The Suicide Lake (Book of Shadows 2)

by Michael Penning

  “What happened to you?” Duncan asked anxiously.

  When Josiah spoke, his broken nose and swollen mouth turned his voice muffled and strangely nasal. “Heath,” he rasped with obvious effort. “Ambushed.”

  “MacIntyre’s dead,” said Abigail. “I killed him.”

  Josiah’s head turned. His swollen eyes found Abigail and he bowed his head once at her in silent approval. Then his gaze seemed to sweep over the room, as if searching for something.

  Duncan read his mind. “Glenn’s dead too,” he said gently. “Heath shot him.”

  A look of profound sadness came over Josiah’s battered face. He lowered his head and his topknot fell forward as he gazed at the floor between his feet.

  Duncan gave him a moment before continuing. “Father Carnes is the one who summoned Samael. We’ve no idea where he is.”

  “Yes, we do,” Abigail said abruptly. She retrieved Carnes’ journal from where Duncan had laid it on the desk and flipped it open. Josiah’s ragged breathing filled the silence of the long moments that passed as Abigail scanned page after page of the priest’s notes. Finally, she looked up. “He’s going to Lake Tear of the Clouds.” She spun the open journal in her hands and indicated a passage. “Carnes’ covenant with Samael demands one final soul as a sacrifice... his own. And he must do it at the very place from which the demon arose. Until their pact is complete, the demon is bound to an earthly vessel. It needs a human body to possess like a parasite requires a host. But if we allow Carnes to drown in those waters, he will exchange his place on Earth for Samael’s place in hell and the demon will be released upon our world with all of its unholy strength. It will be free to take innocent victims at will and what has happened here in Tahawus will be repeated again and again to no end.”

  Duncan heaved a heavy breath as the gravity of her words fell upon him. “If we go after him, what will we do when we get to the lake? Only a priest can bless the waters of the lake and seal the gate.”

  “We will have to think of something,” Abigail said as she tucked the pistol back into her pocket. “Regardless, there isn’t a moment to lose. We must go after Carnes immediately.”

  Duncan shook his head. “Abby, Lake Tear of the Clouds sits miles past even North Camp, high on the shoulder of the Cloudsplitter. The journey is too long; we can’t possibly—”

  “There is a faster way to anachaju,” Josiah murmured abruptly. “Very dangerous.”

  Duncan swiveled and gave him a look. “How dangerous?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Abigail declared sharply. “We’re leaving. Now.”

  Chapter 47

  Father Elias Carnes felt the demon corrupting him from within as the impending storm split the heavens. Determined to be set free, Samael was gnawing at his insides and clawing at his mind. The demon had overtaken him completely and Carnes was now powerless to resist.

  He had been hiking for hours, traveling secret and hidden paths known only to him. The few who had come this way before him—the Legendre brothers and their treacherous Mohawk guides—had died long ago. Though the ancient trail would lead him directly to Lake Tear of the Clouds, the journey up the mountain was still long and arduous. The late afternoon sky was a churning maelstrom of lightning and thunder. A vicious wind whipped at Carnes’ face. Mud sucked at his boots and soaked the hem of his cassock. Tree limbs tore at him like sharp claws as he pushed his way through the forest. Climbing ever upward, Carnes could smell the electricity in the air; feel the moist pressure of the imminent downpour and the primal force of the storm’s might as it gathered strength. It wouldn’t be long now. By midnight, he would be standing on the desolate shore of Lake Tear of the Clouds. Every step he took up the mountain, every stream he crossed and every rock he ascended, brought him closer to his destination. It was supposed to be the apotheosis of his life’s work, a moment of ultimate triumph. Instead, it would now be the bitter consummation of an unforgiveable catastrophe.

  As a child in New York’s squalid Sixth Ward, Carnes had been subject to unimaginable cruelty and degradation. Having survived miraculously and grown older, one solitary question burned forever in his thoughts: Why? Why had he been born of a vicious rape? Why had his whore mother been bludgeoned to death by a drunk in a filthy brothel? Why had he been forced to live off refuse and the rancid castoffs of the slaughterhouses that surrounded Collect Pond? Why had he been obliged to make his bed in alleys polluted with vermin and excrement?

  Later in life, even after he had found his way as a man of the cloth, the haunting question still remained like a brand seared into his mind. Carnes had traveled far and wide as a missionary looking for answers, searching for something that could redeem the enigmatic ways of God. Instead, he witnessed women violated and killed by highwaymen. He saw Native villages burned to the ground. He saw children sold into slavery. He saw men blown apart by musket-fire. He saw war and poverty and starvation and depravity after depravity. With each new horror he witnessed, the same lingering question burned brighter in his mind: why did God allow all of it to happen?

  And then it had struck him like an epiphany. Only in knowing true evil would he be granted such revelation. And only one sin could unlock such godlike wisdom. It was the original sin, that of Adam and Eve. The sin of rebellion.

  Since that fateful realization, Carnes had spent nearly a decade pouring over heretical books and writings that had long ago seen their authors burned at the stake for blasphemy. When he had finally come across an arcane ritual to summon a demon, he had discovered that it required two things: a cursed place where the boundary between hell and Earth was at its thinnest, and a mortal soul willing to exchange his place on Earth for the demon’s place in hell. The irony wasn’t lost on Carnes that only in death would he be granted the answers to his life’s most burning questions. But oh, what a small price to pay for such enlightenment! To have the wisdom—even for a fleeting instant—to understand the wondrous and terrible ways of God! As he cast himself into the lake and sank into its freezing depths, there would be a moment of glorious revelation in the instant before his death when no secret would be kept from him. When the universe unlocked its mysteries to him, the question that haunted him day and night would finally be put to rest. In that one sublime instant, Carnes’ eyes would be opened to the divine purpose behind all of the suffering and horror he had witnessed throughout his life. At the moment of his death, his own tortured existence would suddenly be granted meaning.

  The first time Carnes had stood by the waters of Lake Tear of the Clouds, he could sense the evil in the air like the scent of smoke perceived through a keyhole. This is where Samael—God’s Angel of Death—had fallen through the Earth on his way to hell. As he began the ritual of summoning, Carnes had felt no remorse for the evil he was about to unleash upon the world. Humanity had long ago given itself over to the devil. He had seen it with his own eyes. Mankind’s was a kingdom of wickedness and hate; it was only fitting that it should be tested and punished by the venom of God. As the demon brought death and despair to all it came across, God would gather the faithful and pious to His loving embrace.

  The rest would be left to burn.

  But what Carnes hadn’t foreseen was that Samael wouldn’t be satisfied with the sacrifice of his own soul. He hadn’t anticipated that the demon would possess him, that it would have the power to push his conscious mind aside at will and use him to lead innocents like Evelyn McIntyre and Hannah Gill to their own destruction. Carnes had never intended for harm to come to a child like Hannah. God was supposed to lend His strength to the innocent so that they might withstand the temptations of the wicked. It was only then that Carnes finally understood the true depths of the evil he had awakened: Samael murdered innocents for nothing more than the love of destruction.

  With the dreadful magnitude of his folly laid bare, shame had kept Carnes from admitting what he had done—shame and fear of what the villagers would do to him once they discovered he was responsible for the deaths of their loved ones
. When Abigail had arrived in his village, Carnes had prayed that her Book of Shadows might reveal some secret spell to sever his bond with Samael and rid himself of the demon’s influence. But he hadn’t been able to overcome the grimoire’s powerful warding. Still, he had helped Abigail as much as he dared and had done his best to forestall the moment of his own sacrifice for as long as possible. But when Samael had pushed Carnes’ mind aside to lure Abigail into a confession, Carnes had known all was lost.

  Now, with the town abandoned and no souls left for Samael to ruin, the demon had finally turned on the priest. As he ascended the miles toward Lake Tear of the Clouds, there was a searing heat simmering in Carnes’ blood and he could taste something acrid and sulfurous seeping from his throat into his mouth. A terrible pressure was building behind his eyes, as if the demon he carried inside was trying to claw its way out through the sockets. Carnes knew Samael was transforming him into something monstrous, but he was helpless against it. The demon had stripped him of every shred of free will. Carnes’ only hope was for Abigail to find him and stop him before he reached the lake and the demon within him was unleashed.

  A vicious thunderclap exploded in the roiling clouds above. Lightning forked across the sky and the rain began to fall in fat droplets. Carnes didn’t cringe or waver as he pressed on. Somewhere inside his head, an irresistible voice urged him ever onward.

  The storm is a sign... The very heavens are opening themselves to you...

  Carnes couldn’t resist the demon’s fearsome call.

  Yes... Find me at the lake... Give yourself to me... Set me free...

  They were the last words Carnes heard before his own consciousness was devoured and he was lost forever.

  Chapter 48

  “We can’t go up there,” Duncan stated. “Small wonder no one has dared come this way before. It’s impossible. Only certain death lies that way.”

  A narrow canyon split the face of the mountain as if some titanic axe had cleaved it in two. Sheer granite walls soared a hundred feet into the air on either side of the deep cleft. In between the two cliffs, the giant fissure was strewn with enormous boulders, massive heaps of rubble, and towering rock buttresses that stretched upward at sharp angles. Water cascaded in a rushing stream through the yawning chasm. Green patches of moss mottled the gray slabs. Flash floods had washed the giant remnants of fallen trees into the gorge and they now protruded like massive stakes between the boulders. High above, the upper reaches of the canyon disappeared into the murky gray of the storm clouds.

  Rain beat down heavily upon the trio as they gazed up at the imposing route ahead. It was nearly dusk. The sun seemed to have never risen and the stormy sky was already surrendering what little light it held.

  “We’ve no choice,” Abigail said. “It’s the only way of reaching Lake Tear of the Clouds before Carnes does.” She looked at Josiah. “Are you certain this route will lead us directly to the lake?”

  Josiah nodded. The long trek through the forest had taken a toll on his injuries and he now said as little as possible. The swollen and bruised flesh of his face had gone a bluish-gray and he swayed slightly on his feet as if lightheaded.

  “But look at it, Abby!” Duncan exclaimed, shouting over a sudden eruption of thunder. “Just look at it! We can’t possibly climb up through that. That canyon’s a deathtrap! If this rain gets any worse, it will be flooded within an hour. We’ll be swept right off those rocks and sent crashing back down through the gorge. Not to mention some of those rock ladders look to be nearly vertical. Look at them! They rise dozens of feet high!” He frowned and shook his head. “No. There has to be some other way.”

  “There is no other way, Duncan,” Abigail insisted. “This is it. If we don’t stop Carnes before he drowns himself in the lake, who knows how many innocents will die at the hands of Samael? Dangerous or not, I’m going to find Carnes before he damns us all. If you wish to remain here with Josiah, then I welcome you to do so.”

  “I will lead,” Josiah mumbled through his swollen mouth. His speech came out slow and slurred, as if he were teetering on the verge of a great, deep sleep.

  Abigail gave him a concerned look. “No, River Stone. You have done enough for us already. I will go alone. You are exhausted and hurting.”

  “I am dying,” Josiah said flatly

  Abigail knew he was right. Heath’s vicious blow to Josiah’s head had done more damage than was visible to the eye. Heath himself must have believed he had killed the Native. As it was, Josiah’s skull was likely bleeding from within. The pressure of the blood on his brain was the reason for his deteriorating speech. Very soon, he would fall unconscious. Not long after, his brain would drown and go dark.

  “I will lead,” Josiah repeated firmly. Lost within his swollen eye sockets, his black eyes still peered at Abigail with resolute determination. There would be no convincing him otherwise; he would die proudly and on his own terms.

  Abigail’s grateful smile hid her sadness. “Thank you, River Stone.”

  “Count me in too,” Duncan said sullenly.

  Abigail looked at him. “Duncan, you—”

  “I’m going. Your plan won’t work without me.”

  Abigail gave him a moment to change his mind. When he didn’t, she didn’t challenge him further.

  No one spoke as they approached the mouth of the monstrous canyon. They moved in a line with Josiah leading the way, followed closely by Abigail and Duncan. The rock columns looming ahead seemed to grow ever taller as the trio drew closer. A nervous lump grew in Abigail’s stomach as her eyes traced their way far, far up the gorge.

  Josiah chose a line to the right of the rushing stream, brought them to the base of the enormous rockslide, and began to climb. The giant boulders were slick and treacherous beneath Abigail’s hands as she followed his lead, scrambling upward through the rain. To her left, the whitewater roared in her ear as it crashed and sprayed over the bedrock. It seemed that the flood had already swollen and intensified since their arrival. It occurred to Abigail that Duncan had been right: they could very well drown in this deep chasm if the downpour got any worse.

  But it was already too late to turn back. The gray light of day was quickly failing and their lanterns would be useless in this rain. They were trapped between towering cliffs on either side, and if they didn’t climb their way out of the canyon before darkness fell, they weren’t likely to survive the night.

  Abigail paused to catch her breath and glanced over her shoulder. Duncan was picking his way carefully over the wet boulders perhaps ten yards below her. Far beneath him was the rock-strewn base of the canyon. She turned and looked skyward into the rain. Josiah was there, finding hand and footholds and climbing steadily up the steep pitches. After all he had endured, Abigail didn’t know how he had the strength to carry on. She admired his courage and felt an ache in her heart to know it would soon be extinguished.

  Up beyond Josiah’s dark figure, the top of the gorge was lost in the gray fury of the clouds. It felt as if they had already been climbing for hours—and they still had far, far to go.

  Bowing her head, Abigail kept her eyes on the slippery rocks beneath her and resumed her climb. Before long, they came to a small waterfall plummeting over a cliff to their left. Josiah paused a moment to re-evaluate the route ahead. Satisfied, he continued to the right of the stream. Again, Abigail noticed the rush of the water becoming more powerful. If the immense walls of the canyon constricted the chasm any further, there would be no way around the cascading torrent.

  An ear-splitting blast of thunder erupted in the clouds. It was followed immediately by a bolt of lightning that licked the sky and touched down somewhere high up the canyon. Abigail flinched reflexively at the explosion and lost her footing. She slipped on a boulder and stumbled to the side, breaking her fall with her hand. Regaining her balance, she took a trembling breath to clear her thoughts before resuming her climb. In the moments that followed, she was so focused on her steps that she didn’t immediately
notice the roar of a second waterfall. She looked up.

  Josiah had come to a halt on a tiny ledge at the base of a nearly sheer rock face. Just a few yards to his left, a powerful waterfall gushed over a cliff. Torrents of water crashed to the rocks sixty feet below. To Josiah’s right, the vertical wall of the canyon towered high overhead, boxing him in. Caught between the wall and the waterfall, there was nowhere to go but up.

  Abigail remained perched on a ledge almost thirty feet below and waited as Josiah studied the imposing rock face. Twisting at the waist, he raised his index finger into the air as if giving a sign for the number one. Then he pointed his finger at himself, followed by Abigail and then Duncan. Abigail understood his meaning: they would go one at a time, ascending to each other’s ledges and waiting there until the way ahead was clear. Abigail looked down at Duncan to be sure he understood. He nodded and they all began to climb.

  When Abigail reached the spot where Josiah had started his difficult ascent, she stopped to study his progress. He was now just below the halfway mark of the steep pitch. He moved slowly and gingerly, the sinewy muscles of his forearms quivering with the strain as he probed the smooth face for holds. Abigail did her best to study his movements, trying to memorize the handholds he used. As he neared the top of the precipice, a lack of decent holds forced Josiah to move laterally to his left. The pounding rush of the waterfall now surged just a few feet from his shoulder. Water crashed over the rock and sprayed into his face. The cold wind flowing from the frigid current lashed at him mercilessly. Balancing on a ledge barely the width of a coin, Josiah pressed himself flat against the rock and very slowly searched the wet surface with his palms, probing for anything that would provide him with a grip.

  There was very little.

  Josiah looked up. He was nearly there; only a few more feet and he would be able to haul himself over the ledge at the top of the face. But the cold and exertion were sapping his strength and he was fading rapidly. If he didn’t find some way to climb out of his exposed position, he would die where he stood.