Ghost Walk

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ken awoke at seven, mumbling and incoherent. The hazy vestiges of a dream departed—he tried to remember it, but failed. Something about Deena. She’d been at the Ghost Walk. The last remnants vanished as his alarm clock blared. Ken fumbled for it, knocking an empty bottle of Stella Artois beer off the nightstand. It hit the floor without breaking and rolled under the bed, coming to rest against more empty bottles and some dirty socks. Ken pressed the snooze button and fell back to sleep for another ten minutes. When the alarm went off a second time, he sat up and stretched.

Yawning, he slid out from under the sheets and put his feet on the floor, flexing his toes in the thick, red carpet. Deena had picked it out, just like the rest of the home’s furnishings. Some of Ken’s friends had suggested that he redecorate now that she was gone—one step toward moving on with his life. But Ken balked at the idea. Things like the carpet were all he had left of her. Everything else had long since waned—her hairs in the shower drain, her scent on the pillow, lipstick-stained cigarette butts in the ashtrays. These things were fleeting. He was left with her sanitary napkins, still sitting beneath the bathroom sink. Her shampoo and conditioner, sitting lonely and forlorn in the shower caddy. A half-empty bottle of water, still wedged in the back of the refrigerator. Even after all this time, he clung to them, refusing to throw any of it out.

To see her, he had to rely on photographs and memory—and dreams.

Dressed only in a dirty pair of yesterday’s boxer shorts, he padded into the bathroom and pissed. Then, still yawning, he brewed a pot of coffee and checked his cell phone. Terry and Tom hadn’t called him overnight—or if they had, then he’d slept through the ringing phone. His cell phone showed no missed calls and no new voice mail. Ken didn’t know if that was good news or bad news.

While the coffee brewed, he took a quick shower and got dressed. Breakfast was a banana and a bowl of cereal. Then, sipping a cup of coffee, he called Terry’s cell phone. After four rings, it switched over to voice mail.

“This is Terry Klein. I’m not available right now, so leave your name and number after the beep. See ya!”

“Hey, man. It’s me. Just wondering what happened last night. I’m assuming everything turned out okay, or else you would have called. Anyway, I’m heading out to the Ghost Walk now. Get some sleep. I’ll see you later on today.”

He hung up and poured some coffee into a plastic travel mug. For a moment, Ken considered calling Terry’s house, but didn’t want to risk waking his wife up. She was apparently already displeased with the amount of time her husband had been devoting to the Ghost Walk. Instead of calling, Ken turned the coffeepot off and reached for his jacket. As he was preparing to leave, his cell phone rang, playing Garth Brooks’s “Friends in Low Places.” He answered, hoping it was Terry. Instead, it was the dispatcher of the rental agency, letting him know that a flatbed truck loaded down with portable toilets was at the Ghost Walk, waiting for him to sign for delivery.

He apologized for the delay, silently cursing them for being so early. Who accepted delivery at seven thirty in the goddamned morning? While he was still on the phone with the dispatcher, his call waiting beeped. Then it beeped again. After he’d hung up, he checked his voice mail and found new messages from one of the caterers and a representative from the local NBC affiliate who wanted to film the grand opening.

Sighing, Ken headed out the door. He called the caterer back as he climbed into his truck. The man wanted more space than he’d been allotted. While they spoke, the call waiting continued to beep.

It was going to be a long day.

They pulled up in front of Maria’s apartment just after seven. The sun was climbing into the sky. To Maria, the world seemed very normal. Kids waited for school buses. People drove to work. An elderly man raked the leaves in his yard. Halloween decorations adorned many of the neighborhood homes. She tried to reconcile all of this with the fact that hiding in the midst of all this normalcy was a world in which people stepped out of flaming holes in the air and disembodied, sexless voices left messages on digital voice recorders. A world where Amish magicians read minds and viewed the past, and midlist paperback writers buried spell books after killing their wives. It was too much for her. She needed sleep.

They roused Adam. He was groggy and incommunicative as they led him to the front door. Levi carried his extra clothes and supported him while Maria unlocked the door. They walked inside. Levi glanced around while Maria got some clean sheets and pillowcases from the closet and fixed a place on the couch.

“It’s only big enough for one person,” she said, “so one of you is going to have to sleep on the futon—or the floor.”

“Adam can take the couch,” Levi offered. “I’ll be fine on the floor.”

Adam mumbled his thanks and then sagged onto the couch. He curled into the fetal position, closed his eyes, and sighed. A minute later, he was snoring again. Maria half-expected him to start sucking his thumb.

She pulled Levi aside. “Are you sure? The futon is small, but if you curl up—”

“The floor is all I need.”

“Well, at least let me get you a blanket.”

“No,” Levi insisted. “Seriously, I’m fine just like this. I don’t intend to sleep very long, anyway. I’m just going to recharge a little bit. Then I’ll need to study and prepare. As I said, there is a lot to go over. Passages to be memorized. In truth, I can do that better without distractions, so it will be easier if the two of you are sleeping.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Smiling, he took her hand and squeezed it gently. “Please, Maria. Get some sleep. You need it. And you’ve earned it. I can’t thank you enough for your help so far. It means a lot to me.”

He let go of her hand. Maria felt a flash of regret when the contact was broken.

“I haven’t really done much,” she said. “Just drove the car.”

“You’ve done a lot. It helps—not doing this alone. So again, thank you.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome.”

“Now get some sleep.”

She glanced over at Adam. “Do you think he’ll be okay? What if he wakes up and freaks out? Or what if the hospital staff tell the cops I wanted to speak with him yesterday? Won’t they come here, looking for—”

“You’re tired. Sleep. Now.”

“Okay.”

Maria barely made it to her bedroom before collapsing onto the bed. She didn’t bother to undress or even close the bedroom door. She was too exhausted. She closed her eyes and sank into the pillow. If only her parents could see her now—hiding an escaped mental patient, fighting the forces of darkness, fooling with magic. And now, two strange men in her apartment, neither of whom she knew very well and both of whom were hiding things. If her parents knew, they’d have simultaneous heart attacks.

Then she fell asleep and thoughts of her parents evaporated like mist.

The sun rose over the burned-out remains of LeHorn’s Hollow, but its light didn’t penetrate the forest. Wisps of shadows swirled between the trees in place of the morning fog. The remnants of the stone circle were obscured by darkness. It flowed from the seven vacant holes where the sigils had been, forming a pulsating ball ten feet above the forest floor. Tentacles of darkness crept forward from the sphere, searching the hollow for living things. They encountered a few green shoots, buried beneath the thick layer of ashes, and quickly drained them. The fledgling vegetation turned brown and brittle.

Now that all of the sigils had been removed, Nodens no longer required slaves. Thus, they’d been discarded.

Terry’s and Tom’s remains lay nearby. Their eyes were open, staring at nothing. Their mouths gaped, frozen in eternal horror. Their fingers had curled, clawlike, in death. They’d been emptied. Sucked dry. Their bodies were just desiccated husks, as brittle as the burned tree trunks around them. Cecil, Russ, Tina, and the coyote were in even worse condition. Each occasional breeze that blew through the area stirred more and more of them up into the air, spreading their ashes amongst the rest of the debris. Of Rich, Sam, and Rhonda—there was nothing left, not even dust.

The floating black sphere continued to pulse and swell. Nodens gathered strength. When its feelers reached the limits of their exploration, they returned to the mass. With each passing hour, more of it seeped into the world, spreading farther into the forest, lapping at the vegetation and feasting off their energy.

Come midnight, the walls would shatter and it would surge forward, an unstoppable tide of living darkness, consuming everything in its path until there was nothing left.

Levi waited until he heard Maria’s breathing turn shallow and rhythmic. Then he tiptoed across the floor and shut the door to her bedroom. After double-checking to make sure Adam was also sleeping soundly, Levi crept into Maria’s office, opened the curtains and let the sunlight stream in through the window. Sighing, he closed his eyes and held out his hands, palms up, bathing in the luxuriant warmth. After a few minutes, he sat down cross-legged on the floor. The sun’s rays danced across his face. Levi removed his hat, closed his eyes again, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

It was eight o’clock in the morning. Night would come quickly today.

Before he began his studies in earnest, Levi decided to take an extra precaution. Just reading certain passages of the Daemonolateria could invoke things that had no business in this world. It was dangerous—adding Nodens to the recipe was simply playing with fire. Prevention was in order.

He prayed out loud, quiet but fervent, reciting from memory a benediction against enemies, sickness, and misfortune that his father had taught him.

“The blessing which came from heaven, from God the Father, when the true living Son was born, be with me at all times. The holy cross of God, on which He suffered His bitter torments, bless me today and forever. The three holy nails which were driven through the holy hands and feet of Jesus Christ, bless me today and forever. The spear by which His holy side was pierced and opened, protect me now today and forever. May the blood of Christ and the Holy Spirit protect me from my enemies, and from everything which might be injurious to my body and my soul. Bless me, oh you five holy wounds in order that all my enemies may be driven before me and bound and banished. All those that hate you must be silent before me, and they may not inflict the least injury upon me, or my house, or my premises. And likewise, all those who intend attacking and wounding me either spiritually or physically shall be defenseless, weak, and conquered. The cross of Christ be with me. The cross of Christ overcomes all water and every fire. The cross of Christ overcomes all weapons. The cross of Christ is a perfect sign and blessing to my soul. Now I pray that the holy corpse of Christ bless me against all evil things, words, and works.”

When he was finished, Levi fell silent again. Outside the window, a bird chirped. He heard a leaf blower hum to life somewhere nearby. Still solemn, he made the sign of the cross four times, to the north, south, east and west. Then he took a deep breath. From this point on, he’d be dealing with methods and benedictions that were decidedly different and far older than the one he’d just recited.

He pulled out the pages from the Daemonolateria and unfolded them. He read each one carefully, focusing on one in particular. He began memorizing it, committing the ritual to memory. He needed to be exact. One miscalculation or an incorrectly pronounced word, and he could fail. In truth, he might fail anyway. There were no guarantees with an entity of this magnitude. His only chance was to confront it before it was completely freed. But these pages, and the items currently locked inside Maria’s car, should even the odds.

And Adam Senft, as well—the most important ingredient of all.

After several hours of study, Levi folded up the papers again and returned them to his pocket. Then, slipping into a meditative trance, he began to prepare for what needed to be done. The sun was warm on his skin, but inside, he was cold.

In the darkness behind his eyes, shapes moved, twisting and floating. He heard the faint voices of the damned.

Concentrating, Levi ignored the ghosts and prayed.