Devil Unknown

by Steena Holmes

  She’d known for years that this day could come. Would come. But as the years passed, the threat of discovery, of remembrance disappeared.

  She thought she’d been safe. She’d never been more wrong in her life.

  Footsteps skulked closer. She counted the seconds it took for each thud on the floor. One foot lagged behind at a slower rate. She tried to figure out who her captor was but she couldn’t recall anyone with a limp leg.

  Joanne trembled as the air filled with the stench of the monster. Something inside of her warned her to get ready. She relaxed her body a second before flying through the air and being thrust violently against the wall. She couldn’t breathe. Curled into a ball, her body ached as waves of pain tore through her. She couldn’t contain the cries as she was kicked over and over. Joanne begged for the horrific beating to stop but with her every mournful cry the feral attacks increased.

  She was going to die.

  “You’re not going to die. I have plans for you. I’ve always had plans for you.” Cold hands gripped her face.

  Joanne recognized that voice and knew.

  He’d come back for her.

  Every bone felt broken, every muscle torn, trickles of blood welled up through open cuts, pinpricks of pain danced along her skin. She prayed for darkness to overtake her, to consume her and end her misery.

  “Not only for you, Joanne, dear.” Tremors flowed through her body as the voice hissed her name. Once upon a time the demon had whispered her name, like a silk caress against her skin. Once upon a time when he’d been an angel in disguise.

  The crackle of laughter filled the air. She’d forgotten he could read her thoughts.

  “I’ve never been in disguise. You’ve always seen me as I am. As I should be. As I will be once again - thanks to you.”

  Joanne shook her head and ignored the pain. It wasn’t possible. How could he know?

  “You thought you could hide our son away from me? There is no place you can run that I can’t follow. You thought your prayers to God would save you, didn’t you?” The hatred and arrogance in the voice of the one she once used to love shook her to the core.

  “You’re mine, Joanne. The moment you pledged yourself to me I stole your soul.”

  Darkness stole over her as she struggled to understand what he was saying to her. How could he steal her soul? How did he find out about her secret?

  “Nathan,” she whispered before she gave in to the bliss of darkness that surrounded her.

  Chapter Five

  Going home to an empty house really didn’t hold much appeal.

  As Nathan made a right turn at Willow Street, his headlights barely made a dent against the darkened road. It was as if a black shroud enveloped the street. He cranked his neck to look up at the old fashioned street lamps that normally illuminated the dozen or so aged Victorian houses.

  They were all burned out.

  Even his porch light was dark. Nathan glanced at the clock on his console. The timer wouldn’t have gone off yet. He kept his porch light on till midnight.

  He pulled into his driveway and killed the ignition. His neglected home didn’t hold the warm feelings it once did. There was no laughter, no light in this building. What once was a home was now a house and Nathan hated it.

  He blamed God.

  Nathan dragged his weary body out of the truck.

  Inside, Nathan hesitated. He hated dark houses. Hated dark corners. Hated anything dark. A light was always kept on. Always.

  He flipped the light switch on and off, hoping for a miracle. The silence in the house stretched until he felt suffocated. Along with a light, he always had music playing. The first thing he’d done after his wife, Sue, died was to hardwire the house with speakers in every room. Too many ghosts haunted him in the stillness, too many memories of a happier life taunted him.

  He headed towards the pantry and fumbled around in the shelves until he found his flashlight. He grabbed his battery radio, matches and his box of emergency candles. He set the radio on the kitchen table and turned the volume up loud enough to drown out his thoughts and walked through shining the beam of light into the corners.

  Nathan’s shoulders sagged as he made his way down the hallway, his feet scuffing along the hardwood floor. He set the flashlight down on the floor by his study, casting the shadow of his silhouette against the wall. His bedroom door was at the end of the hallway, where the light didn’t reach.

  To the right, his office door stood open. The moonlight shone through the open window, the curtain billowing as the night breeze whispered through the screen. His old worn couch beckoned. Maybe the midnight breeze would ward off any nightmares tonight.

  He pulled the hand-knitted afghan across his body and with his arm tucked behind his head he surrendered to the weariness deep in his bones. A lonely keen from a mountain lion echoed through the night sky. Its eerie song drifted through the valley.

  The heavy fog of Nathan’s nightmare drew closer, the distant sound of a baby’s cry echoed through his mind. A tear escaped through his lashes and slid silently down his cheek as he welcomed the sound, embracing it, knowing it would never draw closer.

  Chapter Six

  Lucy stood at her front counter and evaluated the windows of her diner. They were covered in streaks her nephew missed. She grabbed old flyers and her spray bottle. Good help was hard to come by.

  Breakfast aromas drifted out of the kitchen where her husband George slaved away at the stoves. Homemade grits, bacon and eggs, toast and a strong coffee were the morning staples in Ma’s Kitchen. In Bandit Creek, most folks tended to congregate at the diner in the early morning before they headed to work. Ma’s Kitchen had been there since the beginning of time it seemed. Lucy’s great-grandmother started the first diner in Bandit Creek after the flood that wiped out the town. It gave folks a place to eat other than the Powder Horn Saloon.

  This morning turned out to be quiet. Too quiet. Grumpy old Wilbert sat in his usual spot complaining about the coffee. She never made it strong enough for him.

  The conversation she’d had with Nathan last night replayed in her head. That boy was in a heap of trouble and there was nothing she could do about it.

  But she knew who could.

  A tired smile crept over Lucy’s face as Rachel Gibbons entered the diner, a swinging basket at her side. She was a breath of fresh air for Lucy’s weary soul.

  “George, your favorite non-daughter is here! Make up some batter, will ya? Better make a double batch if you can,” Lucy called into the back.

  “Come make it yourself, woman! Can’t you see I’m busy?” George yelled.

  Lucy looked around the swinging door into the kitchen. “The only thing I see, old man, is you working on the crossword puzzle instead of making breakfast like you should!”

  Lucy turned in time to catch Rachel placing her hand on Wilbert’s left shoulder. When she leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek, Lucy smiled. That girl’s heart was as big as an ocean. Wilbert ducked his head, but Lucy knew there was a grin on his face. You couldn’t help it around Rachel. Orphaned at a young age and raised by the local pastor, she was a woman who refused to let life interfere with her passions.

  “Good morning,” Rachel said before leaning down and placing a light, feathered kiss on Lucy’s cheek. She set the basket down on the counter and began to unfold the towels that covered whatever delicious treats she hid inside.

  Lucy’s mouth watered. Rachel had recently rented out the little kitchen in the Candy Store next door. George considered Rachel a second daughter and refused to charge her whenever she came in for meals, so in exchange, Rachel would bake mouth-watering scones, muffins and cookies for them to sell.

  “Good morning, sweetheart. George is making some waffles and I picked some strawberries from the field just for you,” Lucy said as she brought out the glass holders she kept just for Rachel’s baking.

  Rachel’s smile lit up the room. “Hmm, fresh strawberries. Mind if I swing by later today and
pick some more? I have a recipe for strawberry scones I’d love to try.”

  The little bell above the door jingled as Lucy wiped her hands on her apron. Kai Hunter, the local vet, wandered in. He tipped his head to Wilbert, who grunted in response then blushed as Rachel waved hello. Lucy didn’t care what anyone said. Kai Hunter was a good man. Quiet, set in his ways, and with a gift when it came to treating animals. Shy as all get out when it came to women though. It was going to take someone special to steal his heart.

  “George, Kai’s here.” Lucy poked her head into the kitchen and eyed the pen that rolled off the crease in the crossword puzzle book.

  “His order is ready.” George motioned with his head to the side counter by the door as he poured batter into the waffle iron.

  Lucy blew him a kiss before grabbing the brown bag.

  “If you happen to see Jack this morning, would you mind making sure he’s all right? He was acting a bit strange last night,” Lucy said as she walked down to the cash register and waited for Kai to join her. Every morning, Kai would come in and order breakfast for two. It was a well known secret that Kai would share his breakfast with Jack.

  “Strange? Jack?” Kai frowned as he pulled out his wallet.

  “He was in here drinking coffee till closing.”

  “Jack?” Kai repeated.

  Lucy nodded. “Just make sure he’s not getting sick. Tell him I’ll have soup ready for him if he’s in the mood.”

  “Doesn’t Jack eat lunch at the Powder Horn?” Rachel handed a take-out container to Kai who blushed as he reached for it.

  “Just like it has to be a full moon before he’d set foot in this diner, yet here he was last night.” Lucy folded her arms over her ample chest.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him. Thanks for the extras.”

  Lucy kept her eye on Kai as he left her diner. He never headed in the same direction when he left, yet she always assumed he went to meet Jack. Wherever the old man could be found.

  She poured coffee into two white mugs and handed one to Rachel, who walked towards the middle booth by the window.

  “I sent Nathan a text to meet me here, so we’ll see. You know what he’s like in the morning.” A sad smile crept onto Rachel’s face as she cradled the mug in her hands.

  “As grumpy as a bear trying to scratch his back with cotton balls. Reminds me of my son, Kevin,” Lucy mumbled as she gazed out the front window and noticed the lack of traffic on the street.

  “How is he?”

  Lucy shrugged her shoulders. It’d been too long since she’d last heard from her son. His unit was in the Congo or something last they’d heard. While proud that their son followed George’s footsteps and joined the army, she wanted her boy home. Safe.

  “Sure is quiet out there, isn’t it?” Rachel said.

  Lucy tore her gaze away from the empty streets and sighed. “There’s something in the air…It’s like a heavy shroud covered the town overnight. I didn’t think there was a storm coming.”

  Rachel leaned back and set her mug on the table. “There’s this old saying my father used to say. Every generation, evil takes form and steals the soul of the most devout. Do you think it’s true?”

  Lucy sighed. “There tends to be a kernel of truth in every tale you hear about our past. My grandma used to tell us kids stories about the evil one. How you could hear his lonely cry in the wind.” She shrugged. “You tell me. Haven’t you seen enough evil in your life?”

  Emotions filtered across Rachel’s face before she blurted out, “I’m scared that it’s true.”

  Lucy reached across the table for Rachel’s hand and squeezed. “There’s a scripture verse I try to remember when I get afraid. We are not ruled by a spirit of fear but of love, power and a sound mind.”

  Rachel sighed. “Oh I know, but living it is a different thing altogether. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  Lucy pursed her lips. “I do,” she said, “but don’t allow fear to consume you.”

  “It takes a strong woman to face her fears and walk right past them. Sometimes I don’t feel that strong.”

  “Oh honey.” It was everything Lucy could do not to cry. “You are one of the strongest women I know.” She thought about the hell Rachel had gone through as a young child. The horrors she’d had to face. “You’ve taught me a thing or two in my old age about embracing life.”

  Rachel’s finger drew circles around the rim of the coffee cup. “At my real father’s old cabin there was a book he used to read whenever he was drunk. I think it was a journal he found from a miner. I remember him reading me the stories late at night. I’d get nightmares. He said I needed to learn to face my fears instead of indulging in fairy tales.”

  Lucy leaned forward. It wasn’t often Rachel would talk about her childhood. God knew it wasn’t full of good memories. A drunken mother, an abusive father. Lucy knew you should never speak ill of the dead, but Rachel’s parents were no angels. “What’s so special about this book?”

  “I think it might have the answers we need. If this myth is true, this journal might hold the secret to saving the soul of the most devout.” Rachel’s face blanched as she whispered the words.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Lucy knew right away that Rachel intended to go to the cabin for this book. But as far as she knew, the girl had only ventured to the cabin twice in her life since her father killed her mother and left Rachel alone in the woods.

  Rachel shook her head. “No. This is one fear I need to face. His ghost can’t scare me. Not anymore.”

  Lucy didn’t think that was a wise move. “Take Nathan with you at least.”

  Rachel’s brow lifted. “He’s too scared to face his own past. I don’t think asking him to face mine would be right. Not now at least. Our relationship seems to be at a standstill.” Rachel shrugged her shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”

  Lucy bit her lip. George would be telling her to mind her own business right about now.

  “What about you, Lucy?” Rachel asked. “Don’t you get scared?”

  Lucy sat in silence, contemplating her answer. The doorbell jingled as Nathan stepped into the diner and waved. His arm was wrapped around the shoulders of a young boy that reminded her of a child she once knew.

  “All the time,” Lucy admitted. “All the time.”

  Chapter Seven

  A chair scraped against the cold hard floor. Joanne struggled to raise herself up from where she lay.

  “I’ve got to tell you, Joanne, for a while there our son was turning out to be a disappointment.”

  “He’s not your son. He’ll never be.” She spit the words out as her anger rose to the surface. She bit her lip. Letting him rile her was a mistake.

  “There’s the spunk I’ve missed. Sad as that is.”

  Joanne snorted, then winced at the pain. “I doubt that.” The moment he’d walked out of her life forty years ago proved it. So why was he back? There was nothing she could do for him.

  “You’re wrong. Why do you think I picked you in the first place? That wasn’t a random meeting. I didn’t set foot in a church to pray to God.” The disgust in his voice mystified her. She’d forgotten he could read her thoughts.

  “What do you want, Max? Or is that even your name?”

  The chill in his laughter caused shivers to run along her skin.

  “Close. Morax.” The pride in his voice sickened her.

  Morax. Dread filled her soul. The last name of her doctor was Morax.

  How? She would have recognized him. Dr. Morax was a Christian man, she was sure of it. She never saw demons surrounding him. There was a bright glow about him. It’s why she trusted him so much.

  Then she remembered that she’d never seen demons around Max either. Not until the very end.

  “What do you want?” She couldn’t imagine what he wanted with her. It didn’t make sense. She was older now, while he sounded as if he’d never aged. She hadn’t lived in the real world for years. Her son had forgotten about her.
She was of no use to the man she’d once loved more than life.

  “The pastor aspect to our son surprised me. Your influence was too strong. So was that weak willed woman he married. I knew getting you out of the way was the key. He’s right where I need him to be.”

  She was glad for her forced blindness. For years she’d longed for just one more look of his face but now she welcomed the dark. The cold from the cement seeped into her bones and she tried to readjust her angle. Her numb limbs wouldn’t respond.

  At the snap of his fingers icy, talons grabbed hold of her body and lifted her. Demons. His minions. If she’d been able to see them when she’d first met Max, she would never have fallen for him. It wasn’t until afterward, after she’d given her virginity to him.