The Keeper of the Crows

by Kyle Alexander Romines

  Durer could sense death the night Salem Alistair disappeared. He continued offering sacrifices to the Keeper of the Crows. Jezebel Woods was right: something was walking through the forests, but it was no man of flesh and blood.

  He heard a loud clang from below him. The storekeeper frowned and set aside his books. He hoped no one was foolish enough to try to rob him. The old man snatched a letter opener from the desk, opened the door to his room, and walked down the stairs into the dark store.

  “Who is there?” he demanded, his voice no longer possessing its characteristic softness. “Show yourself!” There was silence. For a moment, he considered going back upstairs, but then he heard it again. A scratching noise coming from below. Had someone broken into his special room?

  Still wielding the letter opener, Durer walked down the second set of stairs. He unlocked the door and turned on the light. The bulb fizzled on and off, as if there were a problem with the electricity. The old man looked around the room. Something was missing. Something was out of place.

  The scarecrows, he thought. Someone had moved the scarecrows. They were gone!

  Then a sinister face appeared in the darkness, hovering above him. Durer dropped the letter opener in shock. A second scarecrow slammed the door shut behind him. Another picked up the letter opener. Staring at him with grins long ago stitched shut, the scarecrows advanced.

  “What are you doing?” Durer pleaded. He shrank back against a bookshelf. “I’ve always done what you’ve asked! I offered your sacrifices! I worshipped you—”

  The tallest scarecrow stabbed him in the heart with the letter opener. Durer fell to the floor, blood gushing from his chest. He wanted to crawl away, but his body refused to move. The storekeeper heard laughter, then nothing at all.

  The demon had taken its power back. It didn’t need the old man anymore.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Bony fingers shakily unlatched the screen door leading outside the kitchen. The worn flannel nightgown swept around the old woman who crept out onto the lawn. Vacant eyes searched the gray sky for an invisible sun. It was morning in Gray Hollow, but the sun was nowhere in sight. Emma Woods sensed what was coming.

  “It’s here,” she whispered in a tone completely devoid of emotion. The sentiment was not quite valid; the dreary morning horizon still boasted at least some light. Emma knew it would not last for long. Not while the darkness continued to spread.

  The crows were everywhere. They would not go away. Unnatural gloom was closing in fast on Gray Hollow, early as it was. To Emma it seemed neither fall nor winter. The town had entered a twilight that was in between. When the darkness fell on Gray Hollow, it would not lift again until all life in the town was extinguished.

  Night was coming. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Emma began to feel fear. Even while her body began to chill in the freezing weather, the woman remained motionless on the barren lawn. She was waiting.

  ***

  Thomas tugged at the leather jacket, which had suddenly become sticky and uncomfortable. Even so, he was reluctant to remove it. It was freezing inside the cramped lounge in the sheriff’s offices; the heaters were having difficulties. The expensive jacket was also another reminder to him of his former life. Not that it was worth much anymore. It was matted with leaves and dirt from his terrifying foray into the forest the night before.

  “I’ve never seen Gray Hollow this dark so early in the day before,” Jezebel was saying. Neither of them had been able to muster an expression even distantly resembling a smile since their brush with death.

  “Another storm?” Thomas wondered what else could happen to make the new day even worse.

  “No.” Jezebel shook her head. The light bulb above flickered for a second. “It’s something else,” she whispered. “The black clouds are there. I’ve never seen so many. The wind is blowing hard, but I can’t see the first trace of rain.”

  Thomas moved from the lounge chair where he’d slept the night before. He was unable to recall precisely when he finally dozed off. Thomas wondered if he looked as tired as he felt. He glanced over at Jezebel as she stared at the window. Unlike him, she showed no sign of having spent the night in the police station. She seemed shaken, yet he sensed an undercurrent of energy boiling under the surface.

  Heavy Markham brewed coffee in the corner of the room. Thomas had probably consumed enough caffeine over the course of this case to last him a lifetime, but he had to admit that he needed it again. On a shelf next to the coffeemaker lay the evidence bag with the gun found in the forest. It had not moved from the spot Jezebel placed it when the pair stumbled into the station the night before.

  Thomas’ gaze returned to the window. Gone were the onlookers who lined up behind the station after the murders became public knowledge, driven away, no doubt, by the atrocious weather. Thomas would have liked to hide, too. When the deputy left the room, Jezebel finally spoke again.

  “We have to warn the town about what we saw last night. Everyone is in danger.”

  “They might be, but I highly doubt anyone is going to believe us when we tell them we were attacked by scarecrows.” Thomas was still having a hard enough time accepting it himself.

  “We have to try,” Jezebel said, unwilling to concede the point. “There is something evil in Gray Hollow.”

  “A week ago I never would have accepted any of this. Even the most superstitious people in the town will have a hard time believing us. We aren’t even sure what we saw.”

  Jezebel’s eyes narrowed. She turned away from the windowsill and faced him. “I know what I saw.”

  “That’s not what I mean. Have you stopped to think about what we’re dealing with? It was one thing when we were investigating a simple murder. Killers have motives. They leave evidence. What do these things want?”

  Jezebel shook her head. “I’ve never bought into any of Gray Hollow’s local superstitions,” she said. “Until now. I should have seen it sooner. It started with the crows. It never made sense why they were in the windshield of Jeffrey Daniels’ truck. Something guided them there.”

  “What could control the crows?” he wondered aloud. “What could bring scarecrows to life?” Although Thomas believed in God and the existence of evil, he never would have imagined that such a supernatural force could appear in Gray Hollow.

  Deputy Markham stepped back into the room again, and the two fell quiet. Each silently contemplated the question. All possible answers were equally horrifying. As if he sensed that the two were in the middle of an important conversation, Heavy retrieved the pistol and retreated out of sight.

  “When I was in the library,” Thomas said. “I read a passage about early cults in Gray Hollow in the 1800s. The cults offered blood sacrifices to the demon Baal. Do you think it’s possible those sacrifices played a role in all this?”

  “Those settlers have been dead for hundreds of years. Most of us don’t even know those stories. Until you brought it up, I had never heard of it.”

  “Then maybe I’m approaching it the wrong way. Who have the monsters killed so far? Jeffrey Daniels, Rick Pepper, Gary Davis and his family, and Paul Morris. What farm is everyone around here scared of? The Alistair Farm. Who built these scarecrows in the first place?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Would Salem Alistair have any reason to want any of these people dead?”

  “We’ve been over this. Gary Davis and Rick Pepper bullied Salem all the time.”

  Salem Alistair created the scarecrows. Salem was also bullied frequently before mysteriously disappearing. Thomas was willing to bet Jeffrey Daniels also picked on his neighbor. Jezebel had already provided him with photographic evidence linking Davis, Daniels, and Pepper.

  Jezebel knows it, too, he thought. “The scarecrow with the pumpkin head is obviously different than all the others. Why? There is a body in there, Jezebel. I think it belongs to Salem Alistair.”

  “I don’t believe that,” Jezebel said. Her lower lip quivered. “I can�
��t.”

  “Fine,” Thomas replied, switching gears. He knew he was finally closing in on the truth. “Then why target those particular people? We know Salem Alistair links them. Who else links them together?”

  “There’s one little problem with your theory,” Jezebel said. “The scarecrow that attacked you killed Dr. Morris. Morris didn’t move to Gray Hollow until after Salem went missing.”

  “Maybe he isn’t just killing for revenge. He might be after something more. These deaths are only the start.” The proposition was horrifying.

  “We have to stop them,” Jezebel said. “Do you know how many scarecrows Salem made? Dozens. We need answers.” She stood up and grabbed her gun. “We’re going to see Percy Durer.”

  Thomas frowned. He had never heard the name Percy Durer before, but something about it was unsettling. He glanced out the window at the mounting darkness again. If this keeps up, it’ll be as dark as night in a few hours, he thought. It isn’t even noon yet.

  Jezebel put her hand on his. “And, Thomas? Thank you for saving my life.” Thomas could see gratitude in her eyes. He realized he liked seeing it there. There was something else, too. Coffee or no coffee, Thomas suddenly felt completely awake. The moment ended quickly, but he was sure there had been a spark.

  “Don’t mention it. We’re even. Do you mind if we swing by my house first so I can change clothes and get a new camera battery? We’re going to need proof of this if we’re going to convince people to believe us.”

  Jezebel nodded. Having stored a change of clothes in her locker, she had already showered and changed before the reporter woke up. Thomas stepped out of the lounge and removed the cell phone from his pocket as Jezebel conversed with Heavy Markham. He couldn’t hear what they were saying for certain, though it sounded like Logan Randall hadn’t shown up for work yet.

  “Max,” Thomas said into the phone. “I need you to pick up.” There was a considerable amount of static on the line. For some reason, the sound reminded him of the forest stalked by the living scarecrows. His phone hadn’t worked there either.

  “Thomas!” Max said loudly. “I haven’t heard from you since yesterday.”

  “I’ve been pretty busy,” Thomas replied.

  “The article about Paul Morris is bigger than you know,” Max said. “Sales have skyrocketed, and it’s all thanks to you! We’ve also heard from a television station that says they sent a crew down.”

  “I know all about Chuck Howard, after having shared the unfortunate pleasure of his company. That’s not really important right now.”

  “If we get scooped—”

  It was Thomas’ turn to cut off the editor. “Max, we’re down at the sheriff’s department, and we need all the help we can get. I’m going to need you on this.”

  “Why? What’s happening?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Pray you never have to find out. I need you to drop whatever you’re doing and come down to the police station. We need you to track down the owners of the farmhouse on 316 Four Winds Acres. Jezebel and I looked their names up last night when we got back. Dirk and Nina Edwards. We tried calling them, but they weren’t at home.”

  “Did you check the house? Maybe they weren’t picking up.”

  “We did a quick check last night before we got here. The house was empty.”

  “OK,” Max said. “I’ll see what I can do and meet you two at the station. Where are we going from there?”

  “I wish I knew,” Thomas said. He followed Jezebel outside into the cold darkness.

  ***

  Chuck Howard was already tired of searching the forest. It was hard to admit it, but it had definitely been a mistake to stop following Thomas Brooks and Jezebel Woods the previous night. The decision seemed wise at the time. It was nearly pitch black by the time Chuck and Elaine could hear their voices ahead. If he couldn’t film it, Chuck didn’t want to pursue it.

  What a stupid error, he thought bitterly. A gunshot erupted the very second the reporter set foot in the news van. At first Chuck thought he might be mistaken. Then a series of gunshots echoed in the night. Chuck ordered Clark to drive onto a nearby road where he could spy on the police car through the trees.

  They waited for what seemed like half an hour. Eventually a fire broke out in the field next to them. Within minutes, Thomas and Jezebel came running toward the police cruiser. The pair drove away into the night.

  “Let’s wait right here,” Chuck had said. “If someone was shooting at them, they’ll be back with reinforcements. This time I’ll be the one who scoops Brooks out of his own story.”

  It was only after sitting in silence in the van for over three hours that Chuck realized the truth. They weren’t coming back. Whoever was in the forest was dead, wounded, or had escaped. That made the area below a crime scene. Why wouldn’t the sheriff have sent more officers to a crime scene?

  The truth was so simple Chuck couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner. It came to him as the others were sleeping in the hotel, while he was trying to come up with an excuse to placate his uncle for time wasted. There was a reason why the two had not returned with others to the farm. They didn’t want anyone to know about what happened. It was a cover-up. The sheriff and Brooks were in it together!

  “It’s their secret,” he had muttered aloud. Well, he thought at the time, it won’t be a secret for long.

  Now Chuck found himself in the forest for a second time. He would find what the two left behind one way or another. While the forest was unfortunately still quite dark, the prospect of what he might discover in the woods compensated for the effect on image quality on his equipment.

  “It’s so murky in here,” Elaine half-whispered. “Watch your step.”

  “Your concern is touching,” he said sarcastically. He had already made up his mind he never wanted to work with the camerawoman again if he could avoid it. For some reason Clark didn’t agree with him; he even went so far as to hint that it was Chuck who needed to lighten up.

  Chuck did agree with Elaine on one thing: it was getting darker. In fact, the farther they traveled into the forest, the darker it seemed to become. Despite the relatively early hour, the sky looked like evening was approaching. Chuck didn’t have time to dwell on the thought. Not when he stumbled across the swollen corpse resting in the dry leaves.

  Chuck ran to the body and knelt down to study it. He barked an order to Elaine to take pictures. When the day grew bright again, she would be able to get some great footage in the forest. Even in the dim light, he could see that there was blood everywhere. Chuck saw a gunshot wound on the body. If the bullet came from Jezebel Woods or Thomas Brooks, why had they not returned for the body?

  It was evident his earlier suspicions were correct. They were trying to cover it up. Brooks is a has-been. What if he and his girlfriend the sheriff tried to spice things up to put Gray Hollow on the map?

  “This story just got a lot bigger,” he whispered excitedly.

  “Chuck,” Elaine said slowly, trying to get his attention.

  “Not now! I don’t have time for this!”

  “Chuck,” she whimpered. He turned around to snap at her, but the camerawoman paid no attention to him. Instead, she was staring at something in front of them. Two shadowy figures were perched under a tree. Without warning, they started to move.

  ***

  The darkness came alive. The Keeper of the Crows roared, no longer bound by the rising of the sun, which had forced him to slumber in the shadows during the day. Enough sacrifices had been made to give him the power to usher in permanent night. Although the shadows had not yet entirely surrounded the town of Gray Hollow, they were closing in fast. The forest and the crows were at his full command.

  ***

  Chuck saw the two figures on the ground twitch and rise. He screamed when he saw their terrible faces. The creatures looked at him for a moment then started moving toward h
im. Chuck grabbed Elaine, pushing her in front of him to shield himself. As he backed away, she fell to the ground. Chuck turned and ran. The drumbeat of his roaring pulse failed to drown out Elaine’s cries in the background. He gained enough courage to cast one look back. The scarecrows descended on Elaine. Her screams soon faded away.

  Panicked, Chuck focused on running faster. Above him, crows spilled out of the forest in every direction. His heart pounded. He could hear the things moving again behind him.

  Clark was waiting for him at the forest’s edge. “What’s going on? Where’s Elaine?”

  Before Chuck could answer, the scarecrows spilled outside the woods as the clouds above blotted out the remaining light. Chuck kept running toward the van, but when Clark moved to follow him, he tripped and lost his balance. Chuck cast a nervous glance over his shoulder and threw open the door to the driver’s seat. Luckily, the keys were sitting in the ignition. He jumped inside the van and turned on the engine.

  “Wait for me,” Clark called, climbing to his feet, but Chuck was already speeding away.

  In the rearview mirror, he could see crows swarming around Clark as the scarecrows advanced on him. Even from the increasing distance, he still heard his screams. Chuck forced himself to look away and pounded on the gas.

  ***

  By the time Jezebel finished telling Thomas about Percy Durer, he could see what she thought was so strange about the man. According to the sheriff, Durer was the only person in Gray Hollow notably interested in the occult. More convicting was the interest he apparently showed in Salem Alistair. When Jezebel told Thomas the storekeeper kept four scarecrows locked away in a secret room, he knew she was onto something. They planned to return to Thomas’ house so he could gather his things before confronting Durer.

  “Pull over here,” he said, and Jezebel moved the cruiser into his driveway. The two got out of the car and walked up to the door. After removing the keys from his frayed jacket pocket, Thomas slid them into the lock and opened the door.