The Paranormalist 4: The Unearthly

by William Massa

  The Paranormalist 4

  THE UNEARTHLY

  WILLIAM MASSA

  Critical Mass Publishing

  Contents

  Also by WILLIAM MASSA

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Also by WILLIAM MASSA

  About the Author

  Also by WILLIAM MASSA

  THE NIGHT SLAYER SERIES

  Midnight War

  Monster Quest

  Shadow Plague

  Dark Masters

  THE SHADOW DETECTIVE SERIES

  Cursed City

  Soul Catcher

  Blood Rain

  Demon Dawn

  Skull Master

  Ghoul Night

  Witch Wars

  Crimson Circle

  Hell Breaker

  Dragon Curse

  Vampire Quest

  THE OCCULT ASSASSIN SERIES

  Damnation Code

  Apocalypse Soldier

  Ice Shadows

  Spirit Breaker

  Soul Jacker

  Doomsday Disciples

  THE PARANORMALIST

  Servants of the Endless Night

  Soul Taker

  Curse of the Abyss

  The Unearthly

  THE GARGOYLE KNIGHT SERIES

  Gargoyle Knight

  Gargoyle Quest

  STAND ALONES

  Fear the Light

  Match: A Supernatural Thriller

  SCIENCE FICTION TITLES

  Silicon Man

  Silicon Dawn

  Crossing the Darkness

  Chapter One

  The hunter was closing in on his prey.

  Jeremy Plevins pressed through the frozen forest, heavy boots crunching in the hard-packed snow. Up ahead, a sea of trees thrust from the white wilderness like icy stalagmites. Somewhere within the snow-laden woods, his quarry hid among the shadows.

  Jeremy sucked in a deep breath of frigid air, felt it tickle his beard, which barely protected him from the cold. Gloved hands clutched his rifle, eyes alert. He resisted the temptation to take a sip from the flask of brandy stashed in his winter parka. Relief from the biting temperatures would come at a high price. The deer he hunted might pick up his sudden movements and bolt, turning two hours of careful tracking into a colossal waste of time.

  And Jeremy hated wasting time.

  At the age of twenty, he'd dropped out of college and started his own business, a metal roofing company that had turned him into a millionaire within a year. Now, nearly a decade later, his brother was in charge of the day-to-day operation of the business. This change allowed him to spend a few months of the year at his Big Bear Lake home, where he pursued his two other great passions: snowboarding and hunting.

  His breath misted in the freezing temperature, and his gaze flicked to the man trailing behind him—Ralf Coleman, his neighbor and one of his closest friends. The camera around the man's neck must have cost him a small fortune. Ralf could afford it. He was a sought-after wildlife photographer who traveled the globe to take pictures of all kinds of animals for high-profile nature publications. The man was small compared to Jeremy's six-foot-three, two-hundred-and-ten pound frame. Gifted with the patience and keen eyesight of an owl, Ralf was born for animal photography. He could effortlessly match Jeremy's swift and silent advance or could stand still for hours without succumbing to boredom.

  The two of them made a great team—Jeremy did the tracking and hunting, while Ralf snapped the pictures. Right now, they solely communicated with looks and hand gestures, two parts of a well-oiled machine.

  They reached the top of a hill, and Jeremy scanned the area below. His eyes lit up, and his pulse quickened as he spotted their quarry.

  About forty feet ahead, a deer stood tall and proud in a small clearing, his brown fur forming a sharp contrast with the white background.

  Jeremy's heart slammed with excitement. He'd spent the last few days sloshing through mid-January snow and tangles of brush. His feet were blocks of ice, and he felt like he'd earned this kill after all those fruitless hours spent out in the wet cold.

  He hunted for meat, not sport, but couldn't deny the adrenaline rush he experienced as he leveled his rifle at the buck. His gaze narrowed as he leaned into the weapon with his head forward on the stock. Body relaxed, he peered through the 3-9X deer-scope, which was nitrogen purged against internal fogging.

  The buck filled the crosshair of Jeremy's scope in the same way it now occupied the optical viewfinder of Ralf's 14fps Canon.

  For a beat, the graceful animal just stood there as if fused to the frozen landscape, the large antlers dusted with a fine coating of white that sparkled in the milky sunlight. And then it became alert and slowly turned its head in Jeremy's direction.

  The buck seemed to stare right back at him through the scope. The animal's unflinching gaze made Jeremy hesitate, and his finger momentarily froze on the trigger. The fierce, fearless intelligence in those dark eyes sized him up, the creature not impressed by the rifle in his hands.

  Snap, Snap, Snap.

  The soft whirr of Ralf's camera told Jeremy that his friend had captured the moment, and it was now his turn.

  As his finger whitened on the trigger, the deer did something he did not expect. It slowly turned, showing its back to him. Odd behavior for a prey animal. Could the buck be sick? Jeremy had no interest in eating tainted venison, but he might need to put the thing out of its misery.

  The world slowed to a crawl as the hunter stood, riveted. There was something wrong with the animal’s back, a gray growth that defied all logic.

  Jeremy gasped with a sudden rush of horror as the creature's true nature stood revealed. A wolf head sprouted from the back of the buck's quivering body.

  The wolf snarled, teeth bared, eyes blazing with a terrifying intensity. Impossibly alive, grotesquely fused with the deer.

  Jeremy reflexively squeezed the trigger, and a loud gunshot shattered the perfect silence of the forest.

  The beast jerked and twitched as the bullet slammed into its mutant form. Blood spurted as the buck's head whipped back. A moment later, the creature soundlessly collapsed in the snow.

  Jeremy studied the body through his scope, his chest tight with dread. The beast's lifeless eyes—all four of them—gleamed dully with silent accusation. Rattled, Jeremy lowered the rifle, his hands trembling with anxiety.

  Ralf eyed him curiously. "What's wrong?"

  Jeremy stared at his friend, who apparently had failed to notice the wolf's head. Ralf had probably taken the picture from the wrong angle.

  For a beat, Jeremy struggled for a response. All attempts at explaining himself would come across like the ramblings of a madman.

  "Best if you see it with your own eyes," he finally said. The sight of the mutant beast's carcass would speak far louder than words.

  Jeremy started to descent the snowy hill, gun up and ready, and nodded at Ralf to follow him. The forest around them had taken on a foreboding quality. The wilderness he loved so much suddenly felt alien and hostile, filled with unfathomable mystery. What other monstrosities might lurk among the dense trees?

  His imagination was beginning to run wild, but who could blame him given the circumstances? The horror of the creature had indelibly seared itself into his mind.


  Jeremy lost all sense of time as he made his way down the hill. The forest was silent except for the sound of the photographer's footsteps behind him. Ralf had matched Jeremy's aggressive pace, eager to see for himself what had spooked his friend.

  His breath grew shallow as he reached the bottom of the hill. His eyes searched the white ground but found the area completely deserted.

  He gripped his rifle more tightly.

  Fuck, he'd seen the bullet tear into the beast before it went down, had stared into its glassy eyes as the last traces of life left it. Even if the creature had somehow miraculously picked itself back up, the injury would have peppered the small clearing with blood. But the snowy ground was a perfect, unblemished white, almost as if the forest floor had swallowed the beast whole.

  Impossible.

  Yet here he stood, looking like some fool who'd hallucinated the whole damn thing.

  "So, what were you going to show me?" Ralf asked.

  He turned toward his friend. "You saw the deer, right? You saw it go down."

  "Of course."

  "So, where is the damn body?"

  Ralf shrugged.

  "Maybe the buck wasn't dead. Probably got back up and bolted. If you look around, we'll probably find a trail of blood."

  Jeremy's gaze swept the forest, hoping Ralf was right. But no matter where he looked, the ground was a blinding white. He gnashed his teeth and scanned the clearing with unflinching intensity, almost as if he could will a trail of red into existence.

  To his surprise, Ralf suddenly jumped into motion and ran toward the edge of the clearing. What had gotten into his friend? Had he perhaps caught a glimpse of the strange beast?

  Jeremy gave himself an internal push and followed his buddy, the feeling of impending doom in his churning guts growing stronger by the minute.

  Ralf stood at the far edge of the clearing and pointed up at something that remained tantalizingly hidden within the dense wall of trees beyond.

  As Jeremy drew closer, he cursed under his breath. A snow-encased building grew from the forest floor, blending perfectly with the landscape.

  Jeremy's wide-eyed gaze trailed up the gigantic cylinder that grew from a massive, decaying domed roof. Understanding flooded his mind. He was looking at an abandoned observatory. The once-stately viewing dome sported huge holes, the walls sagging and covered with ice.

  Jeremy blinked with disbelief, stunned by the surreal, unexpected sight. He'd never heard or read about any observatory in this part of Big Bear Lake. The location didn't make any sense. Why would someone build an observatory in the middle of a forest surrounded by trees that would block visibility? There was, of course, Big Bear Solar Observatory, located on the north side, right on the lakeshore—apparently the water helped stabilize images taken by the telescope. Was this an earlier version, abandoned in favor of the new building on the lake? He was pretty sure locals would have mentioned an abandoned observatory to him at some point over the years.

  He took a step closer, feeling small and insignificant as the shadow of the massive observatory engulfed him. He couldn't shake the image of the enormous structure exploding from the white landscape, fully formed.

  Jeremy's jaw tightened as his anxiety deepened. First, the mutant beast and now this—something was wrong here. They should leave, curiosity be damned.

  The constant whirr of Ralf's high-powered camera told Jeremy that his friend was processing the bizarre sight in his own way.

  Just wait until we find the dead mutant beast, Jeremy thought crazily. You'll be taking pictures until the sun goes down.

  They both advanced toward the structure without exchanging a word, almost as if it was calling out to them on some high-pitched frequency that could only be registered by the subconscious mind.

  Jeremy noted that the brick lower level held up remarkably well when compared to the dome. Continuing to explore the structure, he noticed an entrance, a heavy steel door set into the brick.

  He swapped a glance with his buddy. Judging by Ralf's curious expression, his friend had spotted the doorway too and seemed determined to explore it further.

  I don't think that's a good idea, Jeremy's inner voice whispered. But his common sense failed to slow his approach.

  He hesitated for a second at the entrance, but when he saw Ralf stride inside, his eye aglow with eager fire, he quickly followed.

  A different world awaited Jeremy inside.

  He felt like he'd stepped into the temple of some otherworldly god. Dwarfed and humbled by the high-domed ceiling, Jeremy felt small and insignificant, barely worthy of peering up at the stars that had spawned him. The place was bigger and grander than any other building he'd ever set foot in—and, in some way he couldn’t define, not entirely of this earth. Like the pyramids, it didn't feel like a structure made by the hands of mortal men.

  He watched with bated breath as Ralf zeroed in on the telescope. Jeremy could tell that the telescope was old, like perhaps older than a century, its surface lined with rust and a green film of decay. The device sat on a series of steel gears that were powered by a heavy weight on a long cable, an old clock drive instead of an electrical one. There were no computer systems or television monitors, reinforcing the notion that this place was at least a hundred years old.

  Ralf circled the mechanical monstrosity, taking pictures of the domed ceiling and telescope from several different angles, wholly enamored by his subject. The man had a grin plastered across his face.

  He looks like he is shooting the next Sports Illustrated swimsuit calendar and not a rusty telescope.

  Jeremy wanted to leave, but when he called out to his friend, Ralf didn’t seem to hear him. The photographer made a complete circuit of the telescope, lowered his camera, and approached the eyepiece. As he peered through the telescope, he grew stock still, his head lowered in deference, mouth moving in what appeared to be silent prayer.

  “Hey, buddy?” Jeremy said, his voice sounding thin and weak to his own ears.

  Ralf didn’t react. Jeremy had no idea how long his friend remained frozen in that position, but with each passing second, the feeling of doom in the pit of his stomach intensified. He made himself take a few steps forward and tried to get his friend’s attention again.

  "What are you looking at? What is it?"

  "Best if you take a look for yourself."

  Hearing his own words thrown back at him like that further deepened Jeremy's unease. At the same time, he, too, found himself drawn to the telescope.

  As Ralf stepped back from the telescope, eyes strangely distant, Jeremy moved closer and took his place. His movements felt both sluggish and energized at the same time, adding to the dreamlike nature of the whole thing. Fingers slid over the telescope's metallic surface, brushed against the lens, eager to discover the mysteries it could reveal.

  Leaning forward, he thought he could make out strange markings carved across the metallic surface, but the moment he blinked, they were gone. Blood roared in his ears, and his pulse quickened as he leaned forward and "took a look for himself."

  He expected to see the blue sky partially obscured by trees, but instead, he found himself looking at his own gorgeous Tudor style lakeside home. How was this possible?

  As he watched, a woman strode into view. It was his beautiful wife, Sabrina, fifteen years his junior, a stunning brunette who needed no makeup to bring out her fantastic looks. Some days he truly felt like his wife was out of his league. She moved through the world like a breath of fresh air with the freewheeling energy of the artist that she was.

  A second figure appeared, and Jeremy's next breath caught in his throat. He was looking at Malcolm Brant, one of his neighbors. In his mid-forties, the local art gallery owner had displayed his wife's pieces on numerous occasions. Brant was handsome, charming and witty, and Jeremy had often teased Sabrina that the man was interested in more than her art. Jeremy felt secure enough in his marriage to fire off a few silly comments like that from time to time. Bu
t looking at how Brant had his meaty arm draped around his wife's slender frame, the joke was suddenly on him.

  His heart sped up as Brant's mouth locked with his wife's lips. Instead of fighting off his advances, she energetically met his passion. For a long minute, they made out like teenagers in the driveway. And then the bastard swooped up Jeremy’s laughing wife in his powerful arms.

  As the bastard carried Jeremy’s wife into his home, adding injury to insult, the anger building inside Jeremy detonated, and he violently pulled away from the telescope.

  The shadows had lengthened inside the observatory, milky sunlight shafting into the ominous structure throughout the patchwork of holes in the ceiling. It was almost as if time itself had sped up while he’d peered through the telescope, and it was now much later in the day than when he entered the observatory. Snow drifted down from the holes in the domed ceiling and carpeted the floor.

  Jeremy searched the cavernous space for Ralf, his blood boiling with fury, his hands clenched into fists, but his friend was gone.

  And then he saw the buck he'd shot back in the forest. The creature loomed about twenty feet away from him in the darkness, a nightmare cast from shadows. Jeremy could see the gaping red hole where his bullet had entered its flesh, saw the wolf head twist in his direction, turning his blood to ice.

  As Jeremy's gaze met the dark eyes of the hybrid beast which now resembled hypnotic spiral, his hands gripped his rifle, and his soul went cold.

  He knew what needed to do.

  Before the night was over, he would make his wife pay for her terrible betrayal.

  Chapter Two

  Icy air lashed my face as I took in the snow-covered mountain wilderness around me. Despite the sporty winter gear I was wearing, I wasn't immune to the freezing temperatures and unsuccessfully fought back a shiver.