Chapter 32

Sunday night fell upon the residents of Maplewood before they knew it. As Tommy and Hayden and the crew sat down together to try to figure out what was going on and how to stop it, Suzie shut down the diner at nine o’clock, and Terri finally turned into the driveway of her home in Boston after having stopped by the office to fill out vacation paperwork for Amanda.

Meanwhile, Father Mark Ambry was getting ready to lock up the church. His heart was heavy as of late. He had performed funeral masses for so many people he felt like a plague had swept into his little parish. As he walked into the church from the rectory for the last time this evening, he knelt halfway to the altar, crossed himself, and continued. He stopped to quickly rearrange a bouquet of flowers and was headed over to the candles to put them out when a cold draft sent a shiver up his back and did his job for him. Something was terribly wrong.

Glancing behind, he saw him standing there in the center of his church. Father Mark turned his body around, took two steps forward and stopped, his feet glued to the spot out of fear and recognition of the man who had entered. His dreams were haunted by him, images that played in his mind laced with memories that seemed to be from someone else’s life. Worst of all, the emotions that flowed from the man were rife with heartbreak and fear, and when Mark would wake, he found himself trembling or clinging to a pillow and weeping.

“It’s you,” was all he managed to say.

The man in black continued to stand there, his head bowed, his dark hair in his face and hat in his hand as if he were mourning something. Mark wasn’t sure that he hadn’t lost his mind the way poor David, a parishioner and nurse at the hospital, had. He gathered his strength and took one more step forward, and was about to send the man away with the authority of God when he raised his head, and the torture in the man’s eyes stayed Mark’s tongue.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” he said, his voice as dry as the desert and as mournful as a weeping willow.

Mark swallowed thickly, hearing a click in his throat as his mouth had also gone dry. “Do you seek redemption?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

“I seek peace. I seek aid, even though I am the last person in the world who deserves it, for I have forgotten the love of God and I am sure He has forgotten me.”

“God doesn’t forget his children. What’s your name, son?” The temperature in the sanctuary had plummeted enough that had the lights been on, he would be able to see his breath.

“My name…my name. I haven’t spoken it in an age, but I will say it this one time for you, so you can say a prayer for me before you rest your head tonight. My name is Jeremiah Ackley, and I have a story to tell you.”

That’s impossible. Jeremiah Ackley was long since dead. Yet the truth was staring Mark in the face and surrounded him in its frigid reality. He was speaking not to a man, but to a soul who had lost its way. Mark wrapped his hand around the cross hanging from his neck, felt the warmth of the metal that had been close to his heart the entire day, and gathered strength from it. In faith, he stepped forward and kept walking until he was within arm’s length of the man, and bid him to sit down on the pew.

Jeremiah nodded and sat down with a sigh. He had been on his feet wandering for almost two hundred years and had forgotten what it was like to rest his weary body. “I know I frighten you, and for that I am sorry. I mean you no harm and will be gone soon. It’s rather ironic that, when I was the man of faith in this town, I rejected the Church of Rome for heresy, yet here I sit, seeking refuge in her.” Jeremiah closed his eyes. “What a fool I was.”

Mark kept his mouth shut, not knowing what to say, but he also knew Jeremiah needed to purge himself to find peace.

“My sin was the sin of pride, and it was that sin that destroyed me and mine and the world around me. It was that sin that cursed this town and kept me bound here. And it is that sin that will destroy this town now if I cannot find a way to save it and stop her.” He opened his eyes and looked towards the heavens.

“Stop who?” Mark asked. Jeremiah seemed to have forgotten he was there and startled slightly. He brought his eyes down to Mark’s.

“I cannot speak her name otherwise it will summon her here, and I would be powerless to stop her should she want to destroy you.”

Mark instantly knew who he was referring to but kept his jaw clenched tight, resisting the urge to mutter the name or even think it. Instead, he let his mind be filled with light and peaceful things as a ward against her.

“She fell in love at such a tender age, with a man who I resented. I thought he was a vagabond, rogue, and a charlatan. Such harsh words for a man I hardly knew, and whom I murdered out of my jealousy of the affection they had found for each other. After my wife died, she was all I had, and I wished to hoard her life as a golem might hoard his treasures. I did everything known to man to keep them separated. But love won out, as it usually does, and they found a way around my evil intentions. I couldn’t see that in wanting to keep her from harm and keep her in my life, I shoved her in the opposite direction.”

Outside of the oddity of speaking with a dead man, this conversation was not unfamiliar to Mark. He heard things like this from parents time after time when their sons or daughters turned from home into the arms of a lover that their parents did not approve of. He almost chuckled with the irony of it, but fearing the man, kept his mirth to himself.

“She was a lovely, intelligent, and beautiful child, and it was no wonder that a suitor would find her desirable. But my wrath upon her turned us cold and our affections as dead as a gravestone. Our hearts hardened towards each other, and I lost my daughter. The day she was to be married to the man, I knew I should have stayed in my bed and let her go. But oh, my devilish pride would not let that happen. I followed her, and when they began their rites of marriage, I struck. I took him away from her, cast her down into the cellar of the church and condemned my soul to wander.”

Mark was familiar with this story; it was the legend of how the town began, but he, like many others, dismissed the romantic notions of it as a bedtime story. But hearing it from the mouth of the man who sat before him, it struck him as a tragedy of the misbegotten love of a parent for their child.

“Tell me more about the man you…killed,” Mark requested tentatively.

The spirit gave a wistful smile and nodded. “Yes, I guess he is an important figure in this story. He was a gentle sort, a child of the earth. He was neither a Christian nor a Buddhist, a saint nor a sinner, he was simply a worshipper of the earth that gave birth to us all. In my fury, I mistook him for a Papist, forgive me for using that word, but I was mistaken. I knew he was a good man, a different man, yes, but a good man nonetheless. He brought to the town things that I could not, and should he have lived, the others who died in the tragedy would have been spared and I would have gone to my eternal rest long before you were ever born. But now, she has control over them, and she uses them to punish those who dare love in her presence.”

Mark leaned forward in the pew and laid his arm to rest along the back of it. He no longer feared the man in front of him. On the contrary, he hurt for him and for his daughter. Yet a question burned in his mind and he asked it. “But why now? What happened, after all these years?”

Jeremiah’s body trembled at the revelation which passed his lips. “When I cast her down into the cellar, something happened. That was when Riley died, and her love for him became twisted and evil. She sought power from the darker side of nature and invoked a demon so long forgotten by our Christian ways I doubt it can be named. But it doesn’t need to be, for it was rage personified. She gave it form and substance again inside of her heart, and it consumed and destroyed her and most of the town.

“The earth consumed it, knowing its power, and tried its best to hold it still in the cellar of the church and successfully did so all these years leaving us worlds apart. But over time, its constant pushing against its restraints has broken it free and now she walks the earth.” His voice was cold—so cold that Mark shivered despite himself.

“She cursed the town with her dying breath, and the beast within her cursed our souls. It seeks to destroy everything in its path. That is why I have come to you, for refuge and for guidance. While that thing holds my daughter to him, I cannot rest, and neither will anyone here, should she—should it—walk the earth once more. Rage is responsible for the deaths of these young people and I have been powerless to stop it.”

Mark’s heart felt like it was going to stop, and he struggled to draw in a breath. He gathered himself together by sheer force of will. “What can we do? How can I help?”

“They are trying to understand what is happening here. They are seeking answers in the right places, but they are taking too long. I need you to go to them, tell them the story I have told you, and perhaps we can find a way to stop her. Although I do not know how,” he admitted sadly.

Before Mark knew what he was doing, he reached over the pew and grasped the man’s hand. It shocked both he and Jeremiah, but instead of pulling away, Mark held fast to him.

“Listen to me and listen to what you already know. We will find a way—love will find a way. You are guilty and have sinned against your daughter and against this man, but there is no sin so wretched and horrible that you cannot be forgiven. Love finds a way. I will do as you ask me, I already think I know who to turn to. But you must make penance for this. You must stand contrite before her, before God, and before this town, for what you have done. Then and only then can you have absolution and find peace. When the time comes, you must be ready. I will say a prayer for you. God has not forgotten your name, Jeremiah.”

“I will stand when the time comes. Thank you for hearing me, Father. Will you pray with me now?”

Father Mark nodded and clasped his hands together, lifting his voice to the heavens, beseeching them for their guidance and for the forgiveness of the man who sought refuge. When he muttered the last words, he opened his eyes, and Jeremiah was gone. The coldness of the room had left with him and was replaced with the gentle warmth that had been shoved away when the spirit entered. As the cold departed the sanctuary, it passed by the candles that, one by one, relit themselves, their flames dancing on the unseen breeze.

Mark stood up and found his knees didn’t want to support him. So he sat back down and sought guidance from God. Amid his prayers, his heart changed from fear to steadfastness; he knew he would see the man in black again.

* * * * * * * *

Judy was in shock at what she heard and trembled under the weight of it. Suzie was standing on her doorstep, shivering from the dropping temperatures outside. She had heard about Rose’s death from a patron of the restaurant and clocked out early to make sure Judy didn’t hear it from someone else or, heaven forbid, the evening news.

“I knew she was your friend and I am sorry for your loss.”

Judy ushered her inside, and they sat at the kitchen table together, her dog Nanna, an old female shepherd nudging at her mistress’s hand. Suzie had never liked Rose, but she liked Judy and for whatever reason, Judy had stood by Rose out of loyalty and friendship. Over the years, she’d had a moderating effect on Rose and softened up the edges a little—the yin to Rose’s yang.

Judy absently petted the old dog’s head, the shock of the news plainly written on her face. “I don’t know what to say. How did this happen?”

Suzie retold the story that she had been given about the party at the Woodbridges’ place and Rose walking in and scaring everyone before taking her own life.

To Judy, the story didn’t make sense. Sure, Rose was a bitter sort, prone to fits and judgments, but she would never try to hurt someone. She did things that seemed shady, but she at least tried to keep things in control and hated when those around her lived their lives against what she thought they should do. Judy shook her head and sighed heavily, feeling the loss deep within her bones.

“Is everyone else all right? Hayden…is he okay?”

Suzie nodded. “Tommy, Michelle, and Tony Diaz and his wife were all there including some college students from out of town.”

“Well that’s good, that he’s making friends. He seems like a really nice man.”

“Hayden? Yes. He is a nice man, and so are the characters that he associates with.”

“Including Tommy. Whatever happened between you two?” Judy asked, trying to turn the conversation away from the horribleness that she felt.

Suzie smiled faintly. “Tommy and I were not meant to be. Hayden and Tommy, I think, are together now. I always knew there was distance between us and a place I couldn’t quite reach. I hope he finds what he’s looking for. Hayden seems really kind.”

Judy nodded. “That’s really big of you, Suzie. Should we go and see about them? See if there is something we can do?”

“You know, I think that would be a great idea. Let’s go. I’ll drive,” she said, grabbing her keys.

After feeding Nana some chicken and rice from the fridge, Judy petted her old companion on the head and grabbed her jacket. “Let’s go. Nana, hold down the fort. Good girl.” Arm and arm, the two ladies walked to Suzie’s little truck and headed over to the old Woodbridges’ place to aid new friends.

* * * * * * * *

Everyone had gone home for the evening, and Amanda had decided to go stay at the bed-and-breakfast for the night, simply to get out of the house. Being an inch away from certain death had frightened her, and Hayden, who understood most of all, let her go. Prior to them leaving, he couldn’t help but notice how Jake seemed to wait on her every whim. She had, after all, saved his life and seemed to have shaken him out of his stupor. Paul and the others promised to look out for her, and everyone made plans to reconvene in the morning, bright and early.

They figured that would be the last visitors for the evening and were surprised to hear a knock at the door. Tommy told Hayden to stay where he was and walked to the front door. “Who is it?” he asked in a booming voice.

“Tommy, it’s me, Suzie. I have Judy with me.”

He immediately opened the door to find the two women standing there. It was hard to look at Suzie; it was hard to be around her, for the guilt he felt deep inside his chest and the unspoken promises that she’d hoped he’d keep.

“We came to check on you two.” Judy said, noticing Suzie was having a hard time forming words.

“Won’t you come in?” he asked, stepping back.

The two ladies passed him up and made their way into the house. Hayden, hearing no shouting or anything, came around the corner and saw Judy first. He reached out and hugged her, expressing his condolences to her, while Suzie bashfully stood at the side looking uncomfortable.

“I just can’t believe it happened, Hayden,” Judy said. “That is so unlike her.”

“Judy, it wasn’t her at all. It’s hard to explain, but it wasn’t Rose acting on Rose’s behalf.” He tried to tell her without getting too far into the story, not sure what part of it to share and what to keep quiet, and floundered in the conversation.

“It’s the curse, isn’t it?” Suzie asked, surprising them all. Her arms were folded across her chest, and she looked at the both expectantly.

“The curse?” Tommy asked.

“Yeah. This town. Lake Veronica. Everyone is having these dreams and people are turning up dead. I see it in the faces of the people who eat at the diner. Their lives are all sorts of torn up now and there’s confusion and fear all over the place. I heard rumors they may be bringing people in from the CDC to make sure there isn’t some type of virus outbreak or something related to these deaths.” She looked at them both in exasperation.

“Rose wasn’t the only one who could get a feel for the atmosphere of the town from her window at the post office, I hear a lot too. There is, like, this feeling of dread all over the place and people are just freaking out. If this continues much longer, pandemonium is going to break out. So, is it the curse or isn’t it?” she asked, tapping her foot on the floor.

Tommy and Hayden both nodded. “Yes. It is,” Tommy said.

Judy also chimed in, “I’ve noticed the playgrounds are empty and that people have been awful short. How come now? After all these years. I mean, what triggered this?”

“We don’t know,” Hayden said. “We’re trying to figure this out as fast as we can, but we don’t even know how to find a solution to it. I’m a step away from hiring a witch doctor.”

“Hayden, I need to run back to my place and pick up some clothes. Suzie, would you come with me?” Tommy asked, turning to her.

Her eyes grew wide in surprise, but she simply nodded.

“Will you two be fine here by yourselves? Hayden, my pistol is on top of the refrigerator, way in the back. It’s loaded so all you have to do is take the safety off, point, and shoot.”

“All right. Be careful, huh?” Hayden motioned for Judy to join him in the kitchen so they could be close to the gun should he need to grab it. She took off her jacket and put it on the back of a chair.

“You bet. Come on, Suz, let’s go.” Tommy picked up his keys and walked out, leaving Judy and Hayden alone.

The clock on the wall ticked by slowly as the two sat in uncomfortable silence. Finally, Judy broke it.

“You poor boy. Hell of a way to start over, isn’t it?”

“That’s the understatement of the century.” Hayden said, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, well, every little town has its secrets. Maplewood is no different. Just didn’t expect it to come to light like this. I mean, think about it. Here we are in the twenty-first century with modern technology and everything else, and still chained to the dark ages.”

“Well, some things we bury are bound to rise again, and maybe that’s what has us at a disadvantage—we’re so used to modern science explaining all the ails of the world, which is a better solution than how the Ancient Greeks and Romans handled things, but there are some things science and modernism cannot explain.”

“So, what do you suggest?”

“Finding an old-world solution to an old-world problem. Meet this thing on its own turf and take it out at the knees. The only problem is where to begin.”

“Well, start at the beginning, my dear.” Judy smiled. “Now, how about a cup of coffee?”

* * * * * * * *

It stood at the bank of the lake that held her namesake. The body it inhabited was deteriorating rapidly, but it only needed it for a little while longer. Its plan was in motion and nothing could stop it now. She had summoned it here; she had brought it back from the world of the forgotten with her last breath. And now, she was trapped inside just like the others, chained to it for all eternity, doomed to do its will if it upheld its part of the bargain.

She surely didn’t mean for things to have gone this far. She’d protested, pleading for it to stop every time it took a life in her name. Smugly, it reminded her that it was doing only what she’d asked of it—that it was because of her it had been brought into the realm of the living.

She hadn’t done it alone. Her lover had brought her the knowledge of the ancient world and had shared it with her. He had been attracted, not only to her beauty but to her abilities as well. She was, as modern day would describe her, a clairvoyant. Her empathic abilities to reach out to people and to know right away what their needs were, to her seemed natural. But it was like a beacon to Riley, who had seen her light shining even in the darkest of nights.

He still looked for her. It looked up at the trees above its head and saw the buds on them. Winter would be coming soon, but the trees looked like they were ready to bloom again. The druid was here, somewhere, waiting. It thought it had spotted him in a herd of deer, but before it could react, the deer were gone. Then, once when a fog crept over the lake, it saw him searching the waters for his beloved. It had sent a foul spirit to capture it, one of the recent dead, but he had eluded the one named Elizabeth.

The world hadn’t known its power since before Christianity walked the earth. And now, with their modern technology and the will to dismiss what is so evident, it had been here, right in front of their faces, until it was too late. The meddling fools with their electronic devices seeking to catch it wouldn’t be a problem any longer. It had plans to put bullets in all their heads, but Rose altered that in one fell swoop, but all wasn’t lost. She frightened them terribly with her gesture of mercy.

The Rose-thing raised its arms towards the heavens. Its ghastly face half blown off, began to mutter guttural sounds in a language long dead. It jerked and heaved, vibrated like those preachers on TV, cocked its head back once and repeated the words into the night’s sky. Still chanting and shrieking, it marched forward and laid its hands on the surface of the lake. A white pulse shot through the water.

It had accomplished what it wanted and left Rose’s body to fall face first into the water as it drifted away from her. It reached the center of the lake, where the old church was, and submerged itself to wait for the right moment. As it floated down into the murky darkness, to the church whence it was summoned, it reveled in the number of souls that were chained to it—especially its prize possession, the little clairvoyant beauty who was cursed to serve it. From the altar her soul was chained to, she watched it moved closer in fear.

She struggled with the bonds she forged in her last moments alive. It loved how easy it was to manipulate the living using her visage, making them think it was her, playing off their knowledge of the past. It hovered close to her face, and she turned away, trying to avoid its touch. It grabbed her chin and turned her face to its own.

Soon, my dear, soon it will all be over. Don’t worry about poor Riley or Daddy. They’ll never find you here. It laughed when she turned her face to the other side.

Leave me alone! she screamed at it. She caused it to blink and back up. She was powerful and growing more so every day. It had to hurry. It turned to the others who simply floated about, souls trapped in a nightmare unable to escape. More of Veronica’s handiwork. It raised a bony finger towards the surface, and they turned and floated upwards. It was time to raise the stakes. The summoning spell enabled it to have full control of the spirits at its disposal. The millennia or so of being in the void, with no one worshipping it, had weakened it extraordinarily. But her call to him brought it back from oblivion, and it planned to change all of that. All it needed was a little bit more fear and a little more time, and the town would drown in its own misery.