Whispers in the Woods (Firemountain Chronicles Book 1)

by Victoria Lynn Osborne

  “This is what I want you to photograph,” Jake said, motioning to a statue. He cocked his head as if trying to hear something. The statue was grotesque, with many arms and tentacles wrapped around it. It glowed dark blue, almost black. The dark light flared as Ward lifted his camera.

  “No!” Dinah screamed, lunging for the camera. The camera flashed, and the world stood still. Everything moved in slow motion as a blue light streaked from the statue through the lens of the camera, and Ward’s head exploded outward, covering the statue with blood and gray matter.

  The light coalesced around the fetish. The statue vanished in an explosion of dark light. Dinah leaped past the fallen photographer, and something crawled out of Ward’s destroyed skull.

  A tendril slithered out of what was left of Ward. It wriggled on the ground. The thing continued to ooze out of Ward. As it grew, Dinah could see it looked like something’s rotting small intestine. The smell of rot and bile assaulted her senses. It squatted on the floor, and ichor soaked the carpet. One of the tendrils hissed out of the toothy maw, and more tendrils flashed jagged teeth. Dinah’s mind went white as she backed into the fireplace. Her groping hand grabbed a poker from the tools in the stand.

  Jake lunged toward the shelf where the fetish had sat. The thing launched itself at Jake just as he snatched up the gold cross from the shelf. Dinah swung at the thing with her poker and made contact with it.

  A maw whipped toward Dinah and a spray of liquid arched toward her. She ducked out of the way, and the spray coated the stones of the fireplace. The stones bubbled where the spray had soaked it.

  Jake swung at the thing, and it howled as the cross scorched it with bright silver light. Its flesh sizzled under the heat of the cross. Dinah bludgeoned it with the poker again. The iron poker split the flesh and black fluid spilled onto the carpet. Dinah retched at the smell and backed away.

  Jake grabbed a silver flask from the shelf, keeping the screaming thing at bay with his cross. He wrenched the cap off of the flask and threw the liquid onto the creature. The clear liquid splashed onto the writhing mass of intestines and with a scream it vanished in a flash of dark blue light, leaving behind the smell of offal.

  Dinah stumbled out of the office, gulping in deep breaths of air as she staggered into the sitting room and opened the windows.

  She leaned over the window pane and retched into the flower bed below. Someone held her hair back as she emptied her stomach. Finally, the dry heaves subsided, and Jake pulled on a silk rope hanging from the wall. Dinah sank into one of the chairs, her eyes watering while Jake made a call.

  “This is Mr. Willis. Please send someone to my house. There’s been another death.”

  A soft knock summoned Jake to the door. “Bring some tea and water with lemon.” He returned with a cool, damp cloth and laid it on her forehead.

  “What was that?” She held the cloth more closely to her forehead as the tears slowed and she could see clearly again.

  “A Mynogoggth. It’s an eater from one of the demonic dimensions. I think that Caedon knew it was a trap. That’s why he kept it next to the cross.”

  “Does he always leave things this dangerous around the manor?”

  “No, he just recently acquired this. Most of these things go to his library at the Red Dawn Temple. He died before he could move it.”

  “What happened to the statue?”

  “When Ward took its picture, it disappeared. Who knows where it went?”

  “Didn’t you know what would happen if someone took a picture of it?”

  Jake frowned and turned away from Dinah. “I should have, but somehow…” He looked puzzled.

  “Right before I tried to stop Ward, it looked like you heard something. What did you hear?”

  “I don’t know, it was very faint.” Jake shifted and then stood up and walked to the camera. He picked it up and handed it to Dinah. “The police will be here shortly. I think that you should take this, or what is left of it, to the Tribune. They can develop the photographs better than the police lab. Just make sure you turn them over when you are done.” He disappeared into the study. When he returned, he had a leather-bound journal with a buckle. He handed it to Dinah. “This is my uncle’s final journal. I think you should read it. It will give you some answers.”

  Dinah shoved the camera and the book into her bag. She realized she still held the poker. The tip was iron—cold iron. Wasn’t there something about cold iron and demons? She handed the poker back to Jake.

  Hendricks knocked on the door. “The police will be here shortly,” he said, sniffing at the mess. “Perhaps it would be best if Miss Steele departed.”

  “Oh, of course. Let’s meet for drinks at The Broken Oak, say, at 6 pm. That’ll give you time to develop the film and give Laya your statement.”

  “What about you? Will you be all right? This is the third time in two days someone has died around you.”

  “I’m a founder now, and we are Firemountain. I’ll be all right. However, you need to leave. You need to tell Klinton what happened, and possibly Richard. I know the sheriff. She’ll take your statement if you go to the station with the pictures before closing today. Good luck.”

  Dinah chewed on her lip as she followed Hendricks down the stairs. Her hand shook as she clutched her bag. She saw Ward’s death over and over again in her mind. Tears welled up as she followed Hendricks to the front door.

  “Good day, Miss Steele,” Hendricks said as he opened the door for her. “I do hope you will return someday.”

  “Of course.” She made her way down the wide steps to her Prius and left the grounds.

  She made a right turn onto the street, and the gates slid silently closed behind her. About a mile down the road, she pulled off in the turnout next to an estate marked ‘Valencio.’ Her hands shook as she clutched the steering wheel. She leaned forward and rested her head on the top curve of it. The wail of police sirens snapped her back to her senses. After they passed she drove to the paper.

  A parking space close to the front door had her name on it. She noticed that there were a few other spaces labeled and that Klinton drove a big truck. The mud on the splash boards and the dinged-up truck bed indicated this truck was heavily used.

  She took a deep breath and walked in. Kathleen looked up and dialed the phone. Dinah recognized another photographer from downstairs and flagged him down. “Take the film and develop it right away. We need to get prints to the sheriff’s office by five today.”

  “Yes, Miss Steele.” He took the camera.

  “It’s Dinah,” she called after him as he dashed away between the cubicles and through the door to the stairs.

  “Where’s Klinton’s office?” she asked Kathleen.

  Kathleen pointed to a large office on one end of the building.

  Dinah smiled her thanks and wove her way through the copyboys and reporters making last-minute changes before the paper was put to bed for the night.

  “Enter,” Klinton said when she tapped on the door.

  Dinah swallowed. “I’ve some bad news. Ward’s dead. He died when something came at him from a statue. Jake called it a Mynogoggth.” She twined her fingers. “It was horrible.” She choked on her words, fighting back the tears.

  Klinton sat down slowly. He picked up the phone. “Rhett? Yeah, one of ours has fallen again… Ward. Yeah, the photographer… Yes, of course, I want you to do the announcement. Do it right… No, Miss Steele was there, but she is pretty shaken up. I’ll get what happened from her… Thanks, I knew I could rely on you.” Klinton hung up the phone.

  “We did get pictures of the statue and hopefully the thing that came out of it. I sent it to photography to be developed.” She opened her bag and pulled out Caedon’s journal. “Jake lent this to me. He also wants to meet me for drinks at six tonight.”

  Klinton’s eyes widened. “Great. First I need you to write me a quick statement of what happened over there. Send the file to Rhett. You’ll find his number in the company directory;
he is the only Rhett on staff. Then you’ll need to go to the police station to make a statement. I’m sure that Mr. Willis told the sheriff that you’d be there before the end of the business day. Alis should have the information you requested.”

  Dinah headed for her office. In the hanging file folder outside of her door was a thick file with the police information and the autopsy report. This wasn’t the official file, though it was more than she’d expected.

  Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she wrote the statement of what happened. It was done quickly, and she saved the file on the shared drive and emailed a copy to Rhett.

  “I’m gone for the day.” Alis looked up from her work as Dinah walked by. “I’m going to the police station, then home to work on this.” Dinah held up the journal. “See ya tomorrow, and thanks for the information. I don’t know how you got it.”

  “Photography brought these up for you.” Alis handed her a manila envelope with several photographs, including one of the statue backlit with dark blue light.”

  “Thanks. That was fast.”

  “When someone that has your job wants something developed, it happens right away. All other jobs get put on hold, usually because we need to get prints to the sheriff’s office and they need them right away.”

  “But are these admissible?”

  “Yes and no. The ones with the blue light probably not, because the forensic labs in Tacoma couldn’t create them. However, the more mundane shots are. If you notice, you can see the negatives for the unfiltered shots. This is Firemountain, and the police need all of the information.”

  The police station was close to the paper, but Dinah still drove. She sat in the parking lot next to the big brick building that housed the city hall as well as the sheriff’s office. The image of the dark blue light flashing out of the camera and into Ward’s eye ran through her mind. Taking a deep breath, she headed into the station.

  “Dinah Steele, I’m here to see the sheriff.”

  The big desk sergeant leaned over the counter to get a better look at her and glanced up to the surveillance camera focused on the lobby.

  “Sheriff? Yeah, Miss Steele is here to see you.” He held his hand over the speaker on the phone. “You were at the Willis estate?” Dinah nodded. “Yes, she was… Okay, I’ll send her back to you.” He hung up the phone. “The sheriff will see you now, Miss Steele.”

  He buzzed her through the back door. “That’s Ms. Steele,” she said to the sergeant as she passed through the door.

  The main room of the sheriff’s office was buzzing. There had been several deaths over the past couple of days, and the staff was frantically trying to close the cases. A young officer stopped to stare at her. His black hair was slicked back in a very tight style. His Hispanic origins were clear in the light brown of his skin, and his black eyes studied her as she crossed the room. Dinah noticed a small silver cross tie tack and his right hand was fingering something in his pocket. It appeared that he was whispering something. She smiled at him and knocked on the door marked ‘Laya Hillsborough.’

  “Come in.”

  Stacks of file boxes lined the walls of Laya’s office. Her desk had several folders on it related to the recent murders. They were closed and stacked under a marble sphere paperweight. Laya sat behind the desk studying an open file. Her short hair tumbled into her eyes. A big beefy man sat in a chair, observing Dinah. Laya looked up. “Thank you for coming so promptly, Miss Steele.”

  “You’re welcome, but it's Ms. Steele or Dinah.”

  Laya smiled at her. “Of course, please have a seat.” She motioned to one of the empty vinyl chairs across from her.

  Dinah eased into a yellow chair.

  “This shouldn’t be too hard,” Laya said, coming around from behind the desk and leaning against it.

  A soft knock interrupted them. “Excuse me for a moment.” Laya opened the door. A very tall man with graying hair entered the room. “Gulliver Holmes, I should have known. What are you doing here?” Laya said in a dangerous voice.

  The big man glowered in disgust. “The paper has retained counsel for Miss Steele, and I am here to make sure her rights aren’t violated. Why is Dobrowski here?”

  “That’s not necessary,” Dinah said. “I’ll be fine.”

  Dobrowski muttered, “Damn lawyers. They always mess things up.”

  “No, he’s right,” Laya said, leaning against the desk again. “Jake is accorded more leeway because he is a founder. You don’t have that protection. So, tell us what happened.” Laya took out her steno pad.

  Dinah told the story, leaving nothing out. She hesitated a moment when she mentioned the blue light and the fight with the Mynogoggth. Gulliver, however, nodded when she looked at him. She showed Laya the photographs that Ward had taken before he was killed.

  Laya studied the one of the blue light coming out of the statue. “So what happened to the statue?”

  “It disappeared when that thing appeared.”

  Laya made a note on her steno book. “I want to thank you, Miss Steele. You’ve been very helpful.” She held up the negatives and the photographs that Dinah had brought her. “We’ll keep these as evidence.”

  “That’s it!” Dobrowski roared. “She leaves a scene, tampers with evidence, and you let her go? You don’t even write a citation?”

  “Sit down!” Laya commanded.

  Dobrowski slouched in the chair, eyes flashing in contempt.

  “Detective,” Gulliver said, cutting Dinah off. “We have cooperated fully. That’s why Miss Steele brought this evidence.”

  Laya snapped her steno pad closed. “You’re free to go with our thanks, Miss Steele.”

  Dinah picked up her bag. “Thank you, Sheriff, and it is Ms. Steele.”

  Laya smiled as Dinah and Gulliver left her office. Outside the sheriff’s department, Dinah paused. “I didn’t request an attorney. Why are you here?”

  Gulliver smiled. “Richard always demands my presence when the sheriff interviews one of his reporters. Those photos won’t be evidence, but the sheriff is aware of something much larger. This isn’t the first attack like this. Not long ago, a migrant family living near the cherry orchards was attacked by something similar. The story was buried but now we think there is a connection.”

  Dinah asked, “Was it a Mynogoggth?”

  Gulliver shrugged. “We aren’t sure. We do know that it escaped. The family that it attacked had only one survivor, a young boy of about eight. I don’t know why he lived; he’s currently at the Futhark Institute. He hasn’t been able to recall what happened to him.”

  “So do you have your own practice? Or do you work for the papers?” Dinah asked.

  Gulliver smiled and handed her his card. “I work for Yggdrasil Consulting. They cover a lot of ground and offer specialized service.”

  Dinah thanked Gulliver, shoved his card into her bag, and then she drove slowly to the boarding house. She glanced at her watch: four pm. She had a couple of hours to relax before she had to meet Jake.

  Anna sat on the steps playing with a yo-yo. She flipped it down and made a cat’s cradle with the string. She looked up smiling when Dinah pulled into the driveway.

  “What are you doing here?” Dinah asked.

  “Hoping to see you. My mom is passed out, and Dad is drinking. I wanted to get away.”

  Dinah sat down on the steps next to the girl. “You are good with that.” She pointed to the yo-yo.

  “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

  “Listen, Sherlock Holmes had his Baker Street irregulars, and I need something similar. Do you perhaps know what happened in the cherry orchard?”

  Anna turned sparkling eyes to her. “One of my classmates was out there. He was a migrant worker and saw the whole thing from the trees.”

  Dinah took out her book. “Who is he?”

  “Manuel, but I’m not sure he is still here. I haven’t seen him at school for a while.”

  “Well, what happened?”

  “He said
that a big mossy thing erupted from the compost heap that the family used to fertilize the vegetable garden. It just barreled through the doors and up the stairs. He couldn’t see what happened, he just heard his family scream.”

  “Is this common in Firemountain?”

  “It’s happening more.” Anna shuffled her feet and flicked down her yo-yo. “I saw the patients escape the hospital. They are vulnerable because they aren’t right in the head.”

  “Well, tell you what. You help me learn the stories behind the stories, and I will give you five dollars for every lead that pans out.”

  Anna smiled, spat on her palm and held it out to Dinah. “Deal. I’d better get going. My parents are going to worry about me.” She got up and ran toward her house.

  I got a couple of hours. Perhaps I should go to the orchard and look around, Dinah thought. She got into her Prius and drove to the orchard.

  Yellow police tape crisscrossed the door. The cherry orchard was silent, and the branches hung with deep red cherries. Dinah took out a switchblade that Logan had given her and flicked open the blade.

  She cut through the yellow tape that covered the broken door and went inside.

  The kitchen smelled like rotting vegetation. Muddy footprints traveled through the kitchen and up the stairs. The master bedroom was a shambles; pieces of dirt and moss were strewn about. Great big pools of blood stained the sheets, now black and buzzing with flies.

  She let her vision slide into its other sight. A deep shadow, deeper than should be, rested in the center of the blood pools. Tendrils of black light wove through the blood. Something was growing there. She looked around for a poker or something with which to stir it.

  A mewling sound rose behind her. She turned, not used to having shadows make noises. Something was crawling out of the pool of blood.

  It didn’t erupt, it slithered. It rose made of mattress batting, moss, and blood. Reaching for Dinah, the shadow grasped at her, and she took a step backward. It followed her. Claws raked against her calf, causing her to stumble.