Far below him, Abigail was gripped with tension as she watched Josiah’s slow and careful explorations. He hadn’t moved in minutes. She wondered what they would do if the steep pitch revealed itself to be insurmountable. And even if Josiah found a way to scale the remainder of the dangerous crux, would she be able to follow in his footsteps? Would Duncan?
Abigail glanced down and saw her old friend balancing on a ledge twenty feet below. He was looking up past her, towards Josiah’s dusky silhouette. She followed his gaze skyward again. Josiah had his right arm stretched high over his head. There was a crack in the rock up there: long and paper-thin. His fingers fumbled for it and were barely able to squeeze inside. In another moment, his left hand found an eroded ridge in the bedrock beneath the surging whitewater. He hesitated a moment, gathering his strength. Then he crimped tight with his fingers and began to haul himself upward.
The leather soles of his moccasins scrabbled against the sheer face as he scaled higher, higher, moving inch by agonizing inch.
Without warning, his right hand slipped from the crack.
Abigail’s heart lurched and jumped into her throat as Josiah swung away from the face. She saw his left hand clinging desperately to its precarious hold as he twisted around. With his back now to the steep wall, the momentum of his spin sent him directly beneath the punishing force of the waterfall.
Abigail witnessed the terrible sequence of events unfolding before her as if in a dream—everything moving slowly but with a dreadful inevitability that she was powerless to stop. She saw Josiah dangling high above her, hanging on with one hand with his back to the rock wall. The weight of the waterfall crashed down on his shoulders as he flailed beneath it.
“Josiah!” she cried. “I’m coming up! I can save you!”
Without thinking, Abigail started to climb, following the dangerous line Josiah had taken up the face. Her blood surged. Her fingertips were cut and bleeding from the tiny handholds but she ignored it all. She wouldn’t let her fear get the best of her.
A glance upward revealed that Josiah didn’t have the strength to hold on much longer. She saw him dangling there and knew his end was near. The trek from the village had been too much for him and his conscious mind was failing him fast.
But she was getting closer with each passing second! She was a mere few yards beneath him now! If only he could hold on just a few minutes longer...
From far below, she heard Duncan shout something loud and panicked.
And then Josiah was falling.
Chapter 49
Abigail had enough time to hug the wall and brace herself as Josiah lost his grip and came hurtling toward her. Her hand shot out in a foolish effort to seize him and somehow pluck him from the air as he flew by.
It was no use.
Abigail’s head swiveled around in time to glimpse Josiah plummeting through space before he vanished into the billowing mist far below. She heard Duncan’s anguished scream and then her mind went strangely quiet as it recoiled defensively from what she had just witnessed.
A long moment passed as Abigail remained breathless, clinging to the steep face just below the spot from which Josiah had fallen. He hadn’t made a sound as he hurtled to his doom. Part of her wondered if he had already lost consciousness before he had tumbled headlong from the high precipice. She hoped for his sake that he had.
With the rain beating down upon her and the waterfall gaining strength with each passing moment, Abigail peered up at the way ahead.
The deadly crux had already claimed one life. Now it was her turn to attempt it.
Abigail’s heartbeat pounded in her ears as she inched upward and eased into position on the razor-thin ledge that marked the limit of Josiah’s ascent. Shifting her weight, she leaned into the wall, pressing herself flat against the slippery rock face. Her right hand extended high over her head and found the long and treacherous crack. With that one hand, she would have to pull herself high enough to wedge the edge of her boot into the same crevice. Only then could she pause for a moment’s rest before sliding her hand up the crack and repeating the movement, continuing upward.
Squeezing her fingers in as deep as they would go into the fissure, Abigail crimped her fingertips against the rock to increase the friction of her grip. She wouldn’t be able to hold on long. The small muscles of her hand were already threatening to cramp.
Abigail shot a glance down at Duncan.
He waited below, staring up at her fearfully as she readied herself.
Returning her attention to the wall, Abigail thrust her left hand into the rushing water. Her fingers probed the smooth bedrock below the surface until she located the thin lip that had been Josiah’s last hold. She had to remind herself to breathe as she gazed up at the imposing wall. It was perhaps ten feet until the next safe ledge... but it seemed to stretch for eternity.
She could wait no longer; the waterfall was swelling too rapidly next to her. If she didn’t get moving, Duncan would be cut off completely. Tensing her muscles, she heaved with her arm and pulled herself upward.
Inch by inch, the tiny ledge fell away beneath her feet. Abigail’s forearms trembled and burned from the strain. She grit her teeth, hauling herself upward with her right hand while pushing down against the rock with her left. Her boots scrabbled against the wall, searching desperately for the edge of the tight crack. Over and over, her soles scraped across the exposed lip but could find no purchase.
Abigail grimaced, her face flushed a deep red from the strain. The muscles of her arm shook with uncontrollably spasms.
She couldn’t hold on.
She was going to fall.
If only her boot would catch...
Just then, her fingers began to slip from the tiny crevice.
Abigail shifted all her weight to her left palm and tried cramming the fingers of her right hand deeper into the crack. But the rain had penetrated the fissure and her palm was too wet to create any friction. Her heart raced as she flexed and wiggled her fingers, searching desperately for even the smallest nub of a hold. Centuries of erosion had worn the inside of the crack smooth. A surge of panic swept over her as she realized she was going to lose her grip.
“Duncan!” Abigail cried desperately. “I can’t hold on!”
Slowly, inexorably, her fingers continued to slide free of the crevice, slipping a fraction of an inch at a time. Abigail grit her teeth and dug her fingernails into the rock. A white-hot surge of pain shot up her arm as one was torn from her flesh.
Duncan shouted something, but whatever it was got lost in a booming blast of thunder.
Cramped and numb from the exertion, Abigail’s fingers were ablaze with agony. Despite her frantic efforts, her hand continued its relentless slide from the crack. Her palm was completely visible now. Only her fingertips kept her from tumbling backward. It was only a matter of seconds before their strength finally gave out.
Abigail knew she only had moments to live.
And then it happened.
The edge of her boot found the crack and caught it just in time to keep her from plummeting to her death.
In the same instant, Abigail’s right hand popped loose. She was sent twisting around, her right arm and shoulder swinging out dangerously over the empty void.
Below, Duncan was scrambling up toward her. Abigail heard his frantic cries as she hung precariously, balanced between the rock pressed beneath her left hand and the crevice into which she had wedged her right boot. The frigid spray of the waterfall splashed in her face as she fought desperately to maintain her footing. She gasped and choked, her mind going blank with fear.
It was impossible. She couldn’t sustain this position much longer.
With one last, daring effort, Abigail windmilled her right arm, using the momentum to swing herself forward into the rock wall. In the same motion, she lunged upward with her hand, aiming for the pencil-thin crevice.
This was it. If she missed, the weight of her body as she fell back would rip her from the cli
ff face.
Her palm slammed into the slippery rock, slapped against it, slid downward...
...and found a hold inside the crack.
Slowly—very slowly—Abigail hauled herself upward, inching higher up the crack until, finally, her palm stretched up and found a flat, wet surface. Hoisting her legs, she swung them up, heaving with all of her strength until she rolled onto the safety of a narrow shelf.
She had done it. She had crested the crux that had claimed Josiah’s life.
But there was no time for rest.
Staggering to her feet, Abigail turned and peered back over the ledge. Duncan was already following her route up the terrifying pitch. From her vantage point above, she was able to guide his ascent, pointing out holds that were invisible from below. When he was within reach, she lay flat on the ledge and stretched out her arms.
“Take my hands!” she shouted.
Duncan found them and held tight as Abigail hauled him up next to her on the shelf.
Exhausted, both collapsed onto their backs and remained there, shivering with cold and shock as the rain splashed down upon their faces.
Abigail was the first to drag herself to her feet. Duncan followed, joining her at the head of the waterfall. They stood there in silence, staring sightlessly down into the swirling mists where Josiah had vanished. Long moments passed until the time came to resume the treacherous climb.
Foot by foot, they ascended ever higher into the clouds, scrambling over slick rocks and scaling steep pitches. Hours seemed to pass until, finally, the walls of the canyon fell away and they found themselves at the base of a gigantic slab of bedrock rising hundreds of feet before them. Pressed flat and crawling upward on all fours like spiders, they moved up the slope with painstaking slowness. Lightning crashed in streaks all around them. The constant awareness that the slightest slip could send them rocketing hundreds of feet down the solid sheet of rock frayed their nerves to the point of snapping.
And then—very abruptly—there was nothing more to climb. They could go no higher.
Abigail rose to her feet at the rocky pinnacle of the steep rise and gazed at the bleak panorama laid out before her. Wind rocked her with tremendous force. Lightning raged and blasted the desolate expanse of the rocky landscape.
At the center of it all, Lake Tear of the Clouds lay churning and cold like a black teardrop.
Abigail surveyed the landscape and found a grim, unforgiving place where all life seemed to have fled the purging wrath of the high alpine elements. At this altitude, what few trees remained gasped for air and grew stunted. They crowded around the rocky shore of the lake like misshapen gargoyles. Further up the shoulder of the mountain, their meager ranks dwindled and gave way to nothing but rock.
Abigail and Duncan lingered there a moment longer, buffeted by the windy gusts as they took in their surroundings. There was a frosty chill in the air and Abigail could almost smell the presence of snow. Up here, thousands of feet above sea level, winter would come much earlier than in the valley.
A momentary window in the shifting storm clouds revealed a glimpse of the mountain known as the Cloudsplitter. It towered a thousand feet over the rain-swept lake. For one brief instant, Abigail caught a full view of the peak’s snowy summit dominating the northern sky like an angry behemoth. Having spent her whole life on the shores of the eastern coast, she had never beheld anything like it. It was majestic and sublime and fearsome all at once. She felt small and humbled by the sense of her own insignificance, of nature’s absolute indifference to her presence.
Then—as quickly as they had parted—the clouds came together again. The awe-inspiring summit cone vanished behind a heavy gray curtain.
“Anachaju,” Duncan murmured, his gaze settling on the lake.
As twilight gave way to night and the last of the light drained from the sky, its black waters stared back at them like a window into nothingness.
Abigail gave a slow nod. “Empty.”
Chapter 50
Carnes was drawing nearer. Abigail sensed a powerful malevolence in the night air, as if something dark and monstrous was sweeping up the mountainside toward her. She didn’t know from which direction he would come, but she knew he would soon arrive at the lake.
She looked to Duncan. “Be ready.”
They stood on the craggy shore of Lake Tear of the Clouds. The torrential rain had subsided to a drizzle but the night sky was still being torn asunder by lightning and thunder. Jagged bolts of electricity split the darkness and came down all around them, illuminating the land with a frenetic and hellish glow. A fearsome wind swept down from the Cloudsplitter and scoured the blasted landscape. Behind where Abigail stood, the black waters of the lake rippled and churned as if they had been brought to a boil.
“Are you certain this will work?” Duncan asked. He swallowed nervously as he peered across the windswept terrain in the direction of the valley.
Abigail hesitated for a fraction of a second. “It must. It’s the only plan we have.”
As if searching for reassurance, her hands went into the pockets of her coat and closed around two iron spikes she had taken from one of the storage sheds before leaving the village. Both were about six inches in length, pointed at one end with a rounded head at the other.
When the time came, she hoped they would be enough for what she had in mind.
All of a sudden, a fork of pink lightning split the sky and struck a lone pine less than half a mile away. The tree burst into flames and the force of the thunderclap that followed shook the ground beneath their feet. They both cringed under the deafening force of the concussive blast. With her ears still ringing, Abigail looked into the distance where the orange glow of the smoldering tree lit the horizon. Carnes wasn’t the only threat they faced out here. Exposed as they were on the shoulder of the highest mountain in the region, either of them could be killed by lightning at any moment.
A sudden movement in the distance drew Abigail’s attention and her blood quickened.
A shadowy figure was slowly coming into view. Limned against the blackness and looming like a wraith in the night, the silhouette was tall and slender and bore the severe profile of a man cloaked in a long cassock.
“Here he comes,” Abigail warned. Her eyes remained fixed on the spot from where the forbidding figure was advancing. “Whatever happens, we must prevent Carnes from entering the lake. If I should fall, you must not come to my aid. You must not stop until the ritual has been completed.” She peered intently at Duncan. “Do you understand?”
He didn’t respond.
“Duncan? Do you understand me? My life is not worth more than those who will undoubtedly die if Samael is unleashed upon the world.”
An instant passed before Duncan finally looked her in the eyes and gave a solemn nod. Together, they waited as the sinister figure drew closer. It stalked slowly and confidently through the gnarled and twisted shrubs that guarded the lake. Abigail’s heart drummed furiously in her chest and her muscles went tense in anticipation of the battle.
The figure drew nearer, nearer, closing the distance...
What finally emerged from the gloom was no longer human.
Bathed in lightning, Carnes was a thing of nightmares to behold. His pale skin was scorched and blistered as if scalded with boiling oil. Blood oozed from open sores across his cheeks and forehead. The flesh of his face was shrunken and cadaverous above his thick beard and a glistening string of drool hung from lips that were cracked and split. Most hideous of all were the priest’s eyes. Like Hannah Gill’s, they had rolled back to their bloody roots in his head. None of their pale green color remained; all that was visible were the whites and the fleshy red eye-muscles straining in their sockets.
Abigail’s blood turned to ice as Carnes strode closer. There was nothing left of the priest she had known. The demonic presence inside him had corrupted him absolutely and turned him into an infernal abomination. Against all hope, Abigail had thought she might somehow save the man, but
Carnes was beyond salvation. He was already dead and in his place stood Samael, the venom of God.
Without warning, Abigail dipped her shoulder and charged.
Launching herself bodily at the hideous monstrosity that used to be Carnes, she caught it by surprise and they both went crashing to the ground. They struggled among the rocks, the demon’s teeth clicking and snapping in its head as it tried to bite Abigail’s face. She broke free of the strong hands that beat and clawed at her savagely and sprang to her feet. Samael’s hand whipped out and grabbed for her, but Abigail dodged and stepped on the exposed forearm, pinning it to the ground beneath her boot. In one motion, she seized an iron spike from her pocket, aimed it at the center of Samael’s trapped palm, and stomped hard on its head with her other foot.
The demon howled with rage as the six-inch spike pierced flesh and bone and impaled its hand deep into the gritty earth of the lakeshore. It thrashed on the ground and reached for the spike with its free hand, intent on ripping it loose. Abigail anticipated the move and kicked the scrabbling hand aside, crushing it beneath her boot. With the same fluid quickness, she produced the second spike and skewered Samael’s other fist into the ground.
“Do it now!” she cried over the demon’s furious roar.
Duncan rushed forward with the Rite of Exorcism splayed in his trembling palms. Tracing the sign of the cross over himself, he did the same for Abigail before moving on to Samael. Crucified in the dirt, the demon hissed contemptuously and spit blood at him. Undaunted, Duncan began the litany.
Abigail quickly took the silver flask he produced from his coat and sprinkled holy water over Samael’s writhing body. The demon flailed in agony as tendrils of red steam rose into the air wherever the drops touched its flesh. Arching its back off the ground, it strained against the iron spikes that riveted its claws into the rocky earth.
The Suicide Lake (Book of Shadows 2) Page 27