The Coldwater Haunting

by Michael Richan

  Ron sighed. “Some specifics would be nice.”

  “I’m going to carefully meter what I tell you until I decide if I’m in agreement with your desire to clean your place,” Abe replied. “When you find something exceptional and exquisite, you don’t just chop it into pieces like a brute. With that in mind, I will share with you a little about this book so that you can develop a better understanding of what you’re living with.”

  “That would be appreciated,” Ron replied.

  “The book is both a set of instructions – a plan – and an execution of a plan, a kind of backup of the steps, to ensure they remain in effect. There are no reasons or strategies here, those are all assumed, I guess. This is just a design.”

  “Alright,” Ron replied.

  “The designers of this plan, do they have a name?” Abe asked.

  “I assume it’s the Coldwaters,” Ron answered. “Mrs. Hughes said her father stole this book from them – or, rather, from their house.”

  “OK,” Abe said, retuning his gaze to the book, “the Coldwaters then. Highly committed people. It takes a relentless focus to go through steps like these. They must have really, really hated the other party, who were they?”

  “The Hughes family,” Ron replied.

  “They were dabbling in things extremely dark, very potent and virulent. It’s a good thing you left when you did, Terrell. This would have consumed you. It would have consumed anyone with the gift, turning their abilities against themselves and draining their strength for its own purposes.”

  “That sounds a little like gobbledygook to me,” Ron said.

  “It’s all here,” Abe replied, turning the pages. “Many dark rites. No doubt the houses that burned suffered attacks similar to the one you’re experiencing now; terror at its worst. Am I right? You have seen things, have you not?”

  “All kinds of bizarre things,” Jake offered.

  “My family needs to move in soon,” Ron replied. “How do I stop it? I need this to end before they come. Does that book offer a way for me to shut it all down?”

  “I beg you to reconsider,” Abe said. “This needs to be studied. It’s unusual to find one of these, operational, functioning, and it really needs to be properly investigated and researched, so that…”

  Ron cut him off. “You’re suggesting I just live with it? The previous two houses burned down, probably at the hands of the Coldwaters, and with people inside them. People who died!”

  “Just move out,” Abe replied cavalierly. “Donate the house. I know several organizations that would be happy to receive it, to…”

  Ron cut him off again. “Are you out of your mind? I can’t afford to donate the house! I don’t have that kind of money!”

  “Really?” Abe asked. “You don’t have a benefactor who might step in?”

  “Benefactor?” Ron turned to Terrell. “Who the fuck is this guy?”

  Terrell tried to formulate a reply, but Abe jumped in before he could. “Fine, fine. It’s a shame, though. A real loss.”

  Ron reached the end of his patience. “Can you tell me how to fix it or not? I’m not going to turn it into a lab experiment or a museum. I’ve decided to fight this thing, and I intend to win. That house belongs to me, not the Coldwaters, not the former owners, not the ghosts or whatever the fuck they are. I want them out. I’ll do whatever I have to.”

  Abe looked at him; a smile slowly spread across his face. “Good…good. That’s what I wanted to know.” He flipped through the book. “It’s not easy. You’ll need to maintain that fortitude. Let’s hope it isn’t just hot air, this little emphatic demonstration of yours.”

  “Just tell me how,” Ron said, taking a deep breath.

  “And you’ll have to do it yourself.” Abe looked up at Jake. “Are you gifted? Even a little?”

  “Gifted?” Jake replied. “I don’t think so.”

  “Good, then you can help him. It would be unwise for Terrell or myself to set foot anywhere near that mountain, and god knows your friend is going to need some assistance. We’ll do what we can from here, but you two will have to do the grunt work.”

  “That’s what I normally do,” Jake replied, giving Ron a smile.

  “I think I have a plan,” Abe said, turning back to Ron. “But I’m afraid it’s dangerous and fairly gruesome. So, step one, before we go through with it, I want you to verify that what I think is happening is really what is happening.”

  “Just tell me what to do,” Ron said. “We’ll do it.”

  “Within reason,” Jake added.

  “You’ll need to go down to the basement,” Abe said, “and check out a few things.”

  “Basement?” Ron asked. “What, here?”

  “No, not here!” Abe replied. “At your place.”

  “There’s no basement,” Ron replied. “There’s a crawlspace, but it’s not more than three or four feet tall.”

  Abe smiled. “There is a basement. And I suspect it’s the focal point, the spot your enemies chose to set up shop. You’ll need to go down into it, and check to see if…”

  “Wait, wait…” Ron said, cutting him off. “I don’t think you understand. There is no basement.”

  Abe smiled patiently. “There is. It is there. You can’t see it, but it is there, it was part of one of the earlier houses at that spot. It might have been filled in before your current house was built. If I’m right, it’s a busy place, and the source of most of your troubles. I need you to go down into it, and check it out.”

  Ron was beginning to think the trip to Port Angeles was a bad idea, that Abe might be making things up. “How do you expect me to enter a place I can’t see?”

  “If it were Terrell or I,” Abe continued, “it wouldn’t present much of a challenge. But that isn’t possible; in this case, the same gift that would allow us to enter your basement prohibits us from doing so. You, on the other hand, are a simple skeptic, an unenlightened naif. You aren’t subject to the danger that Terrell or I would face, since you have absolutely no gift whatsoever.”

  “Thank you,” Ron said. “I think.”

  “You’re welcome. As you cannot naturally cross the transition into the basement, you’ll have to do it artificially, with the help of some items. If we’re lucky, they’ll be compatible with you; seems like there’s already been some success along these lines.”

  “Oh,” Ron replied. “You mean, like that nazar? The one I found that sunk into my palm?”

  “Precisely,” Abe replied. “I can’t just give you one, you’ll need one that’s designed for that land. Based on what Terrell has told me, it sounds as if they’re growing in the forest.” He rose from his chair and walked to a shelf, where he removed a large book. “Harvest a few of them, and then we’ll combine it with this.” He opened the book; it was hollow, filled with small bottles secured in foam. He removed two small ones and handed them to Ron.

  Ron took them and held one up to the light; it was tiny, not more than half an inch tall, and capped with a small cork stopper. The glass was dark brown, and it was half full of liquid.

  “It will be the combination of the nazar with what I just gave you,” Abe continued, “that will allow you to cross the transition and enter the basement. You’re not gifted, so things are going to seem very fuzzy to you, and you may be confused and unable to think straight. You’ll need to summon your resolve and push on, find the transition, pass through, and observe. Note everything.”

  “What am I looking for?” Ron asked, still staring at the bottle.

  “There could be any number of intrigues there,” Abe replied. “The stuff in that bottle only lasts a little while. It’s different for every person; it might last thirty seconds, or it might last a couple of minutes. Regardless, it’s a very short period of time, so I suggest you make sure you are doing it right: don’t get distracted. Find the basement, go into it, and memorize everything you see. After you’re done, give Terrell a call. Depending on what you report, it will inform the rest of my plan.”


  “Two bottles?” Ron replied. “Take the second one if the first one doesn’t work?”

  “The first one will work,” Abe replied. “Save the second one for later. If I’m right, you’re going to need it down the road.”

  Ron was completely unsure how to locate a basement he didn’t believe existed, despite suggesting to Abe that he was up to it. Somehow, Abe’s certainty that it was there carried him along. He wanted to hear whatever the man’s theory was, regardless of how ludicrous he thought it might be. As Abe finished, Ron sighed, then said, “Alright. I think I can do that.”

  “Good,” Abe replied. “One word of warning. The entity might be there. In fact, there’s a very good chance he’s there. You ingested your ghostly friend’s beer just before your conversation with this Ezra, did you not?” Abe asked.

  “I did. He left a six pack at my place. Four cans left.”

  “Good. I suspect that means an agent in the beer was needed – along with the nazar, of course – for you to interact with the entity. Do not, under any circumstances, have any more of that beer before you go into the basement. In fact, I think it might be a wise idea for you to protect yourself. Terrell, when we’re done here, will you instruct him on the Heraclitean invocation, since I think that’s where things are headed.”

  “But he’s not gifted,” Terrell objected. “How would it…”

  “He’ll have the nazar in his system,” Abe replied. “It won’t be comprehensive, but if he’s quick and silent, it might be enough to shield him from detection. That’s all we’re trying to accomplish, that and whatever he sees with his eyes. It’s the simplest way, and simple is best when dealing with the ungifted.”

  Ron raised a hand to his forehead, rubbing at it in an attempt to forestall what felt like an impending headache. The rational part of his brain, still running at full speed under the layers of bizarre, weird, and outright lunacy that had piled up on top of it the past few weeks, was screaming for him to throw on the brakes, make a speech about how ridiculous it all was, and walk out. By running his fingers along his brow, feeling the wrinkles there and the hardness of his skull under the skin, he was able to temper the impulse. Just let this play out, he thought. You drove all the way up here. Just take in what he’s saying. Don’t freak out, don’t insult him by calling it all bullshit, like you want to.

  Breathe.

  Breathe.

  “OK,” Terrell said. “I’ll show him how to do it.”

  “Good,” Abe replied, turning back to Ron. “Alright, got it? Go in, observe, and come back out. Don’t stay long, try to be quiet and unobserved. Call me once you find out what’s down there.”

  “And then?” Ron asked, still rubbing his forehead.

  “If I’m right, and I usually am, we’ll take the next steps. I can see you’re already overloaded, so I don’t want to confuse you with a lot more information that may not be relevant. That’ll come if and when the basement plays out as expected.”

  “I’d rather know,” Ron replied, lowering his hand, attempting to appear more confident. “Tell me now.”

  “I don’t think so,” Abe replied, smiling. “I may be old, but my age has allowed me to intuit a thing or two about people. You, my friend, are a baseless skeptic. That’s fine; the world needs doubters and cynics. They’re very entertaining. However, it has been my experience that skeptics often miss important details when the chips are down. They let their tendency for sensible thinking get in the way of other things, and their brains twist the truth of what they’ve seen to comport with the norms of rational thought. You say you’re dedicated to solving your problem, but I’m not so sure you’re ready for the gruesome work that’s ahead of you. Let’s see how you do with the basement. We’ll go from there.”

  “I feel like I’d be flying blind,” Ron said. “If you know what’s going on – or, rather, if you suspect you know – you should tell me what it is. I can handle it.”

  “No, you cannot,” Abe said, rising from his chair and leading them to the door. “You’ve been flying blind for quite a while now. Another day won’t change things.” He turned to Terrell. “Make sure he knows the invocation.”

  “Will do,” Terrell replied, opening the door.

  “Give Terrell a call when you’re finished,” Abe said as they walked out. “He’ll bring that infernal gadget over, and we’ll all have another talk.” Abe stopped, giving him a good, long look. “I wish I could say I’m confident you’ll succeed. The look on your face makes me think you have reservations.”

  “It’s just…” Ron began, then stopped. He took a breath, unable to resist any longer. “It’s all just so insane. Crazy. These things you’re asking me to do. They’re…”

  “Irrational?” Abe offered.

  “I was going to say ridiculous.”

  Abe stood close to Ron. “Your house is full of problems, my friend. Paranormal problems. Not rats or termites or bad wiring, not normal problems. Paranormal. You’re going to have to do a few non-normal things if you want to combat it. Irrational things. Things that might seem ridiculous. Feel free to consider them preposterous, if you like, but keep in mind that the forces aligned against you couldn’t be further from that. They’re deadly serious. You’ll want to figure that out and step up, or you’ll be bringing a pea shooter to a war.” He stepped back inside. “Half the people I send off to do things like this I never see again, so I’ll wish you au revoir!”

  The door closed. Ron almost felt as though he’d been kicked out; insulted first, dressed down, then kicked out. He looked at Jake, and then at Terrell.

  “That’s Abe,” Terrell said, shrugging. “He knows what he’s talking about. I promise.”

  “Right,” Ron replied, realizing it sounded more sarcastic than he intended. “I guess you’re going to show me something? This invocation he mentioned?”

  “Yeah,” Terrell replied, leading them through the garden toward the arbor. “Let’s go back to my place. I can write it down for you.”

  - - -

  “So, I shouldn’t drink these beers?” Jake yelled from the kitchen.

  “The ones with the purple labels?” Ron called back. “No, don’t touch them.”

  Jake walked into the living room carrying a different beer. “Good thing I thought to ask. You think they’re all laced, or just the one he offered you?”

  “I have no idea,” Ron replied, looking at the little pile of nazars resting on the coffee table in front of him. Abe suggested checking the underside of ferns, and it hadn’t taken him and Jake more than a half hour of looking before they found a handful, collecting them with gloves. Sitting next to the pile were the tiny bottles Abe had given to him.

  “So, beer plus one of those things, you’d see the devil upstairs again?” Jake asked, dropping onto the sofa.

  “That’s the way it worked last time.”

  “But no beer this time,” Jake said. “Just the stuff Abe gave you.”

  “Right.” Ron looked up at his friend. “Does this seem completely crazy to you?”

  Jake belched from his beer. “It’s seemed crazy since the first day. This is just more crazy.”

  “I mean, how can there be a basement? You’ve seen that crawlspace.”

  “I don’t know if they fully excavated the older foundation,” Jake replied, “but it wouldn’t take much to fill the whole thing in with a bulldozer. In fact, I think they brought in more dirt and re-leveled it all anyway. The new foundation was probably built on top of that. If Abe’s right.”

  “He called it a transition,” Ron replied, picking up one of the nazars with his fingers, careful not to let it settle in his palm. “A transition between what?”

  “I would guess Freedom would say it’s a transition between this time and an earlier time,” Jake offered. “Something like that.”

  “I’m going back in time?”

  “No, you’re not time travelling, you’re going to check out something that existed physically long ago, but now exists in a d
ifferent way. Like a ghost. Used to be real and alive, now it’s dead, but still around.”

  “Your explanation is even more fucked up than time traveling,” Ron replied, placing the nazar firmly in his palm. “You want to see this? I’m gonna do it now.”

  Jake stood and approached him, then bent over to look at Ron’s hand.

  The object just sat on Ron’s palm, unmoving.

  “How long did it take, last time?” Jake asked.

  “I wasn’t really focusing on it,” Ron answered, looking up at him. “It just kind of happened.”

  “Ah, look!”

  Ron glanced back down at his hand; the last edges of the nazar still showed above his skin, but a second later it completely disappeared into his palm, leaving a ring of red dots.

  “I guess a watched pot never boils,” Jake replied, sitting back down.

  “Huh,” Ron said. “Last time it hurt like a son of a bitch. This time it just went right in, no questions asked.”

  “Maybe it likes you.”

  Ron reached for the vial and uncorked it. “You gonna keep an eye on me, right?”

  “Right. Too bad I can’t go with you.”

  “There’s plenty of nazars here if you’d rather be the one.”

  “No, that’s OK, you’ve had more experience with it. I might do it wrong.”

  “Fine. Just make sure I don’t walk off the roof or impale myself on a piece of rebar.”

  “I’ll watch you every second. And don’t forget, you don’t know how much time you have. Don’t stop until you find it, then get out.”

  Ron looked once more at the vial, made up his mind, and tipped it into his mouth, swallowing it down with one gulp. “Huh,” he said. “Tastes like cherries.” He put the vial down, but before he could lean back in his chair, he felt lightheaded. His eyes closed.