Eve of Redemption (46 page)

Burke had no idea how long he had been locked up in his dank cell. Time had little meaning here. He had been barely conscious when two guards, identical to those that had been with him on the wagon, had dragged his limp body into the cell and dumped him on the rough stone floor. He remembered groaning through dry, cracked lips and gazing up at the figure that towered above him. He had blinked his eyes several times until the white-hot aura faded and a man stood in its place.

“Well, well, Mr. Burke. It’s so good to see you again.”

“Who are you?”

The being laughed. “Yes, I guess you wouldn’t recognize me. In your world I cannot be my true self, but here…” He held his arms out, displaying his full magnificence. “You can call me Denizen. You have caused me no end of trouble. Though I must admit, it has been interesting. You have presented much more of a challenge than I ever gave you credit for. Of course, you must understand, very little of it has been of your own accord. No, you are, and have always been, nothing but a weak, spineless worm. But you already know that, don’t you?”

Burke wanted to argue, but the words would not come. He believed everything this being said about him.

“It runs in the family, you know,” Denizen said. “Generation upon generation of worms slither through your family tree. It’s disgusting, really. But then, disgusting is a human characteristic, isn’t it?”

Burke had remained silent. He had no defense.

“How many did your grandfather kill? Seventeen was it? That they know of.” Denizen leaned in close, his putrid breath wrapping around Burke’s face like tear gas. “It was more upwards of thirty-five, if you really must know,” he whispered. Denizen pulled away. “And you know what? They’re all here. Right here at the gates of hell itself.” He waved his arm, as if to indicate that they were, in fact, at that very gate. “They’ve been harvested, harvested by your low-life grandfather and the even lower demon he allowed to possess him.”

Denizen must have seen confusion on Burke’s face. “Oh, you didn’t know that, did you? Oh yes, your grandfather, for all his blessed evilness, was just a pawn in Agibus’s grand plan, as was your father, and now you. You, my simple friend, are the final piece.” Denizen began pacing the room. “Yes, the final piece, but what to do with you? Again, that is the question, isn’t it?”

At the mention of his father, Burke’s hand went to his bad hip. “I don’t know anything about anyone named Agibus or any plan,” he croaked. “My father had a nervous breakdown from too much stress. He couldn’t have had anything to do with this madness.”

Denizen smiled. “Really? Stress? Your father pastored a tiny congregation in a tiny, nowhere town. How much stress could he have had? Your family has been a pawn in Agibus’s plan for generations. Think about it. Your grandfather, the mass murderer. Your father, who killed his wife and daughter—almost killed you, too. Your own wife, murdered, and your daughter, missing. You don’t really believe this is all coincidence? Or are you really that stupid?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Evil, you idiot. It’s all about evil. The human world is so full of it that your species practically begs us to come party with them. And many of us have. But we have to inhabit human bodies to do it, which is very limiting. Your kind is making it easier, though. Each generation turning farther and farther from the Ancient One, growing more like us until the veil that separates us from you grows quite thin in some places. Agibus plans to use your own evil against you to split the veil and unleash the Bene Ha ‘Elohim on your world. Trust me, that would be bad for you.”

“You don’t sound like you want this plan to succeed. I would think you would want to be free from here.”

“Oh, to be free would be wonderful,” Denizen said. “But the cost is astronomical. Agibus and his followers believe the Bene Ha ‘Elohim would be forever grateful for their release. I doubt that. They have no love for any other than themselves. I believe they would enslave us, at best. Perhaps annihilate us. Your kind would stand no chance.”

“And what is my part supposed to be in all of this?”

“You still don’t get it? You must kill your daughter. That, my weak friend, is the only way to save her and the world you love so much. If she survives, everyone loses, including her.”

“I’ll never harm my daughter. Nothing could ever make me do that.”

“The funny thing is, I believe you. However, that does not change the fact that you will face your precious little girl, and either she will kill you or you will kill her. The only way to avoid this certain fate is to, shall we say, dispose of yourself first.” The demon laughed as he faded away.

Burke leaned his head back against the cold wall. Memories of Sara as a little girl swirled through his mind—her first birthday, her first day of kindergarten, elementary school graduation. So many wonderful events, and he had played such a small role in each of them. Always rushing in at the last moment, if making it at all. His heart tore at his list of failures.

A sudden stench brought Burke back to the present. Had the demon returned? He held his breath and listened but heard nothing, though the smell continued to grow stronger until he thought he would gag. Burke felt a presence enter the cell and somehow knew it was not the demon.

“Hello, darling.” The unmistakable voice of his wife sounded dull and lifeless in the cell. “Have you missed me?”

Burke began to tremble. He shook his head, denying her presence, keeping his face down to avoid confirming it. “You aren’t real.”

“Oh, but I am real, darling.”

“No. You’re dead. I saw your body.” The memory of Laura’s skeletal remains crept back into his mind like an acidic worm, burrowing deeper and deeper. He squished his eyes closed.

“Of course I’m dead. I’m dead because you let me down.” Laura’s tone grew cold with malice. “You weren’t there, were you? You were never there when I needed you.”

“Why didn’t you save us, Daddy?”

Burke’s heart seized at the voice of his little girl. She was not supposed to be here. She was supposed to be alive. He should have known any such hope was a lie.

Tears squeezed through his closed eyelids and streamed down his grimy cheeks. “I tried,” he sobbed. “Really, I tried. I just wanted what was best for you and Sara.” Burke’s shoulders shook as he fought to contain the agony that spilled from his heart.

“What are you sniveling about, John?” Burke flinched. Strange how he still knew his father’s voice after all these years. “I knew you’d never amount to anything. Should have killed you first, just to be sure. Now look at the mess you’ve made. Failed me. Failed your family. But you’re here now, aren’t you? Yup, here in hell with the rest of us.”

Burke opened his eyes but kept them on the floor between his feet. He had to face up to his sin before the guilt ate him from the inside out.

His father was right. He did deserve to rot in hell.

It does not have to be that way.

Burke felt a warmth flow into his body as the words drifted through his mind. His shaking stopped, and the pain in his ankles lessened.

You are my child, yet you trust me not.

The words awakened something within Burke, something long buried. “You let them down, too,” he whispered. “They believed in you. You could have saved them.”

I did save them.

“They trusted in you, and they died.” Burke’s whisper turned hoarse and angry. “They trusted you.”

They were saved before then.

Burke shook his head as tears continued to streak his face. “But they’re dead.”

What is death? True death is to not know me. To know me is life eternal. You must trust me.

Burke struggled with the hurricane of emotions that tore through his mind. He thought back to the lake, where he had first met God. Really met him. The feelings of love and security that had flooded him, and the conviction that had brought all his sins to the surface was but a dim memory after all that had happened since. Wasn’t being a Christian supposed to make life better? Wasn’t God supposed to love and protect those who accepted him?

“Katrina was murdered while you were busy with me.” Burke could have sworn he heard the voice chuckle.

Busy with you, was I?
I was with her as well. I carried her home. Her laughter was music to me.

“I failed them.” He was sobbing now, unable to hide the pain any longer. “They needed me, and I wasn’t there for them.”

Your failure is my glory.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Burke was growing tired of this. If this really was God, why couldn’t he speak in a way that made sense?

Your understanding is the problem, not my words. Find your strength in me, John Burke. You need not understand. Have faith, and you will find you are much stronger than you ever imagined.

Burke wanted to believe. In the lake he had known in the deepest part of his heart that it was true, but now so many doubts crowded him that he no longer knew what he believed. “What about my father? He believed, and he murdered my mother and brother! How could a man of God do that? And if Laura was saved, why is she in hell with my dad?”

Who says she is? Who says any of them are? Why do you believe the lies that surround you, yet you do not believe the one who loves you?

Burke sucked in a deep breath, fighting to regain some kind of control. Was this all just a lie—and if so, why? Why would such powerful forces go to all this trouble over him? He waited for the voice to respond but felt emptiness where the presence had so recently resided. He was on his own again.

Burke sighed and raised his head. A moment later, he opened his eyes.

The noose swayed above the chair, beckoning him to join his family.

T
he damp mist chilled Sara’s face as the shallow boat cut through the water. The only sounds were the soft movements of the spirit master’s paddle as it propelled the ancient vessel and the occasional splash of something hidden in the mist. Sara kept telling herself that it was only fish jumping, but legend said nothing at all could live in these waters. She had no desire to dwell on the possibility that something not-living made the noise.

Their guide had remained silent since shoving off from shore, and Sara felt glad for it. She had been shaken more than she had let on by the sight of the skeletal hand.

She felt a light hand on her shoulder as Ryan leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Something about that guy is familiar.”

“What? You think you’ve seen him before?”

Ryan paused. “I don’t know. There’s just something about him. A boat, a skeletal man guiding it, the mist. Don’t you feel it?”

Her eyes locked on the back of the spirit master’s black hood. “Yeah, I do. This whole thing just doesn’t seem right—and yet, it does, in some weird way. It all seems like something from a dream, or…”

“Or what?” Kyle asked. Apparently he had been listening in on the conversation.

Sara shrugged and let out a sigh. “I don’t know. It just feels like I’ve been here before.”

“Or seen it somewhere,” Kyle said.

Their guide stood nearly motionless in the bow of the boat, his only movement the occasional dipping of the paddle into the water. Sara knew nothing about boats, but she had a strong impression that the paddle was little more than a prop. Another splash to the right startled her.

“The rusalka are active,” the spirit master said. “You do not want to fall in the water this night.”

“What’s a rusalka?” Kyle asked.

A cold chuckle emanated from beneath the master’s hood. “The rusalka are the restless dead, women and girls whose unhappiness in life led them to end their lives prematurely. They haunt these waters, waiting for their lovers to bring them peace.” He paused a moment. “They would find you young men quite tasty.” The master turned his head, and Sara caught a clear glimpse of the grinning skull that peeked from beneath the hood. The tiny boat rocked dangerously as all three of the young warriors shifted away from the nightmarish figure that guided them.

“Remain wary, my young friends. Rusalka are not the only creatures that hunt this night.” As if in answer, giant wings from above swirled the heavy mist. Sara peered into the gray darkness but was unable to see whatever had passed above them. She felt exposed, trapped in a fog so dense she could scarcely see both ends of the tiny boat. Even the features of Ryan and Kyle were distorted and ghostlike when she turned to look at them.