3 Gates of the Dead (The 3 Gates of the Dead Series)

by Ryan, Jonathan

  “Yes. Jennifer, I will call you later, okay?”

  She nodded and walked outside.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  He took on a tone of authority. “You must be careful. You are in danger of all sorts. The spirit world has an interest in you. You must be careful with your life. And your soul.”

  I still didn’t entirely understand, but I didn’t want him to worry. “I will.”

  “Your doubts make you a target for whoever is doing this ritual. They might use it, but remember your doubts can be used for good or evil. That depends on you. Somehow, you’re connected with this in a way I don’t understand. Amanda being the first sacrifice was the first sign of what is to come.”

  “That’s comforting,” I said, trying to keep from sounding too sarcastic.

  Father Neal smiled. “The truth always is. That is why you’ve got to embrace your doubt like a lover, Aidan. It’ll save you and move you in the right direction.”

  I couldn’t keep the skepticism out of my voice. “How is that possible?”

  “Thomas’ doubts led him to confess our Lord’s divinity. We need our doubting Thomases.” He smiled while gazing up toward the ceiling. It seemed like he was talking to someone else.

  “I wish I could be as good as you.”

  He eyes bore into me. “You’re not me. You’re you. Learn to be who you were created to be. Now, go and try to figure out where Nebo might be. I’ll work on it from my end.” He raised his hands. “May Michael the Archangel guard you by the power of the Blessed Trinity.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The next morning, I drove to the Columbus city library to do some work, my usual midweek ritual that got me out of the suburbs.

  As I turned onto Grant Street, my phone rang.

  “Hey, Jennifer,” I said. I could really get used to her calls.

  “How did last night go?”

  “Good, I guess. Father Neal told me I was in spiritual danger, then he blessed me and sent me on my way.”

  “He’s an interesting guy and has a fascinating history,” she said. “A little old-fashioned for my taste, but I actually like him.”

  “So do I. What did you think of his story?”

  “His personal one or the ritual?”

  “Both.”

  “Well, the personal one was interesting but not nearly as compelling as the ritual. The FBI profiler we brought in suggested that we might find the killer has ritualistic intent. So that didn’t surprise me. And the profiler also said the guy will not stop here.”

  “But Father Neal said there were possible killers, not killer.”

  Jennifer sighed. “Yeah, but I don’t buy that. Despite what Father Neal said, I’m sure this killer found out about this ritual in some obscure book.”

  “So, you are set that it was one killer?” I asked.

  “No, I’m just saying it’s more likely. These kinds of killings are usually the work of one psycho, not many. Very rarely do we have a pack of serial killers.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to the library to study Nebo,” I said.

  “Aidan, you aren’t a cop.” She reacted about the way I expected.

  I gripped the phone. “I realize that. I’m just curious.”

  “Curiosity is fine, but stop trying to do our job.”

  “What do you expect? This was my fiancée, Jennifer. I can’t just be a good boy, go along with my church business, and wait by the phone until you come up with something. I’ve helped before. Who says I can’t find something you would never have thought about?”

  She paused. “Don’t you have a job?”

  “Yeah, and everyone thinks I’m doing it right now. If I have to work late tonight, I can.”

  She sighed. “Fine. Let me know if you find anything.”

  “I will.”

  Jennifer lowered her voice. “We need to find something soon, or this case is going to be out of our hands. Scott is running out of delay tactics, and the FBI is going to take over soon. When that happens, the Reverend/Detective double act will come to an end.”

  “I understand. Talk to you later.”

  I typed Nebo into Google. A broad range of biblical sites came up with variations of the same combination of words about Moses and the Promised Land. I scrolled through five pages of results and found nothing.

  I sighed and leaned back in my chair.

  What could Amanda have possibly tried to tell me? Nebo was so specific, yet so vague. Without any more information, it was useless.

  I pounded on the table and Marge, the sixty-four-year old matron of the stacks came up to me. “The Bible frustrating you, Pastor Aidan?”

  I smiled. “Well, at least some of the characters inside.”

  She smiled back and patted my hand. “I understand, but try to express your frustration toward God in quiet.”

  “Sorry, Marge, just got carried away.”

  “Don’t worry, dear.”

  As she walked away, an idea struck me. “Hey, Marge, have you ever heard of a place in Ohio called Nebo?”

  She pursed her lips. “Hmmm, no, but we have a huge map in the reference section you might want to check out.”

  I shook my head. I should have thought of that in the first place. As I walked through the book stacks, my conversation with Father Neal about faith and doubt came back to me. I thought about what he said that I should embrace my doubts. I looked at all the books in the nonfiction section, and I considered how many of them contradicted each other. The history books were always being rewritten and updated to debate some other scholar’s opinion about a war or certain historical figures. The science books weren’t any better. Even in the past hundred years, discoveries that were once considered ironclad realities had been cast off. Rows and rows of books were dedicated to proving opposite things. Libraries were a perfect illustration of human’s search for truth and the frustration at never finding it.

  Who gets to decide the truth? I wondered. Dawkins? Hitchens? Theologians? Scientists?

  I stopped walking as Father Neal’s words about science came rushing back to me. I began to realize that even science rested on assumptions that couldn’t be proven with ironclad certainty. The universe didn’t have a rational order that we tried to figure out.

  That idea shocked me. If science relied on those assumptions, so did everything else — history, arts, writing, working, books, and making love. I felt dizzy and sat down in the nearest chair, taking a deep breath.

  The map. I had to find the map.

  I went to the reference department and found the topographical map of Ohio. I looked in the southeast, Amanda’s old stomping grounds, and the possible source of the leaves in the picture.

  Small bumps marked the Appalachian foothills surrounding Athens, Ohio. One bump was labeled “Mt. Nebo.” My pulse quickened as I wound my way back to my computer. I opened my laptop and searched “Mount Nebo, Athens, Ohio.” I clicked on the first link I found — the Athens County Visitor’s Bureau website.

  I surfed the site and found a link to Athens’ Haunted Places. As I sped through the text, it seemed Athens had a reputation of being one of the most haunted towns in America. People came from all over the country for ghost hunts, séances, and to suck in the New Age vibe.

  As I read down the article, I saw a link to Mount Nebo. This is it, I thought. That had to be the place. I printed out the information, packed up my stuff, and headed to St. Patrick’s. As soon as I drove out of the parking garage, I dialed Jennifer but got her voicemail.

  “This is Aidan. I figured out Nebo. Call me as soon as you can.”

  I drove as fast as I dared to St. Patrick’s. My tires squealed as I jerked to a stop in the parking lot. I jumped out of the car and ran inside.

  “Whoa there, Pastor Aidan, where’s the fire?” Sue said, looking at me over her glasses.

  “Sorry, Sue, I need to see Father Neal.”

  Her face fell. “I
’m sorry. Father Neal received a hospital call this morning. He won’t be back until the evening, I’m afraid.”

  I nearly swore then stopped myself. “Well, tell him I stopped by and to call me as soon as he can.”

  “I will.”

  I paused. “Is your computer working okay?”

  She brightened up. “Oh, yes, and aren’t you a sweetie for fixing it for me!”

  “No worries, anytime. I’ll see you later.”

  I got in the car and checked my phone. No messages. I decided to drive home and let Bishop out of his crate. When I got there, I gave him a treat and got myself a beer from the fridge.

  I took a sip and parted the curtains in the living room, revealing the lake behind my condo. It looked beautiful, frozen, and white. I put my head against the glass, and my breath fogged the window.

  Amanda and I used to walk Bishop around that lake. She liked to feed the ducks and would laugh whenever he chased the birds. They knew their business, so Bishop never caught them. I doubted he would have known what to do with one even if he had.

  Amanda, who killed you? Why can’t you tell me?

  My phone rang, and I jumped. “Hello?”

  “Aidan, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, why?” Just hearing her voice made me feel better.

  “You sounded a little panicked when you answered.”

  “Listen, I have something to tell you.”

  “Me first, because we have a trip to make tonight, and Scott gave me permission to bring you along,” she said.

  “Where?”

  “To a place outside of Athens, Ohio.”

  “Mt. Nebo,” I said.

  “How did you know?”

  My stomach churned. If Lieutenant Weaver needed to give his permission for me to go, it was because it was a crime scene. I’d been too late. “I guess I’ll tell you on the way.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Tell me what you found on Mt. Nebo.” Jennifer sipped her coffee as she drove. I couldn’t help but stare at her. This woman was starting to get into my head. I couldn’t figure out if I felt lust, love, or merely infatuation due to the circumstances.

  Maybe all of the above.

  I looked at the papers I had printed. “Right now, Mt. Nebo has nothing but two roads that join at the top. But the history of the place is intriguing.”

  “Uh oh, history, you sure you can handle that?” she teased.

  “Smartass. The story starts in the mid-1800s with a farmer named Jonathan Koons. Oddly enough, he started out as an atheist but went to a séance and decided to start his own spiritualist movement. Spirits began showing up, rapping on walls, playing music and generally making themselves part of the family.”

  “What happened next?”

  “That’s the strange thing. The movement disappeared after the people in the town began to persecute them.” I shuffled through the papers. “There are only stories and rumors as to their whereabouts after that.”

  “Strange. Anything else?”

  “Well, according to the Chamber of Commerce, Athens and the surrounding area is widely known for its paranormal activity.”

  “Of what kind?” Jennifer asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “You name it. Creepy cemeteries, insane asylums, haunted college dorms at Ohio University. Oh, here’s something interesting. It says the five cemeteries in town form a pentagram.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a pretty powerful symbol in the world of mythology. Some people say it’s evil, some say it’s not. Depends on your point of view.”

  “Interesting. Anything else?”

  I skimmed down the page. “Huh, the weird things people come up with…”

  “What?” Jennifer looked over at me, and the car swerved. She quickly yanked the wheel back into the lane.

  “The Athens area is thought to be a vortex.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, a lot of the New Agers think there are places of power on this earth where you can tap into energies. Supernatural ones, I guess. You could say they think it’s a place where the veil between this world and whatever lies beyond is paper thin.”

  Jennifer glanced at me. “Gates of the Dead?”

  I chewed on my straw. I hadn’t thought about that. “You might be right. It would fit with what Father Neal told us. In fact, it all fits.”

  We sat in silence as we passed the exit for Hocking Hills State Park. I wondered if I would see the same ritualistic acts used on Amanda at the crime scene on Nebo. I shuddered.

  “We will probably find the next location carved on this victim’s head,” Jennifer said, breaking into my thoughts.

  I swallowed. “I was just thinking about that.”

  “Are you ready to see that?”

  “Yeah. We have to, don’t we?”

  “You don’t have to look, you know.” Jennifer reached over and lightly touched my leg.

  “I’ll be fine. I was a biology major, remember? I can handle it.” I hope so, anyway.

  Jennifer looked over at me with a small frown. The little scar turned down toward her chin. “I’ve seen hardened men puke at murder scenes. Don’t take it lightly.”

  Not knowing what to say, I turned to look out the window. The road narrowed to two lanes as we drove through the river bottom. Flood plains stretched out from the side of the road, covered in drifts of white. Little hoof prints dented the snow where deer had made their way across the semi-frozen river.

  “Aidan, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, just looking at the snow and…” I stopped. The field began to fill with indentations as hundreds of human footprints raced toward the car.

  “What’s wrong?”

  The footprints crunched into the snow not fifty feet from us.

  “I think we’re being followed.”

  “What?” Jennifer looked at her rearview mirror. “Holy shit!”

  Frosted outlines began to appear on the windshield as if dozens of people were running alongside the car. Fogged face prints clouded the glass so I couldn’t make out the road.

  “Aidan!”

  The car shuddered as something began to pound on the roof like large hailstones.

  “Over to the side, Jennifer, before we wreck!”

  Jennifer swerved off the road into a picnic area and looked at me with terrified eyes as she clicked the power lock button on the door. We gripped each other, and the sound of pounding metal echoed in my head. Jennifer covered my ears, and I did the same for her.

  I glanced at the dashboard thermometer. The temperature had dropped from seventy to forty degrees. Our breath came in vapory clouds as Jen dug into my arms. The metal on the roof of the car began to groan. It felt like a bunch of people were stomping on it, making us fear that the car would cave in on us.

  “I’m getting out,” Jennifer said, reaching for her gun.

  “No!” I grabbed her arm. “That’s not going to work.”

  Jennifer pressed her head against my chest as the pounding and thrashing continued. And then it stopped as quickly as it had begun. Deafening silence filled the car.

  Jennifer looked up at me, our faces inches apart. Her eyes gleamed in the darkness, and her lips trembled. I swallowed hard.

  “What the fuck was that, Aidan?” Jennifer’s breath came in short gasps as she clung to me in the cold.

  “I don’t know. Let’s look outside.”

  She nodded, and we both got out. The face prints had begun to fade, but hand-shaped dents pocked the whole exterior of the car. “Not sure how to explain this to the insurance company. ‘Ghosts attacked my car’ would invite all kinds of insurance investigators to descend on me.” Jennifer’s hand shook as she pressed it into a dent.

  I looked at her, and we both laughed. The laugh of two people about to come undone. Maniacal. On the verge of tears. She leaned into me, and I hugged her tight. I breathed in her hair and felt her warm neck on my cheek. She pressed against me,
and her heat traveled down my body.

  “Aidan, I don’t know what to think about any of this,” she whispered.

  “You and me both.” I tried to give her a smile.

  “Did seminary prepare you for this sort of thing?” She wiped her eyes as tears began to stream down her cheeks.

  “What? Attacks by unseen things?” I snorted. “Hardly. The closest thing we ever got to that was talking about whether or not Samuel’s ghost was real when it appeared to Saul.”

  “Now what?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  We got back in the car. Jennifer gripped the steering wheel as we rode in silence until the GPS voice chirped for us to turn.

  We followed its directions until we reached a large hill and drove up the narrow, barely-tarred road. The whole hill seemed to be lit up as police cars, TV vans, and spotlights added their artificial illumination to the scene.

  Jen parked the car. “Are you ready?”

  I took a deep breath. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

  She gave me a grim smile. “Don’t worry if you throw up or anything. I did when I saw my first murder victim. My boss told me everyone does.”

  “Do you ever get used to it?”

  She frowned at me. “You never get used to it. Ever. But you learn to deal with it so you can get your job done.”

  I nodded.

  “They are waiting for us.”

  I took a deep breath and opened the door. “Okay, let’s go.”

  We got out of the car and walked to the yellow tape. A deputy stood with his arms crossed over his chest. A watcher over the dead. With a Smokey the Bear hat perched on his bald head and a razor-edged jaw, he looked like a recruiting poster for the Athens County Sheriff’s department.

  Jennifer ducked under the tape, and the deputy put out his arm.

  “Ma’am, this is a crime scene. Reporters are supposed to be over there.” He pointed to a group of people huddled together, talking.

  “Take it easy, deputy. I’m Detective Jennifer Brown from Columbus PD. We are supposed to be here.” She flashed her badge.

  “Very good, ma’am. And your friend?”

  I pulled out my driver’s license and handed it over. His eyes darted from my very bad picture to my face.