Nephilim: Genesis Of Evil Part 8

Then the arrivals could join him.

The odd pairing, two men who resembled zombies more than human beings, had come to the clearing in the forest, and they stood in the center of the burned spot. They were oblivious to the searing heat emanating from the blackened ground. An intangible gloom settled over the ceremonial area along with the odor of sulfur mixed with something dead.

Ed indicated with his mangled hand for Samuel to sit in front of him. Samuel, face pa.s.sionless, body oddly relaxed, went to his knees and then positioned himself with legs crossed underneath him. All forest sounds and movement hushed, as if retreating from the evil.

Ed raised his arms. He slowed his breathing and the form within his body tapped into a source that was neither present nor physical, but very real. The air seemed to die. In front of him, Samuel stared into s.p.a.ce, unaware of the impending doom. Dark energies stirred.

Ed touched Samuel on the left shoulder. Samuel quivered. His walrus mustache twitched over lips pressed into a line. Ed fed on the energy. In front of him, Samuel gazed into s.p.a.ce, not seeing or knowing what was happening around him. Ed emitted harsh, guttural, inhuman sounds. The light vanished from the sky. Then a flash of luminous green light broke the darkness, accompanied by a crackling sound as raw energy coursed through the air. Samuel's body jolted as if hit by an intense wind.

Even as Ed's eyes drew in the presence that was drawing nearer, the spirit inside Ed felt alive. It fed on the indescribable evil. It sensed the forces growing stronger, and knew it would soon find the enlightenment it sought so desperately.

The blackness grew powerful, speaking to the forest. Samuel arched his back and screamed like his very soul was being ripped from him. He threw his head back and flung his jaw open. His shrieking died as if yanked from the air. His eyes widened, the whites filling with deep red as his silent scream continued. Finally, in one last agonizing motion, he was jerked off the ground, hanging as if from an invisible noose, legs dangling, arms flopping at his sides. Then he fell to the ground as if giant hands had cut the noose.

A deathly silence ensued.

The woods smelled of flesh burning. But the air was now completely clear. The darkness had fled with Samuel's screams. Ed stood rooted to the same spot, having watched the infiltration with unseeing eyes. But the spirit inside saw.

It beckoned.

Samuel stood up. His mustache remained, but the laugh lines around his eyes were missing. The life had drained from his face, replaced by nothingness. A nothingness merged with evil.

And then a disturbance broke the stillness.

Ed spun toward the noise. The spirit seethed at the threat.

The sound was foreign, not of the natural woods. There was movement in the trees, followed by a m.u.f.fled cry that was filled with fear.

CHAPTER 19.

By the time Rory rowed across the lake and walked to the Holmes cabin, it was a few minutes past five-thirty. He knocked on the door and waited. Through the screen he could see Jimmy dozing in front of the TV, the sound of a cooking show filtering out. Then Anna appeared from the inside shadows. She looked like a dream. She raised a hand to Rory, checked on her father who continued to sleep, and came to the door.

"Hi," she said quietly, easing the screen door open.

She was casually dressed in white cotton slacks and a short-sleeved blouse. A tiny gold cross dangled from her neck and she smelled faintly of jasmine.

She carried a sweater draped over her arm. "In case it gets chilly," she explained. "Although it's not likely with this heat."

"You look lovely," Rory said.

"Thank you," Anna smiled, but it failed to hide a subtle nervousness. "So what movie are we going to see?" she asked as they walked from her cabin to the carport by Taylor Lake. They had decided that they would see a movie first, then get a bite to eat somewhere on Boulder's Pearl Street Mall.

"That depends. Do you want non-stop action, or something more dramatic?"

"Or do you mean, am I going to make you suffer through a chick flick," Anna said, her mood lightening as if she had suddenly turned a switch.

Rory spread out his hands. "You caught me." He arched an eyebrow at her. "Seriously, it's your choice."

They chatted as they walked into town and past the dock.

"I've been meaning to ask you," Rory said, pointing to the old well and trough up ahead of them. "How old is that well, and does the pump even work?"

"It sure does," Anna smiled. "A hundred years ago, that well supplied the town with fresh water."

"How could they dig deep enough to get water?"

Anna laughed. "The well is spring-fed, so they didn't have to worry about digging very far. It's pure water in there. Not contaminated by the lake, don't ask me how."

"So I could drink the water now?" Rory went up to pump.

"Yes," Anna said. She gestured to the pump. "They added that later and, yes, it still works. "People still use it occasionally, although all the cabins have their own wells now. The old well and trough are mostly there as a quaint reminder of the past."

"It could be a wishing well now," Rory winked at her.

She laughed again as they strode to Rory's Jeep, parked farther down at the carport. As he opened her door for her, he noticed the look of pleasure spread across her face.

On the drive down Highway 119 to Boulder, they decided on the latest action movie, then talked casually, the conversation typical of two people getting to know each other better, tentatively checking out the emotional waters like children dipping toes into a cold pool.

A few hours later, they both agreed the movie was entertaining, packed with action, and they discussed various plot points on the way to dinner. After parking the Jeep on a side street, they strolled casually down the Pearl Street Mall.

"An outdoor mall," Rory said as they dodged in and out of people. "It's a popular place."

"And they have great restaurants along here, too," Anna said. "Do you like Mexican food?"

"I haven't had it that often."

Anna guided him into Josephine's restaurant. "The food's awesome here," she said while they waited for a table.

"But is the food spicy?" Rory said.

"Oh, you don't like it spicy?"

"I can handle it."

Anna raised an eyebrow. "Really. Is that a dare?"

Rory was rescued from answering when a hostess took them to their seats. The truth was, he hadn't really eaten much Mexican food, but he was willing to give it a try. Especially since it came with a recommendation from Anna.

They ordered Negro Modelo beers, and when the drinks came, Anna squeezed lime into her gla.s.s. "It's refreshing this way," she explained.

Rory copied her, grimacing as lime juice squirted into his eye. "Oh, I'm wounded. Better take something to ease the pain." He rubbed his eye, then took a swig of beer. "Hey, this is good."

Anna licked a foam mustache off her upper lip. "Uh huh. It hits the spot, especially when it's so hot out."

"Not as hot as it's been at the Crossing. I thought it'd be worse down here, but it's not."

Anna nodded agreement.

A server came and they ordered, chicken enchiladas for him, a chimichanga for Anna.

"You sure you want to get it with jalapenos?" Anna asked.

"If you can, I can," he answered her.

Anna grinned wickedly. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"He's a rookie?" the waitress asked, pointing her pen in Rory's direction.

"From the East Coast," Anna said as if sharing a secret with the waitress.

"What's a little spicy?" Rory asked.

"Ah," the waitress said knowingly. She winked at him. "You've been warned."

"So," he said after the waitress left. He leaned back in the booth, getting more comfortable. "I've been meaning to ask you what you know about the cabin I'm staying at."

"Like what?" Anna took a chip and scooped some salsa into it, then popped it into her mouth.

Rory toyed with his beer bottle. "Like why he would build a place out away from town, and why no one's found the mine he supposedly had."

"Burgess Barton was on a fool's errand," she said. "He got himself into trouble back East, and he didn't do any better out here."

"What do you know about him?"

"Just what my father told me."

"Don't any of those history books that you've got in the store say anything about him?"

She shook her head. "Not really. Those books don't have much on Taylor Crossing."

"Why not?"

"Not much to tell, I guess. Just another mining town that went boom and bust."

"So what about Barton?"

"I don't know much about him, other than rumors." Her lips curled up into a playful smile. "Is that why you came to Colorado? To find out what Burgess Barton was up to?"

Rory averted his eyes. "Hardly."

"There's something, though, isn't there," she pressed on, the mischief still there. "No one would stay out in that cabin without some reason. Maybe you'll end up as crazy as he was."

He looked up at her and attempted a smile. "You think the cabin's charm will rub off on me?"

She laughed, but he couldn't seem to join in. He was still thinking about her last comment and the dream he had had. Maybe the miner's ghost really was there. He winced at the thought.

"Enough about Burgess Barton," she said as their waitress arrived with their food.

"You're right," he forced a smile, still bothered by the thoughts swirling in his head.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked.

"Shoot." He took his fork and got a mound of enchilada and stuffed it in his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed. The next thing he knew, fire seemed to be blazing from his tongue down his esophagus. He coughed and grabbed his beer, slugging it down.

"Here," Anna said, handing him a bunch of chips. "Eat these. That'll take the burning away."

Rory stuffed some into his mouth and chomped on them quickly. His eyes watered, but not enough that he couldn't see Anna across from him, an amused look on her face.

"Sorry," she said, giggling when he'd sufficiently recovered. "I shouldn't laugh."

"Wow, that was hot," he said, wiping tears away.

"I tried to warn you."

"Wow." He ate another chip. "I'm not used to that."

"Put some sour cream on it. That'll help with the spiciness."

He did as instructed and was able to eat with relative enjoyment. "What was your question?" he asked when his mouth quit smoldering.

"Tell me about your accident," she blurted out.

He stared at her. "You get right to it, don't you?"

Anna looked away. An uncomfortable pause threatened to kill the conversation completely. "I was just curious," she finally said. "It was in the paper, about how you were hit by a car."

"It hurt," Rory said, trying for humor. But her serious expression told him that she wasn't about to laugh right now. He delayed by taking another bite, washing it down with some water. A burning feeling was creeping into his stomach, but it wasn't from the spicy food. Did he really want to share this with her?

"You know what the papers said, right?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I was in Manhattan. I was crossing Broadway and an SUV came barreling down the street, smacked right into me, and threw me about ten feet. I landed hard on the asphalt and blacked out. That's all I remember until I woke up with an EMT right in my face." He could see it like it had just happened. "It's weird, how certain things stick in your mind. The guy was clean-shaven, but he'd missed a spot, just to the left of his Adam's apple. That's what I saw when I came to. That and his toothy smile. Then there was yelling, and I guess cheering from people because he'd brought me back."

"You really died?"

"Yes."

"How badly were you hurt?" Anna asked, concern etched on her face.

"Not that bad, believe it or not. I had a bruised sternum, a concussion, and some sc.r.a.pes. Except for dying, I got off lucky." He grinned, but it was half-hearted.

"Didn't you see the car coming?"