Forsaken

by J. D. Barker

  She couldn’t have this baby here, not now, not like this.

  “Mommy, there are people out there.”

  Rachael turned to find her daughter at the window. She had wiped away some of the dirt and was peering through the opening.

  “Out by the street, there’s a whole bunch of them,” she added, her voice filled with nervous excitement.

  “Help me up,” Rachael breathed.

  Ms. Perez gripped her arm and helped her out of the chair; together they went to the window, careful not to slip on the muddy floor. Around them the minions stirred but remained hidden, mumbling in that strange language.

  “Let Mommy see, baby,” Rachael said, kneeling beside her daughter.

  Ashley stepped aside and pointed. “There, over by where the tree used to be.”

  Rachael pressed against the glass and peered outside. She spotted four strangers, not quite at the street but about ten feet into their property, where the large tree had fallen.

  “How did they get past the bushes?” Ms. Perez asked beside her. She had cleared her own section of the window and was watching them intently.

  Rachael wondered that, too. They were surrounded by the bushes, somehow standing in the middle of them. As impossible as it seemed, she got the impression that the thorny plants had somehow allowed them to enter the yard, then sealed up the path behind them. They also had a clear path to the house, one she was sure hadn’t been there when she had looked down from the bedroom window.

  “Who are they, Mommy?”

  Rachael shook her head. Of the four, two were men and two were women. The tallest of the men wore only black. He read to the others from a small book. The other three held hands and appeared to have their eyes closed, oblivious to the heavy rain falling around them.

  Dozens of minions wandered in clear sight around their feet, busy with something, although Rachael couldn’t tell just what.

  “They’re part of this,” she said. “Whoever they are.”

  When a minion jumped up on the window ledge, Rachael screamed. She fell backward, shuffling away before she even realized it was on the outside. The little creature scooped some mud from the side of the window and smeared the glass, obscuring their view. Another jumped up and helped. Within moments, they had the entire window blacked out from the outside. Buster, who had been watching from a safe distance, let out a growl, then grunted when the minions continued their work without so much as a glance in his direction.

  A second contraction rolled over Rachael and she fell to the floor, slipping in the mud. She felt a rush of warm liquid on her legs. Ms. Perez gasped.

  Her water had broken.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  Day 3 – 05:55 a.m.

  DEL THOMAS WOKE WITH a start.

  The bright light burned at his eyes, forcing him to squint. It took a moment to realize the light came from the single candle burning at the center of his bathroom, and he lay on the floor in a rather large pool of his own blood.

  Oddly, he didn’t feel pain.

  He should be in tremendous pain.

  He remembered how she had appeared after he read the spell, the wonderful explosion of life that brought her here. He remembered her beautiful smooth skin and rose red lips. He remembered her fingernails as they dug into his neck and caused him more pain than he had ever experienced. He remembered the look in her eyes as he died, and make no mistake about it, he did die.

  As did she.

  She consumed the rainwater with a ferocious hunger, an insatiable thirst, until none remained. Then the life left her, too. She was gone as quickly as she had appeared.

  The clicking of the grandfather clock in the other room grew profoundly loud, as did the traffic outside. The breathing of his neighbors—he heard that, too. There was very little Del could not hear.

  He raised his hand to his neck and felt the wounds she’d left behind. They had scarred over, healed.

  He died, must still be… All this blood…

  Yet his lungs drew breath.

  He forced his eyes to open, fighting the blinding light of the candle, and took in his surroundings. The sounds around him were deafening, taking all his will to block them out and focus just on those in the room, in his apartment. He couldn’t begin to explain how he felt; his body seemed reborn—unaffected by years of use and neglect. Rejuvenated. He seemed stronger. His senses were…

  Incredible.

  He smelled the cars passing outside. He smelled the rain, the sweet rain.

  What had she done to him?

  When he saw his eyes in the mirror, when he saw the deep blue they’d become, a blue of bright sapphire, he knew he had been transformed forever.

  Reborn by Her.

  Del hurried to his bedroom, where he changed clothes, leaving his soiled, bloodied suit in a pile at his feet.

  There was someplace he needed to be.

  Someplace She wanted him to be.

  Downstairs, Christina started the car. It was time to go.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  1692 – The Journal of Clayton Stone

  I WOKE TO A dull throb behind the eyes, my body limp on the floor.

  Around me are the aches and moans of others as they are released from slumber, each returning to consciousness in their own time.

  “She is gone!” a voice shouted.

  The table looms above me and I reach for it, pulling myself to a stand before collapsing back into my chair. My strength is all but gone; I crave rest and nothing more.

  “Seal the room!” Tauber cried. “She must not be allowed to leave the building!”

  But she was already gone; I knew this in my heart. As I struggled to regain my wits, my eyes found the bench.

  Her tattered clothing lay in a heap under the chains and ropes which had held her still only moments (or was it hours?) ago.

  Time escaped me.

  A glance at the window told me night had befallen us.

  I remember nothing of its passage.

  Tauber struggled to his feet, aided by one of the guards. Behind him, the magistrate looked out upon us, his eyes wide with fear, his hands moving in the sign of the cross.

  I had forgotten the man in the long black coat, the stranger who had arrived only moments before we were overwhelmed by her magic—for that was what it was. There could be no other explanation. He seemed to know my thoughts with his words.

  “She used your energy to escape,” the strange man explained. “Clearly the work of the devil. Do you still doubt this? She stole your life force with her witchcraft and traveled from this place.”

  The magistrate glowered at him. “What do you know of her? You arrive here without warning and she is gone. How do we know you are not responsible? Maybe you are as much a witch as she!”

  Murmurs escaped the crowd, which had settled back upon the benches. Unlike before, the doors opened freely, but those who had tried to escape no longer wished to leave. I suspected they felt as I; there was a safety in numbers. I took comfort in this even though I also knew it was a falsehood; we knew not how to protect ourselves from whatever was happening this very night.

  The stranger approached the magistrate. His dark eyes peered from a face lined with wisdom. “I have hunted that girl, that evil, for all my days. I have followed her across this globe as she left behind a path of death and misery beyond words. To call her a witch doesn’t fully describe her evil. Those who harbor her are worse still,” he told them. “Her so-called sisters—more disciples than anything else.”

  At the mention of sisters, my breath caught. I quickly looked around, but nobody had noticed.

  The stranger went on. “She is both old and young and able to appear at the age of her choice.” He turned to study the faces of the gallery. “Has she appeared to any of you while captive? Perhaps as an old woman or a child even younger than she? You would still recognize it as her. She can only deceive your eyes; your hearts remain pure.”

  Those in the gallery remained silent, none admitt
ing to such a visit. Surely I wasn’t alone in this, was I? When she had first appeared to me the night before last and said she was her sister, I had known the truth, even if I wasn’t willing to admit it. Especially after confirming she was still captive in her cell.

  I couldn’t bring myself to speak of this aloud; not to this man, not to any of them.

  “Her book is real; it contains countless souls. Their energy, their very life force given to her by a promise made with a single drop of blood—a signature stronger than any scripted word. Each signature, each name, contributes to her power. It is for this very reason that so many find themselves sickly after such an encounter; they are left with little life force of their own. And she just grows stronger.”

  He paused for a moment, his eyes drifting to her clothing. “We need to find her. There is little time. Someone take me to where she lives.”

  My heart pounded within my chest. I feared for her. But most of all I feared for him and any of those who followed him to that dark place in the woods.

  —Thad McAlister,

  Rise of the Witch

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  Day 3 – 06:15 a.m.

  THE LARGE, TOWERING OAKS seemed to wrap around the road, engulfing the two lanes with intertwined fingers of bare branches that scratched at the sky and pavement alike. They sealed out the early morning light, growing darker and denser with each passing mile. Thad knew he was pushing his luck driving at such speeds, but he was running out of time.

  You’re so very close, she breathed in his ear.

  When he turned, the passenger seat was empty. He found himself alone. Yet her perfume lingered, the sweet smell of bougainvilleas mixed with spring showers.

  “Get out of my head,” he murmured.

  Silly boy.

  Thunder cracked wildly outside, sending a streak of lightning across the sky. The trees seemed to reach for it, their branches outstretched toward the heavens. Thad swore they moved not with the sway of the wind, but with deliberate motion.

  You’ve been driving too long, he told himself. You’ve gone days without any real rest. It’s your mind, just your mind.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror in time to see them twist together behind him, sealing the road further still.

  Is the forest trying to keep me here?

  All the rain on the glass changed perspective—that’s all. His car was the only thing moving down this lonely stretch of forgotten road.

  The rain fell so hard that he didn’t notice the wooden tunnel until he was nearly on top of it. Pumping the brakes, he slid to a stop a few feet before its dark opening.

  It was exactly the way he had imagined it.

  Hundreds of years old, the wooden tunnel bridged the road over a fast moving creek nearly overflowing with the heavy rains of the past few days. Even within the car, he could hear its rushing waters lapping at the bottom of the petrified planks. The one in his book sat upon a large, motorized gimbal capable of turning 360 degrees on its axis. He had no doubt this was the same. Even when writing the story he had speculated the reason for this—boats didn’t travel this creek; its only purpose seemed to be to keep visitors from passing and entering the town.

  Or to keep those in the town from getting out, his mind suggested.

  Emerging on the Shadow Cove side of the tunnel, Thad brought his car to a stop.

  With a deep breath, he shut off the ignition and got out of the car into the thick-falling rain. Thad popped the trunk and retrieved a shovel.

  He started off into the forest along the creek’s edge, leaving the rental car in the middle of the road, his journal open on the floor—he wouldn’t need it anymore.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  Day 3 – 06:20 a.m.

  “MOMMY, WHAT HAPPENED?” ASHLEY cried.

  “Christ,” Rachael moaned, staring at her legs. The warm liquid had flooded the floor around her and soaked her clothing—her water had broken; she was having this baby. Another contraction came, and she grimaced with pain.

  “We need a doctor,” Ms. Perez said with concern.

  Rachael could only nod.

  “Help me get your mommy into the chair,” Ms. Perez said.

  Ashley reached for her mother’s cold, shaking hand.

  Rachael wished Thad were here.

  As Perez and her daughter helped her into a chair, Rachael saw her reflection in the hall mirror. Her skin was pale and shimmered with sweat. Her breathing was shallow and weak.

  “What’s wrong, Mommy?” Ashley stammered.

  Rachael forced a smile and ran her fingers through her daughter’s thick hair. “Your little brother or sister is trying to come to us early, honey. Everything will be okay.”

  Outside, thunder crackled in the distance and the thin light seeping through the muddied windows melted away as dark clouds blotted out the morning sun.

  Ashley looked to the window. “It’s gonna rain again.”

  “I’ll get you some water,” Ms. Perez told her.

  Rachael grabbed her arm. “No, stay here. We need to stick together.”

  The knock at the front door startled them and at first they remained still, unsure of what to do. Ms. Perez moved first, starting for the door.

  “Wait,” Rachael said.

  “They might be able to help us,” Ms. Perez said.

  “That’s not what they want,” Ashley breathed.

  Her mother looked down at her. “What makes you say that, honey?”

  Ashley grew pale, her eyes wide. “Don’t let them in, Mommy. Zeke says they’re bad.”

  Another contraction ripped through Rachael, and she gripped the arms of the chair with white fingers. She stifled the cry climbing up her throat. Cold sweat filled her forehead and her vision blurred. Although she didn’t time it, she knew only about five minutes had passed since the last one. Ms. Perez was thinking the same thing; her eyes were filled with concern. She took a few deep breaths, her strength slowly returning.

  Another knock, much louder than the first, broke them from their reverie.

  “What do you want to do?” Ms. Perez asked.

  Rachael reached into her pocket and removed her husband’s gun. She checked the chamber and noted the five remaining bullets. Looking down at her daughter’s frightened face, she took Ashley’s hand. “What does Zeke think we should do, honey?”

  Behind her, Ms. Perez let out a frustrated sigh. Rachael shot her a silencing glance, then turned back to her daughter. “Has he told you who they are?”

  Ashley shook her head.

  “You said he told you they were bad. What exactly did he tell you? Why don’t you want us to let them in?”

  Ashley pouted and shuffled her feet. “You won’t believe me. You never believe me.”

  Rachael forced a smile. “Sometimes Mommy can be foolish, but I should have believed you. I believe you now—we both do.”

  Rachael shot Ms. Perez another glance, but her housekeeper chose to remain silent.

  Ashley turned to the door. “I think Zeke wanted us to leave. That’s why he did those terrible things. He wanted us to go before they got here.”

  “But he hasn’t told you who they are?”

  Again, Ashley shook her head. “But I know they’re bad, Mommy. I don’t know how I do, but I do.”

  Two of the minions appeared in the hallway. First, they glanced at the two women and child in the living room, then to the front door.

  Rachael raised her gun and pointed the weapon at them.

  With a loud grunt, one of them ran to the front door. The other quickly followed. The two seemed to communicate in a garbled chatter. The first then scrambled onto the shoulders of the other and reached for the deadbolt.

  Without hesitation Rachael fired, hitting the bottom minion in the back. The creature crumbled into a pile of dirt, causing the other to fall to the floor with an angry howl. Before Rachael could shoot the other, three more appeared and climbed atop each other until they reached the lock.

  When Racha
el again raised the gun, Ms. Perez pushed the barrel back down. “There are too many,” she told her. “Save the bullets for them.” She was referring to the people just outside the door.

  Before Rachael could respond, the deadbolt clicked and they watched in silence as the door swung open, their four unwelcome guests standing at the threshold.

  Rachael heard the gunshot before she even realized she had pulled the trigger.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  Day 3 – 06:25 a.m.

  THE WATERS OF THE creek rushed past him on his left as Thad walked along the bank. The rain had grown relentless, pouring from the sky in frigid sheets that ate at his skin, growing stronger by the minute.

  Thad tightened his grip on the shovel and pressed on, careful not to slip in the muddy earth.

  He was very much aware of the eyes that peered at him from the opposite side of the creek and did his best to ignore them. But with each step, their numbers seemed to grow. Red eyes poked through the rain and darkness to land upon him with both curiosity and hunger. Thad pretended not to know what they were—or more precisely, who they were—but his mind wouldn’t agree to such a plan. He had written about the residents of Shadow Cove too and knew to fear them.

  The thick black branches of the oak trees reached for him while the wind danced across his path with a ferocious strength, howling with demented laughter. Thad continued to ignore it all, pressing forward, led by the map he had detailed so clearly in his mind’s eye.

  For one brief moment he thought he felt the warmth of Christina’s hand in his, but when he looked down Thad found nothing. He smelled her perfume, though. She seemed all around him, emanating from the trees, the rain.

  She wasn’t far. He glanced at the red eyes, then turned away.

  Not with them, she couldn’t be.

  There is so much you don’t know, she said softly. So much you don’t understand.

  “About you?” he replied.

  Her voice fell silent, lost to the wind.

  Thad pressed on.

  He was close. The dead trees around him told him so as did the waters of the creek, now moving with a rage that raised whitecaps, phosphorous beneath the stormy sky.