The Forest of Forever (The Soren Chase Series, Book One)

by Rob Blackwell

  After a moment he had it. He knew how to turn the Association’s strength into its weakness.

  Soren picked up the glasses and stood up. He put them on his burnt face and turned back toward the group.

  They were looking at him, horrified.

  “I didn’t really think you could look any worse,” Kael said. “But I was wrong. You are ten times creepier with the glasses.”

  Soren smiled. An idea had formed in his brain, one he knew John would have appreciated.

  “I know what to do,” he said. “I’ve got a plan. I know how to change the game. Better yet, I know how to win it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Edolphus led them to the outskirts of the village.

  Soren felt the same sense of disconnect from time. He had the simultaneous but contradictory feeling that they’d been walking for weeks and no time at all. But eventually they emerged near Bethlehem.

  It was dusk when they arrived, and the town was ringed with torches, giving the buildings an eerie glow. They were rough-hewn wooden structures that looked sturdy but not expertly crafted. Everything about the place had the feeling of an outpost on the border of civilization. Soren supposed it was fitting—this was a town on the edge of time.

  They stopped at the edge of the forest. Soren gestured for his eight companions to come closer and gathered them around in a circle. He looked at each one. He had known all of them only a short time. Though he was concerned about how well Owen would fare in the fight ahead, he already seemed attached at the hip to Kael. Soren worried more about Samuel, who still seemed wary of throwing in his lot with them. If the situation got rough, he was the most likely to flee.

  Still, he couldn’t help but smile when he looked at them. Kael caught his expression.

  “What are you grinning about?” he asked.

  “Your mom said that the past has teeth,” Soren replied. “It was the same message another friend of mine once delivered. Between us, we represent the past, present, and future of Reapoke Forest. The Indians, the Confederate, the grad student, even the Boy Scout. We can do this. We were meant to. Father Coakley is about to find out something important: your past always comes back to haunt you. Today is his judgment day.” He took a breath and sighed. “Everyone know the plan?” he asked.

  “It’ll never work,” Kael said. “It’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Soren detected the hint of admiration in his voice.

  “Then at least we’ll go out with a bang,” Soren replied.

  He looked over at Alice.

  “A lot depends on you,” he said. “Just don’t overplay your hand. The key is for Father Coakley to see you and then forget you exist.”

  Alice looked anxious but determined. Soren didn’t know her well, but she appeared surprisingly resilient. She could have easily cracked under the strain of being kidnapped and trapped in this place, but she seemed more confident than most of the rest of the party.

  “I don’t know about Coakley, but I’m usually pretty good at convincing men they’re awesome,” Alice said. “That way they do whatever I want.”

  Soren nodded, impressed.

  “You shouldn’t need to work too hard to convince Coakley of that,” he said.

  Soren had the uncomfortable sense he was forgetting something when an idea occurred to him. He looked down at his arms, which were definitely healing. He could see several spots of new skin regrowing over the charred flesh. Still, he worried he wouldn’t be strong enough if it came to a fight.

  “Last thing,” Soren said. “I need a knife.”

  Mingan reached into his deerskin belt and pulled out a large hunting knife.

  “Damn, Geronimo,” Soren said. “That is one serious piece of weaponry.”

  “That’s offensive, dude. Geronimo was an Apache,” Kael said. “That’s the best we’ve got.”

  Soren took the knife and pricked the end of it. It was incredibly sharp.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  He looked down at himself and realized he had nowhere to put it. He no longer had pockets; his clothes had melted into his skin. The thought made him shiver.

  “Edolphus and Alice, you’re with me,” Soren said. “The rest of you, take your positions. And wish us luck.”

  He nodded at Kael, who returned the gesture.

  “Remind me never to go up against you,” Kael said. “You’re one devious son of a bitch.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You should,” Kael said.

  Soren watched as he, Samuel, Owen, and the three Indians fell back into the cover of the woods. He turned to Edolphus.

  “It has to be me,” Soren said. “You know that, right? This won’t work if it’s you.”

  Edolphus nodded.

  “Are you ready?” the preacher’s son asked.

  Soren understood he wasn’t inquiring about the fight ahead but something else entirely.

  “I guess we’ll find out,” he said. “Let’s go. We’re late for church.”

  There was singing coming from somewhere in the village. The three of them walked through the town in the gathering gloom, but Soren could have found the way just by following the sound of voices joined together in unison. This time he recognized the hymn. It was the same one that was playing on the radio when Annika and he had first come to Reapoke. He thought it was called “Grace Greater Than All Our Sin.”

  They passed by a large wooden chapel, the kind that Soren had seen in nineteenth-century paintings. A bell tower stood at the top, and the entire building looked freshly painted white.

  “I thought we’d be doing this inside there,” Soren said.

  Edolphus shook his head.

  “My father celebrates special events outside,” he said.

  “Gee, glad to know we’re special,” Soren replied.

  Once past the building, they came to a large open field with a small hilltop in front of it. The landscape resembled the layout of a church, with the hilltop serving as a makeshift altar. There was a bare cross at its top and behind it stood more forest. The congregation was arranged as if they were inside a large cathedral. There were rows of white-robed figures standing to the left and right, with an aisle open neatly in the center.

  Edolphus paused for a moment and closed his eyes, the sound of the hymn washing over them.

  “What are you doing?” Soren asked after a minute.

  “Praying,” Edolphus said. “I just hope God can hear us here.”

  Edolphus strode forward before Soren could respond.

  A large figure with a long white beard stood on the hilltop just in front of the cross. As they approached, he made a small gesture, and the singing immediately stopped.

  The congregation turned as one, as if some command had been spoken. They turned toward the center aisle, and they looked directly at Soren. He couldn’t count them exactly, but there seemed to be at least a hundred. Soren wondered how many of the Lost Colony had been converted, or if there were others who predated even them. He noted that most of the congregation were male, and all of them to a person were white.

  The only black face he saw came into view a moment later as they approached. Sara and Meredith stood off to the side, each dressed in the ubiquitous white robe and bound hand and foot to a large wooden stake. The stakes were elevated off the ground, standing upon a pile of firewood. A single acolyte stood behind each woman, holding a torch.

  With relief, Soren saw that Sara was at least alive. Her face was dirty and she had a shallow cut on the right side of it. Soren could see dried blood there. Her expression was one of shocked alarm. It took him a moment to realize why—she’d assumed he was dead. Somehow she recognized him beneath all the scorched flesh. Meredith, too, was alert and largely unharmed. She looked confused by Soren’s presence, as if she, too, couldn’t believe he was there.

  The congregation allowed them to pass. Soren waited for their gasps, perhaps murmurs, when they saw his burnt and ravaged face, but there w
as nothing but silence. They gazed at the intruders with blank, impassive eyes.

  The three of them approached the hilltop and the figure who stood there.

  Father Jeremiah Coakley held out his arms in a welcoming gesture. He was flanked by a few acolytes to his side but appeared unarmed. Soren wondered where the gem was and hoped it was in his pocket. If it wasn’t—if Coakley had hidden it somewhere—then their mission had already failed.

  He took a closer look at the preacher. His face was weathered and beaten. To Soren, he seemed like a statue that had been exposed to the elements for centuries. Every line on his face stood out as if it had been carved there. While his followers had vacant looks on their faces, the leader’s eyes wore an expression Soren recognized all too well: blind fury. It was the face of a man with a grim mission, one that he was determined to win no matter the cost to himself or those around him.

  “Welcome,” Coakley said, his voice carrying across the field. “My Judas and my Satan. You have come at last. And you brought the harlot. Good of you to spare us the trouble of hunting her down.”

  When Soren looked back at Alice, he noticed she wasn’t paying attention to Coakley. Instead, she was looking at those beside him. Soren followed her gaze and saw Evan standing immediately to Coakley’s right. His expression had the same slack aspect as the looks of the other congregants. There was no humanity in his eyes, not even a spark of recognition for her.

  “Father,” Edolphus said. “Give us the women. Let us not be enemies.”

  “And if I gave you the women, what then?” Coakley asked, his voice booming. “Would that be enough to sate the Devil I see before me? I think not. He wants something else. He has been sent here to claim it.”

  “I’ve come for her,” Soren said, looking directly at Coakley and pointing to Sara. “Let me have her and open the way out, and we’ll be happy to take our leave.”

  Coakley laughed.

  “There is no way out,” he said. “This is the Garden. And you defile it with your presence. I know what you are here for, creature. I know what you would take from me and my flock.”

  “You think I want the jewel,” Soren replied. “Truthfully, preacher, I’ve never wanted anything less in my life. I see what it has done to you—to all of you—and if I had my way I would cast it to the bottom of the deepest ocean.”

  “I do not believe you!” Coakley roared. “The Lord has told me you would come, that you would lay waste to my village. You are a harbinger of the end. You would plunder the gift God has given me and bestow it to those who would corrupt the entire world. I know you, Devil. I see your sins and they are legion. You stink of evil. I name you the Beast who was foretold in Revelation.”

  “Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words will never hurt me,” Soren replied. “I could give a shit what you call me, you crazy fuck.”

  He watched the faces of the congregation when he spoke and was surprised to see they reacted. They seemed shocked—and then angry. They were not as completely vacant as he supposed.

  “Give me the woman,” Soren said. “This is your last chance.”

  “You dare to threaten me?” Coakley said. “Do you think my boy can save you, or that wretched girl beside you? I have waited for this day. I have prepared my flock. Show him, my brothers and sisters. Show him his destruction!”

  The congregation drew knives from their robes, reacting in a single, unified gesture that was simultaneously frightening and impressive. Soren laughed out loud, the sound echoing back from the forest.

  “Bit of an overkill, don’t you think?” he asked. “Three against a couple hundred?”

  “Do not think I’m unaware of your allies in the forest,” Coakley said. “I am not a fool.”

  “I’m willing to bet that you are,” Soren said. “You know you’re playing their game, don’t you? Look at the man beside you! How did he come to be here?”

  “The Lord told me the Council would bring Evan back to me,” Coakley replied. “And that they would send you.”

  For a split second Soren was confused. He had been warned of a mysterious “Council” before on a different case but never turned up much information about it. What Coakley had just said suggested that the Council and the Association were the same organization. It made a certain sense. Both had bland, bureaucratic names that said nothing of their real intent. He wondered how Coakley even knew about the Association/Council, but he wasn’t going to ask. He wasn’t here to pump the preacher for information. He needed to save Sara and get home.

  “I don’t work for them,” Soren said. “Let me have the woman, and allow my companions and me out. You can stay here forever if you want to, and the Association—or the Council, if you prefer—can rot in hell for all I care.”

  Father Coakley smiled. It was a cruel and malicious expression filled with arrogance and self-righteousness.

  “You do not understand,” Coakley said. “Whatever they are, you are far worse. The Lord has shown me your wickedness.”

  Soren shrugged.

  “I guess we have nothing more to say to each other,” he said.

  “Before I kill you, I will destroy the things you love,” Coakley said.

  He gestured to Sara and Meredith on the stakes.

  “Behold the slave and the whore!” Coakley said. “Two misguided and base women who would claim to love you, though each in their own way. You’ve inspired my punishment for their sin. The Charred Man will be joined by charred women!”

  Edolphus took a step forward.

  “No, Father,” he said. “Don’t do this.”

  Coakley turned and stared at Edolphus, his eyes boring into him.

  “And you, my son,” he said. “Long have you disappointed me. Yet I have saved you a seat of honor.”

  He gestured toward the bare cross on the hilltop.

  “I give you a great honor, even though you’ve betrayed me,” Coakley said. “You can die up there in the place of the Son of God.”

  “Your opinion of yourself is rising, Father,” Edolphus replied.

  Of the three of them, Edolphus was the calmest. Soren was so angry, he worried he might crush the knife handle in his hand. Alice, meanwhile, looked terrified. Soren gave her an almost-imperceptible nod. It was now or never.

  She walked forward and threw herself at the ground at Coakley’s feet.

  “Please forgive me,” she said, her voice coming out as a sob. “I am a sinner unworthy of your mercy. But I do not wish to die. Grant me pardon, I beseech you.”

  Edolphus had coached her on the words and the importance of one thing: she could not lie. Coakley would know a falsehood if he heard it. Coakley’s white eyebrows shot up in surprise.

  “The harlot begs for mercy?” he asked. “My acolyte Evan has told me of what you two planned. You are a Jezebel, unfaithful to him and your lover. Such is the way with all women. You cannot rise above your sinning nature. But tell me: Why should I spare you?”

  “I was a sinner,” Alice said. “I was unfaithful and unkind. I do not deserve to be one of you. And yet if Evan can learn your ways, I can too. I do not wish to die; let me live by your side.”

  Alice looked at Coakley, and her face was wet with tears. Soren thought Coakley looked pleased by the sight of them. Men like him always were.

  “Rise, child,” he said with a smile. “Rise and take the traditional place of my most recent convert. Come stand at my side and watch your friends be judged.”

  Alice rose and walked toward Coakley, who was looking benevolently at her. She moved to stand beside him, but as she drew close, Coakley suddenly lashed out his hand and grasped her by the throat. Both Soren and Edolphus started forward, but acolytes swarmed around them, holding them back.

  “Do you think you can fool me, child?” Coakley said.

  He looked from Alice to Edolphus, who glared back at him. Coakley drew Alice’s face to within inches of his own.

  “I know penitence when I see it, harlot,” he said. “I see the filth in yo
ur soul. I know you. You think you’re worthy to stand with me? You think you are my equal? You think you are any man’s equal?”

  Alice struggled against the hand on her throat and then spat in his face.

  “Fucking right I do,” she croaked.

  Coakley screamed in rage and tossed Alice backward. She collapsed in a heap on the ground, banging her head and rolling down the hilltop. Soren tried to break free to go to her, but a sea of arms held him back. She lay there unmoving.

  “Kill them,” Coakley yelled. “Kill them all!”

  Soren saw the acolytes behind Sara and Meredith approach with their torches. He screamed and tried to run to stop them, but the acolytes were all around him. They surrounded him even as he shouted Sara’s name. They came at him, some with knives, some with their bare hands, and began dragging him away. He saw others grab Edolphus, who offered no resistance.

  “You are drowning in a sea of sin,” Coakley said. “But I can free you. I can free all of you!”

  There was a mob of acolytes around Soren, yanking him away from the hilltop. Because of him, Sara would die. Like John. Like Edward. Like Mikey. He wouldn’t allow it.

  The rage that had been bubbling inside of Soren burst past its boiling point. If Coakley wanted a demon, then that was what Soren would be. It was as if something inside him snapped. A moment before, he felt overwhelmed by the strength of the acolytes around him. But with a cry of anger he dug in his legs and began fighting back harder. There were dozens of hands on him, but he managed to hold his ground. He grabbed the nearest acolyte with his right arm and shoved with all his strength. She went flying through the air, knocking back other acolytes.

  Soren tossed other congregants aside as if they were made of paper. He slammed his head forward, head-butting another with a blow so hard that the acolyte’s eyes rolled into his head and he collapsed onto the ground.

  “Now!” he screamed.

  He saw an arrow fly in from the woods and hit one of the acolytes with a torch. All at once there were arrows flying all around them, the acolytes falling among them.