Ghost Walk (6 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

There was no danger of Richard Henry being missed, but Sam Freeman and Rhonda Garrett had families and friends who would note their absence. Like some of the others among the Thirteen, such as Ob of the Siqqusim, Nodens had the ability to pick through its victim’s memories and experiences before it devoured them. It had done so with Sam and Rhonda, scanning their lives and the moments leading up to their arrival at the doorway. The teenagers had arrived at the hollow that morning in Sam’s car, a Mustang GT. The vehicle was parked at the edge of the forest, along with those belonging to the other volunteers. Nodens had Rhonda retrieve the car keys from Sam. Then, to prevent discovery, Nodens sent Rhonda to move the automobile while Richard and Sam stood guard around the circle. There were too many humans in the woods now. Sending its pawns out to collect more of them was too risky. If they abducted another, it might arouse suspicion. They could be overpowered.

Instead, it would wait. Nodens knew patience well.

Nodens was hungry. The desire to totally consume these three, to drain their physical forms of energy, to snuff them out like candles, was strong. It was hungry. But not yet. The other sigils needed to be removed first. The doorway must be opened. Then it would feed.

The sun began its descent. In a few hours, darkness would reclaim the forest.

And in a few more days, when the walls between the worlds were at their thinnest, Nodens would do the same, and then spread out into the world, bringing eternal darkness in its wake.

Ken nodded at Rhonda as she walked past him. Sweat ran into his eyes. He hoisted a dummy into the air. A noose was around the dummy’s neck. Ken had tossed the other end of the rope over a sturdy oak tree branch jutting out over the trail. Customers would have to walk directly beneath the hanging “victim” as they made their way along the path.

“How you doing, Rhonda? You and Sam finished up for the day?”

Without stopping, Rhonda nodded. She kept her gaze averted, staring straight ahead. Ken noticed that her shoes and jeans were smudged with dirt and ashes. More filth covered her hands and the back of her neck. Twigs and leaves dangled from her hair.

“I was looking for you guys earlier,” Ken said. “Thought maybe you’d left already.”

Rhonda didn’t respond.

Ken tied off the rope and flexed his aching fingers. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Ripple.” She kept walking, not turning to face him. “Sorry. We didn’t hear you calling for us before.”

“Well, that’s okay. I just want you kids to know how much I appreciate your help. Couldn’t do this without you.”

“It’s no problem. Really. I have to get going now. I’m late.”

Rhonda rounded a curve in the trail and disappeared from sight. Sam heard leaves and twigs crunching beneath her feet.

“Don’t mention it,” he muttered. “Wouldn’t want to in-convenience you.”

Ken noticed that she hadn’t looked at him. Hadn’t let him see her eyes. The girl’s reaction was uncharacteristic. Usually, Rhonda was friendly and outgoing. Terry called her a chatterbox. This wasn’t like her at all. She seemed sullen. Maybe she’d gotten into a fight with her boyfriend. That might explain why they hadn’t completed their tasks earlier.

“Oh well. Kids…”

Shaking his head, Ken studied his handiwork. The dummy swung slowly back and forth like a pendulum. The rope creaked against the rough tree bark. Ken grinned at the sound—it would add to the ambience. The dummy’s clothing had been splattered with red paint. He debated hiding a spotlight in the undergrowth beside the trail and positioning it to shine on the dummy, but decided against it. The sight would be more effective in darkness.

“Perfect.”

He glanced up at the sky. The sun was a red ball. The clouds glowed, tinted with orange and yellow hues. It was a beautiful sight. Ken enjoyed it for a moment, wishing Deena was there to see it with him. How many evening walks had they taken together through the woods behind their house? How many sunsets had they watched together, not knowing that those moments weren’t infinite?

He remembered one in particular. His favorite. Early in the morning, on their fifth wedding anniversary, Ken packed a picnic lunch—crackers, cheese, fruit and vegetables, bottled water, whipped cream. He put it all in a wicker basket, grabbed a beach blanket from the hall closet, and then left the house. When Deena woke up, she found a note from him in the kitchen, telling her to get dressed and walk down to the edge of their property. She’d find further instructions along the banks of the stream that served as their lot’s boundary line. Deena found a second note nailed to a tree along the creek. That one told her to follow the trail along the brook. She kept following the notes Ken had left behind like a trail of bread crumbs until she found him. The blanket was spread out along the stream bank. They’d sat there all day, eating their lunch, swimming, making love, and then swimming again. The land was owned by the Sportsman’s Club, of which Ken was a member, so they didn’t have to worry about anyone stumbling across them. They stayed all day and when sunset came, they’d watched it curled up together on the blanket.

Now his sunsets were solitary affairs.

Ken sighed. The loneliness made his stomach ache. Tired and sore, he trudged back toward the exit. It would be night soon, and he’d watch another sunset by himself. It occurred to him that the reporter was probably on her way. Ken decided to get ready for the interview to take his mind off of things.

All around him, the shadows lengthened.

Rhonda unlocked Sam’s car and slipped behind the wheel. Before starting the vehicle, she rummaged through the glove compartment and found a pair of sunglasses. She put them on, hiding her obsidian eyes. Then she turned the headlights on and drove away, navigating winding, treacherous back roads. She passed cornfields and pastures and farm houses. The homes were shuttered for the night. Lights glowed softly behind their curtains.

Soon, there would be no lights at all. They’d be snuffed out, consumed by the living darkness.

The back roads gave way to main roads. She did the speed limit and obeyed all traffic laws. She drove in silence, staring straight ahead. She did not turn on the radio or Sam’s iPod. When her cell phone rang, she ignored it. She had no family or friends now. She was part of something bigger and greater.

Eventually, she reached Route 30. She drove east, crossing the Susquehanna River and into Lancaster County. She took the first exit off the highway and cruised through the bucolic riverside town of Columbia, passing antique shops, beauty salons, small cafes, and used bookstores. The streets were relatively empty.

At the other side of town, she pulled into the parking lot of a Safeway grocery store and parked the car at the far end, away from the overhead lights. Most of the spaces were full—cars, trucks, and a few Amish buggies. Rhonda turned off the car and headlights, exited the vehicle, locked the doors, and walked away. She stared straight ahead. Her stride had purpose. She passed by a mother pushing both a shopping cart and a baby stroller. The baby began to cry. The mother hushed her child. Rhonda felt their fear. It was made stronger by the fact that neither human knew why they were afraid.

The last hint of the sun disappeared below the horizon and darkness engulfed the town. Rhonda slipped into the shadows. Consumed with their own lives and agendas, nobody else in the parking lot even noticed her.

Except for one person.

Levi Stoltzfus was putting his grocery bags in the back of his buggy when he saw the girl. She was young and pretty, dressed immodestly and wearing dark sunglasses at night. But that wasn’t why he noticed her.

Her aura was what attracted his attention. It was black.

All human beings have auras. Levi had been able to see them since birth, and his father and grandfather had taught him how to read them. Their colors varied, encompassing the entire spectrum. A trained eye could tell if a person was healthy or sick, happy or sad, just by noting the color of their aura. Different colors meant different things. But auras were never black. At least, not human auras.

Black meant something else.

His horse, Dee, whinnied nervously as the girl passed near them. Pointedly turning his attention away from the young woman, Levi patted the animal’s neck and stroked its mane, whispering soothing words of assurance that only the horse could hear.

“Easy now, Dee. I feel it, too. Calm down. This too shall pass.”

Her footsteps echoed on the blacktop. His free hand drifted to his coat, patting the bulge over his left breast. A battered copy of
The Long Lost Friend
lay snuggled in his inner pocket. It had been his father’s, and his father’s before him. The front page of the book held the following inscription:
Whoever carries
this book with him is safe from all his enemies, visible or
invisible; and whoever has this book with him cannot die without
the holy corpse of Jesus Christ, nor be drowned in any water,
nor burn up in any fire, nor can any unjust sentence be
passed upon him
.

Levi had never had reason to doubt it, except for maybe the last part—the bit about unjust sentences. His excommunication from his church and professed faith still chafed at his pride, even after all these years. It had cost him everything—his love, his friends, his community. He didn’t like being an outsider, didn’t like being alone. Who would? But still, it was God’s will, and a small cross to bear, all things considered.

As his father, Amos, used to say when he thought no one else was listening, “Thou shalt not suffer a witch or a charismatic evangelical Christian to live.”

Dee stomped her hooves and whinnied again. The air grew colder as the girl passed by. Across the parking lot, a baby shrieked. Dogs barked somewhere in the night. Levi mouthed a silent prayer:

“The cross of Christ be with me. The cross of Christ overcomes all water and every fire. The cross of Christ overcomes all weapons. The cross of Christ is a perfect sign and blessing to my soul. Now I pray that the holy corpse of Christ bless me against all evil things, words, and works.”

The young woman stopped a few yards away from him. Levi stole a quick glance at her. The girl turned her head toward him. Levi saw his reflection in her sunglasses. Dispensing with pretense, he continued out loud, his voice barely a whisper, issuing a challenge of sorts.

“Enoch and Elias, the two prophets, were never imprisoned, nor bound, nor beaten, and came out of their power. Thus, no one of my enemies must be able to injure or attack me in my body or my life, in the name of God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.
Ut nemo in sense tentat, descendere
nemo. At pre cedenti spectatur mantica tergo
.”

Ignoring him, the girl walked on. Dee calmed down after she was past them. Levi kept petting the horse, watching her go. Darkness swirled around her, blacker than the surrounding night. Levi shivered. He suddenly felt very cold. His stomach clenched and his breath caught in his throat.

Something was very wrong with the girl. She wasn’t human. Well, she had been at one time—recently, judging by her appearance. But no more. Now, she was something else. Not evil. Levi had faced evil many times, had seen it reflected in both human and inhuman beings. The girl wasn’t satanic. He was sure of it. If she had been, she would have responded to his challenge. This was something else, something beyond the Judeo-Christian pantheon or any of the world’s other major religions. Whatever the girl was—possessed, otherworldly projection, or pan-dimensional manifestation—she wasn’t evil. Her presence went beyond evil. He sensed it. Saw it in the girl’s aura. In the way she’d ignored his prayer.

Levi had some experience in such matters.

The Lord had put him here, that much was certain. God had sent him to the Safeway for groceries tonight so that their paths would cross. So that he would recognize the threat. This was his calling. His birthright. His curse.

He sighed. It was still a long ride home, and there was much to do once he got there. Levi rented a small, one-story house in Marietta. His neighbors pretty much left him alone, whispering quietly to each other about “the nice Amish man next door.” Levi found that mildly irritating. He’d tried explaining to them over and over that he was no longer Amish, but they still insisted on referring to him as such. Maybe it was because he still preferred the long beard of his former people, or perhaps because he still adhered to their plain dress code: black pants and shoes, a white, button-down shirt, suspenders, and a black dress coat, topped off with a wide-brimmed straw hat. Or because he drove a horse and buggy rather than a gas-guzzling SUV.

The rental property had a two-car garage out back. One half had been converted into a stable for Dee; Levi had turned the other section into a woodshop. During the week, he made various goods—coat and spoon racks, plaques, lawn ornaments, and other knickknacks—and sold them every Saturday at the local antiques market. It was an honest, decent living. The Lord provided. But Levi also had another, more secret occupation.

He worked powwow, as his father had, and his father before him. Patients, mostly the elderly who remembered the old ways, or the poor who couldn’t afford the more modern methods, came to him seeking treatments for various ailments and maladies. He dealt with everything from the common cold to arthritis. Occasionally, he’d be called upon for more serious matters: stopping bleeding or mending a broken bone. He usually saw two or three patients a month—not nearly as many as his father had tended to when he was alive—but, modern age, modern sensibilities. People didn’t need his help anymore. They didn’t even need doctors. Modern man had the Internet—a font of medical knowledge. The first thing Levi had done when he left the congregation was purchase a computer and dial-up Internet service. He hoped the Lord would grant him enough money to get a cable modem, but so far, none had been forthcoming. Levi loved the Internet. It symbolized all that was right and wrong with mankind. He found it fascinating. And useful to his trade. Many times, he’d exchanged notes and information with others around the world—faith healers, witch doctors, warlocks, shamans, hougans. Their differences in beliefs didn’t matter. They all answered to a higher purpose, and they all had something in common. They were outsiders, Levi and the others.