“Mr. Durer?” Eve asked. She shined the flashlight into Durer’s bedroom. “Are you here?” There was no one inside empty room. Percy Durer’s room was even more disturbing than the floor below, if that was even possible. There were hundreds of drawings covering the wooden planks on the walls. Eve walked closer the papers on the wall. She focused the beam on the uneven drawings.
Why did I have to choose this of all days to come here? she wondered.
Her skin crawled as she looked at drawing after drawing. They were all of a cave somewhere in the forest. Durer penciled in blackness pouring out of the cave, stretching outward like an enormous clawed hand. Crows surrounded the cave in most of the pictures. There were also plenty with dead animals outside the cave, where their blood seeped into the earth. Surprisingly, none of the drawings featured scarecrows at all.
“Gross,” she said. She snatched a few of the pictures off the wall. The others would want to see this. Some kind of bird skeleton was nailed to the wall above Durer’s bed. Eve was willing to bet that it belonged to a crow. There were several chalices next to a group of candles on a wooden cabinet. She didn’t even want to know what was in the cups. Shining her light on the opposite end of the room, Eve spotted a wooden desk.
What’s this? she thought. The desk was covered in old papers, manuscripts, and books. One stack of papers seemed to be the storekeeper’s financial records, which were full of useless information. Some of the texts were in a strange dialect that she was unable to decipher. When she cleared the papers away from the center of the desk, Eve discovered something new.
It was a book, or at least it looked like one. Like many of the antiques in the novelty store, the brown leather binding of the book was faded. She trained the beam of light on the words on the cover. The Keeper of the Crows, read the title.
“Bingo,” Eve whispered, flipping through the pages. They all appeared to be handwritten, mostly in cursive. Durer’s handwriting was at times neat, other times erratic. Several pages depicted drawings of ritual circles and strange symbols. Eve also saw an odd-looking map spread over two pages near the center of the book. She tucked the book into a bag and left the eerie bedroom.
***
Thomas could hear Eve’s footsteps above as he followed the sheriff down the stairs. He was no longer thinking about the disquieting behavior of Judge Underhill. Instead, he was preoccupied with the concerned expression on Jezebel’s face. It was easy to guess why she was worried. If Percy Durer was inside the store and had not responded to them, there was a chance he was gone. Even if he was, there was also a chance he was dangerous, given all Jezebel had said about the man. In searching for a way out of their current predicament, it was possible they placed themselves in even greater danger.
“Be careful down here,” Jezebel whispered. She gazed into his eyes in the dim light. The door was already open. “The last time I was down here, Durer showed me his collection of Salem’s scarecrows. They could still be here.”
“Now you tell me,” he said weakly. Thomas held out his flashlight to light the way for her.
“Mr. Durer?” Jezebel asked. “Are you here?”
The small room had been overturned. Unlike the largely undisturbed and deserted levels above, Durer’s secret room was covered in ripped paper and broken antiques. Jezebel’s light came to rest on top of two overturned shelves splintered on the floor.
“Over here,” she whispered to Thomas. Together, the two propped the shelves up, exposing the body of Percy Durer. The dead man’s expression was frozen in a look of pure horror. Dried blood streaked out from multiple wounds over his chest.
“These are stab wounds,” the sheriff said. She moved over to the front of a series of shelves for a better view.
“My guess is someone or something didn’t want Durer talking,” Thomas said. “That means you were right. He must have known something important.”
“Now we’ll never know,” Jezebel said. She sighed.
Time was running out, and they were no closer to destroying the evil cloaking the town.
While she spoke, a dark figure sitting in the shelf behind her stretched out a withered hand in her direction. Thomas saw the scarecrow’s face looming behind her before Jezebel noticed. As he swung the flare gun up to shoot the creature, a knife stabbed his left arm. The flashlight hit the ground and went out. Reeling in pain, Thomas fired the flare gun blindly. The light from the gun temporarily illuminated the room. Two more scarecrows rose from the dark corners of the secret room. Another stood behind him with a knife. Jezebel pushed the shelf over, which collapsed on the scarecrow holding the blade.
“We have to get out of here!” Thomas shouted. The two ran swiftly up the stairs, the sounds of the creatures following behind them. Then Jezebel tripped on an old step, dropping both her gun and flashlight. Thomas saw Judge Underhill in the shadows. The man was staring dispassionately at Jezebel, holding a flare gun. The scarecrows passed through the doorframe and began walking up the stairs.
“What are you waiting for?” Thomas shouted incredulously. “Shoot them!” The judge didn’t move. Running as fast as he could, Thomas doubled back and grabbed Jezebel’s hand as one of the withered scarecrow hands wrapped itself around her ankle. Pulling furiously, Thomas barely managed to free Jezebel from the creature’s grip.
“What’s going on?” Eve asked. She raced up to them from the other side of the store.
“Run!” Thomas and Jezebel shouted in unison. The four took off for the car outside. Thomas was glad Jezebel took the chance of leaving the engine running. He could see the scarecrows through the window as the sheriff shifted the vehicle into gear. Sitting in the back seat, Thomas looked up at Underhill with eyes full of rage.
“Why didn’t you shoot?” Thomas shouted. “She could have been killed!”
“It wasn’t my fault,” the judge said tensely. “I froze.”
“It’s OK,” Jezebel said. “We’re all alive, aren’t we?”
“Where are we going?” Underhill asked.
“I don’t know,” Jezebel answered. “Getting to Durer was as far as my plan went.”
“Did you find anything downstairs?” Eve asked. “Other than the scarecrows, I mean.”
“Durer was dead,” Thomas said. “He was murdered by the scarecrows in the basement, which means his secrets died with him.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Eve replied. She held up a faded book for him to see. “I have his journal right here. It’s called The Keeper of the Crows, so I think it might have what we need.”
“I never thought I’d say this,” Jezebel said. “But thank God your girlfriend decided to tag along.”
“Ex-girlfriend,” Thomas repeated, correcting her again. He glanced back at Eve. “What does it say?”
She flipped through the pages. “That’s a bit trickier. Durer wrote in this thing for a long time, judging by the age of the book. A lot of his words are incoherent. Apparently, he believed that Salem Alistair possessed latent psychic powers. This included the ability to give life to nonliving things.”
“Creation?” Thomas asked.
Eve shook her head. “More like the ability to animate things already in existence with his own consciousness.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Thomas said. “He called them his ‘children’ earlier.”
“Right. Durer also worshipped an entity in the forest he called the Keeper of the Crows.” She held up a few of the drawings from inside the old man’s room. “I think this spirit is what’s controlling Salem.”
Thomas considered the words. “I think the killings are making the spirit stronger. If that’s true, there’s no telling what an army of scarecrows could provide.”
“When we were kids, Salem used to tell me about something that wanted him in the forest,” Jezebel said. “It scared him. Then tonight, Salem told me the spirit kept him alive after he was murdered. Don’t forget, he called himself the Keeper of the Crows.”
“Does it have anything to do
with the pagan sacrifices of the early settlers here?” Thomas asked. “They were worshiping some type of demon, too.”
“The book doesn’t say a lot that identifies the entity Durer worshiped. From what it sounds like, the spirit can’t possess anyone.”
“It didn’t possess him,” Thomas said. “Salem Alistair was murdered by Logan Randall and his friends.”
“Then the spirit must have corrupted his body,” Jezebel said. “That thing we met claimed it wasn’t the spirit of the forest, but it’s not Salem Alistair either. It may have his memories and his brain, but the Salem I know would never have done any of this. He’s been changed somehow.”
“Then we have to stop him,” Judge Underhill replied, breaking his silence. “By whatever means necessary. That’s what you should be looking for in that book, miss.”
“That’s what I’m working on,” Eve said, shooting him a look. “It’s not as easy as it seems, especially in a moving car.”
Thomas put his hand on her shoulder. “Relax. Just take your time.”
The judge shook his head. “I suggest you hurry. If what you’ve said is true, this monster isn’t going to stop until it has done whatever it takes to destroy you.”
Suddenly, Jezebel slammed down on the brakes. As the car came to a screeching halt, she turned the steering wheel around and directed the car in the opposite direction.
“What are you doing?” Thomas asked.
“My mom!” Jezebel exclaimed. “If Salem still recognizes me, he’ll remember who she is too.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s going after her,” Eve replied. “Maybe he doesn’t even know where she is.”
“Remember the crows? The Keeper has eyes all over the city,” Thomas said. “He knows. Hand me the duffel bag.”
“We should be focusing on getting out of here, not walking into the belly of the beast!” Judge Underhill protested. “If the Keeper was there, you would just be walking into a trap.”
“If it was your mother, what would you do?” Jezebel asked.
Underhill didn’t reply. Even Eve looked skeptical.
“We’re going to save her, end of story,” Thomas said. Jezebel glanced back with the ghost of a smile on her lips, her face full of relief.
There was silence in the vehicle for the next several minutes. Eve sat staring at the book in her lap, the beam of her flashlight positioned steadily over the old pages. The sheriff gripped the wheel tightly, and her eyes remained trained on the road ahead. Within minutes, the car was moving down a winding country road. Thomas gazed out at the dark landscape. Soon Jezebel turned off the road back toward a town street. With each house they passed, Thomas hoped any families hiding inside the homes were safe.
“You’re right about the killings,” Eve said. “Durer claims that the offering of blood strengthens the spirit of the cave. All of the murders only serve to make it more powerful. He also appears to claim that sacrificing life to the creature keeps you safe from harm.”
“Really?” Thomas asked. “Let me see.”
As often as I could, I would bring live food to the dark forest, read the passage. There I would kill the animal, leaving its corpse for the crows. I have never dared to enter the cave.
Thomas looked back at the pictures of the cave in the forest, which Eve had collected in the storekeeper’s room. If Durer knew where the spirit’s cave was, it was possible he left instructions on how to reach it.
“Those sacrifices didn’t protect Durer in the end, though,” Thomas said. “He was still murdered by the scarecrows.”
“Unless,” Judge Underhill said. “The spirit wanted human lives. Logan killed Gary Davis, and Salem seems to have left him unharmed.”
Thomas doubted that very much indeed.
“It doesn’t matter,” Thomas said. “Even if we knew for sure that the sacrifices would keep us safe, none of us are about to murder innocent people.”
The judge looked away.
“The question is,” Eve said. “Which of them do we fight? Do we go after Salem Alistair or the spirit of the forest?”
“I’m not sure we’re capable of fighting any of them,” Thomas replied. “We don’t even know where the Keeper’s cave is. Seeking out Salem Alistair doesn’t sound like such a good idea either.”
***
Streaming winds pounded against the car, covering it with leaves that were in seemingly perpetual motion. Large trees looked onward in the back yards of the small houses on either side of the road, watchful guardians of the forest growing ever closer. Jezebel suddenly slammed on the brakes in front of a lonely white house. Light from the headlights spilled over the broken wooden fence.
“We’re here,” Jezebel said. She grabbed her gun. Thomas turned to Eve.
“Wait for us in the driver’s seat,” he said. “If this is a trap, we’re going to need you to be ready.”
“You can forget that,” Eve said. “You’re not leaving me. Not when these monsters are walking around.”
“Don’t worry,” Judge Underhill said. “I’m happy to stay here where it’s safe.” He slid out of the passenger seat and walked to the front of the vehicle.
Jezebel broke out into a run toward her mother’s house. Thomas and Eve took off after her, keeping their flashlights off.
“Be careful,” Thomas said as Jezebel removed her keys from her pocket. “We need to be as quiet as possible.” The wind picked up against the house. To Jezebel’s surprise, the door swung open. It was already unlocked.
“Mom?” she whispered urgently, hoping that her mother didn’t share the same fate as Percy Durer. In her heart, she still couldn’t believe that Salem was capable of this. Surely he wouldn’t kill her mother if there was even a shred of goodness left in him.
“She’s not in the bedroom,” Thomas whispered. With the rustling of the wind outside, they could hear nothing other than the sound of their own footsteps. It was too quiet. Thomas glanced back at the car.
“Underhill is gone,” he whispered. “Jezebel, how did he know that Logan Randall killed Gary Davis?”
The sheriff froze. “I never told him that,” she whispered. It briefly occurred to her that there was still a piece that didn’t fit, but she didn’t have the time to worry about it.
“Over here,” Eve whispered. She pointed at the kitchen door. It too was hanging wide open. “Look outside.” Thomas pointed to a thin figure standing just outside the forest. Flipping on his light, Jezebel saw Emma Woods hovering under the large oak trees in the back yard. The frail woman’s arms were stretched out, her nightgown swaying to and fro in the harsh winds.
“Mom!” Jezebel shouted. She tore out of the house in the direction of her mother. She was mere feet from her mother when Emma’s body tumbled to the ground, revealing the Keeper of the Crows standing behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The carved eyes of the pumpkin blazed in the darkness. Jezebel pulled out her gun, and the Keeper watched her gaze shift to the body at his feet. The Keeper remained in place, his uneven smile mocking her. Hundreds of crows flew overhead.
“I knew you would come. Best of all, you brought your friends straight to me. Along with that book.” He looked up at Eve, taking in her startled expression.
“Yes, I know all about Durer’s book. There is nothing I do not see. The very birds in the sky are my spies. The old fool was clever enough to record his knowledge, little good it did him. Give me the book, woman, and join your friends in death.”
Jezebel howled in rage and lunged at the Keeper. He moved with inhuman speed and struck her in the shoulder, knocking her back against the ground. Tree roots burst out of the ground and wrapped themselves around her legs.
“You killed my mother, Salem! How could you?”
“You don’t listen, do you? Although we share memories, I am not Salem Alistair. He lost control of his body the day you failed him. The day I was born.”
The Keeper was so focused on Jezebel he failed to notice the two others moving closer.
“Cover me,” Thomas whispered to Eve. He ran forward, firing at the scarecrow from his revolver. At the sound of the gunshots, the monster shrieked in anger. The Keeper’s straw hands shot out at Thomas. He ducked under the first blow, but a root curled around his foot, causing him to stumble, and the next fist struck him in the abdomen. He was lifted into the air by the blow. The duffel bag fell a few inches away, just out of his reach. Thomas scrambled for the bag and used all his strength to pull the root farther out of the ground.
“Hand over the book,” the Keeper hissed. “Or your friends will die the most horrifying deaths imaginable.”
“You want it so badly?” Eve asked. She clutched the book tightly to her chest. “Then take it!” She hurled it into the air behind the Keeper. Instantly, a large tree root shot out from the ground and snatched the book. The Keeper took the book from the root and began flipping through the yellowed pages with interest.
“Kill them,” the Keeper hissed. The crows flying above immediately started descending in a thick cloud. “I’ve saved something special for you,” he said to Jezebel. The straw receded from his arm, exposing a white hand with sharp black fingernails. He stabbed Jezebel in the arm with one of the fingernails. Her blood dripped over the ground.
Straining with all his might, Thomas finally grabbed the duffel bag.
“Kill this,” he whispered as he fired a flare gun at the scarecrow. The shot ignited, and the Keeper erupted in flames. The root around Thomas’ foot came free, allowing him to grab Jezebel’s shotgun. Thomas fired directly into the jack o’ lantern. The Keeper was thrown back into one of the oak trees as bits of pumpkin sprayed into the air. While Thomas pulled Jezebel free, Eve grabbed Durer’s book, which had fallen to the ground.
“We have to get out of here,” Thomas shouted above the roar of the approaching birds. He followed Jezebel’s eyes to the flaming scarecrow. The front of the pumpkin was obliterated, revealing the grotesque face of Salem Alistair underneath. It was not the frightened face Jezebel remembered in her nightmares. Salem was gaunt, his mouth surrounded by dark blood. His eyes were pitch black, in contrast with pale skin.
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