“This has to be a dream. It's those pills.” He cowered and sank further down into the featherbed mattress. Claire sat silently sobbing, waiting for him to say something coherent, anything. “Who has Jennifer?” he finally asked, freeing his hand from her grasp as if she had cold slime covering her hands.
“Maddie Ann,” she repeated. “She’s the demon from the cemetery and she's been after her since we trespassed into her world. Until now, I’ve been trying to keep Jennifer safe and alive, but this time, I lost her. I LOST HER, FATHER…PLEASE HELP ME…” Claire shouted. Out of despair and frustration, Claire wept bitterly.
She'd do anything to defeat Maddie Ann. Already beaten down and feeling defeated, unsettling images rushed through her mind. She knew the abject terror Jennifer suffered. As she sobbed, Father Donovan patted her hand, a slight look of distaste in his eyes.
“Claire, I don't care if I am dreaming, I believe you. Jennifer is in great danger. You have to understand the strong force you’re facing. Although my faith is strong, I alone do not hold enough power to destroy this being. I’m deeply sorry, but I can do nothing to help.”
Claire had watched movies like Poltergeist and The Exorcist. She knew what the priest in the movies did to save a person possessed by demons. They waved a cross and said a bunch of Latin prayers and stuff. Maybe he did need help from other priests to fight the stronger current of evil. But for Father Donovan to gather a group, it would take time—too much time, and Jennifer didn't have that luxury. The black souls tortured her. Claire couldn't bear to think about it. It haunted her enough that she rocked back and forth on the bed, her long hair flying. She couldn't stay calm. She had to convince him. She had to.
She dropped to her knees beside the bed and clasped her hands, prayer-like. “Father, I know this is dangerous with just you and I fighting this, but please reconsider. They'll kill Jennifer if we do nothing. Maddie Ann was responsible for your accident yesterday. She would have killed you if she could. That you survived means you have hidden talents you don't even know about. Do you understand what I’m saying? Of course, you know what I’m saying, you’re a priest, and priests deal with these unnatural beings all the time….” Claire rambled on, almost incoherent, trying her best to convince him.
Father Donovan cleared his scratchy throat and interrupted. “Please, stop this. Get up, child. Pray to God, not me. I wish I could do more, but I'm much too frightened of a force strong enough to make me see ghosts. It’s too dangerous to confront the unholy if not aided by other priests. The power Old Creek Cemetery spawned is too lethal,” he said. “Please forgive me, and may God give you the strength you need.”
She played her ace in the hole. “I feel sorry for you, Father. Either you meet me at the cemetery at dusk, or you're going to be responsible for giving one of God's pure souls to Satan. You alone. It's on your head if she dies. I don't think the only soul the devil has is Jennifer's.”
When that challenge didn't get results, she crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. Father Donovan remained huddled in his bed with his coverlet pulled to his chin, shaking. Clouded with sorrow, Claire whisked away into thin air, leaving the priest to stew in his own soup.
***
Claire inhaled the aromas of the town as she sailed through the endless blue sky. It soothed her and infused her psyche with peace. Nature blossomed across the rolling green hillsides, and the busy sounds of the countryside settling in for winter bloomed in her ears. She bent her head to listen to the rustling of small creatures storing food. She heard two men laughing as they flicked their lines out over the lake, hoping for an early morning nibble from a trout. Stopping for a rest at The Rock, she remembered her grandfather’s inspiring words that thrummed through her soul, encouraging her to fight harder. He'd told her she could do anything she wanted, anything her heart wished. And this is what she wanted.
“I’m coming, my dear sweet friend; I’m coming to help you. Hang on.” A genuine smile grew across Claire’s face. The love she held for Jennifer flourished in her heart. It felt strong enough to defeat any vicious entity. If Jennifer were already dead, she'd know it in her heart.
As she sat planning her strategy and watching the world evolve, the most beautiful fragrance began dancing around her as if she sat in a bushel of Easter lilies. Claire closed her eyes and inhaled a big breath. The heavy sweet smell reminded her of her grandparents' honeysuckle bushes. She used to pull the ends off a flower and suck on it, while she watched butterflies swarm around her.
“My sweet Claire,” she heard a breathless voice say.
Looking over her shoulder, a lovely woman in a long, flowing white gown stood there smiling at her. She turned and focused on the woman’s soft pink mouth. It looked dewy, and she wanted to touch it to see if it was real. Her creamy porcelain skin glowed as if lit from within, smooth and flawless, and her golden sweep of hair glistened in the sunlight. She had to be an angel—an angel sent from Heaven to help Claire battle the evil. Nothing else could be this beautiful.
The angel opened her mouth, and her words were an elegant song that flowed through her head. “Claire, it’s me, Grandma Grace.” The angel glided forward with a warm, loving smile and welcoming arms.
Lost in the sensations flooding her, Claire’s, mouth gaped open in disbelief. Could this be her long-dead grandmother? Recognizing the shimmering sparkles in her amethyst eyes, she fell into Grandma Grace's embrace. “Grandma, it’s you,” she murmured, as excitement ripped through her.
“Yes, my child,” her grandma said, not moving her mouth. Her words flowed into Claire's head, like the water of a gentle stream. Holding Claire close to her heart, she ran her fingers through the silken tresses that hung down her back. “I'm glad you haven't cut your long blonde hair, Claire, it's so beautiful. I have been watching you grow into the stunning young lady you are. I know what you are trying to do for your friend, and I think you're the loveliest person I know,” she whispered. “I’m here for you, and I want to help.”
A gnawing feeling wormed through Claire's stomach as she realized what it could mean for her grandmother to even come near the cemetery—jeopardy to her soul. She couldn’t allow it to happen, and not because she didn’t want her there; it was more than that. It was Claire's knowledge about what had happened to Grandpa. She couldn't lose two grandparents to the evil place.
“Grandma, I couldn’t let you involve yourself in this. I’ve already hurt so many loved ones, I can’t risk it.”
“Sweetheart, there is nothing the evil ones can do to hurt me. I would feel honored standing by your side.”
As much as Claire wanted to say yes, she didn’t want her grandmother to know about Grandpa. It would devastate her knowing Maddie Ann caged him in like an animal. For two years after her grandfather’s disappearance, until the day she died, her grandmother sat by the big picture window in the living room of the farmhouse, crying and mourning for him, waiting for him to come home. She expected to see him drive the tractor down the long graveled road and walk in the front door like he'd always done after a day in the fields. It broke her heart to see her grandmother so devastated. She couldn't watch it happen all again.
“Grandma, I know you think you want to do this, but for your protection, I have to decline your offer. It’s best this way, and maybe someday, I can tell you why. But for now, please leave it at that,” she explained.
“If that’s what you wish, you can do it alone, but it's dangerous.”
Claire knew her grandmother sensed the conflict going on in her mind. How could she hide any of her feelings without Grandma knowing? She had the same ability to read people's thoughts as Claire did. “I can do this alone,” she said, only half believing it.
“I expected courage from my granddaughter, and you willingly show it. Claire, remember this, evil can only defeat you if you allow it. Use your shield, your loving light. Let it shine.” Grandmother kissed her forehead and held her tight.
“Grandma, I don’t understand what that means,”
she said, clutching her grandmother’s arms.
“With the love and compassion you hold deep within your heart, you can change things you thought weren’t possible. There’s only one thing that will defeat this evil, Claire. I can’t tell you what it is; you have to figure it out on your own for it to work,” Grandma explained. “Let your heart sing, my sweet child. Open your mind. Look deep inside, and there you will find the answer.”
Stunned into silence, she absorbed her grandmother's passionate words. From that moment, Claire wanted to view her existence the same way Grandma did. “If I run into trouble, will I see you again?” Claire asked, enveloped in more love than she thought existed.
“Yes, my child. I will always be looking over your shoulder. If you need me, call to the light,” she whispered in her ear. Looking sorrowful, the angel let go of her. “My sweet Claire, God's love knows no bounds.” She blew her a kiss and ascended into the clouds. Claire waved good-bye with tears streaming down her face.
***
Claire hated the wounded look in her grandmother’s eyes when she turned down her help. Claire's rejection affected her deeply. She'd never shut Grandma out of her life before. Whatever Claire did, her grandmother knew before she did it. They'd been best buddies in life.
Most of the summers, she spent on her grandparents' farm, helping with one chore or another. She got to know her grandparents well. Jennifer had spent several weeks visiting Claire, and wow, the mischief they got into. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have those days back in her life.
After her Grandma passed, only two years after Grandpa disappeared, Claire had wished so many times to see her again, and finally she did. Already a fond memory, she felt her grandmother's loving arms embrace her unearthly body. Instead of happiness surging through Claire, sadness swamped her. This time there was a reason she had to exclude her, and it was to protect her from agony beyond belief.
Waiting for nightfall tortured Claire. She prayed a bit, but she didn't get many answers. She paced The Rock and tried to make sense of her grandmother's wise words. Finally, as the sun dipped below the western horizon and lights flickered on all over the park, she lifted off The Rock and soared into the lavender sky.
Claire neared her destination, focusing on the beautiful scenery bathed in twilight. Loud sirens blared from below as several cop cars raced through the dirt access road to Old Creek Cemetery. Startled, a sick dread coursed through her soul. She soared faster through the air to see what had happened, streaking like a jet through the atmosphere.
She sailed over the treetops. Floodlights from police cars brightened the copse of leafless trees, while the Gates to Hell reflected flashing red and blue strobes. Several police officers wearing rubber boots and gloves combed the entire approach to the cemetery, shining their flashlights through the iron bars out onto the graves.
Paramedics also swarmed on the scene, pulling white stretchers out of the back of three ambulances lined up like ants and wheeling them up by the gates. “Oh, my God…Jennifer,” she wondered, suddenly scared they'd found her body. Terrified that something horrible had happened, Claire sailed down to listen and watch.
The police were disturbing Maddie Ann’s Playground. In fear for Jennifer’s life, Claire had to figure out a way to get all of those people out of here. Everyone here stood a chance of losing their life. Maddie Ann would take the victims out one by one for pure pleasure. She looked for a place to sit in the crowd of people, and an old tree stump provided her with a perfect vantage point. Watching the police work, she heard a disturbing yell.
“I found something. Jake, get over here,” a man shouted urgently.
The grounds lit up like noontime from the helicopter going whup-whup-whup high above. It moved in, kicking dirt up, blowing her off her perch. She braced herself against the wind. Placing her hands over her brow to block the glare, she locked eyes on the piece of ground where she lost her life. A young uniformed cop stood pointing down at a clump of weeds on the side of the dirt road. Claire knew what he had found. “The dagger,” she whispered. “It’s still there.”
Jennifer's fingerprints covered the weapon. Chills trailed her spine as the thought of Jennifer, an innocent person, held accountable for her death through the laws eyes. No doubt, Claire's DNA would show up on the dagger and a huge pool of her blood still stained the dirt. The police reported Jennifer the last person at the scene, and she walked out of there soaked in Claire's blood. She quivered thinking Jennifer could go to prison for something she didn’t do. But all that was moot unless Claire could get in the cemetery and save her first. Somehow, Claire had to figure out how to fix the evidence and make them leave.
“Nobody could survive this much blood loss. It looks like we have a homicide on our hands. Be sure you photograph the entire area before you bag anything; this knife appears a likely candidate to be the murder weapon,” the man called Jake, said. Claire winced as flashbulbs temporarily blinded her. “And what's this?”
Claire heard him mumble. He bent down to look, then called the photographer over to snap a picture of whatever item had captured his attention. With gloved hands, he picked something up, put it in a baggie, then turned and left the dagger and blood evidence for the CSI team to collect.
Claire raced to the knife, picked it up, and scrubbed it on the weeds as best she could, trying to remove every trace of Jennifer, or at least smear the prints beyond recognition. She dropped it back where she found it when a tech in white scrubs approached. She stilled her movements and watched.
The man called Jake spotted Detective Thomas Brown, the lead detective, walk up the dirt road, his eyes downcast. Claire read their long-faced emotions. The law dealt with horrible misfortunes in the past, but nothing as brutal as this had happened in this town. Big-city crime had officially moved in to Old Creek, Wisconsin. She sensed their apprehension, almost to a man; there was more here than met the eyes. Boy was that ever an understatement.
An undercurrent of distrust and annoyance permeated the air between the two men—superior and subordinate, Claire figured out. Jealousy, insecurities, and misunderstandings defined their relationship.
“What's going on out here, Jake? I get a page about a multiple homicide and I have to park a half mile away.”
“Hey, Tommy, I found something I think you’d want to take a look at.”
Jake trudged toward Tommy with a somber look on his face. Claire noticed he held a pair of rimless glasses in the baggie in his hands and realized that's what he'd picked up off the ground. Finding it rather strange that a pair of glasses was lying around in the middle of nowhere, she thought back, and tried her best to remember if any of her friends wore glasses. Nope, contacts all around, except her. She always had perfect 20/20 vision. Suddenly, an image flashed before her eyes of a portly old man with a flash of gray hair surrounding his baldpate.
“Oh my god, Father Donovan—it has to be Father Donovan.” Claire marveled that Father Donovan had let his conscience guide him and at least came out here to check out her story. She hoped he made it back home in one-piece, but she couldn't leave Jennifer in there alone another night to go check on the priest. Why, oh why, had the priest come out here so early, and where was he now?
Jake showed his boss the evidence he'd gathered. She heard the man called Tommy telling Jake to rush the glasses and the knife down to the lab for a fingerprint analysis. She watched cops traipsing back and forth, leaving footprints all over the place. It didn't look as if they were leaving anytime soon, so she sat back on the stump and watched them wade through the tall weeds in search of other clues.
Claire noticed Tommy walking toward the gates carrying a heavy tool with clamps on the end of it. Before she knew what he planned to use them for, she heard a 'snick' sound and saw the chains snap in two and fall to the ground. Her throat went numb. She couldn’t shriek a single note of caution. If he opened the gates, Hell would swallow him up, with any other officers that followed.
Claire tried to lift herself from the
rotted log, but her body felt so suddenly heavy, as if icy hands pressed down on her shoulders. She had to watch in agony as the detective opened the gates to Hell and entered without warning. NO…, she heard her voice echo in her own head. She couldn’t give up the fight. Falling to her knees, she crawled across the loose dirt, hoping to stop the next person who tried going in. As her fingers caught hold of a man’s pants, they swished right through his entire leg, and her face slammed to the ground. Desperate, she shouted, “Please…don’t go in there,” but no one heard her ghostly plea as one cop after another filed through the Gates to Hell.
The windows in the police cars rattled from a sinister laugh that carried out over the land. Lifting her heavy head, she saw a man leaning against the gate giving her a wicked grin. Beneath the brim of his black Stetson, she glimpsed solid caliginous slits instead of eyes. Dressed in heavy dark clothing with silky ebony hair, he tipped his hat, blew her a kiss, and vanished. Satan himself, she recognized as the first explosions rocked the cemetery.
Maddie Ann s Playground Page 25
