Chapter 1- A Reunion of Sorts
Scattered among the billowy clouds that cling desperately to the frigid October sky are slivers of gray and wisps of white inconspicuously moving to where they were supposed to be. With a sudden crack, a blue white electric vein of lightning emblazoned the humid air. Abraham O’Quinn turned his eyes towards the direction of the thunder and wondered if it was just an indication of the changing season or a sinister omen of things to come. The breath in his lungs was as still as his heartbeat as he pondered the answer, hoping it was the former but knowing it was the latter.
“It’s not good for an old mind to dwell on such things,” he whispered in his old mind, “not this early, at least.” He knelt on the ground and thrust the rusty old spade into the black fertile soil, his gardening being his only distraction from his troubled, sinister past. Moist and spongy, the ground stained his knees as he gently laid the young plants from their respective pots to the cold dirt. Abe took a deep breath as he gently pat the surrounding soil.
A gentle rumble shook the houses on the street, but it was not enough to alarm the old man. He got to his feet and turned around to find a moving truck approaching. His eyes narrowed into slits as the wrinkles at the corners deepened and he forced a smile onto his weathered and tan face. Lifting his calloused hand into the air he waved to the truck and the pickup that followed closely behind. His eyes thrust upwards to the sky as if to say to someone watching, “Here goes nothing.”
The moving truck beeped its way in reverse into the long driveway as the pickup truck parked at the side of the street. An attractive woman with strawberry blond hair spilled out of the passenger side. She focused her eyes towards the old man in an attempt to recognize the elderly eyes looking back at her.
“Oh, my God! Father O’Quinn, is that you?” the woman hollered with a large smile. She ran to the elderly man and threw her skinny arms around him squeezing tightly. The driver of the pickup truck was a tall man with slumping broad shoulders, dark hair, brown eyes and a handsome face hiding behind a five o’clock shadow. He sluggishly approached the rear seat and pulled out a young infant with a pink face and eyes shut so tightly and walked towards the old man and the attractive woman.
“Well, how about that?” the elderly priest smiled. “I do love surprises. I haven’t seen you since your husband passed. And this little one must be Reuben. He looks just like you, Helen.”
“It’s been hard without Paul, I admit. But this strapping gentleman is his brother, John Wesson, and he’s offered to have us move into his new house with him until we get back on our feet.” Helen gestured to John and took Reuben into her arms.
“I’m more hulking than strapping,” John joked as he shook Abe’s hand.
“I don’t know if you remember, John. But Father O’Quinn was the priest who married Paul and me.” Helen informed.
“Not to mention I was there at her confirmation, first communion, and baptism,” Abe said sticking out his chest proudly, smiling at Helen.
“My goodness! That’s right! And not just for me, but for my brother as well!”
“Yes, I’ve known the Summers family for quite some time. I suppose my age is showing. Say, how is Edmund anyway?”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself? He’s moving in with us for a few weeks. Actually, I think he’s unpacking the moving truck right now.” John informed. The back of the truck opened with a metallic screech as a skinny blond young man took out a large dolly and clumsily moved a large wooden dresser out of the truck. It scraped against the side of the truck causing Helen to give the baby back to John in order to save the rest of the furniture.
“It’s hard to see right now, but Reuben actually has my brother’s eyes.” John smiled, explaining to Abe.
“I’m sorry about what happened to your brother. My condolences,” Abe laid a hand on John’s shoulders.
“Thank you. It’s hard to imagine Paul’s gone. He was so young too and never even got to meet his son.”
“Did anyone find out what happened?”
“The autopsy said he was poisoned. But that doesn’t make any sense. I mean, who would want to kill Paul? He had no enemies.”
“Sometimes, it’s best not to ask such questions. You might go mad trying to find answers where there are none. At least none that follow any clear logic.” Abe added with a comforting smile. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Helen’s brother since Paul’s passing. Has he been with you two the entire time?”
“Actually, he kind of disappeared from everyone around that time. Helen had been trying so hard to contact him after Paul died. I mean, she needed a shoulder to cry on. I’ve been taking care of her ever since, and all throughout her pregnancy. When Reuben was born, all of a sudden, Edmund showed up at the delivery room.”
“He just came out of nowhere?”
“Exactly. That’s a good way of putting it.”
“How did he know where to find you?”
“I don’t know, but I’m sure glad he’s back. I’ve never seen Helen this happy since my brother died.” Reuben fussed in John’s arms and cooed before lulling back into still silence. John and Abe smiled at the newborn infant. “Would you like to hold him, Father O’Quinn?”
“I’d be honored,” Abe took Reuben into his arms and rocked him gently. Almost as if he were carrying nothing at all, he delicately let the baby feel the warmth of his arms and chest. The old man smiled and the corners of Reuben’s mouth curled ever so slightly. “Just a few weeks old, you say? Has he been baptized yet? I don’t want to sound like a fussy old priest, but…”
“Oh, Helen mentioned she wanted to get him baptized, but we just never got around to preparing for it what with everything that’s happened since Reuben was born. I mean with Edmund’s homecoming, and I just got this new house and of course we’ve had to move everything here; we’ve just all been so busy.”
“I see,” Abe smiled at the little one trying to hide the subtle disappointment that glittered in his eyes.
Footsteps approached John and Abe. Two pairs: one was the light spirited steps of Helen, the other was deliberate almost as if it wanted to be heard approaching, that of the Helen’s brother, Edmund Summers. Abe reluctantly lifted his head from Reuben’s gaze and turned to see the bright blond hair and piercing dark blue eyes of Edmund who was still the short, skinny kid that Abe remembered as a younger child.
“Long time, no see, Abe,” Edmund said, smiling with the slightest hint of sinister glee in his eyes. It was a twinkle in Edmund’s eyes that only Abe, for whatever reason, could have noticed at first glance. “So were you transferred to the local parish here?”
“Actually, Edmund, I’ve been retired a year now, and have been enjoying it thoroughly.”
“So, you moved out here? Still go hunting?”
“Oh, that’s right,” Helen realized, explaining to John, “Father O’Quinn used to go on hunting trips a lot, and he used to take Edmund here with him all the time.”
“I’m afraid hunting takes a little too much out of me. I'm not as young as I used to be, obviously,” Abe chuckled, “But I still go fishing. Any of you are more than welcome to come along one weekend if you’re available. In fact, I just came from the lake this morning! The trout were really biting!”
“That’d be great!” John exclaimed, smiling. “We’d love to go with you sometime.”
“I’ve never really been into fish,” Edmund said, still smiling his subtly mischievous smile. “By the way, Abe, I thought Catholic priests weren’t allowed to own anything, let alone property. I thought you technically don’t retire.”
“I’m still in service to the Lord, Edmund. And you’re thinking about religious orders, I’m a diocesan priest. I can live here. Besides, on occasion I still serve the occasional mass.”
“Ed, what’s the matter with you?” Helen asked, upset with her brother’s impertinence.
“It’s been a long drive, Helen,” Edmund answered. He winked to Abe and Reuben started to fuss and immediately began to cry. “I guess it makes all of us a little bit more prone to crankiness. My apologies, Padre.” Abe nodded, reluctantly accepting Edmund’s artificial apology.
“Oh, my! I think Reuben might need to take a nap,” Helen said reacting to the baby’s crying. She took him from Abe’s arms.
“Yeah,” John added, “Ed, I think we better get the stuff out of the trucks and into the house before it gets dark or worse. I don’t like the look of those clouds in the sky.”
“Me neither,” Abe whispered under his breath.
“Nice meeting you, Father!” John waved to Abe as he walked towards the moving truck. Edmund insolently tipped an imaginary cap to the aging priest and Helen took the baby inside the empty house. Abe smiled a wooden smile and waved to them from across the street with his knees cold and stained with the black fertile soil of his lawn. He knelt down to take the spade from the ground and while he smiled proudly at his newly tended garden, the priest’s concerned heart ached for what was awaiting the new neighbors across the street.
Chapter 2- Housewarming
The cold cut through Helen’s flesh like softened butter, drilled into her bones, and crystallized her marrow into ice even as she slept. Though the electricity had been turned on, the central heating and ventilation was not in working condition. Any heaters or electric blankets that could be used to alleviate the cold were buried in the hills of cardboard boxes spread out on the landscape of the empty house.
Reuben’s crib had been assembled and, for the time being, was placed besides the napping Helen. John had succeeded in getting the refrigerator and stove working; dinner would be ready soon. Edmund got a fire started in the fireplace and the house started to fill with warmth and the smell of a warm autumn evening. The scent of charred wood began to climb into the nostrils of everyone in the house. Ember crackles, leaping off of the burning logs and dancing gracefully into the air on the back of smoke marbling into the air.
Even in her sleep, Helen was acutely aware of her surroundings. She could feel the warmth of the fire slowly approaching her from her right. In the kitchen she could smell dinner being prepared. Helen could even hear her little Reuben rustling about, the delicate sound of cloth against cloth as a result. Lightning struck in the distance, and somehow she felt that as well along with the gentle rumble that followed seconds after. The tip of her nose began to feel numb.
She still sensed the fire but the warmth seemed to retreat back into the den. The sounds of John cooking still echoed but the smells of freshly cooked food faded away into the stale air of the empty house. Helen twitched and slowly opened her eyes, unaware of what urged her into waking. She shivered and looked outside to find the clouds swallowing the town in shadow and light and thunder. Her lungs felt too small for the breaths she wanted to swallow. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, tiptoeing on goose bumps.
Helen sensed a presence in the house and quickly turned to Reuben, who was sound asleep in his wooden crib. Suddenly there was a warmth surrounding only the room that she and the baby were in, separate than the heat of the fire or the stovetop. A dripping was heard in the corner of the room. Being careful not to lift her feet, Helen leaned over to get a better look to where the dripping was coming from. Her first instinct was that it was an old house. There was bound to be some problems and a leaky roof was the least of her worries at the time.
But the dripping grew into a trickle and gave way unto pouring and that was when Helen realized that despite the prevalence of thunder and lightning it was not raining nor had it rained since they arrived. The walls of the room seemed to melt and move like an upright stream of blackness. It was only until the rancid smell of rust became nauseatingly clear that Helen realized that the walls of the room were bleeding. A mother’s instinct urged her to grab Reuben before even contemplating that she could scream. But as she thrust her arms into the crib, she realized that the baby was gone and her arms were covered in the warm, thick blood that fell like velvet curtains down the four walls.
Trapped in her throat was the scream that she had reserved earlier but she leapt towards the front door and tried to open it. It wouldn’t budge. Edmund was in the den, tending to the fireplace as the door slammed shut. He was oblivious to the goings on of the living room as was John who Helen saw still continued to cook. The door to the kitchen swung shut with such force that it jolted the scream loose from Helen’s throat.
She struggled to open the front door when a knocking came from the other side. Three heavy raps nearly ramming the door open caused Helen to back away from it. Then another three, rhythmic raps echoed from the thin wooden frame of the door. Was it friend or foe? Knock… Knock… KNOCK!
Helen twitched violently as she awoke. It was all just a dream, she told herself. Still on the sofa, she sat up immediately and found Reuben besides her in his crib, his small chest rising and falling rhythmically. There was nothing but cracking, peeling wallpaper on the walls. No blood. And outside, the clouds still gathered and the electric storm raged in the far off distance. Her heart pounded as if trying to escape the confines of her ribcage.
Knock, knock, knock! The front door rattled as if the dream had followed Helen into her awakening. For that instant her blood froze in her vessels. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply to convince herself she was awake this time. Knock, knock, knock!
“Ed! Can you get the door?” Helen requested. “I’m going to help John with dinner.” She took to her feet slowly as if she were seasick. Tiptoeing past the crib she walked into the kitchen and sat at the breakfast nook wiping the cold sweat off her face with the sleeve of her sweater. “I just had a nightmare just now. It felt so real.”
“Maybe it’s because the house is haunted,” he mentioned still focused on dinner, “With all the creaks and squeaks and odd noises coming from this old house I would be surprised if it was all the doing of some angry spirit telling us to get out. There’s a lot of history in these wooden frames. Hell, maybe that’s why Ed’s been acting up lately. Maybe he’s possessed!”
“Do you really think so?”
“Helen,” John turned her with half a smile. “I’m only joking around. You just had a nightmare. That’s all.”
“Oh,” Helen replied blankly, “I know. I guess I’m just a little groggy from that nap is all.” She wanted to tell him that it felt too real to just be a dream. She wanted to say how she had dreams like this before; horrible, deathly dreams that somehow came true. The premonitions started when she was a little girl and slowly faded away as she got older. The therapist said that it was Helen’s way of coping with the loss of her mother who died when she was born. But she couldn’t understand how it could have traumatized so deeply at such a young age.
As Reuben’s due date approached and her father passed away, the dreams started up again. Relentless, these nightmares sometimes prevented her from getting a full night’s rest and were just as intense as they were when she was young. No one believed her dreams came to fruition then. There was no reason for her to think that anyone would believe her now. She just smiled at John and helped him set three places for dinner. Heavy and deliberate footsteps approached the kitchen.
“Ed!” Helen called. “Who was that at the door?”
“It looks like I came too late!” Abe answered.
“Father O’Quinn!” Helen exclaimed. “What brings you here? Too late for what?”
“Would you like to join us for an early dinner, Father?” John said, smiling.
“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother,” Abe replied. “Besides, I’ve already got something cooking at home. I just got to thinking that I didn’t have a housewarming gift for you folks.”
“Father, you didn’t have to do that!” John commented.
“Really, Father; you shouldn’t have gone through all that trouble.” Helen added.
“It’s no trouble at all!” Abe took out a wad of neatly rolled up newspaper. “It’s my catch of the day: the biggest, fattest trout in the lake. Maybe you can cook it up tomorrow!”
“That’s really very kind of you, Father. Thank you!” John nodded gratefully.
“It’s my pleasure, kids.” Abe walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. “It looks like you’ve got the bare essentials up and running. I’ll toss this right in the freezer if you don’t mind.”
“Go right ahead,” Helen walked over to Abe and rubbed his shoulders, “That’s really sweet of you. Are you sure you can’t stay over for dinner?”
“Maybe some other time, Helen,” Abe responded, “I’m actually needed later tonight at St. Barnabas Church. There’s an All Saints’ Day mass and it seems Father Smith is sick.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Edmund commented, his voice dripping in sarcasm. “I’ll see you to the door, Abe.”
“Where have you been, Edmund?” Abe asked when they were no longer within earshot.
“No more lectures, old man.”
“What is the matter with you, son? Where have you been all this time?”
“Just because he used to call you ‘Father’ does not give you the right to call Edmund your ‘son.’ He hasn’t been your apprentice for quite some time.”
Abe stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened to nearly the size of his face. It was the bony face and pointy chin of Edmund. It was Edmund’s thin blond hair that rested listlessly on his head. His thin frame and deep hum of a voice all indicated Edmund. But when Abe looked into his green eyes, the sparkle was dull and it was not Edmund.
“Who are you?” asked the elderly priest.
“Don’t recognize me… Hmm, priest? Look carefully. We’ve met once before. I’m no stranger to the Summers family.”
“It can’t be!”
“So, you do remember?”
“Asmodeus! I’m giving you one warning: leave this family alone! Helen’s been through enough.”
“An ultimatum? Please, you’re in no position to bargain.”
“Did you kill Edmund?”
“No,” he scoffed, “Actually his being alive is still useful to me.”
“How?”
Asmodeus, in his Edmund disguise, approached Abe slowly the way a lion approaches its latest meal. His face was calm, free of any emotion to reveal his true intention. The old man stood his ground in defense unsure what kind of attack was coming. With strength not indicative of Edmund’s bony frame, Asmodeus grabbed Abe by the back of the head and put a cloth soaked in chloroform over his mouth. Abe struggled and his strength weaned with each passing second melting his body into a limp sack. Asmodeus carried him into the den, the fire still raging within the fireplace, and locked the door.
“As if I’d reveal my true intentions to you,” the possessed Edmund scoffed. With a simple adjustment of his hair, Asmodeus picked up Reuben from the crib and walked into the kitchen where he had dinner with Helen and John.
Chapter 3- Missing Child
They conversed over dinner as many families do, telling stories, laughing at jokes, talking about books they’ve read or movies they’ve seen. Every now and again Helen’s eyes would wander from the conversation to Reuben whose eyelids grew heavier with each thirst gulp of milk. From a distance, it seemed as if they were a real family and they would be if it wasn’t for the unwanted guest inhabiting the body of Helen’s brother, Edmund. When dinner ended, the two men cleared the table as Helen prepared Reuben for a good night’s sleep in their new home.
Edmund took Reuben’s crib apart and rebuilt it in the master bedroom upstairs where John was moving Helen’s bed. By the time they had finished both men were too exhausted to bring their beds upstairs to their respective rooms.
“I think I’m too pooped to lift another box,” John commented.
“It’s been a long day for everyone,” Helen added, “ Reuben’s already fast asleep so I think I’m going to join him. Where are you guys going to sleep?”
“How was that couch downstairs? Lumpy?” John asked.
“It’s all yours.”
“I think I’ll go fall asleep in the den and get that fire going again. It’d be a shame to waste all that warmth,” Edmund said.
“Ed, try not to let it burn all night. I don’t know when the last time that chimney’s been swept.”
“We’ll be fine, sis.”
They all wished each other good night and went to their beds and laid their heads to rest after a long moving day. John breathed deeply and looked around the living room. He chuckled as he realized that the sofa he was lying down on was the only stick of furniture that was formally put into place. Otherwise he was in a cityscape of cardboard boxes, all filled with memories and objects both essential and inessential. The door to the den was closed and from the gap at the bottom John could see the light of the fireplace dancing about frantically.
“Hey, Ed! You think you can open that door?” John yelled. There was no response. “Quit hogging all the heat!” This time his only response was a low growl; Edmund’s nasally snore vibrating the door.
“Jackass,” John grumbled as he shrank under the rough wool covers he pulled out of one of the boxes earlier. Some moonlight managed to hazily peek through the thick overcast and as it spilled in through the windows John’s eyes closed gently.
Hours passed as all those inside the house slept soundly and peacefully until a bloodcurdling scream sprung John from the sofa onto his feet. His first thought went to Helen and he rushed to the stairs but as his hand touched the banister he felt a thick, warm liquid on it. It wasn’t clear what it was, but it was everywhere leading upstairs. Bringing it to his nose, it was a sour smell. It smelled like—it couldn’t be, he thought to himself. Another scream sent him jetting to the top of the stairs to the master bedroom.
John found Helen collapsed besides Reuben’s crib, tears streaming down her face, covered in the same warm goo that ran up the stairs and seemed to lead to the crib. She tried to scream but her voice was hoarse. Helen’s mouth fell open, trying to let the scream out but only a whimper crawled out. John ran to her and wrapped his arms around her, helping her to her feet. He peeked into the crib and saw that the baby was missing. More moonlight spilled into the house and he could see the sticky fluid was indeed as rich red as he suspected blood would be. Trying not to panic he stayed with Helen who gripped his hand tightly.
“Oh my God!” Helen’s voice quivered in the still night air, “Whose blood is this?” John’s eyes darted back and forth, not sure what to look for. In his head, the only thought that was rattling about was that there was no way all this blood could be the baby’s. There’s just too much.
“Edmund,” John realized that Edmund hadn’t responded to his sister’s screaming. He flew downstairs and saw that the fire was still raging inside the den. The knob resisted turning. It was locked and John turned harder still. He stepped back and using the full strength of his large frame, he kicked the door open and found the den was empty. The heat splashed on his body and sent a numbing tingle throughout his body.
An unfamiliar peace came over his body as he stared blankly at the warm and empty room. Helen saw him standing in the doorway as she walked down the stairs. John didn’t know she was standing there. He didn’t see him. But she saw Edmund sneaking up. The scream that tried so desperately to escape her lungs earlier returned and shook the house as it forced itself out of her delicate mouth. However it was too late. John didn’t struggle as Edmund plunged the large knife into his back. Edmund didn’t even move the blade until John’s last breath hissed away.
This possessed young man dropped John’s body on the floor. It slumped lifelessly, sickeningly, the blood dripping from the fatal wound. The fire continued to flicker on the log, reflecting its spasmodic dance in the freshly spilled blood of John Wesson. Helen ran to John’s lifeless corpse but Edmund grabbed her by the arm who bound her hands with rope that was in one of the cardboard boxes. She struggled and was about to scream when Edmund put his hand to her mouth.
“Please don’t,” the words fell dryly from his lips, “That’s annoying.”
“How could you, Edmund?”
“Edmund isn’t in right now. But if you’ll leave a message I’ll make sure he gets it. Well, that is, before I kill him… Obviously.”
“Who are you?!?”
“Me? My name’s Asmodeus. You’re brother let me borrow this body for something really important. Don’t worry, though. The baby’s perfectly all right. Edmund’s okay too… relatively speaking. We want you folks alive.”
“We?”
“You know, Helen, I’d love to give you all the gory details but I’ve got to finish tying you up. Like I said, we need you alive (for now) and, to tell you the truth, I just don’t trust that you won’t up and run away on me. No offense, but people in your position tend to run away.”
“Why are you doing this?!?”
The wood started to creak somewhere behind them. Asmodeus turned around and saw only John’s body lying in the doorway, in the shadow of the fireplace. He shrugged it off and continued to tighten the knots on Helen’s feet.
“Oh, Helen,” Asmodeus muttered, exasperated. “You’ve gotten blood on your clothes. I suppose that’s my fault. You see that’s all Edmund’s blood all over the house. Don’t worry; nothing a good scrubbing won’t fix. But I guess my friends will have something for you to change into when we get there.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You don’t expect to go to church all covered in blood, do you?”
Another creak. Asmodeus turned his head back to John’s body, still unmoved.
“This house is kind of spooky,” he said sardonically, “But it does have a quaint charm to it, I suppose.”
The wooden creak whispered slightly louder. John’s body was missing. Asmodeus got to his feet and walked towards the den. Leaning in the doorway, he peeked to see inside. Nothing. The room was as empty as he had left it. He turned around to make sure Helen was still tied up and saw only John’s tightly clenched fist speeding towards his face. Edmund’s unconscious body lay where John’s did just moments earlier.
Helen stared up at John whose wound was only apparent through the bloody tear in the back of his shirt. Her body was stiff, her skin cold with sweat as the hairs on the back of her neck pricked up at the sight of John. John got on his knees and untied Helen.
“How are you alive, John? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” John’s eyes were saturated with even more bewilderment than Helen’s. He took the rope and tied the hands and feet of Edmund, dragging the body into the den close to the fire. Helen took deep breaths, each inhalation sharper than each exhalation as she attempted to gather herself. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, but not from the cold.
There was a shrill cry outside. It was a high pitched moaning of someone that only a mother could recognize. The exhausted crying continued for a fraction of a second before Helen recognized it as Reuben’s voice. She ran to the front door and John ran frantically after her trying to stop her, not knowing why. The door was open and Helen froze as she stared blankly outside, the blue moonlight cutting through the clouds casting an eerie shadow behind her. John approached her slowly and turned his head towards what her eyes fixated on.
Holding the young Reuben, Abe stood in the middle of the street smiling sinisterly at them, waving Reuben’s tiny little hand at them. A mocking chuckle grew into a laugh as the shadows on the street curled upwards and surrounded Abe and Reuben. The shadows became black flames that licked them into non-existence. They melted into the air as John and Helen ran to stop them, but it was too late. Helen collapsed in the middle of the street sobbing quietly as John laid a hand on her shoulders to comfort her since there wasn’t much else to do.
Click here to read "Part 2: Guardian"
Click here to read "Part 3: Revelations"
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