Dark Places of the Soul: Dark Soul Trilogy - Book 1

by Paul Donaldson

  Noah Cote had tried to be a comfort where no comfort was needed. Any grief she possessed had little to do with the loss of one man. What mattered most in the present spectrum of things was the crumbling career Zachary had begun to raise from the ashes.

  “You know those two?” Candice asked Noah, in reference to James and Keri.

  “Met them this morning at breakfast,” Noah answered.

  “And that whole story about coming together by fate… about dreams?”

  Noah had no response for her this time. He had listened to the story she told about her own recurring nightmares. This event had been visualized in her sleep often over the last few months. James and Keri filled the roles of the two apparitions walking from the world of damnation, emerging from the fires of a hell she might deserve.

  “I dreamt about this,” she said, giving indication to the five vehicle accident, “and them. On the flight out here I thought I was actually seeing a prophecy unfold before my eyes. I witnessed Zachary’s death… so vividly… but I had no power to change it. Then from the flames came two people… I saw both of them coming to me.”

  As a minister, Noah knew grief took many forms. It was obvious to him that Candice hid from the ruins of reality in denial.

  “Then you’re buying into the story?” Noah asked.

  “Is there an option?”

  The young woman with curly blond hair, who had introduced herself as Keri Jacobson, came over to Noah and Candice. “They’ll be here soon t’ tow these vehicles away,” she began, “James says we can head out in the camper.”

  Candice looked directly into the Keri’s eyes; there was no doubt in any of the young woman’s actions.

  “I believe you were sent to me through providence.” Candice said with earnest. “I can only hope it is a positive destiny you’re about to lead me… us to.” Candice looked at Noah, seeking agreement through his expression. “Zachary and I were heading up north to a lakeside side cabin he owned. We should go there first. I have a Jeep… there. It would be better transportation than a Winnebago.”

  Chapter 11

  The lakeside property owned by the late Zachary Wells consisted of a twelve acre parcel with at least five hundred feet of water frontage. Keri knew little about tax assessments, but she knew this piece of land with the ten room contemporary house had to be in one of the upper brackets of the taxed elite.

  The others were gathered inside. She had a compelling urge to listen to the night settling on the lake, a silent sound, a soul soothing peace. They had prepped the Jeep for the morning, deciding to stay at the lake overnight. James told them of their destination, Boston. No one questioned his authority, or asked what made him so sure of the calling. Keri figured Noah would bark out a protest against the visions of the school teacher who seemed touched by spirituality, but not denomination. She was surprised when the minister maintained his silence.

  Keri would follow James wherever he dictated. Her only apprehension came from concern of a coming moment when he would deny her his company, the moment when he would make clear to her his lack of the desire she overflowed with. She knew if he found out about her past, his friendship, would never blossom into the ardor she felt.

  Following James Lansing into this onslaught of destruction should have filled her with fear. Instead it calmed her. She had been privy to her own dreams. Somewhere in a future time, after whatever mission they were being called to reached completion, she would stand in his embrace, warmed and comforted. She had walked through this vision in past nights without ever feeling its prophetic value. The Jeep, unveiled familiarity, it was James who held her in the dreams while some brunette woman looked on, a dark haired member of their quest she had not yet met. The Jeep, she had seen its red hood through the embrace. Will James be aware of her darkest secrets during the interlude, or will that heartbreak still be to come?

  “I think James was wonderin’ where you were.” Candice strolled up beside Keri, without being heard until she spoke.

  Keri noticed the school teacher standing out on the deck off the front of the house. She waved, wishing he had been the one to come to the water looking for a lost sheep.

  “I think he’s got a thing for you,” Candice teased.

  “Like a shepherd and a lost sheep,” Keri verbalized her thought.

  “I think that’s Noah Cote’s department,” Candice answered. “The minister always leads the sheep down the path to righteousness, while those like James Lansing try very hard to seduce the innocent.”

  “That would be true only if I were among the innocent.”

  “Why do you suppose God saved you from that explosion?”

  Candice took Keri by surprise. After the accident on the highway Candice and Noah had become willing participants in this destination-less journey. They hadn’t spoken of the initial meeting between school teacher and the curly haired, unemployed blond.

  “He shared how you two met.” Candice offered an answer to her confusion. “While you were down here playin’ footsie with the water.”

  Candice walked closer to the water’s edge. Keri looked back up to the deck, hoping to see James heading their way. He had returned to the well lit interior of the house.

  “I’m sorry… for your loss,” Keri said after leaving her romantic desires where they belonged, for the moment.

  Candice turned toward Keri. In the moonlight Keri was aware of the callous expression on the older female’s face.

  “I took it you were… lovers,” Keri tired to clarify her intentions.

  “Sexual partners… yes, lovers… no,” Candice responded with a coolness of attitude. “My loss is for the possibilities Zak opened up for me. My only hope is that I’ve made enough connections during our time sharing a bed to keep my career on the rise.”

  Keri felt shocked by the response Candice gave. Her own boldness took control of a tongue which was capable of getting her into trouble. “Then… you used him.”

  “We used each other,” Candice offered without taking offense to the accusation. “Isn’t that the way of the world? We all use each other. If you haven’t used our visionary school teacher yet for some gain, I’m sure you will… and I’m also certain he’ll use you.” Candice appraised the young girl in front of her before adding, “If you don’t mind my saying so… you are the type to get used.”

  “How so?” Keri felt the tingling rise of emotion on the back of her neck. She wanted to walk away from the insulting tone of Candice Goddard, but chose instead to let the question escape from her tongue.

  “You wear it on your sleeve.”

  “What?” Keri asked with confusion.

  “You want him to use you. Deep down you’re a submissive. I’ll bet if a man strikes you… you think you deserve it.”

  “No.” Keri’s response was softly spoken and not convincing in the least.

  “You need to listen to yourself love,” Candice said, “that is the most submissive denial I’ve ever heard.”

  ***

  The girl with the short black hair walked out of room 205. He watched the daughter of Randall Hawkins through the eyes of an ageless Lonnie Wilkerson. She aroused his desire. The time was right for him to walk through this world with such passion. A short black skirt and a revealing blouse, he cursed Randall for raising such a shameless tart. The ageless form in Lonnie Wilkerson’s flesh knew Stephanie’s suppressed desires. His existence in the world would give her the strength to act on them.

  Many bore no indignity today. Modesty was a thing left behind long ago. This race of thinking multi-celled creatures progressed through this world immersed in a giant orgy of sensual pleasure. He loved every minute of torrid promiscuity, especially when it was this easy to offer temptation.

  “Come to me,” he whispered into the conditioned air, his breath taking form.

  He overflowed with a need the daughter of Randall Hawkins could definitely fill. A hunger for her lewd secrets coursed through his bowels. He had planned on the four, who were due to
arrive soon. Randall’s daughter was an unexpected treat. A tentacle of his thought stretched out to Stephanie in a barely visible mist. A vapor, probing the empty space along the ceiling, seeking the mind it was sent to infect. He touched her and blinded her to his presence.

  “You my child,” the ageless Lonnie Wilkerson breathed, “will guide them to me… my chosen… and you shall bring… with you… my old friend.”

  His thought surrounded her, a cloud she could not see. His induced trance had purchased her soul. His form would remain invisible to her until he chose to reveal himself.

  As the elevator announced its arrival from the lower floors his essence gathered form, solidifying into matter from beyond the grave. He was a hunter stalking his prey, smelling the perfume of her lust, tasting the sin of her flesh. The doors slid open and the haggard shape of a decaying Lonnie Wilkerson followed her.

  ***

  Stephanie had left Abner while he rested in his room. She hadn’t dressed in the most conservative manner. She wasn’t one to normally flaunt her sexuality. The mini-skirt and thin blouse had been packed away for purpose of a fantasy she hadn’t the courage to act upon. She felt naked without a bra and when she looked downward she noticed the dark outline of her nipples exposed to public view. This wasn’t like her at all, then again, as a strange voice in her head reminded, if she had been more like this all along she might not be so lonely.

  She walked down the hall toward the elevator. Off the first floor lobby she had noticed a lounge when she arrived this afternoon. She couldn’t believe how randy she felt. The movement of her blouse against her bare nipples caused them to harden. The arousal traveled instantly to her thighs.

  She reached the elevator and pressed the button marked with a downward arrow. She waited for the tone to announce the car’s arrival. The door opened to reveal an empty elevator car waiting to serve. She felt a draft, as if someone moved behind her in an attempt to share her ride to the first floor, a cold breath, leaving her with an uneasy feeling. The elevator was empty, as was the hallway behind her. She pressed the button marked for the lowest level assessable to the hotel’s patrons. Without reservation she pressed a hand to her breasts and felt her erect nipples.

  The ride was short from the third floor. No one joined in her journey to the watering hole. She crossed the lobby, paying little attention to the other customers, and entered the lounge. A tall black man behind the bar took immediate notice of her. He fit well with the jazz tune being blown out of a saxophone by a stout musician on the tiny stage. She took a stool at the bar and the bartender immediately moved to take her order.

  “Scotch on the rocks,” she said before he had a chance to ask.

  Again she felt the cool draft of someone behind her. No one stood where she would have expected an interloper when she turned. The bartender set the drink she ordered in front of her.

  “Quiet night doll,” he said, as if crowd size was important to her. The bartender removed an empty glass from the bar. “Not a good night for business,” he added turning away to rinse out the used glass.

  “He thinks you’re a hooker,” a soft-spoken voice said from behind her. “Are you?”

  For a brief moment she assessed her choice of attire, the short skirt, riding up to expose most of her thigh, the blouse leaving little to anyone’s imagination. A girl alone, dressed as revealing, the assumption could easily be made that she had a price. She wondered how many crisp twenties it would take for the bartender to be correct.

  “So are you… open for business.”

  How bold could a prospective john be? Prostitution was illegal in the state of Massachusetts. It was sinful in her mind. She turned on the stool to look at the face of the soft-spoken voice. A young man, maybe a few years her junior smiled, familiarity touched the peripheral edges of her memory.

  “No,” she answered his question. She should have been angry at the accusation. Another time and her tongue would be sharp. Tonight, she realized, she nearly answered ‘yes’ to his question, ‘a hundred dollars for one hour’.

  “Didn’t think so,” the young man said as he took a stool next to her. “Let me buy you a drink… a way to say sorry for the mistaken identity thing.”

  “You don’t have t’ do that,” she responded.

  “No big deal, I want to.”

  Familiarity, the face of the man beside her pulled at an ancient memory.

  “Have we met… somewhere… before?” She asked.

  “I would have definitely remembered if we had.”

  Something about his voice sparked a memory from a long time ago. She felt a yearning for childhood, as if a sequence of musical notes reminded her of a special song made popular during a special summer. Like the flutter of wings, something she couldn’t grasp, the feeling of having been in the company of the individual in the distant past faded. She decided he simply looked like someone from long ago.

  ***

  The others had all settled in for the night. James, sleepless as had been his routine, occupied the living room, sometimes pacing before the large picture window facing the water, sometimes sitting in one of the two white wicker chairs. He had made an attempt to settle his tired flesh in one of the bedrooms upstairs, but moment by moment this night was becoming another sleepless one.

  One light glowed softly in the corner. A low wattage bulb left the room full of shadows. He was attracted to the water once again, through a window that reflected his fatigued features. This dream following quest was wearing him down.

  He saw a face along the water’s surface, superimposed by a memory, a teenager, a past student with tracks of spent tears garnishing her cheeks. She called out to him from the moon blemished darkness. He had made a decision not to listen then, not to hear or see the obvious, now all he could do was listen to a haunting memory.

  “Still awake?” The voice came from the foot of the stairwell across the room.

  James turned from the window wondering if the mirrored image was a beacon of the past or present. Keri entered the room, wrapped in a thin white sheet from the bed she’d nested in.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” she added when her question went unanswered, “figured you might still be down here… rehashing the crazy sort of day we’ve all had.”

  She stood beside him at the window. James knew she wore nothing beneath the garment which once adorned a bed.

  “This has become a routine,” he commented.

  “Not sleeping?”

  “Restlessness… since the very first of the dreams.”

  “What happens to us… after this is seen through?” She asked looking at his distorted reflection in the window.

  He gazed at the girl who failed to meet his eyes with the question. A part of him wanted to stroke her cheek and run sweaty fingers through her curls. He wondered about holding her, in a time different from the other morning, a moment where passion, not protection, was the immediate concern. “I think we’re going to be alright,” he answered, misinterpreting her question.

  “Us,” she said simply, turning her face to meet the unshaven expression of the high school English teacher. After allowing a silent moment to pass between them she continued, “I’m drawn to you… and I wonder where we’ll stand after we’ve succeeded in the task God has given us.”

  She turned back to the window and watched his reaction to her vulnerable thoughts on the glass. He continued to study the surface of the reflected world.

  “It is God’s task, isn’t it?” She asked.

  “I hope so,” he responded with a shallow voice.

  “I have dreamt about us… when this is over. The Jeep… I had never before seen it, but it was in the dream. You and I were both in the dream. I would go anywhere with you. I am certain of that… and I can’t explain why. I’m not an innocent girl fluttering my eyes at my hero… I am far from that.”

  “Innocent?”

  She turned to face him and found his expression locked on hers. She wondered if the man who saw her present life wa
s in jeopardy of knowing other things about her as well.

  “I will stay with you… for however long you’d like.” It was her turn not to answer a question directly. “It’s how things always are for me,” she added, “take me or send me back where you found me.”

  Lost in the moment, he touched her hair, interlocking his fingers with the unruly strands. “And if I… take you, how long do you stay?”

  “I have nowhere else to go.”

  To James Lansing, a kiss would have seemed the proper way to seal the moment. When the sheet, she wrapped herself in, fell into a puddle around her feet, he knew their meeting of wet lips would only be a precursor to a deeper intimacy.

  Without hesitation her naked body came to his arms. Her breath sought a haven against his neck. His fingers discovered the texture of her soft back, failing to cease their progress when encountering the gentle curve of her buttocks. The palms of his hands encased her firm mounds of flesh and he pulled her tightly to him. Tonight he would make love to her without intention of ever having her leave his life. Tomorrow morning he would wake beside her and her presence would confirm their future.

  ***

  He carried the sheet for the bed they would share. He wouldn’t let her cover her nudity. He said he liked what he saw. She hoped Noah was asleep, but cared little. In a way she wanted the other two travelers to know she had claimed her prize. Twice they stopped to taste each other’s deep kisses. She unbuttoned his shirt at the first pause, unfastened the front of his pants on the second.