Breaking through into the clearing she was very familiar with, she slid from Tilla’s back and studied the tree turned dark and sad. From a tall branch the remnants of a frayed and singed rope still dangled. The sight made her take a step back as she dropped her gaze to the ground. It was black and desolate; the ground had not yet healed. It remained barren, and she wondered if anything would ever grow there again. She was filled with sadness for what had happened here and for what never should have been lost.
The crack of thunder above her head made her move quickly. It would not do to linger and remember. The cabin offered welcome shelter from the approaching storm. She patted Tilla as she whispered in her ear, “Take cover.” Tilla trotted under the boughs of some nearby trees while Aquene turned to the cabin. The door swung open easily, and she stepped inside just as the first of the rain began to fall.
She had not been inside long when the rain began to fall so furiously she feared the cabin would not stand. Raindrops fell through the roof in several places, and she removed the bag from her waist, setting it where it would stay dry. The light that filtered in from the windows was dim and getting darker as clouds moved in to turn the sky completely black. Wind blew through the missing piece of glass in the corner of one window. The rain did not seem to grow weaker. It was as if a war was being waged in the sky.
Wood was stacked next to the fireplace, dry and ready to use. She thought of the woman who had put the logs here, intending to make a fire to warm her home and her body. She was grateful for the wood, for it would bring her warmth during this storm. It also made her sad, for what had befallen her was wrong, and it distressed her still.
Aquene could not change the past and could not bring the woman back. As she held the logs she took from the pile, she whispered a prayer of thanks, for the fire she built with them chased away both the darkness and the chill beginning to flow through the one-room cabin. Though a small bed sat against one wall, and a table with two benches was near the fireplace, she chose to sit on the floor in front of the fire. She liked the way the waves of warmth washed over her. It made her feel part of the fire and part of the woman who had lived in this place. How nice it would be if they could sit beside each other now and talk. Sadness filled her once more, for it would never be.
The sounds of the storm grew softer, and at first she didn’t understand why, for outside the window the rain still fell as if filled with fury. Slowly she turned and studied the room. She didn’t see the shadows until they moved in a way she was unaccustomed to seeing nighttime spirits move.
Aquene stood and stared. It could not be, yet her eyes were good, her vision sharp. These were not simple shadows that danced from the light of the fire. The shapes were unmistakable—three people and one dog.
She watched for a heartbeat and then began to walk toward them. As the forms appeared to kneel on the floor, she stopped and watched. A flutter raced through her heart. The air seemed to shift, and the warmth that the fire had given to the room fled. A chill that had nothing to do with the disappearing heat from the fire crept through her as she watched one of the specters reach down, and its arm seemed to disappear into the floorboards.
Her curiosity made her move to the same spot in the room, where she noticed the darkened marks on the boards at her feet. It was hard to make them out in the dim light, though she believed them to be the size and shape of fingers. Aquene kneeled and touched the board. It moved against the pressure of her fingers, and she snapped her hand back. When she understood why, she once more touched her fingers to the board. It was loose. Removing it took only a moment, and once it was gone, the space below was revealed to her. So too was the book that lay beneath. She reached down and grasped it.
As her fingertips met the leather cover, a roar filled the cabin and everything went black.
* * *
Matthew studied himself in the mirror and tilted his head. The face that peered back at him was so unlike his normal countenance—more rugged and Western explorer than educated man of the world. He sighed and turned away. It was not the visage of his preference, for it did not speak to the divinity of his soul. Whatever persona he put forth for the world to see, his identity was true in his heart. His job was endless, or so it seemed, and thus he traveled to all corners of the world to do what he must. He endured the hardships, both of body and mind, as they came. He did not embrace discouragement, for he knew his heavenly father would one day bring him home for the godly deeds he had performed as he walked the earth.
He removed the kettle of boiling water from the fire and poured it over the tea in his cup. It was a delicate piece of china with minute blue flowers on it as well as the saucer. It seemed so discordant with this place where everything was rough and primitive. He allowed himself a tiny bit of time for one last moment of refinement before he returned to his mission. Only the crackle of the fire broke the silence around him, and it confirmed that his work in this place was done, and he could leave with a clear heart.
Out there, his true destiny waited. A vision had come to him and shown him what he must do. She had been devious, and he had almost fallen prey to her treachery. But she could never defeat him, and he would find the book she left behind to keep her black magic in the world.
Beyond the window, the sky was beginning to turn dark. It did so like to rain here, and for most that might be a deterrent. For Matthew, it was comforting, for it reminded him of home. He had left that home many years ago and had seen much that the world had to offer in that time. It still gave him comfort to think back on where he had come from, for what he had learned there was immeasurable.
Setting his empty cup back on the saucer, he sighed. Time was passing, and he dared not linger here much longer, regardless of how comfortable he was. Soon Tobias would ride back to Oregon City, and the questions about Prudence would be forthcoming. He did not have the desire to tell Tobias of his sister’s betrayal, for he felt certain the young missionary possessed no knowledge of her bargain with the devil. The truth of his belief lay heavy on his heart, for neither did he understand her treachery until last night. Trickery had been a skill she employed well, for he was a master yet had not seen the signs until he had placed his hands on her. He had touched her with genuine passion while she had undoubtedly intended to dupe him. It hurt his pride to know she had deceived not just her brother, but him as well. For a short time, he had almost envisioned life as a normal man who could love a fine woman and raise a proud family of sons.
How wrong he had been. He knew better too, for he understood his path in this world, and its importance had not diminished in all these many years. Like any good man, he might enjoy carnal pleasures and indeed did so, on occasion, with women of willing hearts. But his pleasure had to be simple and not go beyond satisfaction of the flesh. A wife and family belonged to others and not to him. Ever.
From his pocket, he pulled the fine gold cross that had hung around Prudence’s neck. Just looking at it again made his anger soar. It was an affront to God that she wore something so precious while mocking his goodness. After he had put the rope around her neck, he had taken the cross from her and slipped it into his pocket. He had destroyed her earthly body and sent her soul to hell, where it belonged. Her brother, who even at this moment was out doing God’s work himself, deserved this token of divine love. He would leave it for Tobias, who was a good and honest man.
He understood how it would be for Tobias upon his return. At first, he would be confused by his sister’s absence. He would search for her. They always did. In time, he would find her body, and though he might be upset by her ultimate fate, he would come to understand the truth and the wisdom of what Matthew had been compelled to do. He would know that it was God’s will she be held accountable and, by that very accountability, that she was, in a way, saved. Had she been allowed to live longer, who knew what evil deeds she would have performed and how many innocent lives she would have destroyed. He had done Tobias and Prudence a beneficent service, and someday Tobias would
realize and be grateful.
Matthew started to put the cross on the table and paused. He studied the fine gold piece as it lay in the palm of his hand. The gold was warm against his skin and reminded him of the warmth of Prudence’s hand. In those few seconds, before he had realized what she was, peace and happiness had filled him. He had dared to dream.
He turned his palm this way and that, letting the firelight catch and sparkle on the gold. He sighed and slipped the necklace back into his pocket. Then he strode out the door, mounted his horse, and rode away into the night.
Chapter Five
Present day
Molly couldn’t figure out what was wrong with Loba. Usually she was fearless and a perfect companion, and it never seemed to matter where they were. In fact, her sense of adventure often drew Molly in. It was hard to resist the joy of a German shepherd. Her behavior right now was so out of character that it sent chills up Molly’s back. Nothing she said made a difference, nor did the lure of a good treat. Loba steadfastly refused to come any farther into the room than about three feet right in front of the door, as if she wanted to make certain she could make it back outside in a few seconds. Of course, given Loba’s incredible sense of smell, she could be picking up some noxious odor that they as mere humans couldn’t. For a second, Molly tried to give full rein to her own sense of smell, but honestly, she detected nothing beyond old wood, dust, and a lingering trace of a burned-out fire. This place might be just about ready to give up the ghost, but someone had built a fire in the rock fireplace recently enough that the scent was still detectable.
In short, nothing that would explain Loba’s odd behavior. She gave up. For the moment, she didn’t intend to worry about it. It had to be something she smelled that was putting her off, and if Loba was more comfortable hanging by the door, then let her. They weren’t going to be here long anyway, she hoped.
The violent way the weather had turned from sunny and beautiful to black and stormy was as strange as Loba’s behavior. She’d been enjoying their trek, and Angus had turned out to be a team leader extraordinaire. As many times as she’d driven to Portland, she should have been well acquainted with the landscape along the Umatilla and Columbia rivers. But after today, she had a completely new perspective. It had been loads of fun to hang with Winnie and listen to the interesting history lesson Angus gave as they hiked. The guy had some impressive hidden talents.
Yet now, as they huddled inside the old cabin waiting for the pouring rain to pass, she marveled at how fast the day had shifted. Damp weather wasn’t all that unusual for the area, so she shouldn’t be surprised. But the way the storm had washed away the beauty of the day made her uneasy.
Or perhaps it was something deeper. She couldn’t discount her sensitive nature. Whatever was in the air here seemed to whisper along her skin, and obviously it did more than whisper to Loba, even though she still tried to convince herself Loba was reacting to a bad odor. Maybe that was why they were so close. Perhaps she and Loba were kindred spirits in a preternatural sense, a witch and her familiar. The thought made her smile, which was okay in this century. A few centuries past and just the thought of Loba being a familiar could have easily resulted in her death warrant.
Using the small flashlight she pulled out of her pocket, she began to study the little cabin. It was dim inside, as the storm had pushed away much of the day’s sunlight. The beam of her light seemed to dance in the gloom, and as she watched she noticed the unusual shape of a shadow. It almost looked like a person. That might make sense if someone were standing there, but neither Angus nor Winnie was close. The day was definitely growing odd. Now she was seeing people inside shadows. It was becoming clearer by the second that she really did need a vacation. Then again, stressed as she was, she didn’t have vision issues.
“Do you see that?” She couldn’t be the only one, right?
Winnie turned from where she was standing at the window running her finger along a missing piece of glass in one corner, staring out at the unrelenting storm. “See what? Just watched a huge spike of lightning go across the sky. Pretty awesome, though it might mean we’ll be stuck here for a while. Hope one of you has a lot of snacks in your pack. A girl needs to eat, you know.”
“Shouldn’t the chef in the group have the gourmet snacks in her pack?” Angus looked pointedly at Winnie. She shrugged.
Winnie pointed at Molly. “The baker could have whipped something up for us.”
Molly was only sort of listening to the banter about food. “No. I don’t have much for snacks, and no, I don’t mean the lightning.” She still watched the strange shadow as it walked…yes, walked. Absolutely nothing wrong with her eyes. “That.” She pointed. Surely they could see it. The shadow was very distinct.
Both Angus and Winnie finally seemed to clue in on what she was trying to ask them and followed the direction she was pointing. “Well now, that is a bit odd,” Angus said as he folded his arms across his chest.
“I don’t know what you guys are talking about. I don’t see a thing.” Winnie turned back to the window. “That,” she pointed to the sky where another bolt of lightning shot across the black clouds, “I see. Damn, that was a big one. Get ready for a sonic boom.”
Thank God, at least Angus could see the shadow. In Molly’s opinion, it was more than weird. She moved toward it and, as she did, heard a soft thud, as if the floorboard beneath her feet was hollow. Bouncing on her toes, she tested the board with her foot, confirming what she’d heard wasn’t in her imagination. The board flexed as if it was quite loose. Not surprising in an old place like this, except that she hadn’t noticed any of the other boards exhibiting such looseness. She kneeled and studied it in the beam of her flashlight. Not only did it sound and feel different, but it was definitely a little different from those around it.
“Hey. Take a look at this.” The boom Winnie predicted hit, making the small cabin shake. None of them paid any attention.
Angus was already at her side, and Winnie left her spot by the window to join her on the floor. “What kind of place did you bring us to, Angus?” Winnie had an arm draped affectionately around his shoulders. “It’s old, it’s dark, it’s creepy, and now it also appears to be falling apart. Another hit of thunder like the last one and we’ll be lucky if we don’t end up falling through these creaky old boards or have the whole roof cave in on us. God only knows what kind of dungeon is down there.” She nodded toward the spot where Molly was kneeling.
He raised an eyebrow. “Well, it is a roof over your head, and I seriously doubt we’ll find much of anything under this place besides dirt. You want to risk going out there?” He inclined his head toward the window, where rain still fell in a steady downpour. “I’m inclined to let the storm run its course while I stay pretty darned dry. What say you, my pretty maiden?”
“I don’t know.” Winnie was hedging. “Outside and wet might not be the worst thing. I mean, no offense, Angus, but this place is strange. Seriously,” she pointed just beyond where Molly knelt, “I didn’t see it before, but I do now. What the heck is with the creepy shadows?”
A few seconds ago, Molly had thought the play of dark and light inside the cabin was definitely freaky. But now it didn’t seem all that important. Her focus had shifted. “Forget the shadows,” Molly said as she stared down into the hole under the floorboard, her flashlight’s beam illuminating the space. “Check it out. How in the world do you think this ended up here?”
She could hardly believe what she was looking at, but her eyes were pretty damned good even in this light. Most people would have a hard time putting a name to what she was staring at, but not Molly. Rocking back on her heels, she glanced out the window at the shadow of the burned tree before turning her gaze back to the exposed hiding spot. The significance of that tree now hit her with sickening clarity. She might expect to see something like it three hundred years ago on the East Coast. Here, never.
With a growing sense of dread, Molly reached into the space and wrapped her fingers
around the cool leather of the grimoire. As she pulled it out, ice-cold air rushed over her, and the screech that filled the small cabin was so loud, she almost dropped the book in order to cover her ears with her hands. The last thing she heard before everything went black was the sound of her own screams.
* * *
The ground began to shake beneath Winnie’s feet, and she nearly lost her footing. The dim light inside the cabin disappeared in the space of a breath, plunging them into a total blackout nowhere near natural. What was worse than the disconcerting descent into darkness were the sounds. This time it wasn’t the crack of thunder. She was reminded of a cave echoing with the screams of twenty women. Only they weren’t screams of surprise. They were the sounds of despair so deep and all-consuming that chills raced down her spine. She trembled.
She reached out, searching for Angus. He apparently was doing the same, for within a second her fingers touched his. The contact with his warm flesh was like a gift from God. Never before had she needed to feel him near her. Whatever happened next, she was not letting go of his hand.
“I’ve got you,” he said as he pulled her close. “You’re safe with me.”
She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him, which was good enough. “What’s happening?” she said above the roar. “Is it an earthquake?” It was the only thing that made sense, and if that’s what was happening here, shouldn’t they get out of this decrepit cabin? This wasn’t exactly earthquake country, but then again, hadn’t there been a large one in Seattle a few years back? If it could happen there, it could surely happen here. She didn’t like the feeling of the earth shifting beneath her feet, not one tiny bit. This cabin was such a pile of decaying wood she’d been surprised they didn’t all end up beneath a heap of it. No wonder Loba hadn’t wanted to come inside. The dog had way more sense than the three of them put together.
Walking Through Shadows Page 5
