Dinah leaned back from her computer. This couldn’t be real.
Some of the articles had pictures of things that were impossible. Some had many pseudopods and tentacles.
One photo displayed a bat-like creature with curved fangs that jutted past its lower jaw, and arms that ended with claws and long sharp talons. Its feral face was subhuman and still beautiful in a terrible way. It was labeled an Ashmedeon—a fallen angel. Though the Tribune had several pictures of demons, this was the only one of a devil they had managed to capture on film. Apparently, devils were fallen angels, twisted by their fall from grace. They dwelt in hell and the lake of fire, corrupting souls and acting as a barrier between the world of men and the seething layers of the Abyss that spawned endless demons.
Dinah had seen shadows that looked like these pictures, surrounding the political candidates. When she’d focused on them, they had blended with light and shadows, making it impossible for her to see their faces. Was this what she had seen during the campaign? What did they want? Were they all trying to get Faustian contracts out of the candidates? Her head started to spin with these questions. She struggled to understand, but she couldn’t overcome her own narrow background. What is going on? she screamed silently.
“Alis, could you come in here for a moment?” Dinah said, using the intercom on the phone.
“Right away.”
“Come in,” Dinah said, answering the soft knock on the door.
Alis was in her early forties and had a friendly smile. Her hair was worn in a casual bun into which she had stuck several kinds of pens. Slung over her shoulder was a plain canvas bag. She dug out a steno pad from the bag and removed a pen from her hair. “I’m Alis, pleased to meet you, Miss Steele.”
“It’s Dinah.” She motioned Alis to sit. “I’ve decided to stay and at least finish this story.” Alis raised her eyebrows, and Dinah continued. “After I finish this story I’ll see if I want to continue. It sounds so crazy.” Why am I telling her all of this? Probably because she seems so easy to talk to.
“Ok…” Alis said, her pen poised over the steno pad.
“I need information on the assignment Klinton and Richard gave me.”
“Right here, Miss Steele.” Alis pulled out a thick file from her bag. “Mr. Emery thought you might want it, so he left it with me.”
“Also, I need the autopsy report for Caedon Willis along with any labs. I would like to get a copy of the police press release as well. I’ll see if I can get the police report. In short, I need anything that the Willis family has released to the general public.” Dinah grinned at Alis. “I hear you have a special talent with computers. Can you dig me up something that might not necessarily be available?”
“Of course, Miss Steele,” Alis said, smiling in return. “I’m already working on it. Klinton told me your assignment.”
“Also, do you have the Willis address?”
“Of course, Miss Steele, it’s in the file. He is a founder, after all, and everyone in Firemountain knows their home addresses.”
“Let Klinton know that I’m heading out to the Willis estate.” Dinah grabbed her messenger bag and her camera.
“Miss Steele,” Alis said from the door. “You can’t use that.” She pointed to the digital camera. “The paper doesn’t accept digital photography.”
“Right.” Dinah slid her camera into a desk drawer. “What should I use?”
“Talk to Ward. He used to cover some of Mr. Hatchett’s photography; he could probably help you out.”
“Where do I find him?”
“The photography department is in the basement.”
“Thanks, Alis.” Dinah slung her messenger bag over her shoulder.
She headed to the stairs and went down a flight. The door opened into another larger room with light tables and several desks pushed up against the walls. Around the room were several doors with lightbulbs over them. Some of them were lit up and some weren’t. The area bustled with activity as men and women dashed around, matching pictures to copy.
“I’m looking for Ward,” Dinah called.
The bustle stopped for a moment when a young man with spiky blond hair and green eyes lifted his hand. “I’m Ward. You must be Miss Steele.”
“It’s Ms. Steele, or Dinah. Alis said I should talk to you.”
Ward nodded. “Come on over.”
“I’m heading to the Willis Estate, and I need a camera.”
“Tell you what,” Ward said, leaning forward. “Why don’t I come with you? I have my camera, and I really don’t have an assignment at this moment. Besides, I don’t get to visit the founder estates that often.”
Dinah frowned. Ward was too eager to come. She wondered what was going on.
Ward grabbed his camera bag and took out an advanced thirty-five-millimeter camera and checked the attachments. “I’ve created attachments and filters that can better capture the preternatural elements that are around here. See?”
He handed her his camera, and she looked through the viewfinder. The scene that appeared was like nothing she had ever seen. She could see nimbi of light surrounding the people in the office.
“That’s the aura we all have. When we’re in an area that has preternatural influence, we can see even better detail. The old cameras were good after we had adjusted them, but this new technology really makes a difference. I know that Mr. Hatchett didn’t like the newer cameras, but we’ve been able to document things that hadn’t been photographed before. It’s amazing.”
“So why doesn’t digital capture these kinds of images? I thought that cameras were like mirrors, so that things that cast no reflection couldn’t be photographed.”
Ward grinned at her. “That’s not entirely true. Once the cameras, even the old ones, are modified with the special filter, they can capture the image. The problem with digital is it’s more limited. Like CDs versus vinyl. The sound on CDs might be clearer, but they don’t capture every nuance that vinyl does. There are only a finite number of sounds that it can capture, due to the sampling technology. Digital cameras by their very nature can only capture a finite amount of light and color, and the preternatural isn’t in the visible light spectrum or even the light spectrum.”
“Okay, you can come,” she agreed, “but only because I am a terrible photographer.”
Ward grinned and shoved his camera into a camera bag. “Let’s go.”
Following Ward’s instructions, she drove down Founders Road to the Willis Estate. The road was wide, and both sides of it had high walls that blocked the view of the buildings. Through the gates she saw glimpses of huge lawns and massive houses that made her boarding house look small. She remembered Logan’s home had been that big. Why did a town this size have so many huge houses? She counted five estates before she pulled up to the Willis Estate.
Twelve-foot-high wrought iron gates barred her entrance to the estate. On the other side of the gate was the broad sweep of a driveway, leading up to the huge old mansion. Most of the windows of the mansion sported closed shutters. From the little that Dinah had read at the office, Caedon had lived alone with the staff. The old man had had no family save for his nephew Jake and his sister-in-law. Some of those rooms had to be closed off, she thought. I can’t believe they’d need to keep that many open.
She pushed the intercom on the call box. A man with a formal English accent answered. “How may I help you?”
“Dinah Steele from the Tribune, I’m here to see Mr. Willis.”
“Just a moment please.” The box went dead for a moment, and the camera overhead hummed. Dinah looked directly into it.
“Please drive up to the house, Miss Steele,” the voice said through the box.
The gates parted silently on well-oiled hinges, and Dinah drove her Prius up to the front steps of the house. A man in an immaculately maintained suit opened the door and offered his hand to help her up. She waved it off and grabbed her messenger bag.
Standing at the top of the steps was a man that had to
be the new Master Willis. His sandy brown hair was ruffled in a casual hairstyle, and he wore jeans and a polo shirt embroidered with the University of Washington logo. He descended the steps to greet her.
“Miss Steele, how nice to finally meet you. The sheriff has told me that you’re the new investigative reporter, and that I need to work with you.”
“That was fast. I just got here yesterday.” Dinah shook his hand, and they climbed the steps. Ward followed behind, studying the house. “This is Ward, my photographer. I was hoping to get some pictures of you.”
“Of course.” He paused before the front door. An older man with formal tails opened the door. “Thank you, Hendricks. This is Miss Dinah Steele.”
“How do you do, Miss Steele?” Hendricks said with a stiff bow.
“Dinah, please.” She followed Jake down a hall to a room.
“Of course,” Hendricks held out his hand. “May I take your jacket?”
“Oh, sure.” She shrugged out of her jacket and handed it to Hendricks. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ward doing the same thing.
Jake paused by a door. “Hendricks, would you please bring us some coffee in the parlor?”
“Of course, sir.” Hendricks disappeared into the depths of the house.
“He’s been with our family for years. He’s sometimes a bit formal for my taste, but he runs the house very well. Would you like a seat?”
Jake sat down on one of the chairs in the parlor. Dinah perched herself on the davenport while Ward wandered around the room taking pictures of the house and the yard through the window.
“Do you mind?” Ward paused for a moment beside a sideboard.
“No, of course not. Just stay on this floor for the time being.”
“Okay,” Ward said, his eyes twinkling. He left the room and moved down the hall. The camera clicked as he took pictures.
Jake settled in and made himself comfortable. Dinah took out her steno pad. “May I ask you a few questions?”
“Of course, that’s why you’re here.”
“How did your uncle die?”
“You just jump in, don’t you?” He leaned forward and grabbed a folder off of an end table, and flipped it open. “According to the preliminary findings, his heart was cut out.”
“Who would want to kill your uncle in such a manner?” Dinah said, making notes on her steno pad.
“Well, the founders have several enemies. It could be any number of people, from a business competitor to the demonic forces that invade this town.”
“Do you believe there are demonic forces?”
“My father moved away from Firemountain when he turned eighteen and never looked back. He tried to escape. When he married my mother, he never told her what had happened here. After he died we were broke, and my uncle wrote to her to offer her help. I’ve spent many summers up here.” Jake leaned forward closer to her. “Yes, I do believe that they exist. I’ve seen them. My mother lived outside of Firemountain. She felt I needed a normal childhood, but I spent my summers here. During that time I saw many things.” His eyes grew distant. “Many terrible things…” he whispered.
“But demonic forces? Who would summon them? Or do they just exist in this realm?”
“There are two basic ways for demons to be in this world. One is to be summoned. This is, unfortunately, the most common, though sometimes they are summoned inadvertently. Rules were set down several thousand years ago for a reason. The further a culture strays from these rules, the more likely they are to summon a demonic spirit. The other way is for them to escape.” Jake steepled his hands. “There is one other way: prophesy. That is when their appearance is foretold. These can’t be stopped. However, there are groups that will help bring it about.”
“But who would want that?” Dinah stopped writing. The brief bit of research done on this young man had revealed he was a grad student. Yet here he was talking about demons and other things that everyone knew didn’t exist.
“Promises of money, power, stability…” Jake trailed off, looking about his home. “They lie, but they do deliver, and there’s always a hidden cost. Caedon paid for something that he had no part in. Now I am living that cost.”
“But if you know who or what killed Caedon, then we can stop it.”
“I wish it were that easy. Laya referred me to you because this is outside the rules of man. I’m now a founder, and you work for one. This is founder business.”
“I keep hearing about the founders. Who are they?”
“Come with me. If you’re going to live in Firemountain, you need to know what the founders are.”
Jake led the way out of the parlor and down the hall into a very long room with a tempered glass wall. There were comfortable couches and chairs along the wall, and opposite was a long line of portraits—all men—looking down onto the room. Jake led the way to the far end of the room and stopped in front of the oldest paintings. “These first seven paintings are the founders. These men founded the town in 1865.”
Dinah stared at the paintings. They showed what looked like ordinary men wearing period clothing of wealthy individuals. “Seattle was founded as a lumber town in the nineteenth century and these seven men were business associates. This whole area was covered with old-growth forest, but they couldn’t compete with the other lumber barons of the area, so they banded together and created a pact. I’m not sure of the nature of the pact. Uncle Caedon never told me, though I’m sure he knew. All I know is that it’s tied to the Red Dawn Temple, a fraternal organization much like the Masons. Jebidiah Carlton was a member of Yale’s Skull and Bones organization, and he brought with his connections.”
Jake turned to Dinah. “You’re a member of Dragon society, aren’t you? One of the organizations from Dartmouth?”
“No comment, but let's say, hypothetically, it’s true. How would you have come by this information?”
“I read it in Caedon’s journal. Apparently, when Don told the newspaper he had found a reporter who was able to see the blurry figures, the McPhersons studied you. They know things. It wasn’t hard for them to find out about your membership.” Jake studied the portrait labeled ‘McPherson.’ “I wouldn’t be surprised if Richard is a member. You know that Dartmouth has the oldest college paper in the country.”
“I did, in fact.”
“Well, the McPhersons usually go to Dartmouth. A reporter that graduated from Dartmouth, is a member of the Dragons, and could see the shadows meant that you were perfect for this job.” Jake turned back to Dinah. “Come on, I want to show you something in Caedon’s study.
Dinah followed Jake out of the gallery and found Ward coming out of a room that appeared to be in the middle of a remodel.
“Uncle Caedon was all right for a single man, but he wasn’t that up on the media. I’m remodeling this room. I wanted a good media room and this room had everything I need.”
“We’re going to Caedon’s study,” Dinah told Ward. “There is something there that Jake wants me to look at.”
Ward fell into step next to her. They dropped back behind Jake. “This guy isn’t like any founder I have ever met,” Ward whispered.
“What do you mean?” Dinah eyed Jake as he walked next to Hendricks. Hendricks was apparently trying to talk to him about something important.
“Most of the founders are stuffy, conservative. This one is open. I don’t trust it.”
“Well, he did live most of his life outside of Firemountain. Maybe he just isn’t as jaded yet.”
“Possibly, but I think that something else is going on here. We don’t usually get them this cooperative.”
“Master Willis.” Hendricks's voice was raised in frustration. Dinah motioned for Ward to stop talking so they could hear what was being said.
“Master Willis,” and now Hendricks's voice was softer. He glanced back at Dinah. “You can’t let her in, sir. She is a reporter.”
“Yes, and she’s new to this community. She hasn’t been indoctrinated into the founde
rs’ ways yet.”
“Maybe, but still…” Hendricks trailed off, glancing over his shoulder at the silent Dinah and Ward.
A few moments later, Hendricks left to attend his duties, and Dinah lengthened her stride to catch up with Jake. “He seems upset, what’s going on?” she asked.
“Uncle Caedon didn’t let visitors into his study. Too much could go wrong.”
“So why do it now?”
Jake stopped. He gave Dinah an inscrutable look. “The sheriff asked me to work with you. My uncle was murdered, his heart cut out. I believe that if I am going to find the answers to what’s happened, I need to work with the newcomers, and not rely on those that have lived here all their lives.”
“Hendricks doesn’t agree, though.”
“He wouldn’t. He was my uncle’s confidant and knows more than he lets on. There are some secrets that can’t be kept anymore. I think that my uncle was planning on revealing them, but was stopped before he could.”
They started walking again in silence. Ward snapped pictures of the house as they moved to the west wing and up two flights of stairs.
Jake opened a set of double doors to the master suite. The furniture was heavy, functional and very old. To the right of the main door was another door, which Jake opened before motioning them in. Massive built-in bookcases dominated three of the walls. Behind the desk, a fire was laid in the fireplace. The furniture was crafted of heavy mahogany, and the black wood gleamed under the overhead light. A large table dominated the center of the room, and green desk lamps lit stacks of paper and very old manuscripts. The research was organized in neat stacks and noted in shorthand Dinah couldn’t decipher.
Whispers in the Woods (Firemountain Chronicles Book 1) Page 7
