The Raven Mocker: Evil Returns (Cades Cove Series #2)

by Aiden James

  Excellent ribs, all three indulged themselves much more than expected, leaving just enough leftovers to cover John through Christmas afternoon. Afterward, they retired to the living room, where he built a roaring fire in the great stone fireplace that dominated the room. Hot chocolate and an apple cobbler that Evelyn prepared earlier that morning when she and Hanna first arrived added the perfect finale to Hanna’s successful supper.

  Outside the cabin, darkness shrouded the entire landscape, with the only light emitted from the porch and security lamps. The kitchen clock’s soft chime confirmed the time. 5:30 p.m. A sharp whine accompanied by urgent scratching resounded from the back door.

  “Did you want to share any of the leftovers with Shawn?” asked Evelyn, as she rose from her seat next to Hanna on the couch.

  Once she opened the backdoor, John’s prized husky came barreling into the cabin, scarcely allowing her the opportunity to remove his chain. Grateful to be inside, he jumped up on her, mauling her blue-gray flannel shirt with muddy paws. She scolded him while cleaning each paw and the imprints he left on her clothes, using a towel John kept near the door for this purpose during winter.

  “Come here, boy!” John called to him.

  Shawn ignored Evelyn’s efforts to finish cleaning his back paws and trotted over to where his master waited for him in the living room, waging his tail broadly and cowering low to the ground. When he reached John’s recliner, he rolled over on his back, allowing John to give him a good belly scratch.

  “There, there, Shawn… that’s a good boy.”

  Shawn sat up and looked anxiously into his face, as if he had a secret to tell but didn’t know how to do it. John frowned, wondering if another visitation would soon come. He looked at Hanna. She seemed lost in the revelry of the evening, sipping from her mug while watching the fire that roared in the fireplace. But when he looked over at Evelyn, she stood with her back to him, leaning through the back doorway and peering outside.

  A deathlike stillness settled upon the back portion of John’s property, while the snow glistened under the near-full moon’s illumination. Evelyn frowned and shook her head, ready to step back inside the cabin and leave the wintry chill for the fire’s inviting warmth. Three small dark forms fluttered in front of her, landing near the porch’s edge.

  The black starlings stood in a row. For the moment, they merely looked at her, tilting their heads sideways as if studying the startled woman in the doorway before them. Evelyn didn’t immediately respond to her grandfather’s calls to shut the door and get back inside the cabin. Instead, she seemed mesmerized while watching them. After more than a minute passed, the birds slowly rose into the air, circling one another as they weaved in and out in deliberate movement.

  By then she’d already motioned behind her to get John’s attention, to come see the strange phenomenon taking place on his back porch. He did come over to investigate, but the starlings left as mysteriously as they first appeared, squawking madly as they flew in three different directions—one to the west, another toward the north, and the last one to the east. The wind moving through the treetops picked up and a faint whistling sound echoed across the night sky from the northwest.

  Evelyn stepped back inside, quickly explaining to her grandfather what she just witnessed. She locked the door and set the deadbolt while the whistling grew noticeably louder. John’s face turned pale as he anticipated what would come next. Hanna looked over at the two of them in the kitchen from where she still sat on the couch, a quizzical look on her face as the sound pierced the confines of the cabin.

  John urged Evelyn back into the living room to rejoin her sister, sighing in relief when he saw the heavy draperies drawn across the large picture window in the upstairs loft.

  Are the rest of the curtains closed?

  He left the living room to check the main floor windows, and when he returned he gathered his granddaughters with Shawn near the fire, huddling together while they covered their ears to avoid discomfort from the whistle’s screech. Hanna looked over at John, worried, while Evelyn put her arm around her, to comfort her.

  “Be brave,” he whispered while gently caressing the soft spot beneath Shawn’s jaw. The husky whined nervously, but John’s attention kept him from barking at the unseen menace. “Be brave and brace yourselves… it’ll pass soon enough.”

  His words drew an immediate look of anger from Evelyn, as if she now understood the reason behind his haggard condition.

  Wrapping his arms protectively around Hanna, John prepared himself for the next phase of the visitation. The whistling noise abated, giving way to the other sound he’d grown used to, that of an enormous swarm of hornets approaching the western side of the cabin. Evelyn surely recognized this new sound. The same one from October, when she and he unwittingly provoked the anger of the entity whose calling card this was. At the time they both thought it worth the aid to the innocent David Hobbs in his fight against the ghost who drew her malicious strength from this much older, powerful spirit.

  John recalled how Evelyn never wavered in her compassion for David and her conviction that she did the right thing—the best thing for him and the restless spirit of Allie Mae McCormick. But since then, he knew she wasn’t so sure. This other spirit that for almost a century shared the darkness with Allie’s ghost was seriously enraged—furious with both Evelyn and John in October, and even more ill-tempered once the ravine it held sacred and its ancient resting place were desecrated in November by forensic and archaeology teams from the University of Tennessee.

  I should’ve told her the visitations never stopped....

  ***

  The assault on the cabin continued.

  While Hanna wept in terror, closing her eyes tightly and invoking the Catholic prayers of her youth, Evelyn tried to make sense of the three starlings and what they might mean. Something about ‘three’ instead of ‘four’ seemed especially important. Imploring her spirit guides for help, the answer remained just beyond her awareness. Part of the answer to the riddle was missing. Aside from the harsh lecture she planned to give her grandfather for hiding what had obviously been going on for a while now, she berated herself in silence for ignoring her intuitions and instead believing his statements that “everything’s just fine”. While seething about this, all at once the message from the birds became clear.

  “Grandpa—we need to get in touch with Dr. Kirkland, and David! They’re both in grave danger!!” she told him, raising her voice above the din that threatened to engulf the cabin and everyone inside.

  “I’ve been trying to do just that for the past two weeks!” John replied, perhaps more harshly than he intended. “Dr. Kirkland’s out of town, I think, and I can’t get a hold of David! The line just crackles…crackles like—”

  “It did back in October?” Evelyn interrupted, finishing his sentence. “Shit!!”

  She ran her hands through her hair, seeing in her mind’s eye the implications of what this all meant.

  “Evelyn—wait!” John warned her. “Wait until this passes!”

  He couldn’t stop her impulsive urge to run and grab his phone, to make the calls he didn’t complete. No sooner than she picked up the phone and prepared to dial Peter Kirkland’s number herself, a sudden flash of light flew through the room, knocking the phone from her hand and killing the electricity in the house. Immersed in darkness except for the fire that still burned in the fireplace, she scurried back to where her sister and grandfather huddled by the hearth.

  “Wait! …You must wait until the anisgina’s fury passes over us,” he told her, his eyes filled with compassion.

  This time she heeded his advice, while the sound of angry hornets descended from the roof of the darkened cabin.

  Chapter Nine

  The doorbell rang just before eight o’clock that night at the Hobbs residence in Littleton, announcing the arrival of Sara Palmer. The family gathered in the living room with Janice, trying to enjoy the strawberry mousse she’d prepared. Still on edge…e
veryone waited for the slightest hint of another frightful disturbance like what happened that morning.

  After a later start than planned, an afternoon of Christmas shopping with Ruth proved to be a welcome distraction, and David treated the family as promised to an excellent steak dinner at the Mercantile in downtown Denver. Afterward they had just enough time to navigate the Sunday evening Christmas traffic rush to get home in time to meet Sara, who graciously agreed to come out to the house and meet with them.

  “Well, Merry Christmas!” she said, as soon as Miriam opened the front door. Snow flurries swirled around Sara, dancing as a chorus-line of miniature white crystals as they alighted on her coat and knitted cap when she stepped through the doorway. “‘Sorry to hear what’s been happening lately. I can already feel the presence you told me about earlier today.”

  Blond with bright green eyes, Sara Palmer was a stoutly built, though attractive, woman in her early forty’s. Dressed for the evening’s chill, amethyst crystal earrings dangled beneath her navy cap, matching the necklace visible inside her coat. The jewelry was the only thing that pointed to her Wiccan affiliation, leaving her easy smile and soft voice to disarm most anyone offended by her vocation as a professional paranormal investigator and healer. It was enough to win Miriam over when the two met back in October, through Janice, and they had become close friends since.

  Sara looked warily passed Miriam to the staircase leading upstairs on the left side of the foyer, and then glanced toward the dining room. Janice emerged from the living room on the right.

  “Would you like some dessert?” she offered, stepping around Miriam, who closed the front door behind Sara. “I’ve made a splendid mousse...strawberry.”

  She smiled, nervous, her soft brown eyes confirming her unease. Sara returned her smile with a compassionate but wan smile of her own. She carried an additional bag to the blue duffle she brought with her in October, when working to cure the family of the previous haunting. The brown leather carrier appeared stuffed to capacity. Heavier than the duffle, Sara sat it down on the floor and offered a warm embrace to both Janice and Miriam.

  “The mousse sounds delightful, Jan,” Sara told her, after hanging her coat and cap on the hall tree in the foyer and picking up the carrier while Miriam grabbed the duffle. They moved into the living room, where everyone else had gathered.

  Despite the decorated fir’s splendor, the atmosphere was tense and gloomy. The kids huddled on the sofa with their great aunt from Tennessee, while David tended the fire losing its battle with the prevalent chill that gripped the room.

  “I imagine none of what you’re presently doing has made a difference as far as heating your home,” Sara observed, before sitting down next to Janice on the loveseat. She grabbed her duffle and pulled it up on her lap. Her curly blond hair that normally hung down to the middle of her back fell forward, partially concealing her face. She looked over at the Hobbs’ children, her green eyes like chipped emeralds as she gazed through her hair before brushing it away from her face. A slight smirk appeared.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Janice.

  “Perhaps it’s nothing,” she replied. “I was thinking about the last time we were all gathered together in this room, back in October…. How I sensed the entity looked at us from afar, as compared to now, when its essence moves freely among us.”

  She paused for a moment, the smirk fading to a serious look. It appeared she listened to something inaudible to everyone else.

  “What do you hear?” asked Miriam, her nervous tone drawing worried looks from the children.

  David noticed that Janice seemed just as anxious. Ruth looked lost, as if confused how the unsettling event from this morning could completely derail the holiday spirit.

  “I’m listening to the spirit’s thoughts—not an actual voice, at least not right now,” said Sara, her voice solemn. “The spirit is male in orientation. A little envious back then, he wonders now why he found us so alluring. He can’t relate to any of what Christmas is about, why we’re so enamored with such a ‘pretentious’ holiday. He laughs in contempt, longing for the restoration of a world he once knew and reigned in, whatever that means….”

  Her words trailed off as if straining to hear the entity’s other thoughts. She shook her head when she could no longer tap into its musings.

  Frigid air drifted down from the living room’s ceiling, as if the air conditioner had just been turned on. The flames in the fireplace momentarily retreated. David added two smaller pine logs while prodding the other logs with a poker. It wasn’t enough to ward off the deepening chill, and everyone looked anxiously for guidance from Sara, whose gaze moved to the ceiling fan/light in the middle of the room.

  “Chris told Miriam and me about an old withered man who’s been hanging around the living room for the past week.”

  David’s comment drew a scornful look from Miriam and one aghast from his youngest child. Christopher hung his head, perhaps out of fear for what the old man’s spirit would do to him for revealing what he’d seen of it.

  “What?!” said David, indignant.

  “You knew Chris didn’t want anyone else knowing about that!!” Miriam seethed. “What in the hell are you thinking—couldn’t you wait to tell Sara about that in private??” She moved over to where Christopher sat, still holding David in her heated gaze.

  “I’m so sorry, honey,” she said quietly, while Ruth patted Christopher’s shoulders.

  “What the hell am I thinking?? It should be what the hell are you thinking!!” David’s fury rose quickly and the flames in the fireplace behind him grew strong again, as if responding to his ire. “Some pretty weird shit’s going on here, and it’s not like we’ve got all night to wait for an appropriate time to talk to Sara about it! Hell, even she stated the entity is a male—and you didn’t blow a gasket over that, did you?”

  Miriam had no immediate answer. Once Christopher allowed her to gather him in her arms, she stroked his hair. Perhaps the thing she needed for a better perspective. She looked back at David, nodding her agreement with his point. He sullenly returned his attention to the fire.

  Their parents’ tiff for the most part over, Jillian and Tyler sighed in relief, as did Janice. Ruth looked on, thoughtful. As for Sara, her attention remained riveted to the light fixture and its slow-turning fan. She rose from her seat next to Janice, approaching the room’s center.

  When she stood directly below the circling fan blades a strange noise began to emanate. The warbling sound vacillated between high and low pitches. She stared upward in silence, as if enchanted. The warbling increased in speed and shrillness, causing Sadie to launch a series of angry barks while Jillian and Christopher implored their dad to make the noise stop.

  Sara suddenly fainted, and David ran to catch her before she collapsed. Meanwhile, the warbling ceased, abrupt. The floor above creaked, and as he paused to listen, heavy shuffling footsteps moved across the upstairs landing.

  “I’ll be right back—everyone stay here,” he said, quietly, right after bringing Sara over to the loveseat, where he gently set her down. Her face ghastly pale, she awoke, whispering for him to wait for her. But the heavy creaks across the upstairs’ floorboards urged him to act now. “Who in the hell’s up there?!” he demanded.

  No verbal reply, but the footsteps paused. Cautious, he crept up the staircase, grimacing when several stairs announced his progress. He peered guardedly down either side of the long hallway when he reached the second floor. Aside from the distinct feeling of being studied intently, the floor was empty. He briefly considered grabbing the jewels from Ruth’s room, but decided to wait for Sara to join him.

  “I feel better now,” she assured him once he returned to the living room. She had the loveseat to herself, as Janice joined Miriam on the floor in front of the hearth. He and his wife exchanged forgiving looks. “I brought some new toys with me tonight, including an infrared camera that should help us obtain some better evidence to work with. I also have my person
al ritual book with me.... But after what everyone has told me, and what just happened, it seems prudent to wait on any spells for now.”

  “Well, can we help you set your equipment up?” offered Janice, glancing around the living room for potential placement spots.

  “Perhaps,” she said, following Janice’s gaze. “However, I’d rather start my investigation upstairs.”

  “Did you want us to come along?” asked Miriam, reaching for her shoes next to the fireplace.

  “Only David...I’d like just him to join me for now,” she advised. “There’s something up there that the spirit is highly interested in…something related to him.”

  Sara removed her new infrared device from the leather carrier, along with the digital voice recorder David recognized from her earlier visit to the house. After removing a small EMF detector he also remembered seeing before, she handed the recorder to him and motioned for him to follow her upstairs.

  Other than the unfriendly chilliness, their ascent to the second floor was uneventful. But a deep resonating moan greeted them once they reached the landing. They stood at the top of the stairs, listening, and neither one willing to venture further. The moan rhythmic, David imagined something very large made the sound, strong enough to travel through the landing’s wooden railing.

  The moan emanated from Ruth’s room. The door closed, it had been wide open a short while ago. Fearing he might lose his nerve at any moment, David led Sara over to the door...he touched the doorknob. The moaning ceased.

  “Are you two all right up there?” whispered Janice, her voice timid, from the stairway’s base.

  “We’re fi—“

  “Sh-h-h-h!!” Sara interrupted him, drawing his attention to the air around them. Unnaturally still, except for a slight popping sound that reminded him of the electric cattle fences on his grandfather’s Ringgold farm when he was a young boy. A similar current oozed through the air around them now—almost imperceptible and yet enough to send tingling sensations across the exposed skin of his face and hands.