Ravens peak, p.18
Raven's Peak, page 18
It was quiet. She tested the doorknob and found it to be locked. She knelt down, pulling small metal tools out of her pocket, and after a few seconds he heard the lock click.
“Count to thirty and then follow me,” she said.
With one last glance at Haatim, she stepped into the living room. He watched through the window as she moved silently through the foyer, past the garbage on the floor, and into the dining room. Furniture was scattered, and a large oak table was covered with half-finished food and wrappers.
Abigail made it to the doorway of the living room and rounded the bend, disappearing from his sight. Haatim finished counting and then walked into the foyer behind her. The music was loud and spilling out of a pair of speakers along the right wall. They were cranked up to the max, and the music was cracking every few notes.
Haatim stepped gingerly across the dining room floor, dodging furniture and trash, and clicked the power button on the radio. The sound cut out, leaving him in a jarring silence.
A moment passed, but he couldn’t hear anything from farther into the cabin. “Find anything?”
No response. He walked slowly toward the door leading to the living room, straining to hear. The place was eerily quiet, and he could feel the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. Something was wrong. As he got closer he could smell a sweet metallic scent wafting out of the living room, like copper. He peeked around the corner and—
“Haatim.”
He screamed. The voice came from behind him. He scrambled forward and sideways, tripping and falling into the doorjamb. He saw behind him at the entrance of the cabin; Abigail was standing there, frowning at him.
“Where…where did you come from?”
“I went out the back and checked the perimeter,” she said. “They are all dead.”
“All of them?”
She shook her head. “Five bodies, but the cop back in town said six of them came out here together.”
“What is that smell?”
He started to turn, trying to locate the strange scent. He felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back, but not before he caught a glimpse of what was in the living room.
Bodies, splayed out and with terrified looks on their faces. They were drenched in blood, though most of it looked dry and caked to their clothes and skin. One had his stomach cut open and his intestines were strewn across the floor, and another’s arms had been removed and laid across his stomach.
The image burned into his memory, even with only a second’s glance. He looked away in horror and saw Abigail standing next to him, a concerned expression on his face.
“Don’t look in there,” she said.
“Too late,” he replied. He felt lightheaded and sick and started to wobble. He’d thought the decomposing corpse at the warehouse was the worst thing he would ever see in his life; he’d been wrong.
He put his hands on his knees and took deep breaths, swallowing down bile.
“Need to vomit?”
He didn’t reply, just kept breathing. The image…the blood…
The smell, he realized: that is the smell of their blood.
Haatim ran back outside, leaned over the railing, and threw up.
Abigail followed casually and leaned against the railing next to him. “Guess so,” she said.
“Oh, God,” he muttered. “I’ll never be able to eat again.”
“Is that so?”
He nodded. “Never.”
They stood in silence for a minute, breathing in the cool night air.
“Happened a few hours ago,” she said finally, after giving him some time to recover.
“You said one of them wasn’t here.”
“No, the sixth is missing.”
“You think he left?”
“Maybe,” she said. “But I don’t know if he was heading to town or somewhere else. It’s too late to track him down tonight, so we’ll have to wait until morning.”
“Do you think he killed them?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s pretty terrible in there, so I’m guessing something supernatural was involved.”
“That’s awful.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“It isn’t your fault.”
She shrugged. “Let’s hope your father sees it that way.”
“What do we do now?” he asked. “Should we head back to town to get a motel room?”
“Too long of a drive,” she said. “Plus, why bother heading back when we have perfectly good accommodations right here?”
Haatim looked back at the cabin he’d just fled out of, feeling a lump in his throat. Abigail chuckled.
“No, not that one. The other cabin. The one you said the woman had rented. Grab the stuff from the car, and I’ll get the door open.”
Haatim did as he was told, grabbing the bags of food out of the backseat and carrying them over to the other cabin. By the time he was there, Abigail had the door open and the fireplace turned on. It was a gas fire with fake logs, but the warmth felt amazing.
This cabin was considerably cleaner than the last, neat and tidy. They checked over the rooms to make sure everything was in order before finally settling into the living room to relax. Haatim sat on the couch and watched the fire, trying to push the image of the blood and corpses out of his mind.
“You all right?” Abigail asked. She was sitting on the other couch, studying him.
“What? Yeah,” he said. “I’m OK.”
“You sure?”
He was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he said.
She nodded. “Things like this, they take a long time to get used to. I’m surprised you’re holding up as well as you are.”
“Am I?” he said.
“The first time I saw a dead body, I cried for a week,” she replied. “I was seven at the time, but I don’t think that matters too much. Death is death. You’ve seen a lot of it today, and the fact that you aren’t a heap of emotions on the floor means you’re doing pretty well.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then Haatim started to feel hungry. His stomach growled, and he heard Abigail chuckle.
“Never going to eat again, huh?”
“Maybe that was a little dramatic,” he agreed.
“Want me to fix something to eat?”
“No,” he said. “I’ll get it.”
He went to the kitchen and started pulling supplies out of the plastic bags. He poured some canned beans into a bowl and tossed it into the microwave, then started making sandwiches.
“Shouldn’t we tell the police?” he asked. “You know, about the dead college kids.”
“We will,” she replied. “But not until we are long gone and can call from a payphone. I’d rather be able to finish my work without having locals breathing down my neck.”
“Makes sense,” he said.
“Plus,” she added. “How are we supposed to explain this? We stumbled across a cabin in the woods filled with dead twenty-something kids? Most of the time when people find something like this, they’re usually the cause of it.”
Haatim finished heating the food up and made them both a plate. “So, we just stay here tonight? And then what?”
“Tomorrow we find out what happened and whether or not their missing friend did this or if he’s a victim, too.”
“You think their friend could have done something like this?”
“The wounds were caused by a short serrated knife, and there were a lot of them. They were also imprecise and full of hesitation, so it wasn’t a professional.”
“Do you think he might have been possessed?”
“Demons don’t usually hesitate when they are killing people.”
“So you think he just snapped?”
“Maybe,” she said. “But, it isn’t likely that someone just snapped and did this, which means I’m thinking something provoked him. I’m just not quite ready to say it was a demon yet. There are several things that could trigger something like this.”
“What if he comes back tonight?”
“Then we won’t have to go out looking for him, will we?”
Haatim thought to object again and then changed his mind. He walked back over to the couches and handed a plate to Abigail, then started eating. He was starving, though he’d barely noticed until he actually had food in front of him. After all of the excitement from the last couple of days, he still felt entirely out of sorts, and his body was taking a while to catch back up.
It wasn’t until he’d devoured half of his food that he noticed Abigail was watching him. He froze, mouth full, and then chewed slowly. She smiled and shook her head.
“Hungry?”
“I guess so,” he said.
“And here I thought those dead bodies would steal your appetite.”
The thought of the blood and corpses made his stomach twist. Haatim set his plate on the table. “Not hungry anymore.”
“Good,” she said. “Don’t need you with a stomach ache.”
“Funny,” he said.
“I’m going to get some sleep. It looks like there are two rooms upstairs, so I’ll take the one on the left.”
“OK.”
She finished eating, set her plate on the table, and then headed for the staircase leading up to the second floor. She paused at the landing and glanced back at Haatim.
“Get some sleep, because I expect you to be ready to go when I knock on your door in the morning. We’re going to have a really long day.”
Chapter 12
Despite what she’d said to Haatim, Abigail was barely able to sleep that night. She lay awake, thinking about her lapses in judgment over the last couple of days with Haatim, Delaphene, and the demon that was holding Arthur.
If the Council found out she’d gone to visit Sara without their permission they would be furious, and no doubt they would be able to find their way back to Delaphene who was still locked in her cabin in Colorado. She had to hope that if they did find Delaphene they would destroy her and send her back to hell before asking any unsavory questions.
But that didn’t concern her nearly as much as her interactions with Haatim. She knew Frieda would be furious when she found out everything Abigail had told him regarding the Council and his father, but worse were the things she’d told him about herself.
She considered herself guarded and never talked about personal details, yet she’d told him about Arthur, her fears, and other details of her life she never told anyone before.
After her possession six months earlier, Frieda had slowly distanced herself from Abigail. It wasn’t necessarily that Frieda didn’t trust her, it was just that Abigail had become damaged goods. No one else on the Council had any faith in Abigail, and that put Frieda in an awkward position: backing Abigail meant losing credibility.
Which meant that she didn’t talk to Frieda very often and never about the real things going on in her life. Even being friends, she knew Frieda would be beyond angry if she found out Abigail had spoken with Delaphene or used a forbidden ritual to create a connection to the demon holding Arthur. It was an unforgivable crime, maybe even enough to get her discharged from the Order.
When Haatim had shown up there was just something about him that made her trust him. She had been desirous to vent her problems to another human being, and he’d broken down her defenses. She had let her guard slip and told him things she should have kept to herself. A mistake which could turn costly if any of it made it back to the Council.
She awoke early the next morning, just after six, and went through her morning stretches and exercises. Arthur had taught her that staying limber was the most important part of her ability to fight. When she was young, he would have her stretch for three or four hours at a time, but now it usually took her a little over an hour to finish warming up her body.
She knocked on Haatim’s door. She expected to find him sleeping, but he answered almost immediately. He was dressed and ready, but he had bags under his eyes and was still exhausted. Guess he didn’t sleep well, either.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Not really,” he said.
“Did you pick up any coffee last night?”
“Instant,” he said. “It’s all they had.”
“It’ll work. Make us a couple of cups. I have to grab some stuff from the car.”
She headed outside and started rummaging through the trunk of Haatim’s car for the large duffel bag she’d stuffed in there. It was loaded with two changes of clothes, various toiletries she liked to keep on hand, and lots of weapons: holy water, guns, knives, vials of miscellaneous poultices and poisons, and a variety of rare herbs and dried flowers gathered from all around the world.
Tucked at the bottom was her most prized possession: a small bible. It was the only one she’d ever owned and had been a gift from Arthur on her twelfth birthday. She had never fully accepted Christ into her heart, and Arthur had never been insistent that she should, but the book meant so much more to her than the words on the page.
She left most of it in the bag. For now, she grabbed an extra nine-millimeter pistol and a handful of sage. It wasn’t as potent against demons as many other things she had, but it was common and easy to acquire and worked on many weaker supernatural threats.
By the time she got back into the cabin, Haatim was mixing her coffee.
“How do you like it?”
“With as much milk and sugar as possible,” she said. “You didn’t happen to pick up any caramel syrup, did you?”
He stared at her.
“Didn’t think so.”
She accepted the cup and took a sip. It was still bitter even with the sugar and milk, but she drank it anyway. It would help her stay alert. Haatim offered her a breakfast bar, but she shook her head.
“I don’t like eating this early in the morning,” she said. “I usually just wait and eat a big lunch.”
“You should eat breakfast,” Haatim said. “It’s the most important meal of the day.”
“Not for me,” she replied.
“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. He unwrapped the bar and took a bite. After a few seconds chewing, his eyes went wide. He rushed to the trashcan and spit it out, then looked at the wrapper.
Abigail couldn’t help but laugh.
“Expired?”
“Two years ago,” he said.
“Come on,” she said, finishing her coffee. “We need to get moving.”
Then she headed outside. Haatim gulped the last dregs of his own cup and rushed to follow. She paused on the porch and offered him the pistol.
“Here,” she said. “Keep this with you.”
“I don’t know how to shoot a gun,” he said.
“You point and pull the trigger,” she said. “It isn’t rocket science.”
Tentatively, he accepted the weapon. He held it up, eyes wide as he stared at it. He looked vaguely like a terrified puppy.
“Which way do I point it?”
“On second thought,” she said, taking the gun back. “I’ll hang onto it for now.”
She slipped it into her jeans at the back and headed off into the woods, looking for tracks around and behind the cabin. Haatim followed, looking at the scenery surrounding them.
“It’s quite beautiful out here,” he said. “I’ve never been to this part of the country.”
“Just Arizona?”
“Yeah,” Haatim said. “I never really got to travel because of my class loads.”
“I hate Arizona,” she said. “It’s too dry and dusty. Not enough greenery for me.”
Haatim shrugged. “I suppose.”
“Found the tracks,” she said, noticing a footprint in the mud. “Looks like someone headed away from here pretty fast yesterday.”
“Think it’s the missing student?”
“More than likely,” she said. “Let’s see where it leads.”
She followed the trail, looking for broken branches and footprints to know they were heading in the right direction. It went basically due east and didn’t deviate much, so it wasn’t difficult to track. Haatim followed silently for a while, but after about fifteen minutes of talking he spoke up:
“How can you tell we are going the right way?”
“The footprints,” she said, pointing at the ground.
“What footprints?” he asked. He looked where she was pointing. “That? That just looks like a scuff mark.”
“What else would make a mark like that out here?”
“A deer?”
“Deer have hooves,” she replied.
“A squirrel?”
“That’s just ridiculous,” she said. “This track is way too big.”
“OK, then what about a bear?”
She looked solemnly at him. “It’s a definite possibility.”
The expression on his face was priceless as she turned and headed back into the woods. He hesitated for a couple of seconds and then rushed to catch up.
“You don’t really think it could be a bear, do you?”
She ignored him, spotting something farther up ahead in the trees. It looked like the roof of a building, though it was resting at about ground level. She stopped walking, feeling an intense wave of déjà vu wash over her.
“I’ve been here before,” she said.
“What?”
“Here,” she said. Her hands were shaking. “I’ve been here.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. “I thought this was your first time to Raven’s Peak?”
She didn’t answer and started walking quickly toward the buildings. She had a sudden flash in her mind, a memory of being attacked in these woods. A man in rotting flesh had killed her friends and taken her captive.
She crested the hill and gasped, looking down at the little town. There, in the center, was the Church.
The Church.
Frieda had told her the Church was in Europe, somewhere in Germany, and that it had been destroyed by the Council after her possession. But now she knew that had been a lie. Here it was before her, exactly how she remembered.
How she remembered…
She ran down into the town. Haatim was shouting behind her to wait, but she barely heard him. She didn’t care and just kept going. She saw the spikes standing in front of the doors, though the heads had been removed, and ran quickly up the steps. She pushed into the room and was assaulted by more memories.
