Ancient Enemy Box Set [Books 1-4]

by Lukens, Mark

  “Don’t let your father win,” she’d told Eliza on the phone.

  “Not everything’s a competition,” she’d answered back.

  But he had already gotten to Eliza first, buried that fear deep inside of her before she could talk some sense into her. She wanted Eliza to dislike her father as much as she did, but sometimes it only seemed to make her love him more.

  Love? That probably wasn’t even the correct emotion Eliza had for her father, it was probably more like pity. Palmer had been a strong man once, but the drinking and the FBI had torn him down little by little, making him weaker and weaker. And that last case he had worked, the Dig Site Murders, that case had broken him completely.

  Even Gary tried to defend Palmer. He found it perfectly reasonable for Palmer to exhibit post-traumatic stress symptoms after the things he had experienced. He suggested that Palmer see someone, at least talk to a therapist.

  Now Palmer was retired and still living in that tiny condo in the city. She didn’t know what he did all day now, and she wasn’t even sure why he was occupying so much of her thoughts lately. At least he hadn’t started drinking again; she could at least say one good thing about him.

  Teresa rolled over, facing away from Gary. This was how they usually slept, facing in the opposite direction.

  She had closed her eyes again, teetering on the edge of sleep, when a sudden wind rattled the trees outside. It sounded like a hurricane for a moment. She rolled over to see if the howling wind had woken Gary up. He was still sleeping.

  After the wind died back down, she stared up at the ceiling again. The familiar patterns of the leaves and branches were back. She figured she would stare at them for a while until she fell asleep. But now, even though the wind was gone, the patterns seemed to be moving, swirling together, creating serpentine shapes with insect-like legs poking out and then pulling back into the swirling shadows. Little mouths opened at the end of some of the tendrils, jaws opening and closing, revealing sharp little teeth.

  Teresa rolled over onto her side again. She wasn’t going to stare at the shadows on the ceiling tonight. Maybe she had fallen asleep for a second, dreaming those moving shadows for a moment. Again, she blamed Palmer for this; his scary tales had gotten to her, too.

  A noise sounded from deep in the house. There was no mistaking the sound this time. It sounded almost like footsteps, like someone was walking around out there.

  She sat up in bed, her heart beating faster, her skin warming up, her muscles tense. She had to fight the urge to wake Gary up.

  The alarm system is on, she told herself. There can’t be anyone inside or the alarm would have gone off. She looked at the alarm clock on the table next to the bed just to make sure the electricity was still on (even though the security system had a backup battery). The green digital numbers of the alarm clock seemed to float in the darkness like little ghosts.

  She was going to have to get up and check the house; she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep if she didn’t. She picked up the cordless phone and took it with her when she left the bedroom.

  Their house was large. It was a mixture of modern styling and a rustic log cabin. There were a lot of large windows that looked out onto the acres of property all around them, with mountain views in the distance.

  She didn’t bother turning on any of the lights as she made her way into the living room. She stared out the windows. There was no one out there. No vehicles in the large parking area or the driveway that led back down the hill into the trees.

  Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was in the house.

  The killer . . . the one who had done those things to the archaeologists down in that cave in New Mexico.

  Palmer had told her a little about that case, but not too much. She’d gotten vague details from internet sites and the news, but Palmer knew more—he knew what had really happened to those people. She had never pressed him about the details; she had never wanted to know. All she knew was that it had been bad, bad enough to tear him up.

  She checked the keypad on the wall—the alarm system was still armed. There couldn’t be anyone inside the house. She relaxed a little, but she still heard those footsteps in her mind; they had sounded so loud. It had just been her imagination. She still had the cordless phone gripped in her hand. She would’ve felt better with a gun, but Gary was against guns. They had the burglar alarm and the cordless phone, he’d told her—that was good enough for civilized people.

  In the kitchen, she grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. The light from the refrigerator was shockingly bright and it took her eyes a few seconds to readjust to the darkness when she closed the refrigerator door, agonizingly long seconds.

  But she was already feeling better, and feeling tired again. She was sure she would be able to fall back asleep now.

  She froze.

  Footsteps sounded from the other side of the house—from their bedroom.

  It’s Gary. He woke up after I got out of bed. He’s come looking for me, wondering where I am.

  She had an almost overwhelming urge to turn on some lights, but she fought against it. She wasn’t going to act like a scared little girl.

  After marching through the house, she entered their bedroom. And then she stopped cold. Gary wasn’t in bed; he was standing beside it, staring at the open door to their massive walk-in closet across the room.

  “Gary?”

  He didn’t answer her. He didn’t turn her way. He didn’t even flinch. He never took his eyes off of the closet door as he stood there in the dark like a tall and lanky shadow.

  “Gary, are you okay?”

  Still no answer.

  “Were you walking around in here? I was in the kitchen and I heard someone walking around in here.”

  Gary still hadn’t turned her way. From where the bedroom door was, his back was turned slightly towards her. He was still staring at the open door to their walk-in closet. He was watching it.

  Someone’s in there, her mind whispered. It’s the killer.

  “Gary? Gary, answer me.”

  Was he still asleep somehow? Was he sleepwalking? He’d never done that before.

  “Gary, answer me.”

  Her skin was buzzing with fear. She still had the cordless phone in her hand, gripping it tightly like it was a weapon. She had a gut instinct to run out of the room, to dial 911, to scream for help. But she couldn’t leave Gary.

  Teresa walked to the foot of the bed, then around it, towards Gary. When she got closer to him, she saw his face. He looked ghostly pale. His eyes were wide and bulging from the sockets, his mouth hanging open, his body rigid, like he was paralyzed. He stared at the closet door with a horror-movie look of pure fright, almost an over-exaggerated expression.

  A bumping sound came from inside the closet; something was moving around in there.

  Her eyes darted to the black rectangle of the doorway in the darkness. She saw nothing beyond that wall of darkness.

  “We have to go,” she told Gary, grabbing his arm. His muscles were tense, rock-hard, and she couldn’t make him move or turn her way.

  Movement from the ceiling above them caught her eye. She couldn’t help looking up at the patterns of leaves and tree branches there. They were moving again like they had earlier, swirling, writhing in and out of each other like a mass of snakes. But some of those tendrils were dropping down from the ceiling like thick spider webs. The webbing fell down delicately on Gary, laying down on his head and shoulders like black lace.

  She drew her hand back from Gary. She took a step back away from him. She still had the cordless phone in her hand. She dialed 911 with trembling fingers, ready to scream for help into the phone. It rang once in her ear and then someone picked up.

  “Help us!” Teresa screamed into the phone.

  All she heard was a heavy breathing on the phone and then someone whispering her name: “Teresa.”

  The phone slipped from her hand, falling to the floor. She stared at Gary
. He still hadn’t moved a muscle, but now he grunted through his open mouth, almost like he was choking. His mouth opened wider. At first she thought it was his tongue bulging out from his mouth, but then she realized that it was the black tendrils from the ceiling wriggling out from between his lips and teeth, pushing his mouth open even wider, the tendrils snaking down his face, one of them poking right into his eye.

  “Teresa,” a man whispered from the closet.

  She couldn’t help it, she turned towards the closet and saw a man standing in front of it—the killer. She tried to run, but she’d been a few seconds too late, something grabbed her hand, then it wrapped around her arm—the tendrils from Gary’s mouth. She tried to pull away from them, but they were too strong.

  CHAPTER 15

  Begay

  Iron Springs, New Mexico

  It was only an hour after sunup when Begay pulled into David’s driveway. He parked behind Awenita’s minivan and shut his truck off. His truck was a Ford F-250, only five years old now, a retirement present to himself.

  He got out and walked to the front door. Awenita opened the door right after he knocked. She had a smile on her face. She was always up early.

  “David told me you were coming by this morning to pick him up,” she said.

  Begay nodded at her. “Is he ready to go?”

  “Almost.” She opened the door wider. “You got time for a cup of coffee?”

  “I never turn down coffee.”

  Begay followed Awenita into the kitchen. She poured him a cup of coffee and set it down in front of him. “Cream or sugar?”

  “No,” he said, putting a thick hand out to stop her. “I’m trying to cut back on the sugar.”

  “I’ve got some Sweet-n-Low.”

  Begay shrugged. “That would be great.”

  She grabbed a box of the artificial sweetener from the cabinet and pulled a few packets out for Begay. She cleared a cereal bowl and juice glass off the table, bringing them to the kitchen sink.

  David entered the kitchen.

  “Morning, David,” Begay said.

  He nodded at Begay. “Morning.” He looked at his aunt. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  “I probably won’t be here when you get back. You got your house key?”

  “Got it.”

  Begay took another gulp of his coffee and then he and David went outside. It felt good to be outside again. He liked Awenita, but no matter how pleasant they were to each other, she reminded him of the past, of the horrors both of them had gone through.

  They got into Begay’s pickup truck and Begay started it and drove away.

  “I don’t know if Billy Nez is going to be able to help you,” Begay said when they were outside of Iron Springs.

  “It won’t hurt to try, will it?”

  Begay shook his head. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up. Billy is not like Joe Blackhorn. He’s not a true medicine man.”

  “But he has some kind of knowledge,” David said, staring at him. “Or you wouldn’t be taking me to see him.”

  David was correct about that. Begay gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, not sure how to explain the rest. “Billy knows a lot of the old ways. And there are some who say he knows about the darker side of things.”

  “You mean like witchcraft?” David asked.

  Begay just shrugged. “I’m not saying that. Others have said that.”

  David didn’t say anything; he just stared out the passenger window for a while.

  Begay was sure that David knew how Billy Nez might feel, he was sure David knew what it was like to have people whisper behind his back. He was sure David knew what it was like for people to assume he was a witch. Or a curse.

  They drove for a while, but they didn’t talk much more. David seemed nervous. Maybe he was nervous about meeting Billy Nez, and Begay was sure that he hadn’t helped things by telling him about the rumors that surrounded Billy, but he felt that it needed to be said, that David needed to go into this with his eyes wide open.

  Begay thought of the phone call he’d gotten from Agent Palmer last night. Former Agent. Palmer seemed sure it was happening again, as sure as David was. Begay could try to counter both of their arguments; he could try to come up with rational reasons why it wasn’t true, why it couldn’t be true. But why bother? He could feel it, too. He could feel something sinister in the clear desert air, something dark on the horizon, a wave of death coming. And he felt helpless to stop it.

  Begay had called Billy Nez’s phone last night and he’d gotten Billy’s daughter—Doli. He told her that he really needed to see her father. She was nervous, tense even though he wasn’t part of the Tribal Police anymore. She told him that she would let Billy know he wanted to see him. Begay wasn’t sure if Doli would actually relay his message to Billy, but he made sure that she understood that he would be coming by this morning; he wasn’t going away.

  *

  An hour later Begay drove down the dirt drive to Billy’s mobile home. Even though it had been seven years since he’d been here, it seemed like yesterday. Not much had changed; the three rusted trailers were still there, the old cars and trucks were still parked off the side of the road, tucked away in the mass of weeds and brush. The vehicles were a little rustier, the weeds a little taller, the brush a little thicker. The trailer home still looked the same, the weedy front lawn—half sand and half scrub brush—was littered with trash, toys, and other junk. The doghouse was still at the back end of the first trailer, but there was no dog in there now, just a chain attached to the doghouse, the chain snaked across the yard. Doli’s battered gray Chevy Impala was parked near the front of the first trailer and it seemed to be the only operable vehicle there.

  It felt like Begay had slipped back into time for a moment, like he was back in his old Ford Bronco and Agent Palmer was in the passenger seat. But only for a moment.

  He pulled up within fifteen feet of the first trailer with its weathered and petrified wooden deck. The front door flew open and two kids rushed out, obviously excited to see visitors to their home.

  Begay got out and the kids rushed up to him, a boy and a girl; the boy was probably about nine or ten years old and the girl was maybe six or seven.

  Doli stood in the doorway. She was pregnant and she still looked just like she had seven years ago. She had the same long dark hair and the same blank expression. “Leave them alone,” she told her kids in Navajo.

  “Who are you?” the little girl asked Begay in English.

  “My name’s Begay. What’s your name?”

  “Kai,” the girl answered. “That’s my brother Yas.”

  “Who’s that?” Yas asked, pointing at David.

  “His name is David Bear.”

  Doli told the kids again to leave them alone, but they ignored her. Begay had the feeling that they ignored her a lot. He saw a wild streak in the children, the same wild streak Billy had in him, the same wild streak that had gotten him into trouble so many times through the years.

  “I need to see your grandfather,” Begay told the kids. He felt he might have a better chance getting answers out of the kids rather than Doli.

  “He’s down by the river,” Yas blurted out.

  “But he wants to be alone,” Kai warned.

  “Well, this is very important,” Begay said. He looked at Doli in the doorway of the trailer.

  “I can show you where he is,” Yas offered.

  “You’ll stay here,” his mom snapped. It was the first time she’d shown any real emotion in her voice or on her face.

  And this time her children listened, knowing when they had crossed the line.

  Begay stared at Doli, waiting.

  She gave a slight nod at the woods, giving her permission, but she said nothing else.

  David followed Begay along the trail through the woods. The farther they went, the closer they got to the lazy river flowing by. Ten minutes later they came to Billy’s sweat lodge. Billy sat on a big rock not too far away
from the mud hut. It looked like he’d been waiting there for them to show up. His eyes were glassy and Begay wondered what he’d been smoking all morning.

  “Billy Nez,” Begay said.

  Billy looked older, but somehow still the same. His dark face was lined with wrinkles, his black hat pulled down low, his shirt unbuttoned down to his belly button. He nodded but offered no greeting in return to Begay. He looked at David and seemed intrigued by the sight of him.

  “You remember David Bear,” Begay said to Billy. “He was training with Joe Blackhorn until he died.”

  Billy nodded again. “Yes, I remember.”

  “David needs your help,” Begay said. “Those murders at the dig site, the things that happened at the ghost town, I believe all of it may be happening again. I believe the Darkwind may be back.”

  CHAPTER 16

  David

  New Mexico

  David stared at Billy Nez. It was like seeing someone he knew, but also someone he couldn’t remember entirely. He felt like he’d seen this person before, and he saw the slight resemblance to the Billy Nez he remembered in Hope’s End, only this man in front of him was taller and a little younger. But there was something recognizable in his face.

  And then David’s eyes were drawn to the necklace Billy wore, the silver charm hanging from it. He knew what was inside that silver sphere: a lock of hair from the other David, the one in Hope’s End, but also himself. He felt slightly nauseous as both memories competed for space in his mind: the memory of Hope’s End, of Billy Nez sawing off a hunk of his hair with the knife, and the ghost town seven years ago. And now David remembered that Begay had worn that same necklace when they were in the ghost town, and that necklace had helped keep the snakes and spiders away from him inside that church.

  “I remember you, David,” Billy said. His eyeballs were as black as onyx stones and set deep in his face under a prominent brow.

  David nodded at him.

  “Is this true?” Billy asked. “Is it back?”