by Chris Raven
“There’s something more... Last night I dreamt about Anne again, but I know it wasn’t just a dream. I think it was some kind of a message.” I ignore the disbelieving snort that Dunning throws out and I continue with my explanation. “In the dream, we were on the esplanade of dead land near the lake. I think that’s where the Mohawk town was. Anne would lead me to an old twisted tree and she started digging, desperate. I don’t know what she was looking for because she vanished before we could find it.”
“Was there any reason for Anne to take you there?” Eloise asks.
“I don’t know. She did not speak to me at any time.” I try to remember and dive into the misty memories of my dream. “Yes, I had asked her how I could free them from that being. And while we dug, the spirit was near and looked furious.”
Eloise opens the short story, which I had also left on the table. She passes the pages at full speed until she finds what she is looking for:
“You have three days to give me the first child. Besides, you will have to take some object of the child and bury it under my tree, as a tribute and a sign of obedience.” Eloise reads. “If you look at the story’s illustrations, you’ll see that there is a mound at the tree’s foot and that, with each crime, the mound is getting bigger.”
“The story says that these objects of the victims are just a tribute, a kind of gift from the murderer to him.” says Dunning. “What would that have to do with liberating the children’s spirits?”
“I believe that, in reality, that being needs these “tributes” to bind their spirits, to prevent them from transcending and being able to keep them subject to their will and to feed on their souls. What can these objects be?”
The three of us were silent, while Eloise kept passing the pages of the story, looking for a clue. I just looked at them, with a confused and dull mind. Now that I’ve released everything I wanted to tell them, I feel exhausted. I think I need, at least for a moment, for them to bear the weight of the conversation. Suddenly, Dunning’s face glows:
“The shoes... I remember the cases of Anne, Bobby, and Dave. In all three cases, the shoes did not appear. They even sent us the murderer’s psychological profile suggesting that he could collect them as a sort of trophy.”
“Yes, that’s it. When we saved Norah, we found the murderer taking her shoes off at the lake’s shore.” As soon as I uttered the words, my enthusiasm was deflated. “Is all of this helpful in any way?”
“Of course, it is useful.” Eloise answers. “If we find those shoes and purify them by fire, we will liberate their spirits and weaken Tekarihoga.”
“And when would we do it?”
“The sooner the better.” says Dunning. “Before I regain reason and I reconsider what I do talking about these issues. Or before I become as crazy as you both.”
“I can’t now.” I apologize. “This afternoon is my father’s funeral and I have to be with my family.”
“That’s right, I found out yesterday.” Dunning puts one of his huge hands on my shoulder and squeezes it with the love of a constrictor snake. “I’m so sorry, kid.”
I just give him a smile of gratitude, while I throw Eloise a look to remind her of her promise not to tell Dunning anything about my father, at least for now. When she nods, I get up from the table to leave.
“Then I’m leaving. See you in the afternoon to continue talking?”
“Go at ease. We will continue to investigate.” Eloise answered. “When you’re done, if you have the strength, we’ll continue with this.”
“I will. I also want to end this matter as soon as possible.”
XII
I have a strange feeling while two workers are lowering the box where my father is at the bottom of that deep hole. I feel the sun hitting us, and a suffocating breeze filling my lungs, I hear the cries of my family intermingled with the mantra of the priest... I am very aware of all that, but, at the same time, everything is as unreal as if you were seeing it through a TV screen, as if I were just a spectator of something that is happening to another.
I’d like to cry and feel sorry. I had my misunderstandings with him, and besides, I know what he did, but he was my father. And he was a good father on many occasions. I can’t help thinking that even when he behaved like a monster, he did it because he loved me.
I think that’s the problem. I am so full of guilt that sorrow doesn’t fit in me. I can only think again and again that it is not fair that my friends died to save me, that my father became a murderer for me, that we had to leave Swanton for me... Nor is it fair that my father, after what he had done, had to choose between saving me or ending the curse forever. He chose me, whenever he had to, he chose me, and I am not able to let go of a single tear for his death.
The more I think about it, the guiltier I feel. Even Nathan Patterson’s death and his father’s arrest are my fault. The words that Peter and Anne conveyed to me through the Ouija ring again and again in my head. “You should have died.” I agree with them. The nightmare would have ended, there would have been no more deaths in Swanton and I would have saved from having a depressing life. And best of all: right now, I wouldn’t feel like the biggest shit in the universe, like the ungrateful son who pushed his father into suicide and now he’s not even able to cry for him.
I notice my mother’s hand grabbing my arm. The burial is over, and we must go. I turn to her and, seeing her so sad, I feel even worse. She seems weak and tired, almost an old woman. His usual joy and energy have vanished as if they had buried them with him.
We left the graveyard quietly. Brad and Lissie follow us a couple of steps away. I hear their sobs and sighs, and again, I feel terrible. I don’t even have a relationship with them that allows me to turn around, comfort them and hug them.
“Are we leaving today, Grandma?” Brad suddenly asks.
I stop dead and look at my mother, waiting for her answer. I know she wants me to go back to Burlington with the whole family and she won’t understand that I leave them alone right now, but I can’t leave Swanton. Not until this is all over.
“No, darling. It’s late today and we’re all tired. We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”
“I cannot leave yet,” I can utter. “I have things to do here.”
“What do you have to do here that is more important than being with us?” Lissie asks with sparkling eyes. “Is staying on vacation more important than being with your family now?”
“Lissie, that’s enough.” My mother stops her.
I feel like giving her a hug for being so understanding and comprehend that I can’t go with them without having to explain. However, Lissie is not willing to give up so easily.
“Are you going to let him get away with it and ignore us?”
“Of course not,” replies my mother, throwing a look with which she says she does not want to hear another word on the subject. “Tomorrow we will return to Burlington all together and there is nothing more to talk about.”
“Mom, seriously, I can’t...”
“I don’t care what you have to do in this damn town that has only brought misfortunes to us. I said we’ll all leave home by nine tomorrow.”
My mother releases my arm and starts to walk fast to her car. Lissie and Brad turn a moment towards me. I seem to see a gleam of triumph in their eyes. I can’t believe that even at this moment, for them, making my life impossible is a reason for satisfaction. I stand at the exit of the cemetery and light a cigarette so that they realize that I will not return to the village with them. My mother doesn’t insist. She starts the car and drives away, leaving me alone. Fortunately, there is no more than one or two miles to Eloise’s house.
When I finally get there, it’s starting to dusk. Before I can put the key in the lock, the door opens, and Dunning comes out, followed by Eloise. Although it seems impossible, they have spent a whole day together without killing each other. Dunning gives me a couple of slaps on my back and he passes an arm around my shoulders to lead me to his car.
&nbs
p; “Are you ready?” He asks me with a mocking smile.
“Ready for what?”
“To hunt ghosts. We’re going to finish off that son of a bitch.”
Dunning stops the car next to the esplanade. We get off quietly and contemplate the place for a few seconds. Now that I know what happened here, I feel the same reverential respect I would feel in front of a grave. I can almost hear their cries in the wind, the echo of their careers in trying to flee the massacre, the smell of burning of the village... The whole forest is silent. The song of the birds is not heard nor the wind between the branches nor the croaking of the frogs... The sun is already very low, and the forest is covered with shadows. In spite of the heat, I shudder.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we come tomorrow at noon? This place gives me the creeps.”
“Didn’t you say you were leaving for Burlington tomorrow?” Dunning questions.
“No. I said my family is leaving and my mother wants me to go with them, but I’m not leaving until we’re done with all this.”
“Well, we better end today and we avoid a family quarrel. We don’t want your mom to get angry at you.” Dunning mocks me. “What’s going on? Are you afraid?”
“Aren’t you?” Eloise interrupts him. “If you were aware of what we’re going to do, you would be.”
“And what exactly are we going to do?” I ask. “You didn’t want to tell me anything in the car.”
Eloise walks around the car, waits for the trunk to open and takes out a heavy backpack. I offer to carry it for her and accompany her as she goes into the esplanade, followed by Dunning, who carries a shovel in each hand. Stepping on this dead and cursed land makes my stomach sick, but I try to disguise it to avoid further mocking.
“Let’s find the place where the children’s shoes are buried. These objects bind their souls and prevent them from transcending, keeping them prisoners of that spirit. If we destroy them, they may be free, and we will also weaken Tekarihoga.”
“Do you think that when he is weaker, we can destroy him?”
Eloise stays silent for a few seconds. She looks back and crosses her gaze with Dunning, waiting for him to nod. He throws a smile at her as if they were plotting something that I don’t know about.
“Yes, we will.” Dunning intervenes. “Once he’s weakened, we’ll kick his filthy ass to hell.”
I’d like to feel a thousandth part of the security he shows. I don’t know if he’s very brave or a thoughtless man, as Eloise thinks, but I’d give anything to be that calm while we’re going to face a ghost.
I take a look at the esplanade and I see it. I don’t know how I haven’t noticed it before. At the edge of the forest is a huge tree, dry and blackened, with the twisted roots trying to escape from the earth and the branches deformed like arthritic fingers. I am heading there with a decisive step, followed by my companions.
“That’s the place. It’s the tree I saw in my dream.”
The three of us stare at the dead tree for a while. There is something evil in that place, something that takes away the desire to fight, which makes you think it would be better to go home and forget what you’ve come to do. But Dunning should not feel it, because he gives me one of the shovels and starts digging.
“How do we know where we have to dig?” I wonder as I gaze at the shovel undecided.
“If you didn’t see it in your dream, we’ll have to guess,” says Dunning. “I don’t think they’re buried too deep. When we were chasing Patterson, we didn’t see him bring any shovels. I guess the kids’ killers would bury their shoes digging with their own hands, so it can’t be too hard.”
I nod, choose a single spot and start digging. The soil is very dry and crumbles easily. In less than half an hour we have already turned the area around the tree into a mole field, but we still don’t find anything. While we work, Eloise has been taking things out of her backpack and placing them on the floor while muttering prayers and chants. I try not to look at her because all her preparations make me nervous. She has drawn a circle of salt on the ground and has been placing candles and colored stones. I wonder if those things can protect us if the spirit gets angry.
A joyful yell of Dunning stops my thoughts. I kneel beside him and begin to help him digging with my hands. In a couple of minutes, we have almost a dozen small children’s shoes. There are sneakers, patent leather shoes which have lost their luster, antique worn leather shoes... All of them stained with that powdery soil, all of them so small. I feel the tears coming in a flood in my throat, but I get to contain them and change the sorrow for an infinite rage. We’re going to stop him. Not a single pair of shoes will join these, even if I lose my life in the attempt.
“Perfect, you have found them,” says Eloise, on our back. “Put them all in the circle. Let’s get started.”
We take the shoes to the inside of the circle and wait. Eloise is lighting up all the candles as she continues to whisper her prayers. Dunning takes out a crumpled handkerchief from the back pocket and dries the sweat from the forehead. I guess I’m not the only one who’s nervous anymore.
“Let’s get started. Do you have the protective pendants I gave you?” Eloise waits until the two of us take out the little sacks of brownish cloth that we carry under our clothes. “I know they look like little, but it’s the only thing that can protect us right now. Do not remove them under any circumstances.”
The two of us nod. I put the bag back under my shirt, to feel its rugged touch. Eloise is right: it seems little thing to confront a vengeful spirit which we’re going to piss off. I’d feel more comfortable carrying a special force equipment. Or inside a tank.
Eloise continues her preparations. She puts us out of the circle and goes back to her backpack. She takes out the salt pack again and covers the shoes with it. Then opens a jar and pours a liquid over the pile. The air is impregnated with the smell of gasoline. She kneels, pulls a lighter out of her pocket and sets them on fire. As soon as they start to burn, she comes out of the circle, extends her arms and raises her eyes to the sky as she recites:
“Lord, for your precious blood shed for us as a token of your immense love, we ask you to liberate these souls from all sorrow, from all guilt, from all anguish, from all sin, from all pain. We ask you to heal their souls and fill them with peace. Fill their souls with your presence, receive them in your glory, in your arms, and give them the joy of feeling your love. And to their loved ones, to those who remain, we ask you, Lord, to give them comfort, to heal their pain, to accompany them always and give them your blessing. All this we ask in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.”
The flames grow and crack and suddenly a group of sparks the size of a fist rises and floats for a few seconds before our astonished eyes before they begin to ascend to the sky. Mingled with the breeze among the trees, we heard the sound of children’s laughter. I look at Dunning, trying to find out in his expression whether he also sees it or if I’m going crazy. He is staring at the spheres of fire that rise, with his mouth so open that his jaw runs the risk of disengage. I think he has just received a triple dose of an anti-skepticism vaccine.
We were silent for a couple of minutes, watching how the spheres continue to rise and becoming smaller until we lose sight of them. We’ve achieved it, we have liberated the children’s spirit and they are already at peace. There will be no more visits from Dave, Bobby or Anne... I know this was what we had to do but knowing that I will never see her again makes me feel sad and empty. Eloise won’t let me gloat a long time in my melancholy:
“Now Tekarihoga is weaker. It’s time to end all of this forever. Are you ready?”
I nod, though right now I would prefer to be anywhere else in the universe. Just thinking about attracting that being, as much as Eloise says he’s weak, makes my hair stand on end. However, I know I have to stay, that we have to confront him if we want to prevent him from recollecting innocent souls to become stronger.
When Dunning manages to close his mouth and nods, El
oise approaches him and puts a hand on his arm. She seems worried about him and her voice is compassionate and sweet when she speaks to him:
“Are you sure you want to continue with this?”
“Yes, very sure.” He replies, after making an effort to swallow saliva. “Let’s do it.”
Eloise nods and squeezes his arm with affection before separating and returning to her place. She extends her arms, raises her gaze towards the sky, and the forest seems to shudder at the echo of her words:
“Saint Michael, the Archangel, defend us in the struggle. Be our protection against the wickedness of demons. Prince of the Celestial Militia, with the power that God has bestowed on you, throws Satan and other evil spirits into hell, who roam the world for the doom of Souls. Amen.”
Her words give off authority. There, erected in the middle of the accursed esplanade, with arms extended and her head high, she looks like an old priestess, someone who knows and dominates the spiritual world, someone to whom the elements vanquish. The forest seems to be hypnotized by her voice and it is plunged in a silence and a supernatural calm. At this moment, I want to believe in her, to think that she has everything under control, but my knees still tremble uncontrollably:
“Tekarihoga, I invoke you. By the power that gives me the strength of God and St. Michael, the Archangel, I command you to manifest yourself and to be bound to my will. Angel of dead eyes, obey or disperse with this holy water. Winged bull, work or return to earth if you do not want me to pierce you with this sword. Chained eagle, obey this sign, or retreat to this before this blow. Movable serpent, crawl at my feet, or you will be tormented by the sacred fire and evaporated with the perfumes that I burn. Let the water return to the water, let the fire burn, let the air circulate, let the earth fall on the earth by the virtue of the pentagram which is the morning star and in the name of the Tetragrammaton which is written in the center of the cross of light. Tekarihoga, I’ll summon you!”
Dunning and I looked at each other. There is fear in the eyes of the hard policeman and, curiously, that makes me feel better, more accompanied. In the first few seconds, it seems that nothing happens, but then I notice it. Something has changed in the air, something very subtle but that is gaining strength. The wind blows through the treetops. It sounds like the agonizing wails of a thousand dying men. I notice that the air has become thick and heavy and seems to be loaded with the energy of a storm, even though there is not a single cloud in the sky. I feel that all the hair on my body bristles as if it were electrified. And then comes the smell, a stench of moisture, to dark and closed spaces, to decaying vegetables and rotten flesh. Before I can fight it, I bend over myself and vomit my sneakers.
