Rory bent down and looked. “How did that happen?”
“You don’t know?”
Rory shook his head. “He wasn’t like that when we left.”
Clinton moved forward. The dead man’s face had already begun to shrivel. The skin was like aged leather, stretched tautly over the cheekbones. The skin around the eye sockets had receded, leaving the eyes like weightless white marbles. His jaw was open, and his lips were peeled back over distended teeth, as if offering up a hideous scream.
Clinton scrutinized the rest of the body. The skin on the arms, legs, and hands were the same. “Unbelievable,” he whispered.
Rory said nothing.
“This can’t happen.” Clinton stood up. “I’ve been around plenty of murder scenes. This just doesn’t happen.”
Rory straightened up as well and crossed his arms. “I killed him, but I didn’t do that.”
Clinton didn’t know what to say. “What did you do?”
“We came over the rise and he startled us. He asked if I was the one, and if I was him. Then he tried to hypnotize Anna.”
“What do you mean?”
Rory told him about what had occurred earlier. “It was weird,” he concluded. “I don’t know what he did. But she was hypnotized, trust me. I tried to stop him – ”
“How?”
Rory turned a deep shade of red. “I pointed the pistol at him. But I froze. I couldn’t seem to pull the trigger. Anna threw her water bottle at him.”
“I’ll bet that terrified him.” Clinton couldn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice.
“Actually, it did.” Rory cleared his throat. “When the water hit him, he went mad. He attacked me. I tried to fight him off, and I finally managed to shoot him. He fell over and died. And then something came out of him. It hovered in the air and then left.”
Clinton felt the tension in his jaw. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but Rory was completely sincere. “You expect me to believe this? I should arrest you for murder.”
“I’m telling you the truth. Look, let’s go talk to the others. Nicholas can tell you what he saw. Maybe then you’ll believe me.”
Clinton thought for a minute, then looked back at the mummified body. “And he wasn’t like that when you left?”
“No. I tried to get the blood off my hands and arms with dirt, then I looked in his wallet, and we left.”
“Where’s the wallet?”
“Still on him. I just wanted to find out who he was.”
“And?”
“His name is Quinten MacDonald.” Rory waved a hand at the corpse. “Look for yourself.”
Clinton did, gingerly stepping around the bloody pool, rummaging in the man’s pockets. He found the wallet and verified the name. “It’s a hiker reported missing yesterday.”
“He wasn’t just a hiker when Anna and I saw him.”
Clinton turned back to him. “What was he then?”
“A Nephilim.”
“A what?”
So Rory explained what he knew about the spirits.
“You expect me to believe that?”
The muscles in Rory’s neck pulsed visibly. “If you don’t believe me, try explaining what happened to the body since we left. And do I look like I have the strength to overpower your deputy and break his neck?”
Clinton raised a hand, then let it fall to his side. He didn’t say anything in reply, because he couldn’t. He had no explanation.
CHAPTER 52
It was past dinnertime, but no one felt like eating. They were in Anna’s kitchen, only this time Nicholas and Clinton were there. And Jimmy was not. Clinton hadn’t yet reported the dead deputy or the man in the woods. Rory knew Clinton was breaking the law in not reporting it, but Clinton had said he would at least hear everything before he did anything. Rory took that as a good omen. He didn’t disbelieve them. Not yet, anyway.
“Nephilim?” Clinton asked in a skeptical voice, scowling at Rory and puzzling over all the recent events. Earlier Nicholas had described what he’d seen and heard when his father tried to get Jimmy. Rory could tell Clinton was having a hard time assimilating Nicholas’ story with what Clinton had seen in the woods, and with what Myrtle had told him moments before about Joan and Samuel. And now Rory had finished relating what he knew, including seeing the ceremony with Lillian earlier that day.
“Nephilim?” Clinton said again.
“That’s what I thought,” Rory said. It was difficult explaining everything to Clinton. “But after what happened – ” He let the sentence hang in the air.
No one said a word, as if they were waiting on the silence to provide an answer. Rory wiped a hand over his shirt. It rubbed stiffly against his skin, the dried blood mingled with his own sweat. He had washed the hiker’s blood off his hands and arms, but not out of his clothing, or his memory.
“You don’t know what it was out there,” Clinton said.
Rory gazed at him. “You saw the body of that man. You tell me how he got that way.”
Clinton lifted his shoulders in a faint shrug. “This is crazy.” He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “How can a body mummify like that? And so fast?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s easy to dismiss,” Myrtle said, “until you start putting it all together. I saw Joan get taken, Rory saw that ceremony, and then what happened when they ran into the man in the woods. And then that spirit talked to him.” She shivered and Rory saw goose bumps dot her arms.
“I don’t understand why the water made him mad,” Anna put in. “Why was that?”
Rory thought hard. “I don’t know. He wasn’t fazed by the gun, but the water freaked him out.”
“Tell me again what happened,” Clinton said.
Rory complied, starting with Myrtle coming to visit him yesterday, telling him about Joan being hypnotized and led away by Samuel, and ending with his fight with the stranger in the woods. Anna and Myrtle interjected periodically, adding details that he left out, and when he finished, he could tell by the look on Clinton’s face that he still wasn’t sure about this. But he didn’t think they were crazy, either.
“You know something strange is going on,” Rory said. “How else can you explain all the people disappearing, your deputy being killed, Nicholas being in shock about something he saw, and the decomposed state of that body out in the woods?”
“I don’t know,” Clinton said.
Rory snapped his fingers. “I just thought of something. I saw other people in that clearing this afternoon that I didn’t recognize. Maybe they were from the posse.”
“They were taken,” Anna whispered. “Or they’re dead.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?” Clinton asked.
“As it was, I was afraid you were going to arrest me. Why give you more reason to?” Rory replied.
“A bunch of killings doesn’t mean there are evil spirits at work,” Clinton said.
“What about the town rumors?” Myrtle asked.
“You’ve said yourself that’s just nonsense,” Clinton responded.
“It’s not. What did that spirit, or whatever it was, say to you?” Myrtle focused on Rory. “When you, uh, killed the hiker?”
The image of the man on the ground in a pool of blood flashed through Rory’s mind. He fought down a sudden nausea before replying. “It said ‘You are called.’ and ‘It is time.’”
“What does that mean?” Clinton asked.
“I wish I knew.”
“It’s stalking us,” Nicholas whispered. He’d been silent throughout the conversation, and his soft voice surprised them. He sat scrunched down in his chair, trying to remain inconspicuous.
“You saw something the other night, didn’t you?” Rory asked calmly, hoping his voice wouldn’t shove Nicholas back into his shell.
Clinton shifted in his chair so that he faced Nicholas directly. “What do you know, son?”
Nicholas’ gaze darted around the room. “I saw that fisherman take him.”
“Mick?” Clinton leaned in.
“Uh huh. They were doing a ceremony.” He described what he’d seen. “The sky got real dark, and it came out of the sky.”
Rory broke out in a sweat. Nicholas’ description was too familiar. “It?”
Nicholas bobbed his head. “Like evil, you know. It was sort of like a mist, but not really.” He tried to show them with his hands, then gave up. “Whatever it was, you could see it go into the guy who works at the café. He screamed, like it hurt him.”
“Samuel,” Myrtle hissed. Anna muffled a gasp.
“Then what happened?” Clinton kept his voice even.
“I…” Nicholas hesitated. His fingers played with the frayed edge of the tablecloth. “I made some noise, and they heard me. But they came after Mick. That fisherman took him and must’ve done the same thing that he did to Samuel.” He hung his head. “It’s my fault he’s gone.”
“Don’t you say that,” Myrtle said. “You couldn’t help what happened. None of us could. Whatever that was out there is mighty powerful, and there was nothing you could do.”
Nicholas looked up at her. Tears threatened to tumble out of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to make noise, but I was scared.”
“We all are,” Anna said wearily.
“What was the mist like?” Rory asked. “Like a tornado, and yet not really. Just a presence that you can’t adequately describe?”
Nicholas squinted at Rory, his eyebrows joining in one thoughtful line. “Yeah, kinda. It’s like you said, it’s hard to describe.”
“But you knew it was evil.”
Nicholas nodded.
“Did it seem to talk to you?”
“Yeah.” Nicholas seemed surprised that Rory would know the mist spoke to him.
“Did you understand it?”
“No, but it still seemed like it was talking.”
He’d seen it, too, Rory thought. But what did it mean?
“What’s all this?” Clinton interrupted.
“I saw it, too,” Rory said. “Both up at the clearing, and something similar, a mist, in New York, right before I was hit by the car.” He explained about his accident.
“You think your experience in New York is connected to this?” Clinton asked.
Rory stared past him, thinking. “Probably. Strange things have been happening to me since then.” Like having such vivid and pointed dreams and hearing voices when he was alone. “Is it connected to what Nicholas saw? And why the misty thing in New York and the vortex here? Who knows?”
They mulled this over as shadows stole their way into the kitchen.
“But ancient spirits?” Clinton said to know one in particular.
“Jimmy knew something.” Nicholas was as talkative as they’d ever seen him.
“What was he going after?” Anna sat up straighter. Rory noticed the sad turn of her lips, but she had a determined energy about her.
“My father asked Jimmy if he was the preacher.” Nicholas shrunk a little under Anna’s intense focus on him. His vacillation between speaking up and then shriveling when he was noticed reminded Rory of an abused dog that craves attention but is afraid of his owner at the same time. Rory wondered what Nicholas’ family life had been like. Probably not pleasant. “Why would your dad ask Jimmy that?” he asked.
“Dad was a preacher a long time ago,” Anna said, then added, “He ran the store on the side,” to answer Rory’s questioning look.
“How would your father have known that Jimmy was once a preacher?” Myrtle asked Nicholas. The boy lifted his shoulders helplessly.
“It wasn’t his father,” Rory said, frowning sympathetically at Nicholas. “He’s been taken over.”
Nicholas sniffled.
“I’m sorry,” Myrtle whispered.
Nicholas wiped a tear off his cheek. “It’s okay. He was a jerk, anyway.” He reddened, looking around to see if anyone would judge him by his words.
“What else did you hear?” Rory asked him, sensing the stress would soon get to him. They’d better get out what he knew now.
“Jimmy said he needed to get the minor chronicle.”
“Did he say anything else?” Clinton turned to Nicholas, concern on his face.
“He was mumbling about going across the lake. The answer was there. In the minor chronicle, or something like that.” Nicholas flashed his eyes at Anna, then looked away uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. That’s all I heard. I should’ve tried to stop him, but I didn’t.”
Anna reached across the table and grasped his hand. “It’s okay. You did what you could.”
“What chronicle?” Clinton posed the question to them all.
“Chronicles. They’re two books in the Old Testament, but neither one of them is considered minor. That term is used with the prophets, the major and minor prophets. But I’ve never heard of Chronicles referred to as a minor book,” Anna said. “And why would Dad think there’s something in those books?”
“What’re they about?” This from Myrtle.
“They’re mostly a history of the Jewish kingdom under David and Solomon.” Anna got up and went to the other room, returning with a well-worn Bible. “I don’t know why they would’ve been important to Dad.” She sat back down and started thumbing through the book. “There’s so much in them, I wouldn’t know where to start.”
Rory suddenly pushed away from the table and stood up. “Wait a minute! Not Chronicles from the Bible.” They all looked at him in surprise. “A chronicle, like a diary or a journal. And not minor, but m-i-n-e-r. The miner’s journal. The cabin originally belonged to that miner, Burgess Barton, right? What if he left a diary about what happened in the town when he lived here? A miner’s chronicle.”
“Yes! That makes sense,” Myrtle said.
Anna nodded. “I can’t believe I never thought of that.”
“Whoa, hold on. You’re just speculating,” Clinton said.
“No I’m not.”
“Why not?”
Rory leaned on the back of his chair. “Because I dreamt about it.”
“You’re kidding,” Anna said.
“It’s true. Since I’ve been staying out there, I’ve had a couple of weird dreams, and in them, there’s an old miner, and he’s trying to warn me. And there’s a book, or journal, somewhere in a mine.”
“The infamous Barton mine,” Myrtle said incredulously. “Maybe it really does exist.”
“Jimmy must’ve known about a diary or journal,” Rory replied, “and he was going out there to look for it.”
“But how did he know?” Anna asked.
Rory wrinkled his brow. “Maybe he dreamed about it, too. He had to have known there was something out there, or he wouldn’t have risked his life crossing the lake to get to it.”
A look of sadness passed across Anna’s face. “He tried to tell us about it, about how a voice talked to him about it. And we didn’t listen.”
A hush fell over them, filled with sudden loss and regret.
“Even if we do find a journal, will that answer our questions?” Clinton asked.
Rory sat down heavily. “I don’t know. But do you have any other suggestions?”
Clinton waited a long time before he shook his head.
“I have to go back to the cabin,” Rory said. “I have to find out whatever it was that Jimmy should’ve found.” Both women turned to stare at him.
“Now?” Myrtle finally asked.
“There’s no time to lose,” Rory answered.
“No,” Clinton said. “If any of this is true, it’s too dangerous for you.”
“We don’t have a choice. If there is a chronicle, I have to find it.”
“Then I’ll go with you,” the sheriff said.
“You need to stay here, in case they come,” Rory said. “If something happens, it’s better that only one of us is taken.”
“No!” Anna said.
Rory raised a hand to calm her. “Believe me, I’d rather not go out there alone, but it’s bett
er this way. Clinton will be believed more than any of us, and he can get the authorities involved when the time is right. Don’t you see, nothing can happen to you.”
Clinton looked at Myrtle and Anna, then back at Rory. “Okay,” he finally said. “I don’t like it, but I can see what you’re saying.”
“Where will you look?” Desperation crept into Anna’s voice.
“I don’t know. Do any of you remember hearing where this mine was supposed to be?”
Anna shrugged. “I always thought it was just an old legend.”
“Me, too,” Myrtle said. “I did hear that it was somewhere north of the cliff face, but that could be just about anywhere.”
“That’s a place to start.” They were all aware of the fading light outside the kitchen window. Rory stood up and went into the living room, followed by everyone but Nicholas, who sat at the table, shoulders hunched, nervously petting Boo. “I’ll see what I can find and come back as soon as I can.”
“What’ll you do if you run into one of them?” Anna asked.
“Where’s the pistol?” He looked around the room. Anna fetched it from the kitchen, where it had lain on the counter since their return earlier.
“This’ll do,” Rory said. He took it from her, and he knew by the look on her face that the memory of the bloody battle on the trail was haunting her, too. He suppressed the fear that was creeping into his thoughts. He held up the Colt. “Wish me luck.” He tried to smile, but knew it came out halfheartedly. The others nodded reluctantly.
“I should go with you,” Clinton repeated.
“You can’t. You know that,” Rory replied.
“Well…” Clinton left the sentence unfinished. “Be careful.” He placed a hand on Rory’s shoulder, communicating a confidence that Rory didn’t feel.
“When do you check in again?” Rory asked.
“Not until tomorrow. I have no idea what I’ll report, though.” Clinton gazed at Rory. “I don’t understand this paranormal stuff, but I’m trusting that you know what you’re doing.”
Rory nodded, then looked at Anna and Myrtle. “Just relax. Nothing’s going to happen. Have some dinner, watch some TV. Clinton and Nicholas will take care of you.” He hoped a lighthearted manner would help ease their fears, but it didn’t fool them.
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