“Regardless,” Carnes persisted, undaunted. “If we accept the writings of the Apocrypha as truth, demons such as Samael cannot simply slip free of their fiery prison. There is only one way that such a demon could be present among us here in Tahawus,” Carnes paused and swallowed. “It must have been summoned.”
“Summoned?” Duncan repeated as if he hadn’t heard correctly.
Carnes gave a grim nod. “When God created the Earth, He gave dominion over it to His most beloved creation: Man. According to ancient legend, a demon can only enter our world if it is first welcomed by Man himself.”
A look of astonishment came over Duncan. “Are you saying that someone here in Tahawus invoked this demon? That there is a person here who is responsible for all this death?”
“If Ms. Jacobs is correct, then yes. It is the only way Samael could walk among us.”
“Who would do such a thing?” Duncan insisted.
“Therein lies our problem,” Carnes sighed, turning away to gaze into the endless depths of the fog. “It could have been any one of us.”
An uneasy silence settled over them.
“Well then,” Abigail said at last. “We finally have a reason to take heart.”
“What?” Duncan sputtered. “Why?”
“Because we now know that someone of flesh and blood may hold the secret to defeating this demon... and people with flesh and blood can always be made to talk.”
Duncan stared at her for a moment, unsettled by the eager gleam he had seen flash across her eyes. “We must keep this information to ourselves,” he warned. “If Heath MacIntyre were to find out, he would accuse you of—”
“Shhh!” Abigail’s hand suddenly shot up. “Listen...”
They quieted instantly, listening for whatever it was she had heard. For a moment, there was nothing but the ebb and trickle of the water at their feet. Then, a single dull and hollow thud echoed through the fog.
“It sounded like an axe blow,” Duncan murmured.
“Today is Sunday,” Carnes remarked. “’Tis the Sabbath. No one is logging.” He waited a moment, listening for the sound to come again. There was only silence. “Do you suppose the men looking for—”
“Listen!” Abigail hushed them again. She cocked her head, ears pricked, straining to hear.
A voice came floating from somewhere deep in the fog. It was so soft and faint, it would have been imperceptible if it weren’t for the deathly silence that hung over the lake.
But once the voice was perceived, it was unmistakable.
Somewhere out in the murky white depths, a young girl was singing a haunting lullaby.
“Hannah!” Abigail cried.
Chapter 35
“Hannah!” Abigail cried again. Her voice echoed across the lonely silence of the lake as she dashed through the fog, skirting the rocky shoreline between the woods and the water. “Is that you, Hannah?”
There was no response, only the eerie melody of the girl’s lullaby drifting like a lost soul through the endless mist.
Abigail rushed toward the sound, letting the soft voice guide her like a beacon in the heavy gloom. Ahead, there was nothing but a seemingly impenetrable expanse of gray. And yet, the girl’s song grew ever louder as Abigail drew closer. Drawn forward by the voice, she plunged ahead, determined to discover its source. She was certain it was Hannah; it had to be.
Another sound came resounding through the fog: the same loud and hollow thud that had attracted Abigail’s attention. Duncan was right: it did sound like an axe blade striking wood. Its echo reverberated in the stillness as Abigail raced toward it. She was close now, so close she could begin to make out the words to the girl’s eerie lullaby.
“Oh, don’t you remember, how a long time ago; two little babies whose names I don't know; were stolen away on a bright summer's day; and left in the woods, I've heard people say...”
Shadows coalesced ahead. They were solid and massive like the silhouettes of monoliths looming in the fog. Abigail judged them to be buildings, but in the same instant realized that wasn’t possible; there weren’t any structures of that size built this close to the lake. The hulking shapes grew more distinct and Abigail slid to a halt with the mists swirling around her. She was at the stacking ramp. What she had mistaken for buildings were the enormous piles of timber logs lashed together and stacked dozens of feet high at the water’s edge.
Abigail looked up. High atop a mountain of logs, a small figure stood veiled in mist.
“Hannah!” Abigail shouted.
No response. Abigail’s cry failed to even interrupt the girl’s haunting song.
“Babes in the woods, babes in the woods. Oh, don’t you remember, those babes in the woods...”
The mists parted. For one fleeting instant, Abigail glimpsed the girl’s face from where she stood far below. It was Hannah Gill. But there was something wrong. There was something strange about the girl’s face. Was it her eyes? Was something wrong with her eyes? Abigail strained to see but the fog closed around the girl again, reducing Hannah to nothing more than a ghostly silhouette.
Another shout rose in Abigail’s throat but it retreated when she saw the dark shape of the timber axe in Hannah’s hands. A sickening dread gripped her.
Standing at the pinnacle of the enormous stack of logs, Hannah was chopping through the thick ropes that kept them lashed together.
“Hannah! Don’t!” Abigail cried. “Come down from there!”
The girl wasn’t listening. As if in a trance, she raised the axe high above her head and brought it crashing down on another rope, severing it cleanly. The stack of logs shuddered and groaned dangerously beneath her but Hannah didn’t seem to notice. Oblivious to Abigail’s presence, the girl struggled to free the axe blade from where it had bit into the solid piece of timber. She then inched across the log and found the next rope stretched tight at her feet. She raised the axe over her head, never wavering in her eerie lullaby.
“And when it was night, so sad was their plight; the sun went down, and the moon gave no light. They sobbed and they sighed, and they bitterly cried; then the poor little babies, they laid down and died...”
Without thinking, Abigail began to climb the steep slope of logs. The timber was sodden from the steady autumn rains and slippery beneath her. She was forced to crawl upward on her hands and knees. The rough bark skinned her palms and bloodied her shins but she felt none of it. Her only thought was getting to Hannah. The mountain of timber was already shifting alarmingly beneath her. She had to stop the girl before it was too late.
Whack! Hannah brought the axe slicing through another rope.
An ominous rumble reverberated through the pile as the giant logs suddenly lurched beneath Abigail. She froze and went flat, clinging desperately to the timber and digging her nails into the wet bark. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart nearly stopped. This was it! The giant stack was going to collapse beneath her! She braced herself...
But the logs held together.
Behind Abigail, the braces that kept the huge stack of timber from spilling into the lake creaked and groaned ominously. How many more severed ropes could those braces endure? How many more swings of Hannah’s axe before the entire weight of the pile was released and the logs came crashing apart beneath her?
With her heart hammering at her chest, Abigail looked up. She was halfway up the slope; only about twenty more feet stood between her and Hannah. She could see the girl more clearly now: the dingy white of her soiled nightgown; the dirt and blood caking her legs and feet; the sharp blade of the axe clutched in her hands. Only Hannah’s face remained obscured behind tendrils of dampened hair.
Duncan and Carnes had arrived and Abigail was vaguely aware of their shouts and cries coming from below. There was nothing they could do. There was no one around to hear them, no one to come to their aid.
And there wasn’t time. It was up to Abigail. She had to get to Hannah before the girl severed the last rope. Gathering her courage, Abigail
resumed her climb, scrambling up over the giant logs. Above, Hannah staggered across the pile like a sleepwalker. Only a few more feet and Abigail would reach her. She saw the axe rise into the air, heard the chilling sound of Hannah’s voice, singing.
“And when they were dead, the robins so red; brought strawberry leaves and over them spread. And all the night long, the branches among; they mourned as they whistled, and this was their song....”
Propelled by fear, Abigail scrabbled upward desperately.
She stretched out her hand for Hannah.
Another foot...
A few more inches...
“Hannah! No!” Abigail screamed as she lunged for the girl.
The axe fell.
Chapter 36
A hideous rumble shook the mountain of timber. Abigail lunged and scooped Hannah into her arms as a piercing series of cracks! split the air like rifle shots. With a fearful glance over her shoulder, she saw the thick wooden braces splitting and giving way. One by one, they splintered and snapped like dry twigs.
Abigail clutched at Hannah and tried to scramble up and over the shifting, lurching logs. Like a sailor staggering across the deck of a listing ship, she clawed her way, desperate to crest the top of the stack and start down the other side before she was dragged backward.
It was too late. There was a nightmarish, thundering roar...
And then she was falling.
Hannah was ripped from Abigail’s arms as they tumbled downward like ragdolls caught in a landslide. Without the braces to keep it in place, the massive stack was now releasing itself and spilling giant logs into the lake. Abigail had enough presence of mind to cover her head with her arms as she was carried along with the logs rolling and bucking beneath her. The terrifying moment lasted the length of a heartbeat. In that time, she was gripped by the horrifying certainty that she would be crushed beneath the cascading avalanche of timber.
She hit the lake with a great splash and spray of water. The impact came so suddenly that she had no time to hold her breath. Water filled her mouth as she was instantly submerged and dragged downward by the weight of her sodden clothes. The cold was paralyzing, pricking at her flesh like thousands of sharp needles as her chest constricted painfully. From somewhere above, she could hear the steady barrage of the logs as they splashed into the lake over her head, one after another after another. Their long, bulky shapes came together like a puzzle on the surface of the water, obliterating the gray light and sealing her beneath like she was being entombed.
A hot bolt of panic shot through Abigail’s gut. She was trapped underwater. If she tried to surface, she would be crushed. Her only hope was to remain deep enough to avoid being struck by a falling log. Her cloak had become twisted around her during her tumble and her lungs ached as she struggled to free herself. It was too long, too tangled, too heavy to manipulate. Frantic, she tore at the buttons. One came off in her hand. Then another. Where was the third? Her hand scrabbled for it as she sank ever lower into the freezing blackness. The pressure of the depths pressed at her ears. All of a sudden, her fingers brushed across the last pewter button and she yanked at it to rip it off. The cloak fell away from her shoulders but its hem remained twisted and snared around her waist. She strained to wriggle out of it, releasing one leg, then the other.
Suddenly free, Abigail kicked and swam desperately. Her lungs were blazing now, screaming in agony for air. But she couldn’t surface, not yet. She had to get away, to swim clear of the giant logs crashing into the water overhead. How long had she been submerged? Seconds? Minutes?
Abigail felt herself becoming lightheaded as she moved through the turbid water. A strange and terrible darkness was creeping into the corners of her sight and she knew she would lose consciousness if she stayed down any longer. She had to reach the surface, had to breathe. She couldn’t wait. If she didn’t do it right now, she would drown.
Wild with panic and certain that her lungs would soon burst under the torture, Abigail changed direction and propelled herself upward. Above, the spaces between the floating logs were only wide enough to admit thin slivers of dancing light. She had no idea if she had come far enough or if she was about to be crushed beneath the enormous weight of a tumbling log. Her only thought as she clung to consciousness was air, air, air!
She broke the surface with a tremendous gasp, sputtering and gulping air into her lungs at the same time. There was a moment of sublime relief, but the reprieve lasted only an instant.
Something huge was coming at her. Abigail glimpsed it through her lightheaded daze and spun in the water as the blunt end of a massive log floated toward her head. Caught between it and another log, she dove back underwater and ducked beneath with barely a breath to spare. If she had waited a second longer, the drifting length of timber would have crushed her skull.
Ignoring her cramped and aching muscles, Abigail stayed submerged and swam further away until she came to a place where the spaces between the logs seemed wider and safer. Here, she surfaced again. The intense cold was sapping her strength. She couldn’t tread water much longer. She felt herself fading as she swam for the nearest piece of timber and wrapped her arms around it.
The giant log rolled beneath her and plunged her back underwater.
Abigail called on all that she had as she kicked and launched herself upward. The wind went out of her as she landed on the log on her stomach. With her weight now distributed evenly across both sides, the timber teetered precariously but remained stable. Abigail clung to it like the survivor of a shipwreck hanging on a broken mast and took a moment to catch her breath before raising her head and looking around.
Countless logs now floated across the rippling lake. The heavy fog had swallowed the stacking ramp and the shoreline, but the sounds of timber splashing into the water had come to an end. There were only the trickling ripples of the giant lengths of timber drifting through the water punctuated by heavy thuds as they collided with each other.
No—there were other sounds as well.
Abigail became aware of frantic cries from somewhere in the fog.
It was Duncan and Carnes. They were shouting for her, calling her name. She opened her mouth, but she was too frozen to speak. Her teeth were chattering uncontrollably and all that came out was a hoarse whisper. She closed her eyes to fight off an alarming rush of dizziness and opened them again, concentrating on the voices. The cries seemed ghostly, echoing to her from all directions. Where were they coming from? Which way was the shore?
Adrift in the endless fog, Abigail knew she had to act quickly. She couldn’t wait for rescue; the frigid cold would strip her of consciousness before anyone found her. Trembling all over, she tried to recall the layout of the lake as she remembered it by the light of day. It was long and narrow, stretching lengthwise from north to south. But in this fog, she had no way of orienting herself. If she could determine in which direction lay east or west, she might have enough strength to swim to the nearest shore.
But if she mistakenly swam further out into the lake instead...
Abigail strained her eyes and peered deep into the impenetrable fog, searching for any clue that would reveal some direction. Her gaze fell upon something floating in the water. At first, she couldn’t make out what it was. It was too obscured by the mist, too small as it bobbed up and down in the water among the logs. She waited for it to drift closer.
Abigail’s shivering breath froze in her throat.
It was Hannah Gill.
The girl was motionless, floating facedown in the water with her arms splayed.
Abigail tried to assess the distance that lay between her and Hannah’s lifeless body. It was difficult to tell on the water, but she guessed it to be about thirty yards. Strewn across that watery span was an ever-shifting maze of drifting logs. Abigail wasn’t sure she would have enough strength to swim the distance, but if she clung to the logs—using them for support and ducking beneath them when necessary—there was a chance she could make it to Hannah.
> Drawing a deep breath into her sore lungs, Abigail let herself slip back into the water. The shock of the cold gripped her with crushing force. She shivered uncontrollably as she kept one hand on the log, careful not to roll it while pushing herself along its length. When she came to the end, she let go and kicked twice across the open water until she came to the next log. Again and again she repeated this process, moving from one log to the next, conserving her strength as she negotiated her way through the treacherous labyrinth. She was trembling all over now and she knew she would no longer have the reflexes to react if she was suddenly forced to duck underwater to avoid being struck by another errant log.
Ahead, Hannah’s body drifted motionless in the water, bouncing gently off one log to another. She was much closer now, only fifteen or twenty feet away. A clear path of open water lay between her and Abigail.
Pushing clear of the log on which she hung, Abigail swam toward the girl. She glanced around as she went, ever fearful of the massive pieces of timber that threatened to crash into her at any moment. When she finally reached Hannah, Abigail gripped her by her sodden nightgown and flipped her over in the water. The girl’s eyes were closed and her blue veins were clearly visible beneath her pale skin. One of the girl’s cheekbones was swollen with a terrible welt. Blood oozed and dribbled from between lips that were purple and cut.
She didn’t seem to be breathing.
Abigail struggled to tread water while she smoothed Hannah’s hair away from her ashen face and did her best to search the rest of the girl’s body for injuries. Hannah’s left forearm appeared to be broken. It dangled in the water at a grotesque angle. The girl’s legs hung too low for Abigail to examine. She strained to look deeper into the depths.
Hannah’s eyes flew open.
Abigail gasped and went rigid with a sudden, all-encompassing terror.
The girl’s pupils were gone. Her eyes were rolled back in her head so far, only the whites were visible—whites and a red spiderweb of bloodshot veins rimming her eyelids as the connective tissue behind her eyeballs strained at their sockets.
The Suicide Lake (Book of Shadows 2) Page 20