The Suicide Lake (Book of Shadows 2)

by Michael Penning

  But there wasn’t time to go to him. Heath was already advancing, his gray eyes filled with murderous intent.

  Abigail didn’t hesitate. Her hand dropped to the leather belt she wore—Colvin’s belt—and drew the pistol from its holster. Her gaze was fierce and unflinching as she leveled it on the big man barreling toward her.

  The sudden appearance of the firearm in her hand took Heath by surprise and he faltered in his charge.

  The pistol went off.

  Abigail’s shot caught Heath in the right shoulder and sent him reeling. He staggered, his right arm hanging useless from its shattered socket like a rag doll with ripped seams. Blood soaked the filthy linen of his shirt. Shocked, he had enough time to raise his head, to see the merciless look in Abigail’s eyes.

  And then Timber had him.

  The dog snarled viciously as he surged forward and leaped at Heath, catching him in the chest. The impact propelled them both backward and they went toppling to the ground. Sprawled in the underbrush, Heath cried out and raised his good arm to protect his face while Timber snapped at him in a bloodthirsty frenzy. Spittle flew from the dog’s jaws as he bared his fangs and lashed out at Heath’s throat, intent on tearing it to shreds. The snapping jaws found the exposed meat of Heath’s raised forearm. With a loud and horrible crunch, the bone snapped under the incredible pressure of the big dog’s bite. Heath screamed as Timber sank his teeth deep and whipped his head savagely from side to side, ripping away skin and flesh and veins and tendons. Blood sprayed from the ruptured arteries, soaking the dog’s snarling muzzle and thick, black hide. Again and again Timber struck, biting and ripping and tearing at Heath’s arms, chest, and face.

  Heath shrieked and writhed in agony as the enraged dog ravaged him. In vain, he flailed blindly and beat at Timber with his fist. With one last desperate effort, his left hand fell upon the rifle where it had fallen and he swung it hard, bringing the heavy butt crashing into the dog’s skull. Timber let out a startled yelp and went limp before slumping to the side.

  Heath rolled in the dirt, dazed and weakened from the blood loss. The world wobbled and spun beneath him as he tried to sit up.

  A shadow fell upon him.

  Heath looked up and found Abigail there, standing over him as he lay sprawled on his back. She held something in her fist, something long and sharp and gleaming. Heath’s hand fumbled for the rifle but she kicked it away and stepped on his wounded forearm, pinning the mangled mess to the ground beneath her boot.

  Heath howled in pain but Abigail paid him no attention. She dropped to one knee over his heaving chest and pressed the tip of Colvin’s knife up into Heath’s chin, piercing the skin behind the blood-drenched tangle of his goatee. She took a moment to look into his eyes, to be sure he understood what she was going to do next. She saw the fear dawn in those gray eyes and felt a fleeting glimmer of satisfaction.

  And then she rammed the blade up through his jaw and into his skull.

  Abigail left the knife embedded where it was as she rose and turned her attention to Timber. Heath’s blow to the head had stunned the dog but he was slowly shaking it off and recovering. His long, pink tongue was stained red as he licked the blood from around his teeth and lips. Abigail saw him gazing hungrily at Heath’s torn and lifeless corpse.

  “Have at him, boy,” she murmured into the dog’s ear.

  Leaving Timber to his feast, Abigail went to Colvin’s side. She knew there was no need to hurry. There was too much blood; it was already too late. Colvin was on the verge of losing consciousness as Abigail knelt next to him and took his head in her lap. There was nothing she could do for him now but be with him while he died. In her experience, it was all anyone could ever really ask for: to not die alone.

  Colvin’s face was still and ashen as he stared up at the sky. His amber eyes became vacant and sightless. Death came upon him swiftly.

  When the moment passed, there were no tears and no goodbyes, only a hollow feeling in Abigail’s heart that hurt her more than anything she had endured in a very long time. Unable to bear the awful stillness of Colvin’s lifeless gaze, she slid his eyes closed and remained there in the blood-soaked dirt, cradling his head in her lap.

  Everyone dies, she reminded herself over and over, letting the familiar refrain comfort her and numb her pain. Everyone dies. Your parents, your family, your friends, your lovers. Everyone dies, everyone dies. And one day, you will die too...

  Chapter 45

  Abigail was leaving Colvin’s cabin behind when Duncan found her. “Abby!” he exclaimed when he saw her trudging up the path. “I heard gunshots! What—”

  “Glenn’s dead,” she said. Her voice was blunt and detached. “MacIntyre shot him. The bullet was meant for me.”

  “Oh God...” Duncan’s face lost its color.

  “We haven’t time to mourn,” said Abigail.

  Something about her tone gave Duncan a chill. Would she say the same thing about him some time soon?

  “We must go to the chapel,” she continued. “We must retrieve my Book of Shadows... and we must finally put an end to this evil.”

  Duncan still had many questions but he knew better than to ask.

  As they stole through the village in silence, the town gave the impression of a body without a spirit; the empty husk of something left behind. A cold breeze had arisen, stirring leaves and whistling a ghostly song as it breathed through the desolate cabins. It was early afternoon, but the sky was growing ever darker. Soon the rain would come.

  When Abigail eventually did speak, it was to brief Duncan on what she had pieced together about Father Carnes. It quickly became apparent that she would say no more about Colvin. Duncan suspected she would never speak of him again.

  The white steeple of the chapel loomed over them as they drew near. Abigail pushed gently at the unlocked door and it creaked open.

  There was nothing but silence within.

  Carnes was nowhere to be found.

  “Be vigilant,” Abigail warned as Duncan slipped across the threshold and closed the door behind them. “A powerful demon resides within Carnes... and he could be waiting for us anywhere.”

  “Do you think he suspects you?” Duncan whispered.

  “He would be a fool not to.”

  An icy prickle of dread ran up Duncan’s spine as they crept up the aisle toward the altar. Forward and to their left stood the closed door of the vestry. What would they find within? Was Carnes in there, waiting for them? Worse yet, what if the priest was no longer himself? What if he had been overtaken completely by the demon inside of him?

  The floorboards creaked unnervingly beneath even their lightest tread, announcing their presence to anyone who was listening. The tall windows shuddered under the force of a strong wind as the storm outside gathered strength. Duncan steeled his nerves and focused his attention on the closed door now only a few feet away. Part of him expected it to fly open at any moment. He had a vision of some nightmarish creature hurtling toward him from the vestry. His heart quickened in his chest as they drew to a halt.

  Very quietly, Abigail leaned forward and pressed an ear to the door. A long moment passed in silence as she remained there, listening for movement on the other side.

  A gust of wind whistled a mournful tune through the bell tower high above them.

  Abigail gave Duncan an apprehensive look as she withdrew from the door and shrugged silently. She hadn’t heard anything from inside the vestry.

  But that didn’t mean it was empty.

  Reaching for the door handle, Abigail let her hand sit on it for a moment and braced herself for whatever was going to happen next.

  Sweat sprang to Duncan’s palms as he watched her release the latch.

  The door cracked inward.

  Nothing happened.

  With a gentle push, Abigail eased the door wider.

  The vestry beyond was silent and deserted.

  “He’s gone,” said Abigail as they stepped inside.

  Duncan was
unsure if he should be relieved or dismayed. “Gone where?”

  Abigail left his question unanswered as she moved swiftly across the room to the book cabinet. Relief washed over her at the sight of her Book of Shadows still tucked neatly behind the glass doors. She had been afraid of what Carnes might do with it once she had given him reason to suspect her. She had been a fool to ever trust him with her most valuable possession. She would never allow it to happen again.

  Abigail didn’t bother examining the lock on the cabinet. Instead, she reached for Carnes’ washbasin, shielded her eyes with her forearm, and smashed the glass doors. Broken shards fell noisily to the floor and crunched under Abigail’s boot as she stepped forward and took her grimoire into her hands. The crimson leather seemed to radiate a strange heat of its own as she sprung the iron clasps and cracked the volume open. Her gaze moved like a loving caress across the yellow parchment as she inspected the ancient tome for damage. Satisfied that all was in order, Abigail laid the book on the vestry desk and returned her attention to the collection of books arrayed in Carnes’ cabinet. Some of the volumes were familiar, but most were religious treatises by authors too obscure for her to recognize. Abigail drew a finger across the worn spines as she scanned the titles.

  She stopped abruptly.

  “What is it?” Duncan asked, moving to her side.

  Abigail didn’t answer. Instead, she curled her fingers into a fist and wrapped her knuckles against the lowest row of books.

  The sound she produced was strangely hollow.

  “A false front,” Abigail murmured. Her eyes lit with fascination as she leaned closer to examine the volumes. What she discovered was a flat piece of wood expertly carved and painted to resemble leather book spines. A small space was visible where one fake book had been made to seem shorter than its neighbors. Abigail probed the narrow opening with her finger and found she could slip it through to the other side of the wooden front. She pulled at it gently. Four of the false book spines came away as one and revealed a concealed drawer. Abigail’s heart danced with excitement as she drew it open.

  Inside, was a small, leather-bound book.

  Abigail plucked it from its hiding spot, flipped it open, and studied the pages of neat, flowing script. “Impossible...” she murmured breathlessly.

  “What? What is it?” asked Duncan, alarmed by the look on her face.

  “Carnes’ diary. He’s been documenting everything...” Abigail quickly skipped forward through the pages, scanning the entries. “It’s all here, an entire account of the ritual he used to summon Samael. And there is more as well, much more. Spells and rituals such as I have never seen. It’s his own Book of Shadows!”

  Abigail handed the journal to Duncan to examine for himself and her eyes fell upon the Bible Carnes had left on the desk. What had Carnes been reading when she had interrupted him that morning? Abigail seized the Bible from where it sat and cracked it open at the page the priest had left marked. Her eyes flicked rapidly back and forth as she scanned the passages, searching for clues.

  “No,” she said abruptly. “It can’t be...”

  An anxious look bloomed on Duncan’s face. “What is it? What have you found?”

  “Look here,” Abigail swung the Bible around and slid her finger down the page to the appropriate passage. “It concerns the Fall of Adam and Eve in the Book of Genesis. In tempting Eve to eat the fruit of the forbidden tree of knowledge, the serpent says, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.”

  “Yes, but everyone knows the devil is a liar,” Duncan remarked. “He would have said anything to persuade Eve to transgress.”

  “Perhaps, but many believe the serpent in the garden was actually Samael.” Abigail’s finger slid to another passage further down the page. “Look here. Once Adam and Eve have eaten the fruit of knowledge, God Himself says, Behold, the Man is become as one of us, to know good and evil.”

  Duncan stared at her, silently trying to put it all together in his mind.

  “This passage is the key,” Abigail persisted. “To be a god is to have knowledge of both good and evil. That is why Carnes summoned Samael.”

  “So that he might somehow attain godlike wisdom?”

  “Precisely. Carnes had already known good—he was a man of faith, a pious messenger of the word of God. But in order to be graced with true enlightenment, he had to commit an act of ultimate evil. And according to Scripture, what is the greatest sin against God?”

  Duncan gave it a moment’s thought. “Murder?”

  “No. It’s rebellion. Lucifer and his followers were cast into hell because they rebelled against God. Evil as we know it began with Lucifer’s rebellion, and in Carnes’ mind, the only way to know ultimate evil is to commit a similar act of treason.”

  Duncan’s face suddenly lit as it all became very clear for him. “And what could be more treasonous than for a man of faith to embrace one of God’s most rebellious adversaries: the same demon that tempted Adam and Eve to sin?”

  Abigail’s blue eyes twinkled with excitement as the pieces all came together. “By aiding Samael to harvest the lost souls of the suicidal, Carnes aims to attain a level of enlightenment forbidden to all but God Himself.”

  Duncan ran a hand through his coarse hair and shook his head in disbelief. “’Tis an insane idea. Carnes would have to be a madman.”

  “Most certainly,” Abigail agreed. “Who else but a lunatic would volunteer to live out here in this godforsaken wilderness?”

  Duncan gave her a look that told her he wasn’t amused. “But if Carnes has been possessed by Samael, then why has he been defending you? Why has he been helping us?”

  “Has he? It seems to me that he’s done only enough to avoid our suspicion. In fact, he’s denied the possibility of demonic possession at every turn, hasn’t he? Not to mention the fact that he tried to coax me into revealing my darkest secrets to him. What do you suppose Samael would have done with that knowledge? What better way of riding himself of me than by leading me to death by my own hand?”

  Abigail went quiet for a moment before continuing. “There is another question that troubles me. How did Carnes happen to come across the portal at Lake Tear of the Clouds? Surely it can’t be simple coincidence that Witherbee & Rand sent him of all people to this remote part of the country where there just happens to be a gateway to hell.”

  Duncan’s expression suddenly looked like he had been struck by lightning. “Carnes wasn’t sent here by Witherbee & Rand.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Carnes doesn’t work for the company. He arrived here on his own as a roaming missionary years ago and never left.”

  “A missionary?” Abigail’s eyes widened as another realization came to her abruptly. “Did Carnes ever study with the Jesuits?”

  “I seem to remember him speaking of having spent some time among the French to the north. I suppose it’s possible that he interacted with the Jesuits.”

  “Then he could have heard the tale of the Legendre brothers!” Abigail marveled. “The Jesuits knew about this place; they knew it was a portal to—”

  A door slammed shut in the sanctuary.

  Abigail went rigid and exchanged a fearful glance with Duncan.

  They were no longer alone.

  Chapter 46

  Footsteps echoed from beyond the closed door of the vestry. They were slow and shambling, as if someone was plodding through the chapel on unsteady legs. There was no mistaking their intent: they were heading directly for the door.

  Carnes had returned.

  Step... Step... Step...

  Abigail retreated across the small room. Her eyes darted left and right, searching for a way out. Her gaze fell upon the window. It was too small for an escape.

  They were trapped.

  Step... Step... Step...

  The footsteps grew ever louder.

  Just by listening, Abigail could trace Carnes’ path through the sanctuary. He was nearing
the head of the aisle. Soon, he would reach the chancel in front of the altar. From there, it was only a few more steps across the transept to the door of the vestry.

  Abigail’s hands shot to the belt slung around her waist. She had left Colvin’s knife embedded in Heath MacIntyre’s head but she still had his pistol. Her palm closed around the worn grip even as a sinking realization came to her.

  She hadn’t reloaded after firing at Heath.

  Step... Step... Step...

  With not a moment to lose, Abigail rummaged desperately through the pockets of Colvin’s coat. She found his powder kit and bit the stopper from the pouch. Willing herself to keep her hand steady, she poured the gunpowder and primed the pistol’s flashpan. She felt Duncan’s fearful eyes on her, silently pleading with her to hurry.

  Step... Step... Step...

  The footsteps came to a halt just beyond the door.

  Abigail’s heart pounded furiously as she dropped the lead ball into the pistol’s barrel. Her hand fumbled with the ramrod, nearly dropping it in her haste as she packed the ball.

  From outside, she heard a hand settle on the door handle.

  The latch moved.

  Abigail swung the pistol up and cocked the hammer.

  The door creaked open.

  Abigail’s finger tightened around the trigger.

  She didn’t fire.

  “Josiah!” she exclaimed at the sight of the battered and bare-chested Native standing in the open doorway.

  Josiah’s face was a hideous sight. His nose was bent sideways at an ugly angle across his face. Both eye sockets were nearly swollen shut, his black pupils almost completely hidden beneath bruised flesh. One cheek was a strange color and appeared oddly flat, as if the bone beneath had been crushed. Blood streaked his lips and chin and there were gaping holes in his gums where teeth had been knocked from of his mouth.

  Abigail and Duncan both rushed to him and eased him into a chair at the table.