The Raven Mocker (36 page)

“
Well, what the hell’s going on over there?” Butch whispered. Charley and Chris had also noticed the glow on the horizon, both cursing under their breath. “I’ll call the Fire Department.”

“
No!” John stopped him from picking up his radio handset. “Not yet. Let’s make sure it’s a fire before we contact anyone else.”

Butch eyed him suspiciously, but then relented. John hated using their friendship to seek leverage, but there wasn’t enough time to explain why he knew no natural flames threatened the pristine woodlands, a mile or so away.

“
I’m ready to get going,” he said, stepping out of the vehicle.

He walked over to the short log barrier that separated the parking area from the meadow, blanketed in white, having received a foot of fresh powder since last night. A trail of faint footprints led from the edge of the parking area to where the trees separated, likely following the obscure path to the ravine.

Someone’s already there…probably waiting for us!

“
Boys…it looks like we’ll need the snowmobiles after all,” Butch advised, after he and his two assistants joined him by the meadow’s edge. Chris Girard seemed barely old enough to be a policeman, with boyish good looks that made John wonder if he was the deputy that Evelyn mentioned when she visited him at the jail.

Good kid…raised well by decent folk.

Tiny, flurried snowflakes clung to Charley Peacock’s handlebar moustache. Blond with gray eyes, and a face destined from birth to become a grizzled lawman, he nodded to John before walking back to his truck to help Butch unhook the snowmobiles in the truck bed. Tinted Raybans shielded his eyes enough to where most folks could never guess his mood or thoughts. John knew he thought the trip out here pointless, but revered the sheriff for whom he’d worked these past eight years.

“
I’ll ride with Chris, and Charley will take you with him, John,” Butch advised once the Kawasakis were unloaded.

Bright red and covered on all sides with orange reflective tape they looked almost brand new. Butch motioned for Charley and John to follow him and Chris. At Charley’s insistence, they brought a large bag of flame repellant, despite John’s repeated assurances that the glowing sky had nothing to do with a fire of any kind. The deputy responded with a snide look.

The trucks locked up, Chris and Charley started up the snowmobiles and the group pursued the footprints across the meadow. The Oliver cabin sat off to the right, its snow covered roof and porch glistening from the morning’s first rays of sunlight. They soon reached the break in the tree line, where deep snowdrifts obscured the path leading to the ravine. The fiery glow seemed much more ethereal now, its source closer.

The group paused before going further, but not because of this.

“
What the hell’s going on??”

Butch posed the question while the engines idled softly. The ground rumbled ahead of them, the deep snow shifting amid swaying oaks, elms, and pines. The earth continued to shake until whatever approached from beneath the snow stopped, just a few feet away.

A terrible foreboding threatened to suffocate John’s psyche. He looked around him, searching for whatever studied them…the presence keenly hostile. Even the others seemed to feel it, Butch and Charley’s expression perplexed and Chris’s countenance pale, fearful.

John considered going back. But Evelyn and Hanna’s lives were worth far more than his own, not to mention David and Miriam. True, they might be dead…but he didn’t think so. It felt wrong…still incomplete.

He stepped off the Kawasaki, his feet disappearing in snow up past his knees.

“
Ya’ll should go back,” he told them, and turned his attention to Butch, who urged him to get back on the snowmobile behind Charley so they could do just that. “I must go on…alone. If I find them all and make it back, then I’ll see you again soon, my friend. If not, know that I go in peace.”

John turned away, the feeling of dire dread from a moment ago lessened, as if defeated by his determination to press forward. He began his solo trek to the ravine, struggling to move through more drifted snow.

“
Wait!”

When John looked back, he saw Butch confer with his deputies for a moment and then Chris joined Charley on his snowmobile, turning the vehicle back toward the parking area. Once the two deputies were halfway across the meadow, Butch brought the other snowmobile over to John.

“
How long have we known each other?” asked Butch, his smile impish.

“
Going on fifty-two years, I’d say.” John returned his smile with a wry grin. “You don’t have to do this—”

“
The hell you say, buddy!” He revved the engine. “Climb aboard. For better or worse, I’m coming with you…. I just pray you know what the hell you’re doing, John.”

“
There’s only one way to find out,” John told him after a slight pause. “Now I’ve got six lives to worry about instead of five. Thanks.”

“
You just worry about finding your little girls and that couple from Colorado, and I’ll take care of my own ass!” Butch’s smile grew brighter, but his eyes revealed his unease. “You best get on this thing now, before the ground starts shaking again.”

John hopped on behind him and the two continued together. The weird shifting beneath the snow remained quiet, though the air crackled with energy. The feeling of being watched and studied intensified as they moved ever closer to the ravine…almost suffocating. Meanwhile, the brightness in front of them grew to a near-blinding glare, obscuring most of the trees that lined both sides of the dormant streambed.

When they reached the top of the ravine, Butch cut the engine. The dawn’s light filled the winter sky, and as it did the powerful radiance inside the ravine waned. What had been obscured was now clearly revealed. They could only stare.

Tsvsgino.

“
What the hell is that thing??”

Butch asked the question, while John considered the irony.

Why, yes, good buddy, that ‘thing’ you see is an actual part of Hell, Hades or perhaps your Druid ancestors’ Realm of Darkness
.
Tsvsgino is my people’s name for the same place…where souls of the damned reside….

The scaffolds and walkways from the University of Tennessee’s excavation in November lay scattered across the landscape. The circular, limestone structure jutting out of the ravine’s basin appeared responsible for this, its height rising above the surrounding tree line. At least sixty feet by John’s estimation and its width triple that guess.

‘
Sort of looks like one of Suzanne’s cornmeal muffins she used to make, with a cylinder base and a big, mushroom-like puff on top. And the grayish upper-half reminds me of some sort of insect haven…. A giant wasp or hornet nest?

“
Hanna and Evelyn are in there,” he said, his tone subdued, unlike the debate raging inside his head. “I’m going in.”

“
That’s a bad idea, John—a
very
bad idea!”

Butch glanced worriedly at him before returning his gaze to the garish structure before them, its hive-like top expanding and contracting, ever so slight.

“
The best thing—the
smart
thing to do is get some back-up in here right away!”

John had already made up his mind. He wasn’t willing to wait…not with the minute chance of saving his granddaughters still viable, and hopefully for David and Miriam as well. But getting inside the thing looked like it might be a problem. There wasn’t an entrance, at least non obvious to his elderly eyes.

It doesn’t matter—I’ll figure it out.

He stepped off the snowmobile and moved toward the slope nearest to the nest-like structure. A buzzing sound drew his and Butch’s attention from behind…someone else was coming.

“
Well I’ll be goddamned!” said Butch, crackling a grateful smile. “Charley and Chris are back.”

Fearing the two deputies might stop him, John waded through the snow until he reached the ravine’s basin. He moved as quickly as possible, stumbling and almost falling face first while he desperately sought an entrance. Butch shouted for him to come back, while his assistants scrambled down the ravine’s embankments to catch him. Their shouts much more irritated than their boss’s, it provided motivation to move faster.

Unfamiliar symbols covered the walls, aligned in winding designs, similar to what he discovered in his cabin’s guestroom yesterday. A sudden blast of air, warm with an odor of mildew, wafted toward him from above. The puffed-out gray section closest to him had expanded, looking like a giant paper lung, ventricles open. Was it breathing?

Quick, Running Deer…step around to the other side, where the images are not so many.

A small tunnel in the snow looked like it went all the way down into the limestone base. Meanwhile, the deputies reached the bottom of the ravine.

No time left—need to get inside this thing, NOW!!

He dropped to his knees, scooping away snow and ice with his hands. Ignoring Butch’s urgent shouts to stop and wait, John paused just long enough to cast a glance over his shoulder. As he feared, the two deputies had arrived, and now raced to stop him before he slid inside the tunnel. Just as they reached for him, two wispy phantom warriors appeared out of nowhere, instantly solidifying. Before either Charley or Chris could react, the warriors grabbed their arms and pulled them headfirst into the wall closest to him, leaving only the echoes from their shrill screams.

Chapter Thirty-five

If only I’d listened to David!

The thought ripped through Miriam’s head. Still conscious, she wouldn’t be for much longer. The assault upon her mind and soul was unmatched by anything she’d ever experienced, and when it included her body, death would be assured.

Teutates grinned, as if fully aware of the rampant images feeding her brain. His teeth still dripped with Dr. Kirkland’s blood as he drew closer. The stench of blood, raw flesh, and things long dead filled her nostrils. She tried to get away, but the guardians who brought her to this monster held her down, pressed against the marble altar. The table’s coldness aroused taut gooseflesh along her backside, from her neck to her ankles. But that was nothing compared to the sheer horror of lying in a pool of congealing human blood, along with small pieces of Teutates’ latest victims. Miriam fought to keep the vomit down, her jeans and sweater sopping up enough of the mess to where deep crimson crept toward the front of her garments.

And now this—Please, God, make him get out of my head!!

She could hear David scream—begging them to take him instead of her, which she’d never allow. The love of her life, it would be up to him to try and survive…someone needed to be there for the kids.

I’ll never see them again, my dearest children!

She turned her head toward her husband. He jerked madly at his bonds, and even with eyes clouded by tears she saw blood run down his arms, as the rawhide strips tore into his flesh around his wrists. She mouthed ‘I love you’ to him and would’ve preferred watching him over what awaited her, but a ghoulish, empty-eyed warrior suddenly obscured her view. She gasped, despite already seeing more of this vile creature than she ever cared to, its breathless rasp enough to get her to turn away.

Teutates remained, amused and patient, the demon that Evelyn had so accurately defined from her web search. Raven mocker. That’s what she called it. But this one nothing like the pictogram from an old manuscript she showed her. A funny thought occurred to her, which made her wonder if it happens to everyone about to die. Picturing the old hag in the pictogram, running from a tribe of angry Indians after stealing the soul of a sick loved-one, she thought of Little Red Riding Hood.

My, what big teeth you have.

Her snicker died before its birth was complete, as a louder, deeper voice resounded in her mind.

The better to eat you with, my dear!

She closed her eyes tight, as the nauseating breath of Teutates drew up to her face. Near enough to take a huge bite out of her left cheek, she grimaced, helpless and resigned to a terrible demise. His amused chuckle confirmed not only the ownership of the sinister voice within her, but also further pleasure in her present agony in wondering what would come next.

Just get it over with…. Kill me and let the others go!!

More chuckles, joined now by dry rasps from the ghouls on either side.

Not yet. More fun first.

New images flowed into her head. A woman and a little girl. The ones whose heads lay just a few feet behind her against the wall.

They started with the woman… violated? But how…oh my God! They touched her!!
Touched her in a way that their boney fingers and sharp fingernails could not, and yet the damage the same. Raped in her mind
… forced to orgasmic explosion beyond anything she ever experienced in life, while her husband watched!!

Then they killed her, gutting the body like a deer and removing her heart and head. The images moved on. Daddy dead, only the little girl remained alive. Sharon was her name.