. He puffed up to his full height and glanced quickly at Meg. She pretended not to notice.

  "I don’t like the sound of that," he said, stealing another look in her direction. He frowned at Jay. "How do we know Abe really knew what he was doing? So far I’ve got the same feeling as Meg. This all reminds me of some old horror movie. Better yet, are you sure you know what you’re doing?"

  Jay noticed Gary's glances. He had the uncomfortable feeling, ever since he had arrived in town, that he had interfered in some sort of relationship. He had resigned himself to the idea that Gary needed time to let it go. The overly-protective attitude toward Meg was beginning to rankle him, though.

  He snapped out his reply. "It’s not so much that. We just can’t be sure how strong Frank has become. And sometimes the salt doesn’t work. Or the powers you summon turn out to be more dangerous than the target."

  He picked up the salt and tossed it to Meg, who caught it gingerly and clasped it tightly. "Now, let’s get to work before the sun sets and we’re left here in the dark without any kind of protection at all, shall we?"

  He pointed at the space where the table once stood. "Take that salt over there and make a big circle with it."

  "How big?"

  "I don’t know," he replied. Jay looked from her to Gary and then to the area to which he had directed her. He thought for a moment. "Maybe about eight feet across. That should be enough to give us all some protection."

  Jay opened up the box of chalk, walked over to the opposite end of the room, and began drawing a pentagram. Gary still stood by the table, feeling like a fifth wheel and looking uncomfortable.

  He cleared his throat and said, "So, what do you want me to do?"

  Jay looked up at him and said, "You’re a good shot, right? Or was that all big talk?"

  Gary grunted. "Hell, yeah. Best on the department."

  "Good. You’re in charge of the spear gun. I’m going to be very busy and I’m a lousy shot." Jay motioned with his hand. "Shine your light over here."

  Jay opened the book and compared a drawing on a marked page to the one he’d laid out in chalk on the floor. He began to draw additional symbols at the places where the points on the star intersected the circle that joined the points.

  He looked up at Gary, who had a quizzical look on his face. "These are all integral to spells that Abe marked in the book. They are meant to help call and hold whatever demon you are using. They’re the reason that this is NOT something you’ve ever seen in a movie."

  Gary’s face dropped to a definite frown. "Now hold on. You didn’t say anything about demons. I’m not so sure I like the sound of that."

  Jay laughed. "No, no. You’ve got to stop thinking like we’re in a horror movie. There’s a science to it, I think. That’s the only way I can explain it.

  "It’s why you don’t do something like play with a Ouija board. There are very definite formulas. If you just call out to whatever’s there, without a plan or a way to control it, then, sure, you’re going to have to deal with the results of your stupidity. It’s like letting a four-year-old have the keys to a new Porsche."

  Jay looked into Gary’s eyes, which had glazed over. To his thinking, he had put forth as straightforward and simple a lesson as he could, but it was obvious that it wasn’t enough.

  Even when Gary said,"Yeah. Right. I think I get you, champ."

  Meg rejoined them just as he finished the last drawing. She had a grin, obviously well-pleased with her work, and said, "Well, what do you think?"

  Jay barely took notice before he said, "Fine, fine. Could you hand me the box of candles, please?"

  "I think it looks perfect," said Gary. He gave a Jay a sour look, but Jay's only response was to hold out his hand and nod toward the box.

  "Please. If I’ve offended you by not saying how pretty your circle is, I’m sorry, but we don’t have the time to play these little nice-nice games."

  Gary gave out another grunt and did as he was told, handing Jay the box of votive candles. A half-dozen of them, each with its own glass cup. Jay laid them out, carefully placing one on each point of the star, squarely on each symbol.

  "What about that last one?" asked Meg.

  "And this one," he replied, looking deeply at it for a moment, "this one goes right here." And he set it deftly in the center.

  He rose to his feet and brushed the dust and chalk from his hands. "Now all we have to do is sit tight until dark."

  This last pronouncement reassured no one. It even sent an electric shock shooting along Jay’s spine that made the hairs on every part of his body rise to attention. The three of them sat down against the far wall. Meg soon fell asleep and dozed with her head on Jay’s shoulder.

  It gave Jay a flush of confidence knowing that she trusted him and his judgment enough that she could feel safe sleeping snuggled up to him in such a situation. He and Gary sat with their flashlights turned off, watching the shadows as they lengthened and crossed the floor. It was like watching a storm front approach. The sense of foreboding, though, was more palpable and the stakes were higher.

  They sat for a few moments, their eyes adjusting to the gloom and then Jay was able to make out Gary’s occasional glances in his and Meg’s direction.

  "Listen," he said in a low voice. "I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Meg and I, I mean."

  "But you hoped for it," replied Gary. "It’s just been something hard for me to take, you know? I mean, I thought… Well, maybe I had a chance with her. But maybe not, as easy as it was for you to move back in after all these years."

  "I’m as surprised as you. I was planning on putting this town as far behind me as possible."

  Meg gave a little snort and shifted against his body. Jay pulled her up closer.

  "For what it’s worth," Gary went on, "I really am kinda glad you did come back. I think that the two of us would be dead for sure if things had been left up to me."

  "Well, I’m not so certain that still isn’t a possibility."
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  Gary chortled. "Really, though," Jay went on, "if this turns out badly, I’d appreciate it if you took her and ran like hell. I can’t think of anyone she’d be in better hands with than you. Someone who cares for her as much as I do."

  Gary turned away, not wanting him to see the tears welling up in his eyes. "Well, thanks." He waved his hand toward the far corner of the room. "I think you two ought to get some rest while you still can. I'm gonna stand watch."

  CHAPTER 35

  Gary sat in the corner, in the gray afterglow of the setting sun as it washed through the gaping hole that had once been a brilliant bay window. He stared at the Jay and Meg, in their own corner across the room, like a scientist studying a new species. Seeing them there, in the growing darkness, their arms tangled round each other, made him feel slightly sick.

  He lit a smoke and toyed with the thought of just getting up and walking away, leaving them to whatever fate Frank had in store for them. But then his nagging sense of duty got the best of him. He stubbed the idea out with the butt of his cigarette.

  He was destined, he supposed, to be the town's loyal watchdog; getting his satisfaction from protecting its citizens from all things seen and unseen. It was a worthwhile tradeoff. And besides, Meg wasn't the only smart, attractive woman in town nowadays.

  Gary got to his feet and flipped the switch on his flashlight. He danced the light around the room, checking out the nooks and crannies before letting it fall on them.

  "Jay," he whispered, to no effect. He walked over to them, cleared his throat, and repeated, more authoritatively. "Jay!" He grabbed Jay's shoulder and shook him.

  Jay’s eyes popped open and he blinked. The light from the flashlight was blinding. He held his hand, palm up, in front of his face. "Hey, please, will you shine that somewhere else?"

  Gary flicked his wrist so that the beam was redirected toward the opposite side of the room. "Sorry."

  Jay stood up and stretched. He turned to Meg, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, offering her his hand. Once on her feet, she turned on her flashlight. It wouldn’t light. Gary slipped his under his arm.

  "Here, let me have that."

  She handed it over to him and he gave it a couple of whacks against the palm of his hand, bringing it blazing back to life.

  "There you go," he said, as he handed it back.

  Crazy shadows jumped on the wall as she swung it around, surveying the room. Every form became some ominous shape projected on a wall. Here a chair became a grotesque horned beast crouched to strike, there a sheet lain over a sideboard and fluttered by a breeze became a giant undulating worm, creeping its way along the wainscoting.

  "Now, I need you both to join me in the circle." He turned to Gary and added, "Bring that spear gun with you."

  The three of them entered the circle Jay had drawn around the pentagram. "Meg, I need you to light the candles."

  She pulled some matches from her pocket while he flipped open the book to a page marked with an old school photo of Frank. When he looked at it, the first thing he noticed was the eyes. They were the first thing about Frank that anyone noticed. Given a few more years, with his aquiline nose and the soft edge to his high cheek bones, he might have been quite a stunner. Even model material. It was hard to imagine that this person was the cause of so much ugliness. Some day he would have to ask Abe how he had gotten the picture, because it was a print and not a copy cut out of an old yearbook.

  Meg lit each of the candles in turn and when she had finished, she stood with Jay and Gary in the circle. Jay took the photo and placed it into a shallow bowl set in the center of the pentagon outlined by the chalk lines that criss-crossed the circle to form the star.

  He turned to the others and looked each of them in the eyes for a moment before he spoke. "You could both leave now if you want. It's me he wants."

  The only sound was the slight whistling of a draft as it slipped under the warped clapboard siding and wove its way through the cracks in the plaster walls. The slight breath of cold air caused the votive candles laid out around them to jump and flicker, making their shadows shimmy and dance on the walls.

  Taking silence as assent, he began to read from a marked passage. "Va-nu, we beseech you. Give your supplicants a sign that your ears are open to our plea. Bring forth the spirit of fire that we may know your will."

  When he looked up from the page he saw the others looking from side to side expectantly. "Va-nu," he continued, "hear our call. Devourer of souls, heed our prayer."

  "Nothing’s happening," said Meg, with a look of disappointment creasing her face.

  "I’m not finished yet," Jay growled. "It’s not like I’m flipping on a light switch here."

  He turned back to the page of text and scanned down the page. "Crap. I wasn't expecting this." He turned to Gary. "Do you have a knife on you? I don't carry one and Abe neglected to put one on my shopping list."

  "Only a pen knife."

  "That's fine. Could you give it to me?"

  Gary gave him a quizzical look and fished through his pants pockets. The jingling of his change seemed loud in the room and he flinched at the sudden noise. When he found the knife, he opened it and passed it over to Jay.

  Jay slipped the open book under his arm. He exposed and stretched out the palm of his left hand.

  "What are you doing?" yelled Meg.

  She leaped forward, but before she could grab his arm, he had drawn the well-honed stainless steel blade across his palm. At first the cut was barely visible, but then it began to well up with blood. Jay cupped his hand and it began to form a little, cherry-black pool in the center of his palm.

  "Quick," he said, pointing to the bowl with the knife, "get that over here to catch this!"

  Meg turned away. Gary scooped up the bowl in his hand and cupped it below Jay’s hand. The blood steamed as it hit the cold metal of the bowl.

  When the bottom of the bowl had filled, Jay turned to Gary.

  "Okay, let me have a handkerchief or something."

  Gary dug into his pocket and pulled out a wadded-up bandana. Meg pushed Gary’s hand away.

  "No," she said. "You can’t use that filthy thing."

  She pulled the woolen scarf from around her neck and tore a long strip from it. As Meg wrapped his hand, Jay held out the knife, still sticky with his blood.

  Gary took the knife from him and wiped it off with the bandana before he folded it shut and slipped it back into his pocket. Meg finished up her bandaging job with a tight square knot.

  "There," she said with an air of satisfaction, "that should do it. But you really need to get that looked at by a doctor as soon as possible."

  Gary looked up at Jay and said, "If possible."

  Jay shook his head. "Let’s see if this will work now. Set it there in the middle of the pentagram."

  Gary leaned into the center of the circle and placed the bowl carefully in the intersection of the arms of the star. Jay began to read once more.

  "Va-nu. Hear us your servants. Bring forth your messenger that you may see our act of supplication. We call Hoth, the bearer of light that you may see we are true plaintiffs."

  The little wisps of vapor that had been spilling from their mouths and nostrils ceased for a moment as they held their breath expectantly. The moment turned to two, then to three. They exhaled and gasped.

  Jay stood examining the page with a puzzled look on his face. "I don’t understand. That should have been all we needed to activate this." He shook his head.

  Meg stood, arms crossed. "Well, that was a big non-event. If that’s the best we’ve got, then I think it’s time we considered coming up with a plan for getting our asses out of town."

  Jay put a finger to his lips to signal her to silence. Gary came to her defense.

  "Listen. I think that Meg’s right. We need to come up with…"

  He stopped dead in mid-sentence as the flames on the candles began to grow, elongating like pulled taffy until they were foot-long and cylindrical. Jay sm
iled, less at his triumph over their wavering belief than over the fact that he wouldn't have to deal with the circumstances of failure.

  "It feels as if someone’s turned on a furnace in here," said Meg.

  Indeed, it felt to Jay as if the temperature in the room had jumped at least thirty or forty degrees. Droplets of water raced down the remaining window panes as the frost on them melted. Months of ice and snow build-up began to melt and fall to the ground from the roof. Melt water ran down the walls in the entryway and they could hear icicles all over the house crashing onto floors with heavy thuds.

  The house creaked and groaned as all of its frozen joints came to life at once. Impulsively, Megan began to run for an exit, fearful that the whole structure would come down around them. Jay grabbed her tightly by the arm and yanked her back, hollering over the noise, "No! You can’t do that. It’s safer here."

  Almost on cue, the sounds of the house springing back to life quieted. The candle flames had now enclosed them in a cage of light. The silence was broken when the bowl containing Jay’s blood began to bubble and boil. It shook and rattled until the blood was reduced to a thick, gooey residue and began to smoke.

  The black, oily vapor rose to the ceiling and hung there, roiling like a thunder cloud. Then, it began to rotate, causing the candle flames to bend and twist around the trio, who looked up, slack-jawed.

  It was as if the force of the swirling blood offering was wrenching the flames loose from their bases. They began to rotate faster and faster until, finally, they were peering through a solid wall of flame, almost transparent, which made the room blindingly bright.

  Perspiration poured down their foreheads and their clothes stuck to their damp bodies as the temperature rose even higher. The rising hot air formed a vortex that whipped around all manner of debris. Pieces of paper, bits of plaster, all sucked into an almost solid mass that obscured their view of all else.

  A large chunk of plaster flew directly at them. It vaporized the instant it hit the wall of flames. Gary wiped his arm across his forehead, which was shiny and slick with his sweat and said, "Jesus, if that thing had hit one of us. I’d almost have been thankful for that, though, cuz I don’t much like the idea of burning to death."