The last word leapt out at Nathan. Again. As if the pastor had been through this before. He flipped ahead to the middle of the book and what he read shocked him.
“November 9, 1902: I have failed. I have lived a lie for the past thirty years. I know the Word of God, yet have not held it as close to my heart as I should. Why else would this tragedy befall me. My faith is weak, my character downtrodden by the temperamental congregation that I serve. My only option is to hand in my resignation. Reverend Somer told me that it was God who appointed the minister to this church built for refuge, but I cannot believe that this post was ordained for me.”
Nathan searched the previous pages to see what tragedy happened to this unnamed pastor, and when he found no clue, he searched ahead and only found blank pages. That was the last entry in the journal.
He picked up another journal. This one was dated February, 1939 and the minister was Reverend Scheldt. The beginning of the journal sounded similar to the previous one, excitement with the new position, full of dreams and aspirations for the church and its community. Nathan flipped to the middle of the journal and still found a minister who was excited about his calling. It appeared he held a real love for the congregation. He flipped through a few more pages, this time landing almost at the back of the journal. Dated Christmas Day 1941, almost two years into his pastorate, he wrote,
“Christmas Day, a day filled with joy and hope, celebration for the birth of our Savior. Yet today, it is one filled with sadness and despair. Today, instead of celebrating our Savior’s birth, I am mourning the loss of my wife. I can find no words to describe my sorrow. My congregation, the same ones who killed my wife, have tried to shelter me, to console me and hold me up in prayer, but I find their prayers abhorrent, their consolation repugnant and my only wish is to be left in peace.”
Nathan couldn’t believe what he was reading. Here was someone else who understood what he was going through, someone with whom he could relate. He grabbed the books and sat down on the couch.
“My beautiful beloved is dead by their blood drenched hands and asinine prayers, yet they assume I will continue on with my duties for the Christmas celebration. I am not that strong, nor that dedicated it would seem. I cannot celebrate in the birth of one who would take from me my very life source. The church will have to learn to celebrate the life of a God I can only wish dead.”
Nathan leaned back and closed his eyes as the grief written in these old pages overwhelmed him. He wasn’t alone. Someone else who had walked in his shoes years ago understood. He was surprised the journals survived the flood, but he was glad they did. After devouring the remaining journals, one theme remained consistent.
A deep loss affected their faith in such a devastating manner they stepped down from their positions. The journals mirrored his own journey.
Nathan placed the journal down on the couch, unable to handle anymore. He walked over to the bay window and stared out at his backyard. He couldn’t believe how dark it had become. He had lost hours in those journals. As the sun set and cast an aurora as it gently sank behind the mountain, an overwhelming sense of loneliness set in.
He missed Sue. Things were tense between them at the end, but he had to believe their love had been real. They would have been able to work through their issues, rebuild the trust he’d foolishly destroyed by his omissions.
His gaze followed the colors as they trailed down the side of the rocky hill and rested on the valley below its feet.
Nathan gasped.
A large black hole hovered in the air. A swirling mass of crows swooped into the hole and then emerged moments later, one after another, as if the currents of the dark opening forced them into a pattern.
He gripped the curtains as the black hole swirled, making its way from the foot of the mountain to the field before him. The grass beneath this mass flattened as it hovered.
Craziness ran in his family. He thought it’d skipped him, but he’d been wrong before.
The cloud stopped at the edge of the field where it met Nathan’s property line. He placed his hand upon the cool glass and recalled the heaviness he’d felt the previous night when he approached the stranger in Lucy’s diner. He felt that way now.
He made the conscious effort to look away and closed the curtains.
He made his way to the kitchen and filled a glass with water from the tap. Nathan raised his hand to wave at the neighbor from across the street who stood on his front lawn, but the look of horror on Nels’ face as he held a shovel in his hands had him leaving the glass on the counter and rushing out the door.
As the screen door banged behind him, he immediately noticed the damp chill to the night air.
“Do you see that?” Nels yelled out as he pointed to a few houses down the road.
Nathan stood at the edge of his driveway and peered down the dark street. “What am I looking at? It’s almost too dark to see anything that far down.”
“You don’t see that? My wife thinks it’s a UFO. I’ve been watching it for the past half-hour now.” Nels’ knuckles tightened around the shovel handle.
Nathan looked down the road again.
About six driveways past his own, there was a dark, hazy image. It was like a swarm of mosquitoes gathering in the dusk for feeding. It moved with slow precision, on to the next driveway. A remnant of the swarm stayed in place, reminding him of a sentinel on duty.
“Did you see it move? What is it?” The panic in Nels’ voice was more than noticeable.
The swarm continued its way down the street until it stopped one house away from his. A low hum filled the air and the tiny hairs on Nathan’s arms stood up.
At each driveway, a sentinel in the outline of a dark haze hovered above the pavement.
“I have no idea,” Nathan admitted.
“Why isn’t it coming towards us?” Nels took a step backwards and held the shovel away from him.
“Why don’t you go back into your house? I’m sure Heather would feel more comfortable with you by her side.” Nels’ wife was peeking out the front curtain.
Nels held the shovel in both his hands across his chest, nodded and turned away. He kept glancing behind him before he reached his front door.
Nathan took a step towards the swarm. He watched it move away from him. What was it? A swarm of mosquitoes in search of food or could it be something else entirely?
The closer he came towards the swarm, the further it moved away. He quickened his pace but the distance between them never changed. When he finally stood on the opposite driveway, the vibrations the swarm gave off intensified.
Nathan stopped.
Something, or someone, protected him.
The black hole he’d seen out his window had stopped at the edge of his property. This dark swarm stayed away from him. Why?
An entry he passed over earlier in one of the journals flashed through his mind. Nathan rushed back into the house and grabbed one of the journals that had fallen to the floor from the couch.
“While the evil one takes residence the just shall prevail. A town surrounded by darkness will only survive if the spiritual covering remains intact.”
There was no spiritual covering over this town anymore. Not like there was back then. With the variety of churches that filled Bandit Creek, it was impossible to place this burden on one pastor.
But even if you could, placing the burden on him was pointless.
Nathan was finished with God. When he stepped away from the church, he didn’t just relinquish his title and authority. He relinquished his belief as well. And somehow it felt right.
Chapter Eleven
Joanne woke to a blinding light. She tried to close her eyes from the light, hoping for a reprieve from its intense glare.
A parade of shivers travelled over her skin. A black circle crept along her iris, blocking out the light. It reminded her of an eclipse she once peeked at as a child.
Tears formed, creating sand-like texture within her eyes. She wished she could rub t
hem, blink them, anything to alleviate the dryness which formed.
Whispers surrounded her. She tried to distinguish the garbled words, but failed. The sensation of floating underwater while listening to the voices overwhelmed her. She blinked. Surprised, she blinked again. She turned her head and realized nothing held her back - no pain, no restraints.
A soft beep sounded to her left, above where she lay. The smell of the room had changed yet was familiar somehow. She knew where she was. The air, with an antiseptic, metallic taste to it, confirmed it.
She wasn’t with Max anymore. She was back in her room at the Mount Joseph Private Hospital. A wave of relief flowed over her.
She turned her head towards the door and stared at the back of a white doctor’s coat. The soft glow around the man reassured her. Everything was fine. She could see. Thank you, Jesus. She could see. Tears streamed down her face as she took in the drawings she made and taped to her wall, the pictures of Nathan as a child she’d kept and the row of journals on her single white book shelf.
A low murmur caught her attention. She strained to hear what was being said, but could only make out a few words.
“Not strong enough.”
Joanne stiffened. She recognized the voice.
Then remembered.
“Yes, Doctor. I understand.” The soft voice of Joanne’s favorite nurse reached her ears. Shelly. She could help her. Shelly was always there with her, listening to her. She would understand. She had to.
She raised her arm up to catch Shelley’s attention up but the doctor took two steps back and settled his hand over top of hers and squeezed.
He glanced over his shoulder and smiled.
She knew those eyes. She’d recognize them anywhere.
She wasn’t safe. Not here. Not anymore. She knew exactly where she was.
In hell. With the devil named Morax.
Chapter Twelve
Lucy held the cordless phone in her hand and redialed Rachel’s number. They were in the middle of the breakfast crowd and she still hadn’t shown up with her baked items. When Lucy called the Candy Store next door, Craig, the owner didn’t seem too worried. He figured either Rachel had come in earlier than normal or taken the day off. While it was odd she wouldn’t mention it to anyone, Craig wasn’t concerned. But Lucy was. She’d sent George over to the house Rachel rented over on Willow Street, but no one had been around.
Something was wrong.
There was a steady buzz in the diner. Everyone kept talking about the strange things that had happened the past two days. There was a theme to every story. Large black holes, swarms of mosquitoes appearing in everyone’s driveway and a mystery man in a long black trench coat that kept disappearing.
“A swarm of mosquitoes?” Lucy said, nodding her head absently.
“A swarm of any type of black bug isn’t something to get excited about in my opinion. All you need is a can of spray and you’ll be fine,” Lucy muttered whenever anyone mentioned it.
She excused herself after refilling everyone’s coffee and escaped into the kitchen where George washed dishes. He slung a dishcloth over his husky shoulder, and whistled a tune only known to him. She smiled. Even after all these years, just watching him made her happy.
She walked over to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned his head, gave her a saucy grin, and leaned forward to give her a kiss on her cheek.
“Don’t be telling me people are complaining about my whistling, woman. I made sure I was quiet. Don’t want anyone to know I’m really back here. I’ve had enough cooking for the day.” George rinsed out the sink and wiped his hands on the towel.
“I just told them I had the radio going back here so you wouldn’t be bothered,” Lucy said.
“That’s my woman. So why are you bothered?”
Lucy leaned back against the large wood island. “Remember that black cloud of bugs we saw last night?”
George gave her a funny look. “The mosquitoes? Yeah, so?”
“I don’t think they were mosquitoes,” Lucy stated.
“What’s so special about some stupid bugs?”
Lucy sighed. “I’m not excited about some bugs, George. I think the devil has come visiting and we’re serving him our best apple pie rather than pouring arsenic down his throat.”
George pursed his lips. “So you’re saying that these bugs weren’t natural bugs?”
“That’s what I’m saying!” Lucy said.
“Hmm, imagine that.”
Lucy cocked her eyebrow at her husband, but apparently he didn’t get the hint, as he turned his back and walked away. She ground her heel into the floor and groaned. Either he didn’t care or didn’t get the significance of this information.
“George!” she called out. God knew this man frustrated her to no ends some days. Her mama said it’s why the good Lord brought him into her life, for patience.
“What do you want now, woman?” he responded over his shoulder. “You want me to get all excited because we actually saw the enemy at work? You know me better than that.” George pulled a cloth out of a drawer and began to dry the dishes in the rack.
Lucy lowered her voice and made sure there was no one at the kitchen door. “I think we need to call a town meeting.”
“Now why would we be doing something like that over some vampire mosquitoes?” George shook his head.
“I never said they were vampires,” Lucy sighed. “Are you watching Twilight reruns?”
“Lucy.” A deep rumble filled George’s voice. She put her arms around his waist and held her cheek against his back. She listened to the steady beats of his heart, letting the rhythm soothe her.
“I still can’t get a hold of Rachel,” she whispered.
“Have you thought maybe our boy smartened up and whisked her away somewhere special? Kids do that nowadays.” George angled his body and put his arms around her.
“Not these two. They’re not ready for that. Not yet. She was heading up to her pa’s old cabin yesterday to look for some journals he kept there. She wouldn’t have stayed the night. Not there.”
At the mention of the old cabin, George’s back stiffened. He’d been the one to find Rachel holding her dead mother’s hand as she rocked silently back and forth. The blood bath from her father’s suicide killing covered her. George still had nightmares from it.
“Let me clean up and we’ll drive by her place again on the way home.”
“I love you,” she said, her voice a whisper. She received a ‘harrumph’ as a response.
Lucy waved at her granddaughter who poked her head around the corner. “Lil Marie has arrived, so hurry up.” She patted his back before turning away.
“I meant what I said. We need to get the word out and have a town meeting tonight. Folklore be damned. We need to bring out the poison. I smell a rat.”
Chapter Thirteen
Nathan stared in amazement. He couldn’t believe the crowd that gathered in the town park. The street was lined with trucks, strollers and couples who walked closely together.
The late afternoon air was full of heavy clouds billowing off the peaks of Crow Mountain. That meant only one thing - a storm was coming. Nathan shivered. He hated storms. Growing up, his mother would always freak out and hide in the basement whenever a good summer storm hit on the prairies. He wasn’t that bad, but he did close the curtains and turn up the music.
Several voices called out to him as he crossed the street but he didn’t want to stop until he found Rachel. Every call he made to her cell went to voicemail. When Craig and Penny had called and told him about the phone calls from all of Rachel’s neglected customers, it worried him even more. It wasn’t like Rachel to disappear like this.
Something was wrong but he didn’t know what.
The large walnut tree was unlit and that worried him. The town had placed the tree lights on a separate generator in case the town ever lost power. If there was one place everyone could run to in a time of emergency, it was the town park.
/> Like today.
The somber mood weighed heavily on the crowd that edged in tight together towards the Town Hall steps on the other side of the tree. Nathan pulled out his phone again and dialed Rachel’s number. When it went to voicemail after the first ring, he hung up. Where was she?
“Attention. Attention.”
On the top step stood Lucy, microphone in hand as she planted one hand on her hip. Nathan kept to the outer circle of the crowd. Whatever was going on didn’t include him. Standing in the background, where no one relied on him, suited him just fine.
Devil Unknown Page 4
