The Fire Within

 

Carolyn Stone walked quickly out of the large looming brick square that was Thornfield Christian High School. Shading her eyes with a delicate hand, she scanned the parking lot for her bus.

Today had already been what Carolyn referred to as ‘a day and a half’. Where was her bus? All around her was mass confusion, students jostling each other, passing last notes, and attempting fond embraces of farewell hidden from teachers’ watchful eyes. Carolyn scoffed, remembering the announcement only this morning about how physical displays such as handholding or hugging were not permitted. There was as much chance of teen couples keeping their distance as Satan himself appearing to drive her home.

The sunlight reflected off an approaching bus bumper into her eyes, momentarily blinding her. When the light ebbed, her bus idled before her, its long yellow length blocking the school entrance from her sight.

She hurried to it, her squat-heeled shoes slipping and sliding on the gravel surface. Slinging back her purse strap onto her shoulder, she climbed aboard, then made her way to the back past the double row of stained green vinyl seats.

“Hi, hi, hi!” chorused the kindergarteners as she walked by. Favoring them with an aloof glance, she moved to her seat and sat down.

As more students boarded, the noise level increased from annoying to deafening. Carolyn glared from her seat. Kids! She couldn’t stand them. Their constant craving of attention, their noise, their inability to sit still…

The doors closed, and the bus’s rumble became a throaty growl as the driver left the parking lot for the road. “Settle down!” the driver yelled. At once, the noise lowered slightly.

Carolyn adjusted herself on the seat, bracing for the long bumpy ride home. This bus had the worst shocks this side of Hell. At least it let her avoid the catty clique who called themselves her friends. Yes, they were her social group here, and had been since kindergarden. But she despised them, their need to control others, and their cruelty to those they found wanting in spite of all their professed love of Christian values. She’d never been able to be herself with them, unwilling to let them get too close.

Only another month until school was over, she reminded herself. Then college awaited, a bastion of open minds and no more dress codes. She would finally be free to be herself. Better yet, her boyfriend Rob would finally be with her.

She relaxed, letting her thoughts linger, his handsome face forming in her mind. His blond hair, effortlessly styled in natural curls, a hand of luck he’d been dealt at birth. His eyes were blue, cut from the sky of a perfect clear day. But best of all, he was head over heels for her, the same way she was for him. Though they hadn’t talked of marriage, they’d already arranged to live together during college. Rob was sure to propose before the semester was out…

Carolyn smirked. Her parents weren’t too happy about that, and neither were his, especially his pastor father. But it was past time they stopped letting other people tell them what to do. Bad enough she’d had Jesus crammed down her throat for eleven long years in this place…

The bus lurched to a stop. “Miss Stone,” the driver called sarcastically. “Would you care to get off?”

Blushing, Carolyn got to her feet. As regally as she could muster, she walked past the giggling children, and off the bus.

That was odd. Her parents were home. She strode up her front stairs, then went inside, dropping her purse and books on the hall table. “Dad?”

“In here, Caro. Please come in.”

Worried at the tone in her father’s voice, she hurried into the living room. Her parents were there, along with her priest. Rob’s parents were there, too.

Was this an intervention? Had they found out about the marijuana she’d smoked with Rob last fall? “What is this?”

“There’s been a boating accident, Caro,” her stepmother said hesitantly. “Rob was up looking at Latham College with some friends. You know, the one you were thinking of attending—”

“What happened?” Caroline said loudly, looking from person to person. “Boating accident? Did he get hurt? What happened?”

“I’m sorry, child,” her priest said, standing and coming toward her. “Rob’s dead.”

An unwavering scream of denial and fury burst from Carolyn’s throat. She flailed as they surrounded her, fighting and screaming as they tried to console her.

 

Sirens pierced the calm night air, ringing shrilly through the streets of Cedar. A few residents sleepily looked out their windows as the police cars flashed past. Then they went back to bed, stifling yawns. The cars were headed out of town, so it was none of their concern. Besides, it was close to midnight, when decent people should be asleep.

Officer James Bowman was anything but sleepy. As the police cruiser picked up speed, he went over the scant details in his mind. The young female voice on the phone, pleading with him to hurry, her fear and anguish evident. Steven Stone was hurt, maybe dead. So was his wife.

A burning pain jolted him, making him curse as he swerved, the coffee spilling over him again in an arc.

His partner looked at him apologetically. “Sorry, Jim.”

“Damn it, be more careful,” he said with a glare, then revved the gas again.

It wasn’t Drake’s fault, really. He was just nervous. Jim knew why. His own gut instinct was telling him to turn back.

“There’s the house, Bowman.”

“No shit. There’s no one else around for miles,” Bowman said, slamming the door shut.

“Stone liked his privacy,” Drake said.

“Watch that past tense,” Bowman said darkly, walking toward the door. “We get the facts, remember? No one’s officially dead until we see an ID’d dead body.”

They’d gotten here before the ambulance. But Drake was right, at least one person inside wouldn’t need one, most likely. Homicide wasn’t usually called just for an injury.

“Creepy place,” Drake said.

Bowman surveyed the rebuilt farmhouse, the light white and blue structure. He felt it, too. There was something sinister about the place, its isolation instilling a feeling of dread, as if he was inches away from being prey to some looming predator. But he’d be damned if he gave into fear at his age. “Just pick your guts up out of the car, and follow me in, you pansy.”

The officers walked up the stairs, each step creaking with their weighty advance. Jim rang the doorbell.

A large burly officer opened the door. “Jim, Drake.”

Hawk Lease was a good friend, even if he was still a uniform and not a detective after ten years. “Lease. Fill us in.”

“A murder,” Lease replied. “But we know who and why they did it. Follow me.”

He led them though the hallway into a tastefully decorated living room. On the couch sat a seventeen-year-old girl, her long brown hair covering her face.

“This is Carolyn Stone,” Lease said. “She called the station tonight and reported the murder.”

At the use of her name, the girl looked up, her hazel eyes shining wetly in her tear-streaked face. She moved back her long hair, revealing in her hands a small kitten. “You can sit if you want to, officers.”

Both Jim and Drake sat down. “Miss Stone,” Jim began. “Please start at the beginning—”

Lease turned to leave. “Goodnight, boys.”

“Where are you going?” Drake demanded.

“Cedar Central Hospital,” Lease said pointedly, turning. “My partner got stabbed apprehending the suspect. He went in the first ambulance that responded. Now that you finally got here, I need to go check on him.”

That kind of insolence was why Lease had never made detective. “Go ahead,” Jim said.

“Why are you here, anyway?” Drake said snidely. “I thought Locke was on duty tonight—”

Lease visibly bristled. “We answered the call because we were the closest unit. This is a homicide case now, and you’ll be happy to know that your work is all done. The murderer is in a cell. The coroner just pulled up outside with the ambulance. There’s nothing left but for me to go home, and for you to do the same, once you do the routine.”

Drake glanced to Jim, irked. “We didn’t hear any ambulance.”

Drake and Lease had never gotten along, especially when Drake had made plainclothes and Lease hadn’t. This poor kid didn’t need their angst tonight, on top of everything else she was going through. “Lease, go ahead to the hospital,” Bowman directed. “We’ll finish up here.”

“You didn’t hear anything, Drake, because they didn’t use the sirens,” Lease said darkly, then left.

“His notes are here,” Carolyn offered, hesitantly handing a few sheets of paper to Bowman. “I went over the facts with him while we waited for you guys.”

“Thank you,” Jim, reading the first of Hawk’s three paragraphs of scribbling.

Lease was right. It was a simple case. Just after midnight, Sheila Stone had been attacked in her bedroom, the outside windows forced in with a crowbar. She’d been stabbed while sleeping and left for dead. Because of the severity of the wounds, death had been almost immediate.

“Is your father not at home?” Bowman asked, looking up at Carolyn.

Carolyn shook her head. “He’s on a business trip until Sunday. I called him but no one answered.”

Bowman looked over the latter paragraphs. A man named Dewey had been arrested lurking outside the house, blood on his clothes and some of Sheila Stone’s jewelry in his pockets. Known about town for his quick temper, heavy drinking, and odd ways, he was a good fit. He was intoxicated, but had passed a Breathalyzer test. Shockingly, he’d not denied the crime, but instead admitted it, right before stabbing Lease’s partner in the arm with the murder weapon.

Hawk had been right, this was a simple case. But there were a few holes in this story that needed answering, like a valid motive. “I’m sorry, but we have just a few more questions, Miss Stone.”

Carolyn nodded.

“Did you hear any noise at all?”

Carolyn shook her head. “Nothing. But I’m a deep sleeper.”

“You were in bed when the crime occurred?”

“Yes, asleep.”

“Had Dewey been hanging around here previously?”

Carolyn nodded. “He’s been doing some odd jobs for us. I think my dad felt sorry for him, because they went to school together years ago.”

That feeling was about to change, Jim thought to himself. “Any motive you can think of?”

“Dewey disliked that we wouldn’t let him live on that land of his rent free,” Carolyn replied. “Dad wanted to help him, but didn’t want to just give him money. He wanted Dewey to work for it, and get off the booze. Dewey’s been angry lately, saying that he’d wished my father hadn’t bought his property when it went to auction for back taxes, that we just wanted to lord it over him that we had more than he did.”

That was motive aplenty. “Do you have someone to call?”

“I’ve called my dad, like I said,” Carolyn said, petting her kitten. “As soon as he gets it, he’ll likely be catching the first flight home. Until then, I’m staying with a close friend. I’ve already called her. I’m going to drive over there tonight as soon as you leave.”

Bowman nodded, then got to his feet, Drake following. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Carolyn’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you. I’ll show you to the door.”

 

After the police officers left, Carolyn walked upstairs, her kitten Raven at her heels. She began packing, tossing clothes into an overnight bag. She was going to stay with a friend that much was true. But her stepfather wasn’t coming home. Oh, she’d called his IPhone, and left the teary message begging him to return to her as soon as he got the message, telling of her stepmother’s murder. But she’d made sure to take the IPhone out of his bag before he’d left yesterday. It was sitting beside his bed now. He’d never even miss it, not with his Smartphone and his Blackberry.

Dewey had been the perfect patsy, with his malice and stupidity. She’d only had to tell him how her stepmother laughed at him behind his back, and he’d done the rest all by himself. What was unnerving was that he’d probably planned to murder her as well tonight, to leave no witnesses.

“Got what was coming to them, both of them,” Carolyn said vehemently to her kitten. “Dad will, too, when he visits that construction site tomorrow.”

Big companies had cheats, and her stepfather’s firm had been no exception. Carolyn had just pointed out a few discrepancies to her father that she’d seen while interning these last few weeks of summer. Then she’d anonymously told the embezzling foreman George that he was going to be fired, that her father found out everything. George’s crafty nature mixed with desperation would likely do the rest.

“And so what, if it doesn’t?” Carolyn said bitterly aloud. “I’ll just have to come up with another plan to gain my independence. I know who killed Rob, but no one believes me.” She packed her last clothes and closed the lid with a slam. “I’m not going to college in the fall, and pretend like everything’s okay. Because nothing is ever going to be okay again.”

The kitten purred, kneading the coverlet with its tiny claws.

She petted it. “You understand, Raven.”

Steven and Sheila wouldn’t give me my money until I was twenty-one. That was my mother’s money, damn it, and neither one of them have any claim to it! I couldn’t wait another three years to avenge Rob, not when I loved him so much. And Steven said if I didn’t go to college—the one HE chose—that said he’d cut me off financially, and kick me out of the house. He said people died, then you had to grieve and move on. But what he meant was I either did what he said, or else.

Maybe Steven would’ve understood me if he was my real father. But a lot of things would have been different if Mom hadn’t found out she had cancer right after they got engaged. And if he hadn’t hurried up to marry Sheila right after the funeral. I’m not sure he ever loved Mom at all.

“It takes more to make a father than being called Dad,” Caroline said softly. “Something you never understood, Steven.”

His answer to my grief was a spot on his summer staff as an intern…and a kitten. But this wasn’t some teen infatuation. Rob was the man I was going to marry. I’m not a little girl crying who needed a new toy. I don’t need people telling me what to do. I need vengeance.

Carolyn opened a cat carrier, then popped Raven the kitten in. It began wailing.

“You’ll be fine,” Carolyn assured, shouldering her bag. She picked up the carrier. “I’m sorry, Raven. But where I’m going, you can’t come with me.”

The place where Rob died is cursed. His death wasn’t an accident. It was deliberate. Anyone who goes near Latham’s Landing gets killed, or disappears. They say Rob’s boat overturned in a storm, yet the weather was clear that day, with no rain or strong winds forecast. He was murdered.

The bible says an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life. You took him from me, Latham. Ghost or whatever you are, I’m coming to burn you down.

 

“Can you see he gets a good home?” Carolyn asked hopefully, handing over the half-grown kitten in its carrier. “His name is Raven. I’d love to keep him, but I’m allergic.”

“We hear that a lot,” the shelter worker said sadly, casting Carolyn an appraising look. “We’ll do our best, but we can’t promise anything.”

“Here,” Carolyn said, peeling off a few hundreds. “This should help.” She also handed over a card. “This is my lawyer. If you can’t find a home for him, please call that number. I’ll try to make other arrangements. I don’t want him put to sleep—”

“It’s obvious you care about him,” the shelter worker said, petting the kitten through the cage with her fingers. “Why don’t you keep him? There are shots you can get nowadays for allergies—”

Because I’m going up against supernatural forces, Carolyn thought to herself. I’m probably going to die. And I’m not leaving him an orphan to fend for himself, and get stuck with a family that might not love him, like I was. “I really can’t. But please call this number, no matter which way it turns out. I’d love to hear you found him a good home.”

“All right,” the worker said reluctantly, putting the money in a lockbox under the desk and pocketing the card. “You’ll need to sign this release form.” She picked up the cat carrier. “Come on, Raven.”

Carolyn signed the form hurriedly, then walked out without looking back, wiping at her teary eyes. She had to be strong now, and see this through to the end. She had control of her family assets, thanks to her lawyers. Now that Raven was taken care of, there was only one more thing left to do, burn that evil mansion down to the ground. Latham’s Landing had killed Rob. She was going to destroy it, or die trying.

 

“You want this for what?”

Carolyn counted silently to five, then forced a smile at her priest, willing him to be accommodating. “I’m going to visit a relative that is a shut in, and she’s religious. She asked that I bring her some holy water, some wafers, and get a blessing for these.” She handed him two rosaries, two gold cross necklaces, and three rings that also had crosses engraved on them. “Can you please bless these objects, Father? I’m happy to make a donation for your trouble. I realize this is an odd request, but it’s very important to my aunt—”

“Of course,” her priest interrupted, beaming as he beckoned to her. “Come in.”

Caroline followed him inside his rectory, nervously shifting from foot to foot. The priest began setting each item down on the table, then commenced to thank God for creating the object, and implored God to empower the object that it could be used for his greater glory.

Caroline listened, fidgeting. How do I know the priest is a true believer? Her life would be riding on his faith, if the stories of Latham’s Landing were true. He always acted like he truly believed, in the years he ministered to me and mom. I guess I have to believe in him, and pray for the best. She began to pray quietly, closing her eyes, reciting the words the priest said along with him.

The priest finished each blessing, then handed the objects to Caroline, making the sign of the cross over each one. Then he also made the sign of the cross over her. “For your good health.”

“Will you say a more detailed blessing over me, Father?” Caroline implored. “That I achieve my true purpose, and be delivered from all evil, to not be diverted or encumbered?”

The priest looked at her strangely, then his expressions softened. “It’s wonderful to see a young person who is so eager to avoid temptation. Of course. Bow your head.”

The priest recited the Lord’s Prayer over Caroline, asking God that she have his blessings, and be safe in all her doings, adding a little flair that Caroline found oddly strengthening.

“Yea, though this young woman walk through the valley of the shadow of death, let her fear no evil. Let your rod and staff comfort her and be a weapon on her behalf against the evil that lurks in men’s hearts—”

Let these also be my weapons against evil, Caroline thought silently, fingering the two boxes worth of ammunition for her inherited handguns in her loaded pockets. The hilt of a short dagger pressed into her side, where it was hidden under her clothes, just as the weight of the two unfamiliar guns in the front pockets of her stepfather’s NRA concealed-carry shirt made her shift uncomfortably. Maybe steel couldn’t kill ghosts. But whoever said ghosts were all that was waiting on Latham’s Landing?

The priest finished, then made the cross over her a final time. “Go in peace. Godspeed.”

“Thank you,” Caroline said gratefully. Repressing the urge to hug her priest, knowing he would feel the guns, she squared her shoulders and left. As she passed the collection bin, she dropped five hundred dollars through the slot.

 

“You want what?”

Why had she thought that getting magical help would be somehow less difficult than dealing with the church had been? “I want anything and everything you carry capable of warding off evil spirits, and I’m prepared to pay.” Caroline laid down five hundred dollars. “But what you give me has to work. I need to see clearly, to not be afraid, to not have anything evil be able to influence or hurt me. It’s a matter of life and death.”

The woman in the earth mother garb looked at her oddly, then began pulling boxes down from a cupboard. She took several bags from each box and began packing them in a large bag. “There are many banishing rituals,” she said as she worked. “Pentacles are said to be able to trap evil spirits, and common remedies like salt and garlic are in a lot of stories.” She turned to Caroline. “But I can’t tell you that it will work. A true talisman to protect you will be most effective if you make it yourself out of things that are important to you.”

Interesting. “Such as?”

“A lock of hair from someone you love. A poem that has meaning to you. A picture that brings back a wonderful memory.”

Caroline looked at her skeptically. “You’re talking about a gris-gris. I read about them. But I don’t believe in voodoo. I don’t think something I don’t have any faith in myself will be of much use.”

The shopkeeper set the bag on the counter. “This is copal incense, whose sacred smoke carries messages to the spirit world. It should help you see more clearly and inspire divine insights. Here also is African violet, althea, angelica, basil—”

“Basil?” Caroline echoed with cynicism.

“Basil is a powerful tool against demons and unfriendly ghosts,” the woman insisted. “So are cardamom, cedar, citronella, frankincense, dragon’s blood, lemongrass, myrrh, peppermint, pine, and rose geranium.” She reached back into the cupboard and came out with ten bundles of dried leafy branches bound in bunches. “Sage, sandalwood, vetivert, willow, wisteria, and vervain are all key to banishing evil spirits. This should be more than enough to keep you safe from evil.”

“What about evil magic,” Caroline pressed. “Do you have anything to break curses?”

“Hmm,” the woman said, turning back to her cupboard and rummaging about. “Umitory is burned to exorcise evil entities. Juniper breaks curses and evil spells. So does Galangal.” She reached back into the cupboard and pulled out several more bags, then scanned in everything to the register and totaled the cost. “That will be $337.65.”

Caroline paid the money, resisting the urge to tell her to double the order. She’d likely cleared out the woman’s stock already. “But will they work? I just light them and as they burn they are activated?”

“A good deal of magic is belief, and the will to see what you wish come to pass,” the woman said, giving her change. “Without that will and belief, all you are buying is incense.” She regarded Caroline. “If it truly is a matter of life and death, you need to think seriously about where your faith lies—”

“Thank you,” Caroline said curtly, and walked out.

 

“There,” Caroline said, tying the last knot in her friendship bracelet. She held it up, admiring it in the light.

Caroline had made these for many friends during her years at the Christian academy. She had even made one for Rob when they were first dating that he’d worn until it fell off. But this one was special…God willing.

The string bracelet was multicolored, a simple weave of ten strands of embroidery cord. But woven into the bracelet were ten strands of her mother’s hair, from the lock Caroline had saved when it began to fall out from the cancer.

She tied it around her left wrist. I don’t know how strongly I believe in the church, or ancient mysticism. But I believe in this, with all my heart.

 

It was a clear calm night. Carolyn watched the lake waves lapping the shore, then looked out into the blackness.

The cursed house was out there, waiting. Latham’s Landing. It had killed Rob. It hadn’t been any accident. Tonight she was here to settle the score.

She hefted the three 5-gallon cans and five 1-gallon cans of gas into the boat one by one. It had taken a stop at each station on the long journey here to not arouse suspicion. That last place she’d had to buy three, and the guy had taken her name. That didn’t matter though. By tomorrow, she’d have burned all that stood on Latham’s Landing down to the bare red granite.

It was said if you went to the island, you never came back. That was fine. Without Rob she didn’t want to live. The fire within her raged, its fury poisonous. She would destroy the cursed house, or die.

 

Hours later, Carolyn swam up to shore, then lurched through the waves, choking and sputtering. Coughing up lake water, she went to her knees on the shore, crawling back onto the dry land, her hair a Medusa’s nest, her clothes sodden.

Nothing had gone as planned. The tides that she’d researched had been off, swinging her around the far side of the island where there was nowhere to dock. Stranger, she’d felt a wind on the mainland shore when she’d launched the boat, yet there had been none on the water.

When she’d finally managed to get on the right side of the island, she’d run out of gas. Bewildered, she’d checked the tank to see it was empty. In the lightening sky, her suspicion was proven true. Her watch revealed that the night had passed in what seemed to her several hours. So she’d turned for the shore with the oars, cursing, figuring to come back the next night.

That was when the wind had begun to blow.

At first it was a soft breeze, lightly tickling her neck with wisps of her hair. Then it became stronger, the force intensifying until the boat was rocking in the choppy waves, her hair plastered to her skull from water and wind. Determined, she’d filled the tank with the spare marine gas she’d brought, then cranked the engine to life.

Where the rocks had come from, she wasn’t sure. But the bottom of the boat had peeled away like a can opener had rent it, water spilling in to cover her feet. She’d jumped and began swimming, sure that she’d end up on the rocks herself, another victim of the island. Instead, she’d made it to shore, disheveled but alive, gas containers bobbing beside her in the waves.

She turned to stare at the house, its red granite rock sparkling in the new dawn. “You haven’t beaten me,” she hissed, shaking her fist at it. “I’ll be back.”

 

Bitter cold frosted the barren, leafless trees, making them shine in the afternoon sun. Drifts of snow lay piled in odd patterns, driven by the wind. There was the whine of a small engine growling louder.

A lone figure appeared on the white landscape, its gloved hands clutching the steering wheel of the lightweight snowmobile, the sled behind moving slightly from side to side as the skis hit buried stones and sticks.

Without pause, the snowmobile rocketed off the shore and went out on the cracked and pockmarked ice, its crusted surface cracking dangerously under the weight. The throttle whined as the speed increased, the craft closing the distance to the mount of ice and snow that was Latham’s Landing. The house was covered in drifts of snow and sheets of ice, the only discernible features trees, a large main house with several floors at the highest point, its entrance a lone small building perched at the far point of the isle.

With a sharp pull, the figure eased back the accelerator, the skis skidding as the brake slammed down. The sled came to a stop, the machine rocking slightly.

The figure checked its watch, then dismounted and began loosening the tarp on the sled.

“Don’t move or I’ll shoot.”

The figure stopped, then slowly put up its hands, turning to face his attacker.

“Who are you?” Carolyn said with gritted teeth, pointing the handgun in her gloved fist at the strange man. “What do you want?”

The figure awkwardly pulled off its helmet with his raised hands to reveal a short blond ponytail, and dark brown eyes. “I’m Helter.” He flashed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes as he moved toward her. “You’re not supposed to be here—”

“You move an inch closer, and you won’t be here,” Carolyn snarled, holding her ground. “I said, what are you doing here?”

“The same thing you are,” a hollow voice intoned. “You’re here to destroy us.”

Carolyn whirled, pointing her gun at the slight figure approaching. But before she could sight in, the blonde man drew and fired his own pistol, shots speeding toward the small figure. The bullets passed through it harmlessly and hit the granite, small chunks ricocheting.

The small figure laughed. It was a boy about ten years old. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said with a wide smile, his eyes alight with some inner fire. Then his grin split, revealing long pointed teeth. “Winters are desolate and we get so very lonely—”

Carolyn fired, the shell bursting from the short barrel of her gun. Though her bullet also passed through the ghost, the malicious spirit screamed in pain at the impact and disappeared.

Getting the bullets blessed had worked. Caroline let out a long breath.

Helter looked at her. “Why did yours work and mine didn’t?”

“Mine didn’t either,” Carolyn lied darkly. “The isle’s just toying with us.” She produced a box of matches, then walked onto a stone wall which stood near a wooden enclosed porch. “Get back. It’s going to go up with a bang—”

“You’re burning the manse down?” Helter said, incredulous. “It’s stone—”

“The inside is wood, and so is most of the porch,” Caro said, striking a match. “I just doused the outside with ten gallons of gas. That should start things going, no matter how damp the wood might be—”

A sudden brisk wind came up, slapping the match out of her hand. The sun ominously faded as a cloud shielded its light, muting the sharp sunlight to a dim rosy glow.

Caroline grabbed for a new match. “Damn it, it was just afternoon, it can’t be sunset—“

“No,” Helter said, pointing to the west. “A storm is coming.”

There was a rumble, and then a rapid lightening of air pressure, as if the tension had ceased. Then it began to hail, the chunks of ice quickly becoming bigger than quarters. They ricocheted off the snowmobile, denting the shiny metal.

“We need to take cover!” Helter shouted to Caroline.

“I’m not going inside a gasoline soaked wooden house!” she shouted back.

Helter grabbed her arm, then hauled her along behind him as he ran to the porch. She shook him off as they stumbled up the stairs.

“Are you crazy?” she said.

“Do you smell gas?” he demanded.

“We go in there and it’s all over—!”

“Do you smell gas!” he shouted at her.

Caroline took a deep breath, her eyes widening as she took in the dry unstained porch that moments ago had been wet and dripping with accelerant. “No.”

Helter touched the weathered wood slats of the porch. “Because there’s no gas on here anymore. It either was somehow absorbed or it completely evaporated.”

“How do you know this?” she yelled.

“Because that’s been tried before,” Helter said in an ominous tone. “This house won’t burn.”

Caroline stared at him, dumbstruck.

Both of them stood, looking out at the snowstorm that was rapidly becoming a blizzard. “We can’t go back out across the ice in this,” Helter said. “We need to take cover here.”

“We can’t go inside, either,” Caroline retorted. “You know it wants us to go in.” She waited for him to call her a liar, to tell her she was crazy for thinking Latham’s Landing was alive.

“I agree,” Helter replied, to her surprise. “But we need to stay near it, or risk falling through the ice. Where’s your snowmobile? I’m assuming you didn’t walk out here dragging ten gallons of gas.”

“It fell through the ice in the shallows,” Caroline said, flushing.

Helter stared at her.

“What?” she exclaimed. “I couldn’t see where the ice ended and the shore began, with all this snow. The pictures I saw were old, before the place had been modernized.”

Helter looked away. “Dig into the snow here by that wall. We need to know if there is ground beneath it, or just more ice.”

Caroline began digging in the snow with her hands. Helter took a long rope from his pack and tied one end to the porch, then the other around his waist. He trudged out into the now blinding whiteness, and was lost from view. A few minutes later, a dull roar began, then his snowmobile crept slowly into view dragging the sled, coming to a stop right near the porch.

“There’s earth here,” Caroline said, showing him a bare patch of ground with dead brown weeds. “And some kind of short wall in front of us.”

“Good. I was hoping for that.” Helter untied the rope from his waist, then tied it to the sled before dismounting. “Come on, I could use your help.”

“With what?” Caroline said still digging.

“Pitching the tent,” he said cheerily, grabbing a large pack off the sled. “Unless you want to freeze to death.”

 

An hour later, Caroline sat with Helter inside a two-person sub-zero temperature tent on small flat chemical warming heat packs, with wool blankets across their laps. Foam and a tarp protected them from the hard ground and snow beneath them. Helter was warming up some food with a small propane camp stove just outside the tent. The wind was still blowing fiercely, and the snow and ice was piling up just outside the door.

“Here,” he said, handing her a steaming mug. “I hope you aren’t a vegetarian.”

“Thanks,” Caroline said, sipping the hot liquid gratefully. They finished their first cup of stew in silence, then Helter handed her another, and turned off the stove, disconnecting the propane and bringing it inside the tent.

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Caroline asked.

“More dangerous to leave it out of sight,” Helter said darkly. “It might not be there in the morning.” He zipped up the tent flap. “The wind at least has stopped, but the snow is falling pretty thick. There’s six inches of fresh powder and I still can’t see more than five feet out. We should be able to move at first light. I want to get off this island once my work is done.”

“Which is?”

“Like the ghost said, the same as yours,” Helter said. He held out his hand. “Harold Skelt. My working name is Helter Skelter.”

Caroline nodded. “And you’re here to destroy the house?”

“The entire island, if possible,” Helter amended, then took a sip of stew. “I was hired by the current owners to burn the place for the insurance money.”

“You believe it is evil?” Caroline asked, incredulous.

Helter nodded. “You must have heard about the two cars and truck that got uncovered in the spring flood this year on the mainland? There are at least nine people that went missing in the last ten years that are now thought to have come out here and disappeared. That’s on top of the five reported disappearances, the three actual natural deaths that happened back in the seventies and sixties, and the fifteen deaths ‘by misadventure’ that happened in the last two decades, half of them drownings, and the other half murders.”

“So why pack for an overnight camping trip?” Caroline asked sarcastically. “You’re over prepared for arson, Helter.”

“Because I knew it wasn’t going to be easy,” Helter replied, his tone implying that she’d been underprepared in her own plans. “I did my homework, and talked to the guy who ran the boathouse near the shore. That place used to be part of the island, but they gave it up. The usual thing the house does to defend itself is call up a storm or something to drive anyone who arrives inside, or drown those that try to get back to shore. Then the ghosts descend. I knew I couldn’t risk going inside no matter what, but knew that I might get stuck here for a night. So I brought supplies to camp on the shore.” He smiled at her. “And aren’t you lucky I did?”

I was lucky. You saved my life. “And what if the house falls on you or something?” Caroline teased darkly.

“Tell you the truth, I was worried that the snowmobile was going to fall through the ice,” Helter said, biting his lip. “More people drowned in the water here than anything else…even the ones later found on the island or inside the submerged part of the house always had water in their lungs. That’s why I came in winter, to avoid the water.”

“Me, too,” Caroline agreed softly. “I tried to burn it before, this past summer, and never got further than the water before a storm pushed me back to shore. How did you know it wouldn’t burn?”

“Because no one hires a demolitions expert when they could pay far less for an arsonist,” he replied, sipping his stew. “I got the feeling I wasn’t the first person that had been hired, when the owners contacted me. That made me uneasy, so I did some research.”

“But you still took the job,” Caroline said, in disbelief.

Helter shrugged. “Money is money. I’m not afraid of ghosts. They can’t hurt you, just scare you.”

Not here, Helter. Here, they can kill you. Caroline rubbed her eyes. “So what’s the plan? We take turns sleeping and in the morning blow the place up?”

“I’m too wired to sleep,” Helter said. “But get some if you want. At the first sign of the storm clearing, I need to set the charges and blow the place up. Then I’m out of here.”

“What if it doesn’t clear up?” Caroline said. “What if we get buried? We both agree this is no natural snowstorm.”

“Are you always this optimistic?” he said with a laugh.

“For someone in this situation, you’re way too cavalier,” she replied evenly, lying down. “Are you going to tell me a good bedtime story too, so I have sweet dreams?”

“I have no personal stories with good endings,” Helter said with a hard edge to his words.

“So there’s no Mrs. Skelter at home, cleaning the extra dynamite?”

“I loved a girl, Sheila,” he said, after a lengthy pause. “It was a long time ago, and it ended badly. It was my fault. I left her in LA with no explanation. But she caught up with me six months later in the middle of a job in Atlanta.”

“What happened?” Caroline asked.

“The usual,” he said with a grimace. “She told me she was there for me, and she had an Uzi. I offered her a partnership.”

Was any of this for real, or was he bullshitting her? “Why?”

“I liked the gleam in her eyes,” he said wistfully.

Carolyn rolled her eyes.

“She was in the business I was in,” Helter added, defensive. “You have no idea how much easier that makes a relationship for someone like me. There’s so much you don’t have to hide, or gloss over. We made a great couple, and an even better team. So we decided to get married.”

His tone had turned bitter, the familiar chord striking empathy in Caroline. Had his true love gotten killed, too? “So what happened?”

“She and I got caught in a terrorist attack when we were vacationing in Europe,” Helter said defensively. “She and I banded together, and we got home because of it. We had to kill for the first time. It messed us both up.” He paused, sipping his stew. “We’d always taken jobs that didn’t involve anyone else. They were go in and get out fast kinds of contracts. Taking a life changed how we thought about what we did…and what we thought about ourselves for doing it.”

“So this story doesn’t have a happy ending? You sound like a match made in Heaven.”

“She became a government agent, and I became a merc,” Helter continued. “We separated for a while. Then she got in a tight spot and called me, when her new white-collar buddies left her hanging in a Lebanese prison. I got her out, with a little hardship.” He laughed, a short staccato burst, then took out a .44 clip and began to load it with hollow point bullets. “And she decided my outlook on life was better. We were together ever since.”

“This sounds like a happy tale to me,” Caroline said wistfully, thinking of Rob, and all they had never gotten to share. “You had some great times together, you got married—”

Helter shook his head. “Nope, we never married. She was at my side. That was all that mattered.” He pushed in the last few bullets, then snapped the clip into the handgun and chambered a bullet. “She died a few months ago.”

“Disease?” Caroline ventured.

“A job that went south. She contracted one on the side I didn’t know about, hoping to net us enough for a trip to Europe again. It didn’t work out.”

Sheila had died. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s the usual way people like us go out,” Helter said with a shrug. “Don’t worry about it, ‘cause I don’t.” He adjusted his blanket. “How about you? Why are you here, Ms. Pyro?”

“Nothing I want to bring up,” Caroline said curtly. “Besides, there’s no point—”

“Let me guess,” Helter said patronizingly. “Your boyfriend got killed and you’re here because no one could ever matter as much as he did, right?” He chuckled. “How old are you, seventeen? Eighteen?”

“Old enough to stand up for myself,” Caroline retorted.

“And you came here alone?”

“My own house was spooky,” Caroline said conceitedly. “Lots of people were afraid of it, but I never was.”

“You’re young,” Helter stated condescendingly. “You’ll get over him in a few years—”

“I don’t want to get over him,” Caro shot back angrily. “I had something taken from me that mattered. I’m taking something in return.”

“Keep that anger,” Helter said with a nod. “I think we’re going to need it, to finish this job.”

 

There was the sound of a growl from outside the tent. Caroline woke and grabbed for her gun. Helter brought up his .44, pointing it at the tent flap, looking at Caroline and holding a finger to his lips.

The growl sounded again, but this time longer, wavering to a chilling howl that became a shriek. There was the sound of something dragging on the ice, a soft clink of metal. Both Caroline and Helter stayed silent, waiting.

Another howl sounded, this time further away, wavering, then becoming a roar.

The first sounded like a wolf, Caroline thought, holding one of her crosses in her hands. But that last was more like a lion. What in hell is out there?

Minutes dragged by, but the howl didn’t sound again, and there were no more sounds. Caroline and Helter remained motionless, anxious, worried that at any moment claws would rip through the tent’s side. But nothing came.

 

Caroline opened her eyes, blinking in the daylight shining through the sides of the tent. God, she was sweaty. Why was she so hot?

She put her hand where her gun had been and felt bare blanket.

Caroline bolted upright, heart pounding, grasping for her gun that was nowhere in sight. Afraid to call out, she rummaged in her pack, grabbing her backup gun, another .38. After making sure it was loaded and a bullet chambered, she clambered out of the tent into bright sunlight.

Helter stood there with his back to her, sipping coffee. As she emerged, he turned.

“Good morning,” he said bitterly. He indicated behind him with a sweep of his hand. “A little too good for January, wouldn’t you say?”

Caroline looked behind, horror etching her face. What had been mounds of ice and snow only last night was now water, gently rippling in undulation all the way to the far shore. Birds were calling on the mainland, their distant cries on the breeze. Regular plops of snow falling off branches of pines could be seen near her car, parked in the open for all to see now that the snow had gone. The sun was shining brightly.

What last night had been icy mounds in frozen lake water was revealed to be a series of ornate low walls on a weedy lawn that stretched to a paved path close to the shore. A long staircase was to their left. Above and to the side were a series of much smaller staircases, stone verandas, patios, and a few other small buildings, all interconnected with paved paths. Trees were above them, clustered to both sides of the main house, which seemed twice the size it had last night.

“It must be easily sixty degrees,” Helter said. “One of those strange mid-winter thaws of global warming. That’s what they’ll say, anyway.” He threw a rock into the water. “Without a boat, we have no way back to shore.”

“There’s a boat here in the boathouse, I think,” Caroline said slowly, trying to remember. “For emergencies, for the caretaker. Now where is my gun?”

“Wishful thinking,” Helter said dismissively. “Maybe there was a few years ago, when this place had a caretaker. But after he died, no one came out here.” He gestured at her feet. “I put it outside the tent, for your safety and mine. I didn’t want to get shot by accident.”

“Poor bastard probably died out here,” Caroline replied absently as she picked up her other gun, her mind racing as she tried to think of ways to get across the mile or more of open water back to shore.

“That doesn’t matter,” Helter said curtly. “I can’t set the charges and try to swim it. We’ll risk getting hit by falling debris, at the very least.”

“I can try to swim it,” Caroline said walking back and forth on the shore. “Where do you think is narrowest?”

“That’s a stupid plan,” Helter said arrogantly. “You know you’ll drown. As soon as you’re too far out to get back, a storm will come up. And even if it lets you get to shore once, it will capsize us when we try to leave if we use a boat—”

“Why didn’t you bring a raft?” Caroline yelled back at him, irritated. “You brought everything else but the kitchen sink and couldn’t bring an inflatable raft?”

Helter took a menacing step toward her, then visibly relaxed. “Arguing is not going to solve this. We need to check out the boathouse, and see if there is a raft or boat there. Then we’ll set the charges and take our chances.”

Caroline took off her heavy jacket, then swiped at her sweaty face. “Go on, lead the way. I’ll go with you.”

“You should stay here with the supplies,” Helter said with a dark look. “I’m a big boy and can take care of myself.” He jogged off, heading across the weedy brown lawn past the house to a long flight of stairs leading out of sight.

Caroline took a step to go after him, then thought better of it, sitting down on the shore. To her knowledge, no one had ever died on Latham’s Landing on the front lawn, only in the lake or inside the house. Last night’s decision not to go inside for cover had probably saved their lives. Helter could be the one to break that taboo first, not her.

 

Christ Jesus, how had anyone ever walked up all these stairs? Helter was only halfway up and already had counted over seventy. Latham must have had a lot of servants to fetch and carry for him…and another entrance closer to the water for himself and his family to use.

He made it to a sort of landing, with a gnarled tree and a carved red granite bench, the top layer of it bleached white. To the left side stretched up more bleached granite stairs that branched at the top, one set leading to a back entrance to the main house, and the other to another large building almost as big. The stairs to his left led down to a small boathouse. A rusty boat launch stood beyond the double doors, its tracks disappearing into the water.

Helter took the right fork, then walked down the remaining steps to the boathouse. Picking the rusty lock with a set of tools from his pocket, he opened the door to peer in, staying well back, his gun at the ready.

Inside was a steel boat, its hull rusty in spots. But it looked fine from where he stood. The problem was there was no motor, only a set of oars standing in a corner. Everything had cobwebs over it and a thick layer of dust.

It was better than nothing.

Helter closed the door, hung the lock back on the metal loop, and walked back up the stairs. As he reached the landing again with the metal bench, he stopped in surprise.

There was a cleared spot there between the two buildings. It looked like a helicopter pad.

Helter climbed a few more stairs, trying for a better look.

Yes, this was a square flat spot, easily fifty-by-fifty feet. Each side was also clear of trees and buildings, so that the helicopter could come in with the usual northeastern wind to land easily and leave the opposite way.

Helter climbed to the top of the stairs, checking out the square. There was no sign of anyone. But this stone here was clearly new, its color deep rust red, not aged and bleached to white like the main house was.

Had a cartel of some kind begun to use the island as a stopping over point for refueling or storing black market goods? None of the locals ever came out here anymore, and the bed and breakfast on the shore had closed after being flooded out last spring. It would be a perfect place to refuel or store contraband.

Helter walked around the edges of the stone pad, looking for footprints. There were some odd marks, almost like deer prints, but larger. And the pattern was all wrong for deer. Maybe unicorns live here, too, along with the ghosts…

Helter was so focused on the ground, he bumped into a long tall ladder propped up against the side of the house. He steadied himself, then looked up with shock.

This building was being worked on. Several ladders were resting up against the house, and extensive scaffolding covered this entire side. But who was doing repair work on Latham’s Landing? And why?

 

The whup-whup-whup of the helicopter blades were almost drowned out by the loud rock music emanating from the stereo. Mac turned down the dial slightly. Too much rock music wasn’t good for your ears. But neither was having to listen to the constant whimpering from the rolled up blanket at the back of the cockpit.

Mac Ready thought of himself as a pretty good guy. To his business partners, he was one of the reliable ones, the ones they turned to when they needed the job done right. He’d been a helicopter pilot in the Gulf War, done two active tours without a scratch to himself or his bird. But the damn bureaucrats had fucked him over anyway, given him a dishonorable discharge, for what he’d done to that girl.

He’d had every right to do what he wanted to her, after catching her with that grenade. She wasn’t innocent. No bitches were. They all had murder in their hearts. Just like that whore whimpering back there.

Stateside once more, Mac had found a little work giving helicopter rides to kids at fairs, but he hated it. He also hated the stupid desk job that his mother encouraged him to take, ‘just for a while, ‘til he sorted out his life’. Mac’s life was already sorted out just fine. He knew what he wanted, too. It just took getting hooked up with the right kind of men to make it happen.

Mac had gone to the nearest big city, and asked around for the closest massage parlor. When he arrived that night, he asked to see the owner, saying he was looking for work. He got an attempted beating instead.

When his attackers were all lying bloodied on the ground, a battered Mac got up, spat out some blood, and asked again for the owner. This time, he talked to the man about what he was looking for in a job, and told him his qualifications, all of them. That same man, Charter Collins, hired him on the spot. He’d been transporting women for Collins ever since.

Maybe transport was the wrong word. New girls came in all the time on trains and in trucks. Mac didn’t ever see them. His business was with the older girls, the ones that were too drugged out or diseased to work, the ones that tried to run away too many times. His job was to make sure that they vanished just as magically as they first appeared in this country, and weren’t trouble for anyone.

That’s where the island came in.

The first time had been an accident. The girl was already dead, and he’d come here just meaning to dump her into the water, figuring that the fish would nibble her enough so when she was found she wouldn’t be identified. Seemed stupid now, in retrospect. None of these girls had any kind of papers. They were completely disposable, with no one to care when they turned up dead. The kind of girls he liked best.

Mac had come in low, meaning to dump the body right near the island, figuring it would wash into the shallows there and decompose. But an odd draft of air hit the left side of the helicopter as it banked, nearly sending Mac crashing into the side of the decrepit mansion. When he tried to straighten, another draft had hit the other side, stabilizing the copter but bringing it far too low. Then Mac had glimpsed the granite driveway behind the house.

He’d set down the copter easily, hell, he’d glided in like a dream. And while Mac sat there with the blades spinning, recollecting himself, he’d seen the sudden surprise storm racing across the lake, black thunderclouds boiling with stabs of lightning.

 

Mac had tried the radio, but there was only static. He’d gotten out of the copter, grabbed the girl’s body, and carried it into the house, slamming the door after them just as rain began pounding onto the roof.

He’d set her corpse down in a corner, then went looking for an old chair to curl up on. But there was nothing in the whole stupid house except a few old kids’ toys and a tiny stained mattress in one upstairs room. Finally, he’d made his way back to the main room, and looked out the front door. The storm was still raging, but he’d discovered a bunch of driftwood on one end of the porch. Bringing it inside, he started a fire with some old peeled off wallpaper and some of his matches. Then he sat huddled before the fire in his coat, glad that it was summer instead of winter.

That night was a long one for Mac. He’d dreamed extensively. God, such dreams! He’d never had anything like them before. And when he woke, he was so excited he sought out the body of the dead girl in a kind of mad craze, to act out some of the amazing things he’d dreamt about. But the body in the corner was gone. Only the bloody blanket remained in a semi-sodden mess.

Excited as he was, that freaked Mac out enough that he left right then, fighting the remnants of the storm to take off, and almost crashing on the rocks when the copter took a dive as he took off to rise. He’d bent the legs slightly on the right side on impact, shearing off some tree branches, but he’d gotten aloft.

Mac was glad to be alive. Afterwards, he’d come back and done a little research on the isle he’d landed on. Damn place was reputed to be haunted and the scene of multiple deaths ‘by misadventure.’ Locals said plainly that if you went to Latham’s Landing you never left again. But he’d left okay. Mac counted himself lucky, and went back to his transport business, dumping the bodies when he’d finished with them in the state land a couple hundred miles away from his apartment, just like he’d always done. He stayed away from the island, even taking an extra ten minutes to go out of his normal route to avoid it on his weekly trips for Collins.

But the dreams from that night on Latham’s Landing haunted him. And the more time went by, the more Mac thought he understood that it was a certain kind of man that could come and go from Latham’s Landing. A man like Latham himself had been. A man like Mac was.

He’d come back again, once he’d figured that out. But this time, he’d brought a live girl, not a dead one. That first time…

Don’t think about that, Mac told himself quickly. You didn’t understand things then. Think about the next time, after that. That time was perfect.

The second run with a live girl had been a grand time. He’d set her free, then hunted her through the old house, lying in wait around corners to slash at her with his knife, listening to her scream again and again until she lost her voice. He killed her there right on the main stairway, as a kind of grand finale. Afterwards, he put her in the same corner where he’d put the first dead girl, built a raging fire, and again went to sleep before it, praying for sweet dreams.

The visions had come again, brighter and more lurid than ever. Mac had woken exhausted, but also happy and sated for the first time in…hell, he couldn’t remember ever feeling that good before. The house seemed to draw all the pent up anger out of him, and make it into fantastic dreams.

Again, the dead girl in the corner was gone when he awoke. But the bloody blanket this time was neatly folded.

Mac had been coming here ever since, every few months. It was close to two or three years now. And in that time, he’d noticed a few…changes.

Mac had seen the new building rising up at the back of the main house six months in. It grew bigger every time he came back. Yet there were never any human tracks outside in the dirt or inside in the dust, either, other than his own and his various victims. Mac had never seen any animals on Latham’s Landing, not even a mouse, or a rabbit. The only animal tracks he’d ever seen here were deer. Those little bugger’s hoof prints were everywhere in the dirt, especially in warm weather. But whomever had designed the new building knew the way the wind was out here, and had left him ample space to maneuver to and from the granite pad. That was all that mattered to Mac.

And there were other kindnesses, too… Mac uttered a low sound of pleasure. Yes, you just had to be the right kind of people for Latham’s Landing.

There was a muffled crying from the backseat.

“We’re gonna have fun tonight,” Mac said under his breath. “All of us.”

 

Caroline was so relieved to see Helter come back, she gave him a pass for his macho bullshit earlier. “Did you find anything?”

Helter told her about the boat, and the boathouse. “It looks fine, but we’d better go while we can. Just take the snowmobile over the land and—” He stopped suddenly, then looked at her curiously.

“What?” she said finally.

“How did you get to the island?” he said, taking a step back. “You were here when I got here. You said you took a snowmobile. But there were no tracks on the ice when I came across.”

“Because I came from the other direction,” Carolyn explained, indicating her car. “You came from the opposite side, when you appeared.”

“That’s where the ice is reported to be thickest,” Helter said arrogantly. “I didn’t want to die.”

Caroline narrowed her eyes, even as she flushed again. “Well, the ice wasn’t as thick where I came ashore, and I stopped the snowmobile too soon. It fell through the ice.”

“Yet you had the gas to try to burn everything?” Helter said, reaching for his gun. He drew it and pointed it at her. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m telling you the truth!” she shouted.

“Then how did you get the gas on shore without being wet?” he retorted.

“I tied them all together,” Caroline said urgently, her hand clutching her cross. “The first time I came, it was summer and my boat sank. The containers all floated away. I wanted to have them together if the snowmobile fell through the ice, not just to get the job done, but to make sure I didn’t go under the ice. The containers are plastic. They float!”

“So you do want to live,” Helter said with a ghost of a smile. He safetied his gun, then holstered it. “Didn’t you give a thought to freezing to death? That water might look pretty but it’s got to be cold enough to give you hypothermia.”

“I didn’t care, so long as I destroyed this place,” Caroline said tiredly. She sat down on a large rock, her shoulders slumped. “But all my plans were for nothing. I never thought that it couldn’t be burned—”

“It’s going down in a pile of rubble,” Helter assured her. “Just stay here and I’ll be right back—”

The whine of a boat motor approaching shocked him into silence. There, coming across the water, was a blond woman in a boat. Her light hair was cut in a short bob, her expression friendly, her face absent of any makeup. She looked dressed to go hiking in the fall, a light blue rain jacket tied around her waist.

“Is she real?” Helter said disbelievingly.

Caroline stared, shading her eyes from the bright morning sun. “She looks real.”

“Looking real isn’t the same as real out here,” Helter said ominously. “Be on your guard.”

“She’s real,” Caroline said with confidence, waving to the woman with both arms.

“How do you know?” Helter asked curiously.

“Because there’s a dog with her.”

The boat’s motor stopped offshore, and the woman threw in an anchor. “Is it safe to come closer?” she called. “I heard there were bad rocks near the shore.”

“Yes! Stop there.” Helter waded out into the water, almost to the boat. With a lunge, he pushed off, swimming the last few feet. Taking hold of the boat, he pulled it into the shallows where he could stand up.

“Thanks,” the woman said brightly. “I’m okay to get out here. I don’t mind getting my feet wet.”

“Ma’am, I need you to take Caroline Stone here to shore right now,” Helter interrupted. “We were both snowmobiling, and hers fell through the ice in the thaw.”

“I’m so sorry,” the woman said to Caroline, her expression worried. “It’s so lucky you survived.”

Caroline managed a smile.

“What about you?” the woman said to Helter. “Shouldn’t we all go to shore now? I can drop you off, and we can talk—”

A disquieting feeling seeped into Caroline. This woman showing up, just as Helter was about to blow up the house. Had the house sent her to stop them? “Why are you here?” Caroline said brusquely.

“That’s a long story,” the woman said perkily. “First off, I’m Barb Usher. I’m a paranormal researcher.” She held out her hand.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Caroline muttered under her breath, shooting a look at Helter. Neither of them made a move.

Barb was unfazed as she took back her offered hand. “I was planning to wait until spring, but when I saw we’d had this surprise thaw, I wanted to take advantage of the abnormal weather—”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Helter shouted at Barb. “Start your motor and take Caroline off this island. She needs to go home—”

“I’m not going home until I see this house made into rubble,” Caroline hissed at Helter. “And you aren’t going to be doing anything with a witness now, are you?

Helter glared at her.

“Is there some problem?” Barb asked in confusion, looking from one of them to the other.

“What are you going to say?” Helter whispered harshly to Caroline, putting his back to the woman. “Explain in detail how your plan of arson didn’t work? That we heard some animal howling outside the tent last night? Neither of us is supposed to be here!”

“Hey,” Barb called again. “Can I come onshore or not?”

“Sure,” Caroline said, ignoring Helter. “But throw me a rope so we can tie your boat to the nearest tree.”

“Why not tie it to that dock behind you?” Barb replied, pointing.

Caroline looked to her left, following the woman’s gesture. Yes, there was a tiny decrepit wooden dock just in sight, opposite where Helter reported finding the boathouse. Caroline stared at it, a shiver passing through her. Had it been there all along, buried in the snow and ice?

Helter took the rope from Barb, and began walking out into deeper water. As soon as it was shoulder height, he swam, guiding the boat after him. Caroline followed on the shore, keeping a close eye on their supplies from her vantage point while she also tried to watch Helter, worried at some moment some monster would emerge from the depths and drag him under.

When Helter reached the small dock, he waded ashore, then tied up the boat and offered his hand to Barb.

Barb gingerly stepped off the boat onto the dock. “Thanks.” Her dog, a Golden Retriever, bounded out, then began sniffing wildly on the shore, moving rapidly back and forth. “That’s Cooper.”

“Sorry for how we must seem,” Caroline called awkwardly from shore, petting Cooper as he passed her several times in his relentless sniffing. “We spent the night here in the winter cold and woke up to summer. We’re dead tired.”

“I saw that,” Barb said consolingly. “But you don’t have to worry. I called the police.”

Caroline blanched, her expression horrified. “What?” Helter managed.

“I called the police,” Barb repeated brightly. “I found your SUV this morning on the shore, Caroline, and called in the VIN number from my cell. When I saw the snowmobile trailer you had, and an empty container of gas floating in the water, I worried you’d somehow gotten stuck out on the ice last night and something bad had happened in the sudden thaw. So I reported it, because I was worried.” She checked her watch. “They should be here in about an hour or less.”

Helter swore, then began to pace.

“Is there something going on here?” Barb said directly to Caroline, her expression finally losing its persistent joyful outlook.

“Why are you here?” Caroline said coldly. “The truth. Now.”

The last vestige of false cheerfulness vanished from Barb’s countenance. “Here,” Barb said, putting down a micro recorder device on the porch steps. “Listen to this.” She flipped the switch.

“At first I thought it was a bear. The thing had to be eight feet tall. First the eyes were low and then they rose up—”

“Who is that?” Caroline said.

“Lenny,” Barb said. “A hunter who ran into these things one night in the woods.”

“What things?”

“Shut up and listen,” Barb said flatly, all her perkiness vanishing.

Caroline was irritated, but pushed her feelings aside, listening.

“It was fast, real fast. It came at me and I ran. When I got to my car and looked back, it was there in the trees, eyes shining at me.” Pause. “And there wasn’t just the one pair. There were five, at least back last fall.”

“How long ago was this?” Caroline asked.

“Two years ago,” Barb said urgently. “Please, just listen.”

“They killed that kid. I know there was no body found, but I tell you, he was dead. They got him. That aunt of Kelsie’s, she made those things. The other aunt confessed it was going to eat his soul—”

“He’s crazy,” Helter said, looking at Barb like she was probably crazy too.

“—that thing is out there, and it’s been killing right along. Don’t know how many are out there now. I stay out of the woods after dusk.”

Barb shut off the micro recorder.

“Okay, tell us why we shouldn’t think he’s crazy,” Caroline said quickly to Barb.

“Or you are,” Helter muttered under his breath.

“I’m not crazy,” Barb said. “Lenny witnessed these things attack another hunter and kill him. He escaped because the girl, Kelsie, came upon him hurt and she helped him. The things didn’t attack her.”

“Why not?”

“Because her aunts made them to protect her.” Barb switched to another digital file, then hit play.

“We had to look after her. She was our sister’s only granddaughter.” Pause. “Sylvia did the spell to create the guardian, the Husterman. Some of the writing was faded. She did as well as she could. Something came out wrong. Sometimes when it feeds, a new one is created.”

“Fuck me,” Helter said under his breath. “This is just a stupid ghost story someone sold you on—”

“Hustermen are just shadows. You can see their eyes in the dark, but they have no real shape, only a mouth to feed and eyes to see. They are only there when it’s dark. They feed off flesh and souls. They punish evildoers. They are also just shadows, as in righteous ones seeking to mete out justice. They don’t see distinctions, only black and white.”

Barb stopped the recording. “That continued until a year ago, when Kelsie’s Aunt Sylvia had a heart attack. She survived, but something changed. The creatures began attacking anything in the woods at night, not just those up to no good.” She hit play.

“I saw the skunk too late. I got the dogs away from it, but they’d been hit bad. I looked for the skunk, but it was gone. So I took both of them by the collar and went into the woods—”

“Who is this?”

“Kelsie,” Barb said. “The granddaughter who was supposed to be guarded by these Hustermen.”

“I couldn’t see anything, it was too dark. We were a good half hour late doing the walk. We got about ten yards into the forest when I smelled a rank animal smell.”

“There were no footsteps, no branches breaking. Something was just suddenly there waiting for us, like it had stepped out from behind a tree. The dogs went berserk, growling and barking. I couldn’t hold them. I heard a rush of wind. Nothing touched me, but there was this terrible sense of menace. I ran, yelling for the dogs.”

“We made it out of the woods, but Teal had a bloody chunk out of his left ear.” Pause. “I’ve never been afraid in my woods before. But now…I’m scared to go back there.”

Barb clicked off the recording.

“The aunt lost control of them?” Caroline asked.

“If she ever had it,” Barb replied. “But she did do something after that, because the disappearances stopped. Well, let me amend that. They stopped nearby Kelsie’s farm. They began again a few months later to the north, then stopped, then began again further north.” She pulled up a diagram on paper. “These points all show at least one unexplained disappearance.”

“They were on the move, but to find what?” Caroline asked.

Barb spread her arms wide. “This island.” She shifted her feet. “The Husterman, or hustrman, as it’s pronounced by native Czech, is not a force for good. It’s a force for evil, a water sprite that feeds on souls. It must stay wet to live, so it sticks close to water.”

“But these things were made in a forest,” Caroline persisted. “You said they were made to protect a girl, not hurt her. They don’t fit with the legend.”

“Maybe not at first,” Barb argued. “But their behavior has changed.” She pointed at the house. “What better place for evil soul eaters who like water than an island mansion already infamous for its death toll?”

“Bullshit,” Helter pronounced. “Why would they come all the way here? And how could they be made to come, if they’d gone wild?”

“There is an old saying,” Barb said slowly. “Evil draws evil.”

“I thought that was a Stephen King saying,” Helter quipped. “An evil house draws evil men.”

“But these aren’t men, are they?” Caroline interjected softly. “At least, not anymore.”

The conversation halted.

“Whatever they are,” Barb said finally. “They’ve come over from the mainland.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw their tracks leading across the ice very early this morning, towards Latham’s Landing.”

“Footprints?”

“No,” she said, visibly nervous. “More like dragging scrape marks, and what resembles partial footprints.”

“Partial? Like they were blurry?”

“Like only part of a foot was there,” Barb admitted. “I’ve been tracking these things for a month now. The prints and partials aren’t regular, even when the things walk across deep mud. How much was there varied. Once in a while, there were full feet for a couple of steps, before partial prints reappeared.”

“Which means?”

“I think how much is substantial about these creatures varies,” Barb said with excitement. “Sometimes they are just shadows and leave no trail. Other times, they are real enough to leave lasting marks of their passing.”

“Real enough to kill, you mean,” Helter added.

“I’m after evidence,” Barb said defensively. “I want to prove these things exist.”

“Why is it so important to risk your life, coming here?” Caroline said.

“Why would they hurt me?” Barb asked, shocked. “I’m here to bring attention to them, which is what Latham’s Landing seems to want.”

“How is that responsible, to do that?” Helter commented sarcastically. “You’re leading people to their doom by their curiosity. This island doesn’t want visitors, it wants victims—”

“I never made anyone do anything,” Barb countered defensively.

“You play up the scare factor, while making it seem perfectly safe to go to places that are anything but,” Helter said judgmentally. “That’s what you paranormal investigators do. That isn’t any better than my commander sending me into a hot spot with no warning back in the war—”

“Enough!” Caroline yelled. She turned to Barb. “What I want to know is why you’re here.”

“Because the things, these Hustermen, they hurt people,” Barb admitted. “One of them was my brother. He was hunting one day pre-dawn and strayed into some land these things were on, and these Hustermen got him. But no one believes me that it wasn’t an accident.”

“Weren’t there claw marks or something on the body?” Helter said sarcastically.

“There was no body,” Barb whispered. “Just some blood, and a gun. The gun stock was cracked, like something heavy hit it.”

Because her brother was now a Husterman, too…Stop it, Caro, you’re falling for this wacky chick’s line of BS. “And nobody investigated his disappearance, even with blood being found?” Caroline said skeptically.

“There was no body,” Barb repeated angrily. “My brother wasn’t the best person, okay. I know that. He had a lot of debt, and was going to have to declare bankruptcy. The police think he faked his death to leave for a new start somewhere else. But I know he wouldn’t do that and not tell me.”

“Fine,” Helter said curtly. “You want to see if these things are here, so you must be staying the night. Good luck with that. But she’s leaving—”

There was a sharp bark. Cooper was staring toward the back of the house. He took off at a dead run, straight into thick underbrush, and was quickly lost from sight.

“Cooper!” Barb shouted. She ran after him. “Cooper!” She also disappeared from sight.

Caroline looked at Helter. He looked straight back. “I hope you’re not going to suggest we go after her,” he said.

“I’m thinking we should take her boat,” Caroline said, then laughed. “Well, I would suggest that, but if the cops are coming, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Do you think she actually called them?”

 

“Bowman,” Lease said, stopping in the hall as he went past the office door. “There’s a call for you.”

Please let it not be an emergency, not on a Friday afternoon, Bowman thought. Please let it be a reminder from the dentist, or some other bullshit. He picked up the phone and hit the blinking light on his telephone. “Yes?”

“This is the Schuyler County Police Department,” a male voice said. “I understand you’re working a homicide case involving a triple murder of Mr. and Mrs. Stone?”

“Yes,” Bowman said. “But it’s pretty much closed. We have the murderers, and they both already confessed.”

“Well, I have a vehicle registered to a Mr. Steven Stone that was found abandoned on the shore near a local island, Latham’s Landing. When I called in to check the VIN, dispatch said to talk to you, as you’re investigating a murder.”

Latham’s Landing. Why does that name sound familiar? “You’re a little quick,” Bowman said slowly, wondering if this was some kind of prank call. “A vehicle is only abandoned after forty-eight hours…and only then is it removed and checked to see if it was stolen.”

“We don’t waste time screwing around here,” the voice said coldly. “People who go missing up here tend to stay missing…or get found dead.”

“Who is this?” Bowman growled. “Is this some kind of trick?”

“This is Police Chief Bob Stahl,” the voice growled back. “And this isn’t a trick. You should know that. We had another of your locals found dead here last spring, some soon-to- be college kid who was fishing with his friends on Spring Break. I think his name was Robert something—”

A cold feeling hit Bowman’s gut. Rob, Caroline Stone’s boyfriend. That’s where he’d heard the name of the island. Rob had drowned near Latham’s Landing last spring, in some kind of boating accident. After the additional shock of losing her parents this past summer, had Caroline gotten depressed and gone there to end her life? “Did you find any sign of foul play—?”

“If you want to inspect the vehicle, get here in the next 24hours.” Click.

“Hardass son of a bitch,” Bowman said in surprise as he put the phone down.

Picking it back up, he called his partner, Drake.

The man answered after a dozen rings. “What the hell is it?” Drake asked grumpily. “You know it’s my day off—”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Bowman interrupted. “Feel like a road trip?”

 

“Cooper!” Barb called breathlessly, pushing through the long tall weeds. “Cooper!”

A series of barks sounded from somewhere ahead of her. But the grass was long, almost to her waist, and very thick. It was constantly moving in the steady brisk wind, making it impossible to see where her dog was, or find his trail.

Barb pushed on, muttering to herself. Then she stopped suddenly, turning to look back. She could see nothing but trees now. What if Caroline and that man took her boat? They could tell the police she’d left. Silly, your car is right there with her SUV, parked on the shore. She can’t tell them that you left with it right there in plain sight. And you have the keys in your pocket. Yeah, they were acting weird, but they probably just had a bad night out here. The guy is clearly someone she knows, they were fighting like lovers. Stop being paranoid.

She turned around and headed back after Cooper.

 

“You can’t plant the charges with Barb here,” Caroline said for the seventh straight time. “You know that, Helter. So what’s the plan?”

“Don’t pretend you know me,” he said gruffly, as he got out his supplies, and began making a sandwich. “Don’t think I won’t blow that lady up with the rest of the ghouls here. If she’s jerk enough to bring a dog here, she’s probably going to be dead before I’m done eating this sandwich.”

“You don’t have a good opinion of women,” Caroline quipped.

“I don’t have a good opinion of fools,” Helter amended. “Now if you want some lunch, come dig in. I didn’t bring a cooler, so this meat will probably spoil by tonight if we don’t eat it.”

“It’s got to be seventy out here,” Caroline said, wiping her brow with her hand and stripping off her jacket. “How long can this last?”

“Long enough to fuck us up,” Helter swore, stuffing his face with a sandwich. “You’re right, in that I’m probably going to have to abort. The bitch of it is, I don’t dare take the explosives with me off the island in case the police are there waiting for us and I don’t dare leave them here for someone to find.” He finished his sandwich, then began making another.

“Why not blow up the sunken part of the main house?” Caroline said, as she finished creating her own sandwich and took a bite. “That part at least you could do safely. And no one would be the wiser.”

Helter looked over at her curiously.

“What?” she asked, taking another bite.

“What part of the house is sunken?” Helter asked.

“There’s some part on the side, I think,” Caroline said, craning her neck to look at the house. “I think it must be on the opposite side. There’s also a long bridge of stone to a glass house they call the Sea Room.” She took another bite. “Supposedly that’s off the back of the house, so we can’t see it from here.”

Helter stared at her, saying nothing.

“You’re freaking me out,” Caroline said finally. “What?”

“What is this house supposed to look like?” he asked.

“A main house with three floors, one side sunken, grand staircase leading to a room with a large carved fireplace,” Caroline said, thinking back to her research. “One girl who’d been here said there was an odd balcony on the third floor that was on either side of the house and at the back, so you could see a view from every direction. But getting to each was confusing, because all three looked the same…and doors sometimes led to another balcony instead of leading out.”

“Go on.”

“Let’s see…there was a boathouse. Or maybe it was a garage? I think a boat was stored there, and also gas. This was supposed to be right near that stone bridge I told you about, so the car could be used to drive on it to get to the Sea Room. Apparently the stone bridge is a few miles long.” Caroline took another bite, chewing, then swallowed. “And there was a short staircase that led to the back of the house, and also a walkway of stone that led up from the shore, with a landing in between, made of red granite. Most of the house is made of the stuff, supposedly.” Caroline shaded her eyes, taking another look at the house. “Though to me the house and the stairs look white, not pink or red. So maybe that part isn’t true.” She took another bite, then looked over at Helter. “Why did you want to know?”

A sudden scream sounded from below, making them look down to the shore.

 

“Cooper!” Barb yelled. She pushed her way out of the trees into a small weedy lot, then tiredly made her way to a rough stone bench, sinking down on the seat. God, why had she brought the stupid dog? He was supposed to be staying close to protect her, not running off on his own chasing rabbits. So much for women’s best friend.

The light suddenly darkened. Barb looked up at the sun, which was obscured by a cloud. Then she checked her watch. It was close to two already. Damn it, she had to get that dog and get back to the boat. Amateur ghost hunter or not, she did not want to be here on this island overnight.

There was a rustling noise, of something in the tall grass behind her. She turned, but there was only the rustling tall grass, waving back and forth in the wind.

There was a sudden bark from behind her. Barb turned to see Cooper above her near an elaborate stone fountain. He was looking in her direction, and growling.

“It’s okay,” Barb said soothingly, coming closer. “Come on, Cooper. It’s okay. It’s just me.”

Cooper bared his teeth at her, snarling. His hackles were all the way up. She’d never seen him so ferocious. He feinted, as if to lunge at her, then barked again, ending in a low growl of warning.

What if he bit her? Barb pushed the thought away, moving slowly and carefully closer, until she was within ten feet of Cooper. He was still snarling and growling. It was only when Barb moved off to the side, fumbling in her pocket for a biscuit, that she realized he wasn’t trying to menace her. Cooper’s eyes were locked ahead of him, his defensive stance still facing the brush.

Barb whirled with a gasp. There was a small shape just above the weeds. A humanoid head with two gleaming yellow eyes was looking out at her. As she stared frozen in fear, the head slowly sank down, until it was lost again from view.

The dog barked a final time, then turned to his owner with a plaintive whine. Barb grabbed Cooper’s collar, dragging him up a long cracked walkway of paving stones.

No way I’m going back through that long grass, Barb thought. “We’ll have to go the long route around, Cooper.”

She headed up the path, her dog trotting jauntily at her side.

 

Caroline and Helter jumped to their feet, then hurried down to the shore. There was no one there.

“Who screamed?” Caroline ventured, looking back and forth. “We both heard it.”

“Maybe the acoustics are out of whack here along with everything else,” Helter said. He produced a cell phone, punching in some numbers, then lowered it. “This doesn’t work out here. I didn’t think it would.”

“Wasn’t there a phone here?” Caroline asked. “I read accounts of the one survivor this place had, some girl named Tina. She said it worked intermittently.”

“If there was, its long been turned off,” Helter said. “People stopped coming here ten years ago, except for the caretaker. And he’s been gone a full two years.” He turned to her. “What else did Tina say?”

Caroline looked at Helter. What if he weren’t real? Ghosts could seem real in this place real enough to masquerade as the living. But his food had been real enough last night, and so had his tent.

Helter turned, then caught her looking at him. He slid his hand down over his gun. “You never did show me your snowmobile.”

“It sank,” Caroline said drolly. “But I’ll show you where.” She set off, walking along the shore. Helter grabbed his backpack, and the remains of his last sandwich, and followed her.

 

Mac rose into the air, the joy of being free for the rest of the weekend sinking into him, making him feel like anything were possible. He leveled out, then cranked the rock music, glorying in the open sky all around him, and the feeling of being on vacation for the next entire week.

The best part, the VERY best part, was he’d been given an extra girl for transport by his boss. Turned out she’d tried to turn witness, and contact a cop. Good for Collins—and everyone else with him, like Mac—she’d been caught before she could escape with one of the shop’s books under her arm, detailing all of the cash deals for the last six months.

This girl, Chung Lai….she was healthy. She was a fighter. Maybe other guys didn’t like that in a woman, but Mac did. He was ecstatic.

She was going to last at least a few days on the island. He’d bet on it. So far, no girl had lasted a full night on Latham’s Landing.

Mac glanced behind him at Chung Lai’s furious eyes glaring at him, even gagged and hogtied like she was. He smiled at her. “We’re going to have fun tonight,” he said happily.

The other girl let out a terrified moan, but Chung Lai just stared back at him, with a look that said she was going to take his balls for a trophy.

It was going to be a real party…

His radio went off. “Mac, do you copy?”

“Prick fuck, you had better not think I’m coming back to work,” Mac swore, then clicked on the transmitter. “I’m here, pal. What’s up?”

“There are a couple of cops here that want to go to the island. That one you fly over regularly, what’s it called?”

A bolt of fear went through Mac, the first one he could remember in a long time. Why did the cops want to go there? “Latham’s Landing. They got a missing person or something?”

“Roger that. They say it’s an emergency. Someone was snowmobiling and fell through the ice.”

“Bull,” Mac said easily, before he thought. “That ice is thick. I see fishermen there all the time in the winter, especially in January.”

“Well, not this January,” came the snickering reply. “There was some kind of weird thaw last night. The ice is all gone. It’s like seventy degrees there or something.”

Momentary panic flooded Mac. Warm weather meant there might be people in boats on the lake. He had to be careful going to the island in summer, because of the fisherman. But they can’t come too close to the island. If they do, they sink.

He forced himself to breathe. The island helps you, remember? It wants you there. You just have to be smart about this.

“Mac?”

“I’m here,” Mac said quickly, thinking fast. “I can’t cancel plans, sorry. I’ve got a girl who’ll be very disappointed if we break our date.” He smiled back again at Chung Lai, who glared back at him. “But tell me what happened. I’ll be flying right past and can call in anything I see.”

“Some people were snowmobiling on the lake and ran out of gas or something. They’re on the island. The police are involved because some car was found that belongs to a guy who died.”

“Murdered?”

“Yeah, but that’s all solved. I think this guy has a boner for the dead guy’s kid. She’s supposedly one of the ones on the island—”

Mac lost the rest of what the guy said. There would be a third girl. A third! He had never had such a great hunt! Hell, there wasn’t room for a third girl in the cockpit. He would have had to strap her to the bottom of the copter, and then someone would see…but this was like fate, that everything was falling into place. He just needed to keep the cops away, until he could have his fun.

“Mac?”

“Look, I’ll tell you what I see when I fly over,” Mac lied. “I’ll be there just at dusk, but I’ll get a clear view.”

“Good, I’ll tell the cops that. I’m sure that ghost hunter who went out in a boat today can bring them back. She’s the one that called the cops—”

A fourth woman. A FOURTH! “I’ll keep an eye out for her, too. What kind of boat?”

“Thanks. It was a small motorboat. You’ll see her car and trailer onshore if she’s there.”

“Roger that. I’m out.”

“Have a good vacation. Out.”

“Thanks, I will,” Mac said pleasantly, turning his attention to the sky before him.

 

Barb walked across the granite pad, looking at the new construction in front of her. Who the hell was out here building on Latham’s Landing?

She walked inside the new construction, looking for stored tools or signs of workmen. But aside from the ladders propped against the roof and all the scaffolding, there was nothing, not so much as a discarded coffee cup.

Her skin crawled suddenly, as if something were watching her. Shivering, Barb hurried back outside. To her surprise, the granite pad was not in front of her. Instead, she was in a courtyard.

She must have gotten turned around inside the unfinished building. There had been a lot of doors.

Here the grass was neatly trimmed, if brown and dead. There was a fountain in the center of the courtyard, with a stone seagull bursting out of a spray of water. The water in it was running, clear and sparking in the sunlight.

God, she was so thirsty.

Barb walked up to the fountain, careful of a few loose stones. She dipped her hands in, then drank the crystalline cool water. It was like paradise after the long walk in the hot sun.

Cooper also came up beside her, looking anxiously at the fountain and whining, as if he thought it might bite him. But after a moment, he also relaxed and began to drink deeply of the water.

There was a shifting. The world seemed to roll. Barb grabbed onto the side of the fountain, blinking her eyes to stop the world spinning.

Cooper began barking, but his motions were slow motion, as if the world was slowing down. God, what was wrong with her? Barb shook her head to clear it and nearly fell over.

There was a cracking sound. Barb looked up at the fountain. The seagull was fracturing, as if something was breaking out from the inside. She watching with terrified fascination as a sharp black beak pecked its way out. There was another rumble, as part of the seagulls body ruptured. A long black wing flapped, its scaly limb tipped with three long black talons.

This couldn’t be happening.

More of the monstrous bird emerged, half crow, half bat. The head finally broke through, its long neck swiveling to stare at her. Saliva dripped from its maw.

Cooper snarled, then a sharp pain lanced through Barb, snapping her out of her fog. Cooper bit me.

Barb stumbled back from the fountain, letting out a long undulating scream. Cooper got in front of her, growling and backing, his hackles again raised.

The bird struggled hard, scrabbling at the rock with its long claws, its head and left wing free.

Barb ran, weaving across the grass, Cooper at her heels.

The bird gave one hearty wrench, and broke free with an inhuman shriek and a burst of stone shards. Flapping its bat-like wings, it dove after its prey.

 

“Are you sure this is where you landed?” Helter said for the fourth time, surveying the shoreline.

“Yes,” Caroline persisted, wading in the water. She looked up at him. “This is where I saw the house from. The long staircase was there, and I couldn’t see the boathouse, so it has to be here.”

Helter looked down at her, impassive.

Caroline looked back at him. He doesn’t believe me. At this point, I’m not sure I believe me.

Helter turned and walked away from her, striding fast towards the boathouse. Caroline watched him go in curiosity, then went after him, horror dawning. She was running when he pulled the grenade from his pocket and tossed it through the boathouse window.

He turned and saw her. “Get down!”

The explosion blew the roof off, planks spinning in all directions, most of them flying out over the water in pieces. The boat rose up off the tracks, then burst through the opposite side of the structure, cracking a pine tree and shearing off branches. The momentum sent it crashing down the slope into the water, where it rested, a huge hole rent in the side.

“What the hell are you doing?” Caroline screamed at him.

Helter ignored her, then went around the remains of the shed and down to the rusty boat tracks, peering into the water.

There was a loud screech of fear. Caroline and Helter looked up to see Barb and Cooper barreling down the slope with them. Some kind of huge black bird was after them, diving at them. As they stared, the thing swooped down, its talons extended. With a squawk, it laid open Barb’s shoulder, tearing another scream from her.

Helter drew his gun and fired. The bullet passed through the thing as if it weren’t there.

Caroline drew her gun, saying a prayer as she aimed. Her bullet tore a chunk from the thing’s wing, spinning it up in the air like a top. It faltered, then folded its wings and dropped like a stone.

“What the hell?” Helter exclaimed, staring at Caroline. His attention quickly turned to Barb, as she threw herself at him, clutching him and crying.

Ignoring her, Caroline ran to the black flailing creature. The demon bird was flopping helplessly with its good wing, trying hard to crawl away with its talons, looking at her with hate. She put her gun to its head and pulled the trigger. The thing let out a squawk as its brains splattered out, its movements ceasing. It began steaming in the sunlight, melting into a pile of goo with hisses like a flesh on a hot griddle.

Barb was still sobbing, and Helter was trying to comfort her. But his attention was all on Caroline, his expression one of mistrust.

“Let’s get back to the supplies,” Caroline said, casting a worried glance in the direction of their camp.

“No,” Helter said, subdued. “There’s something you need to see first.” He pointed to the rusty tracks down into the water. “Go look.”

Caroline kept her gun out, walking down to the water’s edge. Feeling foolish, she holstered her gun, then stepped into the water. “What am I supposed to see?”

“Beneath the metal tracks.”

Caroline peered closer, her eyes suddenly widening. Her snowmobile was there resting in the mud and lake stones, beneath the boathouse tracks…as if they had been placed over it to hide it.

She stumbled backwards, spooked, out of the water.

 

“You’ve got to take us,” Lease said to his brother across the counter of Lease’s Leases. He turned to look at Bowman and Drake, standing behind him.

“I don’t go to that island, not even for you,” his brother said. “But you want to be stupid, go ahead. You’ll get killed on those rocks like everyone else.” He turned to Bowman. “If that girl is there, she’s dead already. You’re better off waiting for her body to wash ashore.”

“You’re a fucking coward,” Drake said to him.

“And I’ll live to enjoy that,” the man replied. He turned back to his brother. “Take the boat or don’t. But you wreck it and you survive, I’m going to want a new one to replace it. Business is business.”

“Fine,” Lease said, banging his fist once on the counter. “We’ll just go to another boat rental place on the lake—”

“No one else would even consider it,” his brother replied. “Even if they were open in the dead of winter, which they aren’t.” He smirked. “You could always buy a boat, I suppose.”

Lease walked behind the bar, then grabbed his brother’s arm, pulling him into the back room. “We’ll be right back after we discuss a few things.” He pulled his brother, already protesting, out of sight.

“Why couldn’t that damn helicopter pilot just fly us there?” Bowman said, rubbing his eyes.

“His boss said he had already left for vacation.”

“Why couldn’t they get someone else to fly the copter?”

“Because only helicopters equipped with two engines and an autopilot can fly at night,” Drake said patiently. “This guy, Mac Ready, has the only copter like that. Be glad that Lease has a brother here who was willing to rent us a boat. Most of the local businesses here got flooded out two years ago.”

“Wasn’t that when they found those other vehicles?” Bowman asked. “After the flood exposed them? From those four college kids who went missing?”

Drake nodded. “This island is not a place you go to in the dead of night. I have to agree with Lease on this one. I think it’s better to wait until morning.”

“And what if something happens to her?”

“She’s on a deserted island, it’s unseasonably warm, and she’s got a boyfriend with her,” Drake said meaningfully. “I think the worst trouble she’s going to have is an unplanned pregnancy.”

“Hey,” Bowman said sharply.

“Sorry,” Drake said, raising up both hands. He raked one through his hair. “Jesus Christ—”

“And stop that, too,” Bowman said irritably.

Drake widened his eyes, then rolled them, looking away.

Lease appeared, a set of keys in his hand. “My brother said we could take a boat, but we’re on our own. Do you still want to do this?”

“Yes,” Bowman said.

“Alright,” Lease said, pushing past him. “Let’s go hook up the trailer to your truck.”

“Why not your truck?” Bowman asked.

“Because I’m coming back tonight,” Lease said. He looked at Bowman squarely. “And I’m only doing this because you said you’d put in a good word with the chief, and I’d make detective.”

“I said I would,” Bowman said. “I keep my word.”

“Good,” Lease said, hooking up the boat trailer with a thirty-foot aluminum bass boat. The fading sunlight gleamed off the dull metal of the huge motor attached to the back.

“But you’ll take us there?” Drake asked with trepidation. “We have enough gas to get there and back?”

“I’ll drop you off in the shallows,” Lease said, putting in some rope, a few life vests, and two extra gas containers. “I’ll be back out tomorrow morning to get you.” He held up a flare. “Light this by noon, okay? I’ll take that as a signal.”

“What about a radio?”

“My brother said radios don’t work out there,” Lease said in a subdued tone. “Now let’s go. Dark is coming.”

 

Caroline sank down at the campsite tiredly. Helter had repitched the tent closer to the shore, with a wall behind them for security, near the foot of the main staircase, so they could see anyone approaching. He’d made another fire for them with fallen branches, and was heating up some soup on his small propane stove. Cooper was sleeping near Barb, who had finally stopped sobbing and was looking out across the water toward the rapidly darkening shoreline.

“Was it there?” Helter asked.

“Yes, her boat was still tied up and floating, just like we’d left it,” Caroline said, but she did not sound relived. “There was a figure on the dock, though.”

“A man?”

“Too short to be a man.”

“A dwarf?” Helter joked.

Caroline didn’t answer. Helter finished heating the soup, then poured some into two cups. He handed one to Barb, who took it with a grateful smile. He took the other to Caroline. “Sorry, I just have two. If I hadn’t planned on soup and coffee at the same time, I wouldn’t have had two.”

“Thanks,” Caroline said gratefully, drinking the hot liquid.

“Hey, save some for me,” Helter chastised. “This is the last of the food stores.”

Caroline swallowed once more, then took the cup away from her mouth and handed it to him. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Helter consoled. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Caroline said. “If I wasn’t dead inside I’d be sobbing like Barb was.”

Helter put his arm around her.

“Why do you believe me?” Caroline whispered into his shoulder. “I thought you would shoot me out there, when you were looking at me on the shore. Seeing my snowmobile like that…it almost made me believe I was a ghost.”

“I believe you because you shot that bird and it died. I shot it, and the bullet went through,” Helter said. He swallowed the rest of the soup in the cup, then put it aside. “We need to talk about why. No more lies.”

“I had them blessed,” Caroline admitted, summarizing her preparations for coming to Latham’s Landing. She emptied all her pockets, producing several bundles of dried herbs, a handful of incense, and two almost full boxes of ammunition. “That was all I could fit in my pockets when I saw the priest without being obvious. There were more herbs and incense strapped on the snowmobile, but they’ve got to be mush by now.”

“So whatever is on this island is a Christian evil,” Helter said, looking uncomfortable.

“And you’re not Christian,” Caroline surmised.

“Not even close,” Helter admitted.

“The woman at the store said it wasn’t so much the materials,” Caroline shared. “It’s the faith that they are going to work. Ten years of Christian schooling had an impact on me, even if I didn’t agree with a lot of what was taught. My belief is pretty solid.” She paused. “Were you ever religious?”

“I believe in the church of me,” Helter said, flashing a smile. “I’m the only one I have faith in, because I’m the only one I can ever fully trust.”

“They you’ll have to borrow some of mine,” Caroline said. She reached beneath her clothes at her neck, bringing out one of her rosaries. She took it off, then placed it around Helter’s neck, and made the sign of the cross over him.

He stood up. “I might as well go see if it works. Give me one of your guns, I don’t care which.”

Caroline handed him her .38 handgun. “Where are you going?”

“Back to Barb’s boat,” he answered. “She might have some supplies we can use. And I want to see that dwarf for myself.”

“There’s a cooler with some sandwiches, and a lot of extra snack food,” Barb offered. “I planned to eat lunch and dinner on the boat. Otherwise there are just extra clothes, a radio, lifejackets, and stuff to make casts of footprints in several totes.”

“I’ll bring the food and the clothes,” Helter said, with a nod.

“Be careful,” Caroline called after him. “That dwarf, or whatever it was, went into the water when he saw me. He didn’t resurface.”

“Thanks. I’ll watch for it.” Helter looked at her, then at the fire. “This might be a good time to use some of that incense. Can you give me a stick?”

Caroline dipped a bundle of herbs into the fire, blowing on it to make it smoke, then handed it to him.

“You asked what else Tina said,” Barb uttered suddenly, fumbling for her micro recorder. She opened a file and hit play.

“It wasn’t the stairs that creaked, or the way the lights never fully chased the shadows from the corners. It was that sense of hushed anticipation, that feeling of being not alone that filled you from the moment you entered and built with each passing second, making your heart race.” Pause. “You’ll feel it too, if you go there, Barb. As sweat breaks out on your cool flesh, your only thought will be of what finale waits around the next corner, drifting down on spider’s silent legs to snatch you unawares before you can scream. I’ll tell you one more time: don’t go there.”

Caroline looked up at Helter. “Watch yourself.”

As Helter headed off into the darkness, she threw some powder from a bag into the fire, saying a prayer that the incense would work.

“Can I have one of your crosses?” Barb asked timidly.

Caroline handed Barb her second cross necklace. “Here. Are you a believer?”

“Let’s say I am now,” Barb said, slipping the jewelry on.

 

Mac looked at his watch. Another hour and he’d be there. Just in time for the sunset, if he was lucky.

Every time at the island brought some new delight. And this time he’d come prepared, putting in a lot of work to make this visit extra special.

Please let those two girls still be there, Mac thought over and over frantically. Find a way to keep them there for me.

 

“That’s it?” Bowman said, staring at the dark silhouette of the old mansion on the water.

Lease didn’t answer, busy backing up the trailer with the boat into the water at the launching site. Drake was helping direct him.

Together, the three men got the boat set and then boarded. As they started off, the sun rapidly sank.

“Hey, there’s a fire on the shore,” Drake said, pointing to a small flickering flame near the front of the island silhouette. “That’s got to be the kids.”

“Maybe we can just pick them up tonight and go home,” Bowman said in relief.

“Nope,” Lease said darkly. “That point is rimmed with rocks. My brother said we have to go to the back of the island, where there’s supposed to be a granite dock. It’s going to be a slow ride the closer we get.” He turned on a searchlight, which cast some illumination in the spreading inky blackness, even as it obscured the fire with its larger luminescence. “You may even need to get out and swim to shore.”

“But you could tie up to the dock and wait,” Bowman said, uneasy at the thought of jumping into black cold water. “We could go get the kids and come back to you.”

“No,” Lease said softly. “I’m not staying there.”

“You’re as much a coward as your brother,” Drake accused.

“Shut up,” Bowman said harshly, glancing quick at Lease. But the explosion he expected from Lease didn’t come. The guy simply stared ahead, his eyes locked on Latham’s Landing.

 

“Look, there’s a light!” Barb said hopefully, pointing into the darkness.

Caroline looked, the small light rekindling her optimism. “Is it a boat, or someone on shore?”

“I think it’s moving.”

Caroline stood, trying for a better vantage point. But it looked like the boat was heading past the island, towards the back. “Maybe its fishermen headed back home from further down the lake.”

“I think the lake ends over there,” Barb said, shaking her head once. “The guy who lent me the boat said that there was nothing down there since the flood. That’s where the bed and breakfast was.”

“Then who are they?” Caroline said, uneasy.

“Maybe it’s the police,” Barb said, standing up. “They had to see our fire. It’s like a beacon.”

A cold feeling settled on Caroline. She looked around in the gathering darkness. “The cops wouldn’t come out in this, not for us.” She looked up at the house looming above them, and the cold feeling suddenly grew stronger.

Last night there had been snow and ice, and still, something had come to growl at them. It had left for some reason. It would likely come again tonight. And there was no snow now to impede its progress...no ice to slip on. Would it leave so easily tonight?

“Hurry,” Caroline said, grabbing Barb’s arm. “Grab any wood you can for the fire, and bring it in close.” She stood up and began grabbing every piece of driftwood she could find, piling it near the fire.

“Why?” Barb said, even as she began working to gather driftwood.

“Because whomever that is in the boat might not be friendly,” Caroline called, piling more wood in her arms. “And I’m already running low on incense.”

 

Helter grabbed the last of Barb’s gear, including her two cameras. Slinging them around his neck, he picked up the heavy cooler, then looked at the boat with longing.

Take it and go now. If you leave them here, the island will let you go. If you stay, you’re going to die destroying it. Because no matter what you do tonight, that boat is not going to be there in the morning…unless it’s sunk in the shallows.

Helter shook off his despair, dropped Barb’s gear in a pile, then carefully pulled the boat up on shore to the side of the dock, tying it with his rope to a dock piling. Watchful, he headed back toward the fire on the shore, eager for its light and heat while also hating its brightness.

We need it for protection. But it’s also a bull’s-eye pinpointing where we are.

Helter snorted. Like the island didn’t know where we all were from the moment we arrived, he thought sardonically. Fire or no fire, faith or no faith, something would come tonight. They would have to sleep in shifts, to make sure that someone was awake all the time. That meant him and Caroline. Barb was no use, not in her hysterical condition. But at least Cooper would bark to warn them.

The sudden whup-whup-whup of helicopter blades directly above him made Helter stop and look up. The helicopter’s searchlight shone down at him.

Without thinking, Helter drew Caroline’s gun and fired. The bullet struck one of the landing legs, ricocheting off with a spark. The copter banked abruptly, then came around again, this time landing carefully on the granite pad Helter had seen earlier.

Someone was here. And whoever it was might be even more dangerous than the ghosts and monsters.

Helter waddled as fast as he could with the heavy cooler toward the fire.

 

“What the hell?” Bowman said, scanning the darkness. “That sounds like a helicopter.”

“I can’t see anything,” Drake said, turning quickly. “Lease, turn off the motor.”

Lease cut the motor, then they listened. The sound of a helicopter was directly overhead.

Drake made to stand up, flashlight in hand. “It’s right above us—”

There was a sharp flash, the sound of a gunshot, and a grunt of pain. The boat rocked left, then there was a splash. The helicopter flew off, its noise disappearing as suddenly as it had come.

“Drake?” Bowman said.

“Grab him!” Lease yelled. “The idiot fell in.”

Bowman turned on his own flashlight. Lease had both of Drake’s arms and was trying to pull him back in the boat. Bowman grabbed one arm, then together they pulled Drake back in.

“Damn it,” Bowman said, collapsing back onto the seat. “He almost went it.”

Lease didn’t answer.

“Lease?” Bowman said, picking up his dropped flashlight. It illuminated Lease, his silencer-equipped gun pointed at Bowman.

Lease fired, the bullet clipping Bowman at his temple. A piece of skull blew out, and Bowman collapsed into the bottom of the boat, twitching. Blood oozed steadily from his gaping head wound, dripping onto Drake’s body

“If you’d left well enough alone,” Lease muttered.

They were going to put two and two together. He’d had to do it, promotion or no promotion in the offering. Damn that Chung Lai.

He dialed his cell. It rang once, then was picked up.

“Lease.”

“You okay, Mac? I heard a gunshot.”

“I’m okay,” Mac answered. “That guy on the island took a shot at me. Can you believe it? I’m gonna get him for that.”

“Tomorrow,” Lease urged. “Come down and help me tie up to the dock.”

“You’re going to have to go slow and look,” Mac said with disinterest. “There’s an intact dock on the opposite side, but someone’s blown the one on your side to pieces. Saw it as I landed.”

He made it sound like this just happened. Who might have done it…that boyfriend of Stone’s kid, who had taken a shot at the copter? Or someone else Mac had invited to the isle for fun and games? “What about the dock at the back? My brother mentioned one made of granite.”

“That’s not there anymore,” Mac said easily, as if he were complimenting Lease on his shoes. But his choice of words rattled Lease.

Mac hadn’t said the dock was destroyed. He’d said it wasn’t there…like it had suddenly up and disappeared.

Every extra sense Lease had as a cop was telling him to leave now. Who cared if Mac had promised a great time, or if he owed that Asian bitch Chung Lai who had tried to expose him some payback? There was something very wrong here. “What do I do if I can’t find the dock on the other side?” Lease said.

“Anchor the boat just offshore and wait until morning.”

“What about a storm? My brother said they come up fast.”

Mac laughed. “They do. Too fast for you to get away, so there’s no point worrying about—”

Lease’s unease swiftly became anger. “You’re not helping my situation, Mac. If you really want me here, give me some instructions on how to get off this fucking boat and onto the damned island. I’ve got cargo here I need to dump before it starts stinking.”

Mac’s tone when he answered was contrite. “Look, go around to the other dock, just go slow. Tie up there and leave the boat. Come up when you’re here. I’ll be in the main house.”

“Anything I should watch for?”

“No,” Mac chuckled. “Everyone already knows you’re here. So don’t be surprised if you get some unexpected help.”

He hung up, laughing ominously. Lease narrowed his eyes, then began piloting the boat again. Now he had to go ashore, if just to find out who else knew about his involvement with the brothel.

He moved around the back of the island, going slowly in the darkness, his searchlight steady.

His light illuminated red granite, flecks sparking wetly in the light. Waves crashed against large rocks, flinging surf upwards toward a stone balcony high above. Carefully, Lease moved further out, worried about scuttling the craft.

A ship’s foghorn sounded once, then again. Lease stopped the motor, letting it idle, his searchlight looking in the dark for the source.

There was a creak of wood, and a snap of sailcloth. Then a ragged small galley slipped into view, its hull slimy with mildew and rot. Someone was at the wheel, holding it steady, its ragged clothes flapping in the breeze. Others stood on the dock, ready with rope and gaffs.

Lease moved out of the way, staring as the ship slipped by noiselessly. The sails were tattered, the second mast broken off at the top and missing. A smell of death permeated the air, the foulness making Lease cough.

As one, the humanoid shapes turned to look at him, as the craft slipped by. Their eyes glowed an eerie bright green in the gloom

Lease’s eyes widened, as he took a jerky intake of breath. That was a crew of skeletons, green with slime. Yet they moved just like live men.

The foghorn sounded again, this time fainter. And the ship slowed, heading for the rocks. Lease motored away as fast as he dared, afraid to look back.

There was a flash of light, a momentary brightness from far out in the water. Lease turned to see a burning ball of light there, first white, then turning bloody red. As he watched, it darkened again to black, disappearing but leaving spots on his retinas.

He blinked, turning back to the rocks. But the ghost ship had disappeared.

Spooked, he revved the boat engine, looking frantically for the dock Mac had mentioned as he hurriedly skirted the shore.

 

“There’s no one here,” Mac lied into his radio. “But I did see a light on the lake, heading inland. They may be trying to get back to the mainland by boat.”

“Is it still out there? Do you see a light on the water?”

There was no way for Mac to see from his vantage point inside the stationary helicopter, parked on the granite pad. Even if there was, he’d already given more than enough info to sound like the good guy. “Sorry, I’m over the island already, and I’m not going back tonight. Even though I can fly at night, it doesn’t mean I like doing it. Emergencies only, my man.”

“Sure,” came the reply. “Thanks for the update. I’ll let them know in the morning. I’m heading out myself now. I just wanted to wait for your info before leaving.”

“Have a good night,” Mac said amicably. He shut off the radio. “I’m going to.”

After turning off the chopper’s radio, Mac transported both girls out of the helicopter and into the main house. After sitting them in opposite corners, he grabbed his two bags, then went into the main house.

God, he just loved this part.

 

“There is a helicopter here,” Helter said, throwing down Barb’s stuff and taking deep breaths of air, the pungent smell of incense bracing. “It just landed on the granite pad by the back of the main house.”

“I saw that,” Barb said slowly. “Someone was building another larger house behind this one.”

“There is only supposed to be one main house here,” Caroline said stridently.

“There was,” Helter said eerily. “But now someone is building again here.”

“Latham’s ghost?” Barb supplied.

“I’m not sure,” Helter said, looking at Caroline. “But we both saw the snowmobile, Caroline. You came on that here less than twenty-four hours ago and now it’s sunk in the mud with rusty boat tracks over it and a whole boathouse complete with cobwebs. Something did that.”

“Why?” Caroline managed.

“To confuse you,” Helter said, unwilling to utter he suspected that the island had tried to lure him into shooting her. He gestured to the darkness. “Most of this island is not like the records say it was. It’s like someone came in and rearranged things.”

“No one can rearrange a house—” Barb started.

“Really?” Helter said with emphasis. “Did either of you notice a belltower behind the main house earlier today?”

Caroline and Barb looked up with horror. Far above the main house, in the setting sun, a belltower now stood. As they stared, the peal of a large bell rang out. One by one, lights appeared in the main house looming above them.

“Should we douse the fire?” Caroline whispered.

“No,” Helter said grudgingly. “We need to keep it going and sit with our backs to one another. We won’t be able to see all four directions, but three is better than nothing. I just hope to God nothing comes over that wall behind us.” He tossed another log on the fire. “Get ready for a hell of a long night.”

 

“Thanks,” Mac said in appreciation, toasting the newly formed belltower with his glass of Jack Daniels.

It was always amazing to watch it form. The first time, just hearing the bell had scared the shit out of him

Mac had run outside the main house, where he’d brought the first live girl, and seen a belltower more than a hundred feet high in the place of his helicopter and the granite pad. Frantic, he’d flung open the door at its base, and gone inside. There was his helicopter, safe and sound on the square granite rock. But there was no way it was getting airborne from inside those solid brick walls. And they were solid. The belltower was not an illusion, it was really there.

Mac had been livid. He’d killed the girl quickly, only worried about getting her buried somewhere so that when he called for help the rescuers wouldn’t find her remains. He’d hurried to the house’s basement, hoping for an earthen floor. Instead, at the base of the cellar stairs, there was a pool of dark stagnant water that stretched over most of the basement floor. As he watched, trying to determine the best place to drop the body in, the water rippled slightly.

Startled, Mac had let out a loud curse and tried to back up. His foot slipped on the slimy stairs, and he went down hard on his ass and back. The girl’s body slipped out of his hands, splashing into the water.

Mac cursed again and reached for the body, trying to hold onto the stairs and grab an arm or leg. But the body had already moved away, floating steadily toward the far wall. Mac grabbed a penlight from his pocket, shining it into the darkness.

There had been no far wall as he’d first assumed, only a long corridor of shadows and water. The body floated steadily toward it as he watched, turning slightly in the eddies. Then, the body seemed to get hung up on something, as it stopped moving.

A greenish white hand had come up from the brackish water, taking hold of an arm. Then the body continued out of sight.

Mac had run for the stairs, taking them two at a time, his only thought to get to the shore. He’d swim home if he had to. But as he emerged from the main house, he saw his chopper gleaming there in the sun on the granite pad. He stared at it a while, then went to his overnight bag to gather it up to leave. Near the bag was a small pile of cash.

Mac knew it hadn’t been there when he’d put down the bags. He was fairly sure it hadn’t been there when he’d run past with the girl’s body. But it was there now.

The pile contained a couple twenties, a five, a ten, and seventy-three ones. There was also a handful of change, mostly quarters. And there was one gold coin which was some kind of rare two dollar American Indian he’d never seen before. All of it was wet, the cash sodden, some of the coins grimy with silt. Like they had been found washed up on the shore, or in a drowned man’s pocket.

Mac had gathered up the cash, grabbed his bags, and taken off for home. He’d done a lot of thinking that next week. Then the following weekend he’d come back with another live girl.

Again, as soon as he landed and went inside, the belltower had formed around his helicopter. But this time he didn’t kill the girl. This had been his first real hunt, with the finale on the staircase. Again, there had been a small pile of cash when he’d returned to his bags, mostly ones and quarters. But there had also been an expensive watch, a gold charm bracelet, and a pair of diamond earrings. Looking at that pile, Mac thought he understood.

Passage home from the island was assured with a dead body. But a live one paid extra. And since Mac would have done his part for free, it was a hell of an arrangement, especially with the added protection of custom-built camouflage for his copter.

Mac put down his empty glass, then stood up from his easy chair. It was time to get moving. He walked down the stairs, admiring the paintings hanging from the walls of men like himself, who weren’t afraid of their destiny.

Furnishings had appeared in the main house about his fifth visit. A master bedroom suite, a living room with overstuffed easy chair, an old-fashioned icebox complete with a chunk of ice. Driftwood was also always ready in the fireplace for a fire, with an extra pile on the porch outside. When he needed it, the electric worked, and so did the water closet.

Yes, it was good to have friends.

 

Lease motored to a stop more than an hour later before a small dock. A boat was there also tied up to the dock, bobbing on the waves.

“Throw me the rope.”

Lease strained to see in the darkness. There was now a shape on the dock, almost like a child, but squatter. “Mac?”

“Throw it,” the hoarse voice said again.

That wasn’t Mac, the figure was too small. But there was something unsettling about it appearing there out of nowhere. Lease’s flashlight was in his pocket, at his fingertips. But he didn’t reach for it.

The figure shifted on the dock. There was a soft clicking noise, like a dog’s claws on wood.

Lease sat there, considering his options, his eyes flicking up to the house and then back again to the figure, his hands at the motor’s controls. On the seventh glance, he saw the figure was missing.

The sliding sound of nails on steel came from the bow of his boat.

Lease panicked, yanking on the motor. It roared to life and he gunned it, speeding away from shore without looking back.

When he was fifty yards away—far enough away to feel safe, he stopped and threw out an anchor. Then he tried to get a hold of himself.

You’ve got two bodies in the boat, and it’s starting to smell like it. You’ve got to get rid of them by daybreak, clean out all the blood, and get the boat back to your brother.

Lease was tempted to dump Drake and Bowman over the side. But what if they floated to shore? Mac had told him time and time again that bodies at Latham’s Landing disappeared forever. He’d promised that, in fact. But what if the bodies didn’t wash up there?

Lease worked the problem over in his mind for close to an hour with no solution. Finally, he levered Bowman out of the boat, the body landing in the water with a splash. It slowly floated away, toward the island.

Lease then tried to haul Drake out of the boat as well, but the man’s sudden groan scared him so much he dropped him. Closer inspection showed his bullet had only grazed Drake’s temple, not put him down for good, as Lease had intended.

How the hell did I miss at such close range?

Lease huddled on the boat seat, pulling his coat around himself. The night had gotten chilly suddenly. There was unexpectedly another loud peal in the night air.

He called Mac as a gonging faded away

“You here yet?” Mac asked, tense. “I’m at the main house. Follow the lights.”

“It’s too risky tonight for me to dock, Mac,” Lease replied, unwilling to admit he’d seen the dock demon. Saying it would make the thing real. “What the hell is that noise?”

“Just the bell. Come on and tie to the dock already.”

“Why is it ringing?”

“It’s feeding time,” Mac said with a laugh. “You’d better get here before you miss all the fun.” He hung up.

Lease huddled on the boat seat, shivering. But he made no move to start the motor.

 

Caroline, Barb, and Helter sat with their backs against the wall, the fire burning brightly in front of them, the dwindling pile of incense and herbs to Caroline’s right. Nearby was Helter’s sled with the charges, and his snowmobile, pointed towards the house, ready to move to higher ground if the lake water encroached. Beyond that to Helter’s right was the tent and the propane cooker.

After eating most of Barb’s food, they had saved the potato chips and soda for a hasty breakfast. None of them wanted to admit they might be here longer than that.

For the first hour of darkness, they did nothing but sit in silence, every rustle bringing pointed guns and held breath. But as the second hour also slowly passed with no attack, Helter suggested that they move camp.

“Why?” Barb asked, uneasy.

“Because I’m fairly sure if an attack does come, it’s going to come from the direction of the house, and whomever is there,” Helter said. “We can’t see over this wall. So we keep the water to the front and you face that, Barb, while Caroline gets some sleep in the tent. I’ll move the snowmobile so it's between us and the house, parked above us on that outcrop. Then I’ll go up on top of the wall, face the house from behind it, and keep watch.”

“What if whatever came last night comes back to the tent?” Caroline questioned. “The tent wall could be torn in two before you could make a move, and I’d be there helpless—”

“We’re going to be taken easily if we don’t get some sleep,” Helter said tiredly. “I’ve got to rest, Caroline. I was up all night.”

“Then you go first,” she said. “But do it right here. Get between us, and let Barb take up your position. I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

“You’re sure?”

Caroline nodded, then sighed. “I’d try for the shore with the boat if I was sure a storm wouldn’t appear. I think the island is focused on whoever came in that chopper and that boat. But the moment we go to leave I think we’ll be noticed again.”

Helter nodded once, then lay down.

A few moments after he fell asleep, Barb said, “You know, my sister told me not to come here.”

“Why?” Caroline said.

“I’m not sure.”

“Didn’t you ask her?” Caroline said with a trace of sarcasm.

“She’s dead,” Barb said.

Caroline stared at her.

“She’s what got me into the paranormal,” Barb explained. “After she died in a car accident, I started getting these post-it notes left in places. Nothing deep, ‘just have a nice day’, or ‘I’m thinking of you’ written on them.” She paused. “But last week, for the first time, she sent me warnings not to come here.”

“Did she say what would happen if you did?” Caroline asked.

Barb shook her head. “No. But I’m wishing now I listened to her.”

Caroline stayed silent.

Barb threw another log on the fire. “Do you guys want to tell me the truth about why you’re here? I don’t think I believe that you were joyriding around on your snowmobiles anymore, after everything you’ve both said.”

Caroline wavered, then told her a summary of her story of Rob, his death, and her failed quest to burn the house down with gasoline, as well as Helter’s own plan. “We both want to destroy it. But Helter’s explosives are all we have left to try.”

“So you believe the house is alive?”

“I believe something evil exists here,” Caroline said, after a moment. “And that it never sleeps.”

There was a snuffling sound suddenly from the darkness in back of them. Caroline pointed her gun in an instant, then carefully shone a flashlight beam into the inky black above them. Several unnaturally huge wolves looked back down at her from a few feet away, their eyes reflecting reddish in the yellow light.

Caroline fired at one. It howled in anger as the bullet clipped its ear, then the pack loped away up the long granite staircase, sounds of their passage fading.

Helter slept on, oblivious.

“Do you think we’ll make it?” Barb asked.

“As long as our bullet and herb supply does,” Caroline said wryly, igniting some more incense.

 

Mac sat at his bedroom window, watching with interest as Chung Lai ran out the door of the main house into the night. After a few moments, the other girl, Delilah, followed her in a crouching walk, darting terrified looks all around her.

Mac had only ever let the women run around the main house when he hunted them, because he usually only had a day to enjoy the chase. With the weekend off, he had several days. It was time to try new things. Letting the island soften them up for him was the first.

He made sure the door to his room was locked, then set his alarm for one a.m. Grinning, he lay down to get a few hours of sleep.

 

Chung Lai tripped over a raised stone and went sprawling, the rough stone abrading her legs. She cried out, then bit her lip, cursing her noise. Keep quiet. Mac finds you, he’ll kill you.

She stood, then tried to get her bearings. The house was to her left. She was in some kind of weedy lawn. There was a forest in front of her. Water must lie beyond that, she could smell it, and hear some kind of faint water sound.

She looked behind her. There was a huge tower, some kind of building beyond that was being repaired, and a set of stairs leading down the opposite side of the tower. Which way was safest?

Mac was crazy. She’d known when he took her in the helicopter that she wasn’t coming back. Not that she wanted to. Back in her hometown, she’d planned to go to America, to be a model and have all the things she never would have gotten in China. Instead, she’d become an American whore.

She had to get off this island and start over somewhere new, find a new life. That asshole would kill her. She would have to kill him instead. What she needed was a weapon…

Something glinted at her feet. Chung Lai reached down and dug at the earth, uncovering a rusty metal spike a good six inches long. She reached to her waist, untying the strip of leather that had been her hand constraints. Carefully, she wrapped it around the steel, to give her a better grip.

There might be others waiting in the buildings to hurt her. She was better off running as far and as fast as possible.

Gripping her new weapon, she headed off into the long brush.

 

Delilah sniffled, edging out the door, her terrified eyes looking in all directions. God, where was she? This must be that wacko’s private resort. He’d let them go, so no one must be anywhere close by. She had to find a phone, call for help.

She didn’t belong in a place like this. She hadn’t belonged in the Asian brothel. But all they’d had to do was find out she was an underage runaway, and they’d had all control. She wasn’t going back to her bitch of a mom, who’d put her out on the street at thirteen after discovering her boyfriend masturbating with Delilah’s panties in his hand.

Don’t feel sorry for yourself. Get going.

Delilah turned and headed into the building under repair ahead of her, looking for a phone.

 

There was soft growl of warning. Chung Lai stopped instantly, holding the spike ready to strike. She was almost out of the waist high weeds. Just another thirty yards.

A furry head rose from the long grass in front of her. Then two more joined it, staring at her. The lead wolf gave another warning growl, then the three began to advance.

Chung Lai attacked, her lunge and swipe with the spike connecting the snout of the wolf. It let out a surprised whine, then jumped back.

Chung Lai took the opening, sprinting fast through the weeds. The wolf pack looked after her in confusion, then let out a combined howl, racing after her.

The woman raced to a small ground floor patio, climbed the ornate spiked fence to the second level, then ran up to a large wooden door, cursing and yanking at the handle that refused to open. The wolf pack attempted to get up the long circular stairs to follow, but the rusted metal gave way beneath the combined weight of the animals. They howled in frustration, then began looking for a way to follow their prey.

Chung Lai pushed the spike into the soft wood around the door lock, working it back and forth in the rotten plank. She hit the door with her shoulder. It refused to budge.

The lead wolf found a viable staircase at the far end of the raised patio, signaling his brethren with a howl. The group bounded up, the lead wolf a few strides in front. It launched itself at Chung Lai, lunging for her bare arm with its teeth. Instead, it got the metal spike through its eye socket, its triumphant cry becoming a gurgle of pain. The second wolf stopped, but the third launched itself at her arm, the long teeth biting deep. Chung Lai screamed, then jabbed at the attacking beast with her bloody spike. Again, the spike slid deep, the beast’s sharp human-sounding cry of pain eerie as it struggled to withdraw.

Chung Lai hit the door hard again in desperation. It opened suddenly, her body falling through. Quickly she pushed it closed with her legs, the wolf’s teeth shut out as the slavering jaws snapped shut.

Chung Lai breathed deep rapid breaths, shivering. She pushed up with difficulty and looked around. This was some sort of cellar. Old rusted chains were at regular spots on the wall. Something that looked like human bones lay in jumbles at the base, under the chains. But they were too small for adults. Were those the bones of children?

Something hit the door. Howling echoed, one cry blending with another and another into a cacophony. Chung Lai ripped her gaze away, then hurried to climb the stairs to her left.

Chung Lai shut the door behind her, then looked around. This was some sort of sun porch. Decayed remains of plants were everywhere, skeletal greenery with dried brown curled leaves and dead white moldering stalks. She hurried past it, then entered another room through an open doorway. This was a library, books reaching to the ceiling. She paused, scanning the shelves for a better weapon. But there was nothing.

The sound of glass breaking from the bay window behind her spun Chung Lai to face the descending shadow.

 

Delilah continued into the third ground floor room. This room was also empty. She hurried through the open doorway to the next one. There! Finally! This looked to be a carpenter’s workplace, with woodworking tools of all kinds and racks full of various woods, all gleaming. Piles of fresh wood swirls and dust lay in places, under vices. The air smelled of fresh shavings. She touched her finger to the nearest worktable. There was no dust.

There was a creak behind her. Delilah turned, fear rising in her heart as she beheld a white faced man in an old suit opening a cabinet, his eye glinting an odd grey white, as if he were blind. But the moment she moved, his head turned, tracking her.

“A guest,” he said in a pleased tone, his speech formal. “Come to admire my work?”

Delilah’s mouth worked but nothing came out. She backed against the table, spilling some of the tools. In desperation, she grabbed a chisel. “Stay away!”

“You can’t go,” the man chanted, advancing in jerking steps. “No one goes. Never. You’ll never go home. Never, never, never…”

“Stop it!” Delilah said, screaming as she stabbed at the figure. Her strike carried her forward, and she stumbled.

Nothing was there.

Delilah clutched the chisel, looking side to side, panting. Then the floor at her feet began to buckle upward, pushing up the plates of paving stone. Something was coming up from beneath, bending and breaking the squares.

With a scream, Delilah dropped the chisel and bolted. Hurrying, she ran through several empty rooms until she found a flight of stairs, then went up it, darting into the first room on the left and slamming the door. Shutting her eyes tight, she said a prayer, then opened them.

She was in some sort of very old kitchen, the walls rough wood, the floor bare earth. People surrounded her, their dress colonial period, their smiles friendly as they exchanged presents.

Was it Christmas? No, it was a wedding…there were the bride and groom.

Suddenly, a bell was gonging. Everyone froze, then erupted in a flurry of activity, fear on their faces. The men reached for old-fashioned rifles and bayonets, the women gathering the children and going to a small trapdoor in the floor. The bride clung to her husband, until they dragged her away, crying, shutting the door as her husband barred it from outside.

Shadows of native men in war paint swarmed into the room suddenly, the men fighting them. The scene became a bloodbath, opponents murdering one another, the dirt soaking up the blood. And when the last colonial man was on his knees, his throat slit, the few remaining shadows marched to the trapdoor and broke it down. A woman’s screams rent the air, then dozens more joined her.

Horrified, Delilah ran to the nearest window, pushing up the sash. Scrabbling with the metal mesh storm window, she pried that up, preparing to climb through.

White clammy hands closed over her wrists from the darkness outside, stopping her. Terrified, Delilah threw them off, then turned and ran out of the room in the opposite direction, deeper into the house.

 

Chung Lai braced herself for a wolf, spike at the ready. But the shadow was instead a ghostly woman, her expression pleading.

“Help us,” she begged with tears in her eyes. “Help us, please.”

Chung Lai, stepped back, uneasy. The woman advanced, bloody hands knotting in a stained handkerchief.

“Please, we are trapped. Please, we need help!”

Chung Lai hesitated. In that split second, the woman grabbed her, her transparent fingers digging deep. Images bombarded Chung Lai, memories of terrible events that were not her own.

The flames of a bonfire. The men were clearing land to build a grand house, land we’d claimed as our own. But bones were uncovered on the land, and evil things happened almost at once. The house was haunted, the workers said. There was whistling in the night, in the darkness. Cries for help, waking us from sleep, drawing us to the basement. Two women fell to their deaths that way, one of them being my mother, Gladys, when the stairs suddenly gave way. I myself narrowly escape death, when I am sent to bring up firewood and almost step out into nothingness.

I plead with my family to leave, to give up this land in the wilderness. We cannot tame it to our will. I feel we will all die if we stay here! But Grandmother will not let us sell and leave. She says it is our house, our land that many of her family died for it. She says our blood is in the earth, that it stains the bedrock, that’s why it’s dark red.

I know we are cursed if we stay here, that more evil will come. But no one will listen!

I leave the house the only way open to me, escaping into a loveless marriage. But nightmares of the house haunt me, of shadows with no name that come with every nightfall.

A telegram comes; Grandmother is dead, everyone with her dead in an Indian massacre. The house is burned to the ground. I do not want to return, but my husband says we must claim the land, that we will rebuild. The Indians are dead, he says, killed by troops. He says the danger is over.

A new house rises on the hill. Workmen discover bones in the wreckage. They remove them to the cemetery, building us a grand house of new pine and hardwood. But a ghost walks there each night, as the floorboards creak. His features are familiar, his eyes pleading.

Only I can see him, standing at the foot of my bed near midnight. He speaks to me, his only living relative. He tells me of horrors, of massacre and burning and screams and dying. He tells me of inescapable evil.

He is Grandmother’s son, her illegitimate child. He died here, in the basement, where he was locked up from the moment the house was built, in a secret room. He desired his half-sister, stalked her. Grandmother confined him, but too late….I am his child! A cursed being of incest, doomed to die here, like all the others!

I open my wrists, watching my tainted blood flow out onto the floor. I pray for the mercy of Heaven. I hope for peace in death. Instead, I rise a ghost, my bloodied wrists showing my shame! My father jeers at me. He says I am doomed! That like him I must haunt this terrible place and never enter Paradise!

The horrific knowledge hit Chung Lai like a hammer, causing her to falter, breaking the ghost’s hold on her, the images melting away to the walls of the room. With a shriek, she ripped free of the ghost and ran.

 

Delilah stopped, her chest heaving. She strained to listen for a sound, but heard only her own rapid breathing.

Carefully, she advanced, eyes wide. She was in some sort of a concert hall that seemed to stretch the length of the house floor. Music stands abounded, along with sheet music, and discarded chairs. Two lights burned at opposite ends of the room.

She walked to the first one, using its light to examine her wounds.

The soft sound of hauntingly sad music came from behind her.

Delilah turned, stumbling back at the sight of a young girl, her fingers wrapped around a silver flute. The girl ignored her, continuing to play.

“Who are you?” she cried.

A giggle erupted from behind her.

Delilah whirled, but no one was there. When she turned back, the girl was gone.

She hurried to the far side of the room, truing to watch for pursuit in every direction. There was something that kept appearing just out of sight, too fast for her to see.

She paused again. The giggle sounded again, louder.

She whirled. There near one of the stands was a little girl in a frilly white party dress, her face in shadow. She purposely opened the book to a spot, then ducked down with another giggle.

“What do you want?” Delilah screamed.

“To play,” an evil voice said, it’s rumbling tones loud in the cavernous room.

“Leave me alone!” Delilah screamed.

The little girl stood up, her expression murderously angry. She ran toward Delilah, shoving stands and tables out of her way with supernatural force.

Delilah stepped back, grabbed a stand, and threw it at the girl. It hit her square, knocking her down in a flurry of lace and petticoats. Then slowly the little girl sat up, her face now a wrinkled crone’s, her lips parting to reveal long thin fangs.

Delilah bolted, a chilling guttural bellow of rage echoing after her.

 

“Do you hear that?” Caroline said to Barb.

“Someone is screaming,” Barb whispered. “And those wolves are howling, too.” She turned to Caroline. “I think we should try for the boat.”

Caroline opened her mouth to protest. The ragged ends of her nerves stopped her, a voice coming up from within saying, you can’t win this. She looked down at the small pile of herbs, and the two boxes of bullets, both a fourth empty. They could weather one big attack, maybe two, with these supplies. But after that, they were finished.

Caroline fingered her cross. I never thought my faith would matter to anyone. And here it is, probably saving my life. But Rob was a believer, too. Why didn’t his faith save him? She bit her lip. How long does a blessing last? More than a decade of church school, and I’ve got no answer. But they prepared me to be a good Christian at Thornfield. They never prepared me to fight real demons.

“I know you came here to destroy the house,” Barb persuaded. “But Helter’s charges probably won’t work any better than your gasoline did. We need to get out of here, while it’s distracted.” She drew a hitching breath. “I feel terrible, but we can’t help whoever else is here now. We have to help ourselves.”

Only forty-eight hours ago, Caroline had been ready to die to destroy Latham’s Landing. She still was ready to do that. But Barb was right. Dying here for nothing wasn’t worth it. Next time, those wolves—or something worse—would kill them. They had to take their chances on the water.

“All right,” she said, standing. “Wake up Helter. I’ll grab the weapons.”

 

Chung Lai burst through the door into the night. Breathing deep, she tried to clear her head.

The house was trying to scare her. It was as evil as Mac was. She had to get out now. Chung Lai looked around, her gaze falling on an expanse of still water gleaming in wan moonlight. She headed for the water, uncaring there was no boat. She would swim if she had to. It was better than dying here.

 

Delilah staggered into yet another room, hyperventilating, trying to get her breath. She had run down flights of stairs, and was again on the ground floor. Ahead of her seemed to be the same door she had come in. Cautiously, she looked out into the night. There was no sound except for the soft rustle of wind in the pines.

Mac was in the big house, or he had been. A light shone from an upstairs window. There was probably a phone in there, but it was too risky to go in.

A small, unlit building was to the side of the main house, connected by a walkway. Delilah limped across the expanse carefully, heading for it.

She went through the battered half-door, then closed and locked it behind her. The top had no lock, but she closed that, too. She looked around, taking in many cupboards and cabinets, but no phone. But there were also only two high windows, too small for anything to enter.

She was safe here.

With relief, Delilah sank onto a stool, letting herself sob for a few moments.

Pulling herself together, Delilah began opening cabinets, looking for a weapon. She also was hoping to find some food and water, as she hadn’t eaten since her single pop tart breakfast early this morning. If Mac came here, hopefully he had some food stashed somewhere. There had been none in the helicopter with them. It would be so wonderful to taste some kind of comfort food, like a Twinkie.

She half expected the cabinets to be empty, or to contain torture implements. Saying a prayer that nothing bite her, she pulled out drawer contents, one after the other. Each contained paper packages, yellowed and faded, tied with string.

She tried another larger cabinet. This one held candles of all sizes, and a metal box of matches. Most of them were black, of some kind of thick tallow. Willing to risk some light, she struck one, lighting a candle. With the light in her hand, she continued her search.

Most of the cabinets held packages tied with string of all sizes. Nothing smelled edible, and most were moldy. Some seemed to have leaked, the packages damp and greasy. But finally, in a glass case, she found Mac’s food stores: pre-packaged Twinkies and other non-perishables, soda, and water. She let out a moan of delight as she broke open a package of cupcakes and devoured them.

After sating her hunger and thirst, an invigorated Delilah began opening the last cabinet. Instead of packages, this cabinet held pumpkins and squash, their skins firm as if they had just been harvested.

Why were these here? Halloween was over.

There was a noise from above her head. Delilah looked up. Bunches of herbs, covered with cobwebs hung from the ceiling. Yet several near the door looked new, their leaves still green but wilted.

Delilah turned, an uneasy feeling washing over her as she took in the many vials with labels on a crowded high shelf. Hemlock? Belladonna? What was this place?

There was a scream from outside. Delilah opened the top part of the door a crack, peeking out.

The other woman from the copter was there, running away from a pack of wolves. She ran out of sight, the wolves baying and howling as they gained on her. There was a shriek, then a chorus of howls. A sharp whine of pain shot through the night.

Chilled, Delilah hit the door, then hastened to the food stores. Carefully, she filled her pockets with extra cupcakes and Twinkies, cramming some in the waistband of her pants. Then she looked out the door again.

The night was calm. The scent of water was strong in the air, the sound of surf on rocks just audible.

Delilah grabbed the matches, and three stocky candles, and headed for the shoreline.

 

“I need to set the charges first,” Helter said for the third time, as he handed his own gun to Barb. “Just use it at point blank range, if someone human attacks. It’s not going to work on a ghost.”

“Understood,” Barb said thankfully, taking the weapon awkwardly.

“Then go set them,” Caroline said in exasperation. “But hurry up. We’ll wait for you in the boat offshore.”

Helter looked at her a long moment. “All right,” he said, shouldering a bag. “But if you leave without me, I’m going to haunt you. Please get what you can carry of my stuff to the boat. We need warm blankets and clothes mostly, in case the temperature drops suddenly. Otherwise if you can’t carry it, leave it.”

Caroline shook her head slowly. “I won’t leave you,” she said, taking off her extra rings with the crosses engraved on them, and her other cross necklace. She handed them all to Helter. “Put these with the most important charges. Maybe they’ll help.”

“Aren’t you the model heroine,” Helter teased, pocketing them. “Going to give me a kiss for luck, too?”

Caroline kissed his cheek. “There. Now get your ass moving.”

Helter took off toward the main house with two large bags, as Barb and Caroline began grabbing bags.

“Can we leave your stuff?” Caroline asked.

“I can carry these,” Barb said, shouldering her cameras. “We’ll leave the cooler. Can you get your stuff and his?”

“There’s not that much to get of mine,” Caroline said, looking through the remains of Helter’s packs and setting his jacket and the blankets they’d used to the side to take. “We’ve gone through most of the incense and herbs already. Most of Helter’s stuff we’ll have to leave.” She pointed to a small bag. “What’s in that?”

“Rolls of film and extra USB’s for digital storage,” Barb said forlornly, kicking it. “And not one picture to show for it. Some paranormal researcher I turned out to be.”

“You may get your chance,” Caroline said darkly. “We’re not out of here yet.”

 

The alarm buzzer sounded, startling Mac out of a sound sleep. He hit the stop button, then stretched.

One a.m. Time to have some fun.

He got up, grabbed his favorite serrated knife, then paused. If there were only the girls, that would be enough. But there was an armed man here not afraid to shoot…and Lease, that cocksucker, was still floating offshore on his boat. He wouldn’t be any help.

Mac went to his overnight bag, and unzipped it, looking from his rifle with a scope to his .44. Which one would be better?

He glanced at the other bag. The compound bow inside was for later, when only one girl was left and the man had been neutralized. He was just learning to use that. Don’t feel bad. It takes time to learn how to shoot a moving target.

The island liked to change locations of stairs and rooms, so he’d have to go slow anyway he looked at it. It was better to be prepared. He slid the holstered pistol on his belt, then grabbed the rifle, filling his pockets with bullets for both. Whistling, he left.

He smiled, when he realized that the tune was the one he always whistled here. Not sure where I learned it, but I like the melody. It always sounds right when I’m here.

 

Helter watched Mac leave the house, taking note of his weapons in glimpses through the pine trees. If only I had that rifle, I could kill the son of a bitch here and now. But it was impossible with Caroline’s handgun, in that thick cover. And wasting her blessed ammo might just alert the man and any friends he’d brought with them to what Helter was planning. If only he hadn’t given his own gun to Barb…

When Mac had gone, Helter paused before the threshold of the main house. This is it. He stepped inside the house, then hurried upstairs, following the man’s tracks in the dust. Hopefully there was another rifle, or at least another gun. It was worth wasting a few extra minutes to find out.

 

Chung Lai reached the shore, but there were only waves and stone, not so much as a stick of wood. There seemed to be no far shore, but it was hard to tell in the dark. The moon shone down, but the crescent light was weak, just enough to keep her from falling on her face. Cursing in Chinese, she followed the shore as fast as she could.

 

A boat! There was a boat tied to that dock!

Delilah stumbled on a sharp rock, tripping and falling into the water, her lighted candle going out with a hiss. She felt for it in the water, but it was gone. She struggled to her feet, pushing on.

Her footsteps were loud on the dock as she ran to the boat, trying to untie it. But the knot refused to budge.

Weeping in frustration, she pulled at it, the rough rope tearing her nails and hands. She quickly lit a remaining candle, melted some wax, and stuck it on the dock surface. Then she went to work, pushing then pulling the rope to unravel the knot.

The dock creaked with new weight, but Delilah was so intent on her work she ignored it, until a hand clutched her shoulder. She let out a scream before a hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her.

 

Lease started, then rubbed the sleep from his eyes. There was a figure on the dock now. No, it was two figures…

“What happened?” Drake groaned from the floor of the boat. He pulled himself up slightly, turning to face Lease. “Where’s Bowman?”

Lease had thought up a good story in the hours he’d shivered there on the boat seat in the dark. “There was a helicopter. Someone fired at us. A bullet clipped you, and another hit Bowman. He fell overboard.”

Drake stared mistrustfully at Lease. “Why didn’t you pull him in?”

“It was a head shot,” Lease said stonily. “His brains were out on the lake, Drake. And it was all I could do to pull you in before you floated away.”

Drake shifted, uncomfortable. “Thanks. Sorry if I sounded ungrateful.”

Lease nodded once. “It’s okay.”

“Where’s the bastard that shot at us?” Drake asked, rubbing his head.

“On the island with friends,” Lease lied. “I tried to dock there but he shot at me again. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

“Why didn’t you take me to shore?” Drake accused. “We need to report this.”

“Because I didn’t want that fucker to get away,” Lease said carefully, knowing this was the weakest part of his story. He had to hope that Drake really was as hot-headed as he’d always acted.” I knew you’d wake up, that you’d just gotten grazed. I knew Bowman was dead, that I couldn’t help him. I want his killer. I know you do, too. Now that you’re away, we can dock and get that son of a bitch.”

Drake stared at him.

“We have no ID,” Lease pushed. “The copter has to be there, someplace in the open. All we need are the numbers off it and we have our guy.” He purposely narrowed his eyes. “And if the guy resists us getting that info, then too bad for him.”

Drake stared at him.

Slightly unnerved, Lease played his last card. “There were several gunshots while you were out, in addition to the guy who shot at me. At least one person was screaming, Drake. I think that bastard is there chasing the kids. If we leave now, that guy will kill them for sure. Do you want that on your conscience? I don’t.”

Drake looked at Lease for a moment, then drew his gun. “Start the motor. Let’s get that bastard.”

 

“Shh,” Chung Lai said to Delilah. “It’s me.”

Delilah tried to hug her, but Chung Lai pushed her away. “Work on the rope,” she said, scanning the shore for any sign of Mac.

Delilah hurried, untying the last bit of knot. Carefully, both women got in the boat. Delilah went to the motor, but Chung Lai stopped her. “No,” she said softly. “We drift and paddle with hands. The motor will bring Mac.”

Delilah nodded. Both girls crouched in the base of the boat on their knees, paddling hard. The boat slowly moved out into the water.

Caroline and Barb crested the hill, as the clouds cleared above them, moonlight streaming down to illuminate the landscape with dim light.

“Fuck!” Caroline exclaimed. “Someone is taking our boat!”

A motor abruptly started, breaking the silence. A light shone suddenly on the water, a new boat rising out of the dark to bear down on Barb’s small boat moving slowly, two women crouched in it.

A shot rang out, the echo startling Cooper, who began to bark. One of the women in the boat slumped, the other letting out a scream.

“Get down!” Caroline said, dropping flat. Barb threw herself down over Cooper as another bullet whined over their heads, thwacking into a tree beside them.

Another bullet followed the first, Caroline and Barb cringing as Cooper barked crazily.

An answering gunshot from the boat on the lake rang out. Several more gunshots rang out, as the boat and island sniper exchanged volleys.

“We need to get back to the fire,” Caroline said. “Helter can find us there.” Barb grabbed Cooper’s collar and they crawled back over the hill, more gunfire echoing behind them.

“Wait,” Barb said, stopping Caroline. “We need a boat, or we’re doomed. We have to stay and see what happens. We can run if someone comes…or you can just shoot the SOB.”

Caroline shook her head. “Let them fight it out. Maybe they’ll kill each other. Now come on!”

 

Why the hell was Lease shooting at him? Or was it someone else in the boat? Mac took aim again, sending his last bullet toward the boat’s location. There was no return fire.

He reloaded the rifle, chambered a bullet, then took off for the shore. He’d gotten one of the girls. The island would bring the other back. The wind was already starting to blow.

 

“Did it just get colder?” Drake said, reloading his gun.

Lease licked his lips, afraid. There had been no wind a moment ago, other than a light breeze. Now the wind was steadily building, and white crested waves were beginning to form. The temperature was dropping. “We need to get to shore. A storm’s going to hit in the next few moments.”

“Go,” Drake said, slapping his clip in. “I’ll cover us.”

Lease said a prayer that Mac would look before he shot, then motored the boat straight for the dock.

 

Chung Lai paddled, cursing, but the island was already closer. Delilah was on the bottom of the boat unmoving, dead or unconscious.

She had to try the motor. It was the only chance. She pulled it once, then again, with no result. On the third try, it roared to life.

Crouching in the back, Chung Lai piloted the motorboat away from Latham’s Landing, out onto the lake.

 

Mac stopped, then listened. A motor was approaching. It had to be Lease this time. But with the gathering storm, the moon was covered, obscuring his vision. Unsure, Mac got into position behind a tree, his rifle at the ready. The wind continued to build.

The boat stopped alongside the dock, then two figures got out, the second tying up the boat. The motor died. But another motor continued to whine, growing fainter.

Those bitches were trying to escape him!

There was a sudden clap of thunder. Light suddenly filled the sky, streaming from behind the huge house with its belltower, illuminating the dock, the moving boat, and the lake beyond as bright as daylight.

The boat was well out into the lake, but it was fighting the waves, which were now several feet high, the wind a gale.

Drake paused, turning to look for the source of the light. “What the hell is that light—?”

The rifle bullet punched through his throat in a spray of blood. Drake fell to his knees, then collapsed, his blood red in the unnatural white light.

Lease brought up his gun, then dropped it as Mac appeared with his rifle.

“About time you got here,” Mac said, slapping Lease on the shoulder.

“I hope you were aiming for him,” Lease said grumpily, holstering his gun.

“I always hit what I aim at,” Mac said, slightly offended. Then he smiled. “You should turn and watch.”

“Watch what?” Lease said, turning to look at the lake. “Where’s the light coming from, anyway?”

“The Sea Room,” Mac said with pleasure. “It lights when something big is about to happen.” He pointed. “Look.”

That globe I saw out in the sea, when I saw the ghost ship. Lease stared, breathing out. His breath crystallized in the air, becoming ice. “Holy Shit,” he whispered.

Ice was forming from the far shore of the lake, the waves freezing in mid curl. Whomever was in the boat tried to avoid the rapidly forming ice, swerving to the narrow part of the lake, heading for Lease’s truck and boat trailer. But the ice encroached, trapping the boat in a small opening of water. A figure stood in the boat, as the ice grasped the boat with a vice grip. The boat stopped suddenly as if it had hit a wall, the figure falling forward to catch itself. Then the figure got out onto the ice, and began to run.

“That has to be Chung Lai,” Mac said with respect. “She’s got balls, that one.”

There was a howl from the island. Lease looked down the shore with horror, seeing a wolf pack there ten strong, all looking out onto the iced over lake.

“Are they going to go after her?” Lease asked.

Mac didn’t answer, he pointed. “Would you look at that?”

Snow was coming, the sudden blizzard obscuring the shore, and the vehicles in the lighted night. Out of the snow was coming a monster of white fur and red eyes, its fanged mouth emitting a roar of primal hunger.

Chung Lai stopped, staring. Then she held up her hand, making a fist.

“She must have a knife or something,” Mac said, in amusement. “But she’s got no chance against that thing.”

Lease shifted uneasy.

The beast attacked, swiping and connecting, blood flying in an arc from the woman. She screamed, and staggered.

There was a gunshot from the lake. The white beast faltered, then howled in pain. An answering howl broke from the wolf pack, as they turned and ran toward where the shot had come from.

“Those missing girls?” Lease said to Mac, making it a question.

Mac nodded, hefting his rifle. “And the man that shot at me. Come on. Let’s go say hi.”

Mac headed off in the direction the wolves had gone, Lease reluctantly following him.

 

Helter set the last charge in the main house, then set the timer, clocking it for two hours. He turned it on, then destroyed the controls, looping the gold cross chain around the wire, with the cross itself over the timer. He’d left the rings at the other charges he had placed in the basement, then left a few blessed bullets at the other charges on the two floors above. They would either go off or they wouldn’t. It was all they had left to try.

Helter took stock of his weapons. Those few moments in Mac’s room had given him a bounty. A compound bow with a quiver of razor head arrows, three boxes of rifle bullets, two boxes of .44 bullets, two serrated knives, and the bounty, a new .44 that looked fresh out of the box.

He’d taken them all in the bag with the bow. Helter couldn’t use that, but at least, Mac wouldn’t be able to shoot anyone, beyond the bullets he had right now for his rifle.

Helter headed for the stairs, setting his foot on the bottom one as he looked up into bemused red eyes. A man in a cloak waited for him at the top.

“Come up,” he said in a low tone. “You and I have much to discuss, Harold Skelt, a.k.a. Helter Skelter.”

Helter drew Caroline’s gun, bringing it up. Before he could, a bright light exploded in his vision, and he lost consciousness.

 

“Why did you shoot that thing?” Barb screamed at Caroline, dropping her digital camera.

“Because I couldn’t stand here and just watch as someone got killed,” Caroline shouted back. She lit the last bundle of incense herbs, and tossed her last powdered incense on the fire. With her gun in her hand, she ran out onto the ice towards a woman hobbling toward her, leaving a trail of blood. The white monster bear was still out on the ice where it had fallen, howling and thrashing, its blood staining the ice bright red.

Caroline reached the struggling woman. “Can you walk?”

“Yes,” the woman panted, her face contorted in pain. “Chung Lai.”

“Caroline,” Caroline said, handing her the incense. “Put your arm around me.”

Chung Lai smiled, then grabbed onto her. Together they hobbled toward the shore.

Barb stashed her camera, then went to help them. Carefully they settled near the fire.

“Why are you here?” Barb asked, as Caroline cleaned up Chung Lai’s wound.

“Mac brought me here,” Chung Lai answered with loathing. “He hates women. He disposes of used up girls at the brothel.” She spat on the ground. “He brought me and Delilah here in his helicopter.” She snorted. “I’m too much trouble. All for trying to get out of that life.”

“What did you do?” Barb asked.

“I turned in a cop,” Chung Lai said bitterly. “He helped the brothel stay in business, alerted my boss to raids, and took a payoff.” She spat again. “His name is Hawk Lease.”

A howl sounded. Cooper growled. The three women turned, horrified.

The wolves were back, twice as many as before. They circled the fire, staying well out of gunshot range.

“What’s keeping them back?” Chung Lai asked, her wide eyes afraid.

Caroline eyed the burning bundle of herbs. There was maybe fifteen minutes left, tops.

 

“Why aren’t the wolves attacking?” Lease asked, looking down with Mac from the hill far above.

“Don’t know,” Mac said, shouldering his rifle. He took aim at one girl, then another, then the last, pretending to shoot them. “I can get them all from here, but it doesn’t feel right.”

Lease shifted his feet. He’d known Mac was a sadist, and he’d figured him for a killer. But it was one thing to kill women who wouldn’t be missed, and another to kill women that would be, especially two that police knew were here on the island. Lease had to extricate himself from this somehow. But before he did, he had to cover his tracks.

“Kill Chung Lai, at least,” Lease urged. “She’s already injured, probably bleeding out. Let’s get the girls moving. They’re dug in where they are. That’s probably why the wolves aren’t attacking.”

Mac looked at him, considering.

There was a crack of ice suddenly breaking.

Both men looked out to see the ice breaking up, rapidly disintegrating. The white bear’s body slid off the ice, sinking into the depths. The trapped boat broke free, bobbing in the waves as it floated back to shore.

The women stood, clearly watching the boat as it floated toward them. Closer and closer it came.

“Aren’t there rocks there in the shallows?” Lease said to Mac.

“Not tonight,” Mac answered, raising the gun to his shoulder and taking aim.

 

Caroline paused, watching Barb’s boat float in. The temperature was warming. Dare she risk getting wet to grab the boat? Was it even worth it, after she’d just seen what had happened to Chung Lai?

Chung Lai pushed past her, wading into the water and grabbing the bow. “Hurry,” she said, beckoning to Barb and Caroline. “We have to—”

A shot rang out, knocking Chung Lai backward into the water, a spray of blood falling like rain behind her. Barb let out a scream. Caroline whirled and fired wildly. There was a second rifle crack. Another shot whistled down, hitting Barb in the shoulder. Caroline fired back again, then grabbed Barb, pulling her down behind the wall.

Chung Lai thrashed in the water, clinging to the boat, her right shoulder bloody. Another bullet tore into the boat’s side and out the other, the exit hole much bigger. The boat listed, and began to sink.

“Bastard!” Caroline yelled.

Barb hugged Cooper, then undid his collar, sliding her cameras onto it and refastening it. Then she took the cross from around her neck, fastening it around Cooper’s neck. She hugged him again. “Home,” she said urgently, drawing back. “Time to go home.”

Cooper looked at her uncertainly, then out at the lake.

“Home!” Barb commanded. “Now, Cooper!”

Cooper turned and launched himself into the water, paddling frantically. He quickly cleared the boat wreckage and the struggling Chung Lai, heading for the far shore, toward the parked vehicles.

“What are you doing?” Caroline said.

“It’s his signal for going to the car, at the dog park,” Barb said, blinking back tears.

“He’ll be killed,” Caroline said.

“Not if we distract the shooter,” Barb said with a lopsided smile. She stood and ran for the long staircase on the hill, clutching her shoulder.

The incense bundle went dead, the last wisp of smoke trailing up and disappearing. The wolves let up a howl, then several launched themselves into the water, swimming after Cooper. Two more went for the struggling Chung Lai, turning the churning water red and frothy in seconds. The rest of the pack came for Caroline.

She picked off the first wolf, her chest shot lifting the beast up and back. The others crept closer, feinting, and snarling. Caroline looked at Cooper, a good two hundred yards out, more than halfway. But the wolves were gaining on him, several already less than ten yards away.

She pointed and aimed. God, make this one count. She fired, the slug hitting the lead animal square, blowing his head apart. Cooper started, briefly went under, then resurfaced, and kept swimming. The other animals paused.

A wolf slammed into Caroline from the side, knocking her down and going for her throat.

 

God where was she? Why did her shoulder feel on fire? Why was she in cold water?

Delilah sat up in the half-submerged boat, blinking. She felt her shoulder, her hand coming away covered in blood. She struggled to stand, then screamed as Chung Lai’s ruined face grinned at her from beneath the water. A wolf raised its gory muzzle from shredded muscle and flesh, baring its teeth at her in a bloody smile.

 

Caroline grunted and fought, pushing at the attacking wolf’s head with her left hand. It tried to shake her, tearing her clothes and getting a mouthful of material. She grabbed the gun from her immobile right hand and fired into the wolf’s body. It let up a howl and fell over, convulsing.

A scream sounded. Caroline looked up, fresh horror etching her face. There had been another girl in the boat. Chung Lai had called her Delilah. She’d still been alive.

Delilah was in the sinking boat, struggling to get out, her shoulder a mass of blood. The wolf pack left Caroline, moving to attack the bloodied woman with the two wolves who’d killed Chung Lai. The first wolf knocked Delilah back into the boat, the others converging on her. As her screams cut off, the unnatural light that had lasted so long faded swiftly back to night, covering everything again in darkness.

 

Mac clapped, then let out an appreciative whistle as night fell once again.

There was a loud rumbling growl that seemed to come from everywhere around them, a warning inherent in the dangerous tones. The sound faded slowly, lingering.

Lease shut his gaping mouth, closing his eyes. At least Chung Lai was dead now. No one would be telling anyone about his role in the brothel business.

Mac snapped on his flashlight, then handed it to Lease. “I winged that one that ran off. We need to go after her and her friend.”

“What about the guy?” Lease asked.

Mac shrugged. “He wasn’t at the fire. My guess is that he’s already dead. Otherwise he’d have come running with all the screaming the girls were doing.” He smiled. “Are you ready to have some fun?”

Lease nodded, relieved. “Lead on.”

 

Caroline ran after Barb, both of them making it to the stairs, where they crouched low to the ground.

“That guy is between us and the boat,” Barb said. “Any ideas?”

“Cooper made it,” Caroline whispered. “He was near the far shore.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Barb said, closing her eyes. “I saw the wolves after him, how fast they were.”

“They turned back,” Caroline uttered, swallowing hard. “That second woman in the boat was unconscious, not dead. They turned back to kill her. And I shot the wolf closest to Cooper.”

Both women were silent.

“There wasn’t any way we could have known,” Caroline said regretfully. “And nothing more we could have done for Delilah if we had.”

“I know,” Barb said guiltily. She sighed. “At least the world will know about that dirty cop.”

“What?” Caroline asked.

“I hit record when Chung Lai was telling her tale,” Barb said. “I got video of it. It’s short, but it’s enough for someone to ask questions. There are pictures of the water turning to ice on the other camera, too. Both are waterproof.” She forced a smile. “Maybe I’ll be famous posthumously.”

Hope swelled in Caroline’s heart, making her scramble to her feet. “Hurry,” she said, extending her hand. “If that guy is coming after us, we need to beat them to the other boat. We’ll have to go the long way around the island, though.”

Barb took Caroline’s hand. “He’s coming. He purposely winged me, instead of shooting me dead. We’re being hunted.”

Caroline nodded, pushing away her fear and reloading her gun with shaking hands. Then she also loaded Helter’s with the last of his bullets, and handed it to Barb. “That guy who shot at us is no ghost, so these should work against him.”

“You keep it,” Barb said. “I never learned to shoot.”

“Point and pull the trigger,” Caroline insisted, making Barb take the gun. “Wait till he gets close.”

Barb nodded. “Okay.”

Carefully, both women made their way up the stairs, crouching low.

 

“Where are we going?” Lease asked, following Mac up another flight of stairs. “My legs are beginning to hurt.”

“Those women are going to try to double back and head for the boat,” Mac said with confidence, as he opened another door, leading into a large room with a carved fireplace. “Don’t worry, we’re at the top.” He turned to Lease. “I need you to head down in that grass, and wait for them. I’ll wait at the back of the island and herd them to you.”

“What do you want me to do when I see them?” Lease asked.

“Try to get them into the house,” Mac said, for the first time sounding unsettled. He began making a fire in the fireplace. “I think they do better in the house than running around the island. Once we get them in, we’ll lock the doors and keep them there. We’ll leave tomorrow morning, bright and early.”

Lease kept quiet. That Sea Room—or whatever he called it—going bright, that wasn’t supposed to happen, not for so long. It was because those two women almost got away. Whatever ghosts live here, Mac thinks he might have pissed them off. We both heard that growl.

“Maybe you should scuttle the boat, in fact,” Mac continued, striking a match. “You can fly out with me, when we’re done.”

Lease stopped. No way was he scuttling the boat. He was getting out right now, in fact, before this got any weirder. “Okay. I’ll go do that now—”

Mac turned to him, shaking his head. “No.”

Lease readied his gun. “But you just told me to—”

“I thought you were a man like me,” Mac said sadly. “But you’re not. You’re one of them.” He looked up at Lease. “Sorry.”

Lease drew his gun and fired at Mac.

The fireplace shifted, a clawed wooden talon with metal inlay stretching out to catch the bullet. It curled around the slug slowly with a creak.

“See?” Mac said, his dark eyes gleaming.

Lease turned and ran out of the house, Mac’s laughter echoing after him.

Mac turned to the fire, watching the dry wood catch. He felt rather than saw the cloaked figure materialize beside him.

“I’m sorry,” Mac said, contrite.

“No matter,” the figure said in rumbling tones with a wave of its clawed hand.

“I’ll get the women,” Mac assured him. “They won’t leave—”

“Go now,” the figure intoned sharply.

Mac scrabbled to his feet. Grasping his rifle, he charged out of the house.

 

Helter was dreaming.

He was in a forest, hunting with his father, a large deer in his sights. But when he fired, the deer ran without faltering, its coat unbloodied.

“There is much game here to hunt,” a feminine voice intoned.

Helter shifted, the dream changing. He was in a new house with his mother, his aunt’s house. They were hiding from his father.

“He won’t let me go,” his mother sobbed, as his aunt comforted her. “Everyone thinks he’s wonderful, but he’s a monster. Everyone respects him but they don’t know what he is—”

“Shh…you’ll wake Harold Jr.—”

“He treats me like a slave—”

There was a roar as the front door was hit with a sledgehammer, the wood buckling in. His mother screamed, and his aunt ran for the phone. Then his father was there, dragging his mother out by the hair, yelling for Harold to follow.

At home, his mother fixed dinner, her eye blackened, her lip still swelled and bloody. Harold finished as fast as possible, walking on eggshells as he tiptoed up to his room. His father was drunk when he was happy, and deadly when he was hungover.

The police arriving, asking to search the house, his father belting one, and then going for his gun…

Harold bit his finger in the dream, the nightmare of his youth dissolving to the walls of a library, books stretching up to the ceiling.

“You’re intelligent,” a voice rumbled. “There are not many who can break our visions with will alone.”

“The house was too big,” Helter said slowly, blinking in pain as he sat up. “That’s how I knew it was a dream. There is always something off a little bit in my nightmares.” He stared at the cloaked figure across from him, its red eyes watching him. “What are you?”

“We are all that remains,” the demon said, with a ghastly smile. “We are eternal.” The tone turned mocking. “Burn us and we will rebuild. You cannot harm us in any meaningful way.”

Helter narrowed his eyes. “But you can’t kill me, or I’d never have woken up.”

The demon shook its head. “We see possibilities with you, Helter.” The thing spread its hands. “Our current provider is becoming unsatisfactory—”

“The man in the helicopter,” Helter supplied.

“Yes,” the thing rumbled, its tone annoyed. “You’re better.”

“Better how?”

The cloaked demon paused, its words coming with effort. “More intelligent. More cautious. So we offer you this deal. Go now, and return with others.”

“You want people to come here and die,” Helter stated.

“More must come,” the demon said, its need palpable. “We must finish the building.”

Why was that so important, Helter thought, if they could always rebuild Latham’s Landing? “Say I left,” Helter ventured. “What if I never came back?”

The demon laughed, its rasping cough of a chuckle ghastly. It pointed its finger toward him. “You could not stay away. No one is that strong.” Its smile was ghastly.

“And the women?” Helter asked.

“They must stay,” the thing said. “That is the deal.”

There was no choice. Caroline’s God, please bless me. Helter fired at the creature. The bullet tore into the demon. With a shriek, it ruptured, becoming wisps and whirls of shadows. The impact blasted Helter back to the floor.

He struggled to get up, shaking his head. He was back in the basement, sitting in brackish water. The far wall was gone, in its place darkness and a corridor of shadows and algae. The bag of weapons was also missing.

Helter looked up frantically, eyes searching for his explosives.

The timer and charges were there on the far wall hooked to a wooden beam where he’d placed them, the water slowly seeping toward them as it rose. An hour and a half had passed, the time to detonation now thirty-five minutes. The small gold cross was gone, a gleaming pile of melted gold shining in the dirt below the timer.

There was a splash from the corridor, as something pale gleamed briefly in the darkness before submerging again.

The timer was waterproof. But whatever was in the water would reach the timer before it went off.

Biting his lip, Helter reluctantly removed the rosary from around his neck. “Thank God for plastic.” Placing it around the device, he climbed the stairs as fast as he could.

 

“Come on,” Barb said. “It’s not that much farther, and it’s all downhill from here.”

“If it’s the same as this morning,” Caroline said darkly.

They both crouched as a man burst out of the darkness, running for the shore.

“He’s going for the boat!” Barb cried. “He’ll take it first!”

“No, he won’t,” Caroline said murderously. “Stay here.” She took off running after the man.

Barb sank down to the ground, her legs weak. Who knew gunshots could hurt this much?

There was a noise, then a chuckle.

Barb looked up with horror to see a stranger dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt looking down at her. His dark eyes were maniacal, his days growth of beard scruffy.

Mac drew his knife, then threw it up in the air and caught it. A pulsating rock beat began from somewhere in the depths of the house, reverberating with hidden horrible meaning.

“Now the music’s on,” Mac said, his knife gleaming as he approached Barb. “Dance with me, pretty lady.”

Barb whimpered, then retreated into the recesses of the house as fast as she could, Helter’s gun forgotten in her pocket. Whistling his favorite tune, Mac sauntered after her.

 

Lease slipped and slid down the incline, hurrying as fast as he dared. Screw Mac and everything else, he was leaving now!

Lease looked behind him and then slammed into a man standing there. He scrambled up, staring at him.

“Pardon,” the man said politely, his eye sockets both empty, bloody holes where maggots played. “But I need some assistance.”

Lease’s eyes bugged out. He scrambled back.

“I need your eyes,” the ghoul said pleasantly, extending a bony hand. “Be a good soul and give them to me—”

It bared needle teeth at him.

“—or I’ll have to take them—”

A gunshot rang out, striking the ghoul in its head. It reeled back, falling to the ground.

Lease brought his gun up to see a woman approaching him. He quickly dropped it, when he saw her point her gun at him.

“Police officer!” he shouted. “Please, I’m on your side.”

She ran up to him. “I’m Caroline. Did you get Barb’s message?”

Lease cast his mind back. “A woman called in two snowmobilers who fell through the ice.”

Caroline looked him up and down. This was one of the cops that had come with Bowman, the night her stepmother had been murdered. She couldn’t remember his name. Why would a homicide cop go on a rescue mission in the middle of the night? “And they sent you?”

Lease nodded. “Me and two others. They’re dead. That man who came in the copter shot them.”

“What’s your name?” Caroline asked.

What had Chung Lai told them? “Detective Bowman,” Lease lied.

Caroline’s memory unfurled with his pronunciation of Bowman’s name. Lease.

“Come with me,” Lease said, offering his hand. “We’ve got to go—”

Caroline raised her gun and shot him in the chest, knocking him sprawling onto the ghoul’s corpse. “No, you’re not Bowman,” she said. “You’re Lease.”

Lease clutched his stomach, blood spilling through his fingers. “Please—”

“You came to my house that night, with Bowman and that other one,” Caroline said coldly. “You don’t remember, of course. I was nothing to you, the way most women are. The way Chung Lai probably was.” She moved past him. “You’re not worth a bullet.” She smiled bitterly. “Especially here.”

A white hand reached around, grasping Lease’s shoulder. He looked back in terror into the gaping eye sockets of the smiling ghoul.

Caroline ran down to the boat, Lease’s screams, and wet crunching echoing behind her.

 

Helter stopped, unsure. He’d come in the house easily, taking two minutes tops to get to the basement. Why was it so hard to find a way out? Ten minutes had already passed, ten minutes he didn’t have. God, please, please send me help. I’ve got to get Caroline, Cooper, and Barb and get out of here.

“You asked for help?” a sepulcher tone uttered.

Helter raised his gun, confronting the dark skinned man in front of him. “Who are you?”

“She called me here to end the curse,” the man said sadly. “To combat the evil here with my magical help. I was of the blood, and thought I could handle anything.” He raised his bony hand, several fingers ragged stumps. “Instead we both were drawn in to become ghosts to haunt this isle.”

“Help me, please,” Helter said.

The man pointed up. “Through that trapdoor. Hurry, before it changes again.”

Helter hurried to the ladder, moving quickly up it. He burst through into the main floor of the house, bolting past the roaring fire towards the already shimmering door. The man below smiled sadly, then faded away.

 

Barb pushed through the door, out onto a veranda at the back of the unfinished house. She moved to the ornate granite wall, looking out over a drop fifty feet into the churning waters of the lake, where large waves hit onto sharp rocks.

She was trapped.

“I thought that the dock was gone,” a voice said from behind her, impressed. “I had no idea this was here now.”

Barb turned to face the man with the knife. He moved toward her. Wait until he gets close. “Why are you doing this?” she pleaded, her hand on the gun. “I never did anything to you.”

“You came here,” he said simply. “That means you’re mine.”

“Please, don’t,” she whispered, backing up to the granite wall. “Don’t hurt me.”

Mac lunged with the knife, slicing into her. Barb cried out, feeling the blade slide deep into her side. She twisted, pulling the weapon from his grasp as she fell, her shot missing him and taking a stone chunk out of the side of the house.

“Bitch,” Mac said with a frown. He pulled his gun from his belt, pointing it at her head.

A gunshot split the night, knocking the gun from Mac’s hand. He turned, just in time to get another to the chest. He fell back against the wall with a surprised expression, sliding down to sit with legs askew.

Barb looked up to see Helter, a hand extended. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “We’ve got twenty minutes to get to the shore.”

Gratefully, she took his hand, then tried to stand. With a cry, she crumpled. “Leave me,” she panted, looking down at the spreading bloodstain at her side, and the protruding knife handle. “Take your gun…in my pocket…”

Helter picked her up in his arms, hurrying fast back the way he’d come, as thunder suddenly rumbled in the distance. At the doorway he stopped, overcome, instead of open space, there was now a long hall, and many doors.

Helter looked back at the veranda. The dark-skinned man who had helped him before was there, looking out at the rising storm. “Help me, please,” Helter begged.

A hiss sounded at his feet. A huge white fluffy cat stalked there, hissing and growling at him. An old woman stood there behind it, between the man and Helter, her eyes angry.

“Help us,” Helter pleaded again.

Her black eyes were solid as onyx. “Mind your business,” she said sharply over her shoulder to the dark-skinned man. “Say nothing. Or you know what will happen.”

There was a clicking noise. Helter turned, in time to kick at a human head with spider’s body cavorting over the floor. It lunged at him then retreated, furry legs quivering, human teeth bared in a rictus grin.

“Third door on the right,” Barb whispered weakly in Helter’s ear.

Helter ran toward that door, outdistancing the spider thing scuttling after him. He burst through into the night, running down into the grass. Emerging, he slid to a stop.

“Cooper?” he said.

Barb’s dog stood before him. But its expression was menacing, its hackles raised.

“No,” Barb breathed. “Not Cooper…”

The dog withered before Helter’s eyes, becoming a skeleton dog with skin. It snapped its large teeth, its fur glowing white as its eyes morphed into lined black holes. “Ours,” it said in a wavering moan, its tongue slavering. “Give her to us.”

Helter raised his gun and shot it with his last bullet. This time the dog wavered as the bullet passed through, then reformed, grinning, its tongue lolling. “I learn,” it chuckled, taking a step to spring. “Now I’m coming for you—”

Helter turned and ran down the slope, the dog snapping at his heels, cavorting in glee.

“I’m coming for you!” it bellowed.

“Helter!” Caroline cried from the dock.

“Shoot it!” Helter yelled.

Caroline took aim and shot at the dog as it launched itself at Helter and Barb. The monster let out a human shriek of pain as it ploughed into Helter, knocking him sprawling.

Caroline hurried to Helter’s fallen form, turning him over. A sudden growl sounded from behind her.

Caroline turned as the dog launched itself at her, firing directly into its wide-open jaws. It screeched and vanished, a sulphur scent pungent in the air.

“Come on,” she said to Helter. “We’ve got to get in the boat,”

“Not all of us,” Helter said sadly, taking his hand away from Barb’s neck. “She’s gone.”

“Lift her in the boat,” Caroline said roughly, blinking. “She’s not staying here.”

Helter lifted Barb’s body into the boat, setting her down gently in the bottom. As he straightened, a razor tip arrow punched through his chest.

“Helter!” Caroline screamed. She raised her gun to the rise as a low appreciative whistle sounded.

A scruffy man in a plaid shirt and jeans stood there, staring down at them triumphantly with glowing red eyes, a compound bow in his hand. He whistled once more, in appreciation. A yellow-eyed creature hopped at his feet, leering at Caroline, and stroking a dagger.

“Mac,” Helter gasped out, his lips bloody. “He’s one of them now.”

Others joined the man on the ridge with vacant stares, all of them looking down at Caroline. Lease was among them. Then slowly, they all began to walk down the incline, as Mac fitted another arrow to his bow.

“Get out of here,” Helter said, pushing Caroline toward the boat. “Get out of here.” Another arrow hit him in the back, and he went to his knees, swaying.

“Not without you,” Caroline cried, pushing him into the boat. Helter fell into the bottom onto Barb with a groan as another arrow thudded into the boat’s side. Caroline turned and fired until her gun clicked empty, her shots scattering Mac and the others on the ridge. Turning back, she discovered a stone snake, coiled on the dock near the knotted rope. It reared up, ready to strike, water dripping from its algae covered scales.

As it tried to bite her, Carolyn grabbed hold of the slippery writhing form, then threw it up on land.

A beeping sound emitted in strident tones from the boat.

A huge explosion rocked the main house of Latham’s Landing, engulfing the dry wood in flames. Several additional smaller explosions dissolved the smaller surrounding buildings, their fires adding to the conflagration. Crackling, the flames rose higher, spreading to the other buildings and trees quickly. With a satisfying boom, the bell tower fell, as Mac’s helicopter exploded from inside.

There was an inhuman shriek of pain and suffering. The wind rose, dark clouds beginning to form. A fog rose from the lake, reaching up like a wall, obscuring the burning house.

Caroline untied the boat, then went to push off.

A loud appreciative whistle sounded from behind her.

Caroline turned slowly, willing herself to see rubble. Instead, Latham’s Landing still stood, the fog parting to reveal the main house glowing white as bone in the darkness, the flames that had engulfed it slowly ebbing into smoke. The new house, the many verandas, and the belltower were gone, as if they had never been. From behind the house came light bright as daylight, the far off Sea Room a pulsating globe of light far away on the water.

“No!” Caro screamed, falling to her knees beside the boat. “No!”

Figures materialized out of the fog near the house, watching.

Caro remained huddled, weeping.

A lone figure approached her, its form becoming more and more like a man dressed in a smoking jacket and trousers. As it reached down for Caroline, she erupted suddenly, her wrist flicking the vials of holy water at the figure.

It rippled, disappearing instantly, the holy water scattering on the earth and rocks, where it began to smoke and steam.

“Damn you!” Caro screamed viciously. “Damn you to Hell!”

“Not Hell,” a low voice chuckled. “Though you are damned.”

Caro spun to face the man, her face sneering. “I’m not afraid of you, ghost. I’m here to end you, Latham!”

“There is no ending,” the figure replied, his tone both tired and old with the weight of years. “And the fire within you, Caro, will fan our flames.”

Caro went still. It knew her name.

“He waits for you,” the figure said temptingly. “Come and be with him.”

“No,” Caro said, shrinking back. “This is a trick—”

“No trick,” the figure said chidingly. “His soul is captive here forever, as is yours. Make the most of that, Caro—”

The figure’s hand clamped onto hers, the shock of the cold and damp making her gasp.

“—as we will make the most of you.”

The figure released her, then walked back toward the house, his outline blurring to become one with the fog.

Silence descended, the only sound the quiet lapping of waves at the water’s edge.

“Caro?” a voice whispered.

Caro looked up quickly, then around carefully.

“I’m here,” a voice called softly. “I’ve missed you.”

It’s not him. It’s not Rob.

“Better to be in Hell with the one you love than alone in Heaven,” his voice came lightly. “Isn’t that what we always said, after we made love?”

“That’s not you,” Caroline said, disbelieving.

“I love you as much as always. Stay here with me, Caro—”

“Stop it!” Caroline screeched, taking a step forward “You’re not Rob!”

A shot rang out behind her, making Caroline turn.

Helter hung over the edge of the boat, his gun slipping from his bloody hands. “Stop talking and leave,” he said weakly, as he drifted away from her, into deep water.

Caroline took off her jacket, and then waded into the water.

Helter tried to reach for her, then collapsed on the edge of the boat, blood dripping from his fingers into the water.

Swimming hard after the boat, despair overtook Caroline, as the rope moved farther and farther away. God, she would never reach it in time…

Suddenly, the boat abruptly stopped moving. Caroline swam up to it, and a ghostly figure passed it to her. Caroline clung to the boat all of her strength failing as she looked into the eyes of Bowman.

“You have to stop this misbehaving,” he said in a chiding manner. “You’re going to throw away your life, when there is so much more to live for.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Caroline gasped. “You aren’t my mother—”

The spirit morphed suddenly, its features changing and shifting, the masculine features becoming high delicate cheekbones. Sad dark eyes looked back at her from a familiar face.

“It’s you…you’re here…” Caroline whispered. All she was encompassed total shock, overwhelmed by emotion, afraid to blink and have her mother disappear.

“You have to keep going in the bad times,” her mother said. “More are coming. That’s what life is. You have to be brave and good, Caro. There is so much more to see than what you’ve already had. You’ve got to go on. Don’t end here, on that isle.”

“Why are you here?” Caroline wailed, scared, upset, and only wanting her mom, for this to truly be her mom.

“Because there are more than forces for evil in this place,” he mother said lovingly. “I will always be with you.” She let go of the boat with a swift push, then moved away. With a last smile, she slipped beneath the waves.

“MOM!” Caroline screamed.

Suddenly Helter was beside her, grabbing her hand. “Caroline.” He helped steady her as she climbed into the boat. She hugged him, trying to put pressure on his wounds. Both of the holes were seeping blood steadily, though the arrows were gone.

“Did we destroy it?” Helter said weakly. “I thought I heard the charges go.”

“Yes,” Caroline lied. “I’m not sure how you did it, but it worked.”

“Your faith,” Helter said with a smile, then he closed his eyes.

Caroline hugged him to her carefully.

“We never got a happy ending,” Helter murmured, putting his arms around her. “Sorry about that, Caroline. You deserved one—”

“Shh,” she said. “Save your strength.”

“Don’t worry,” he said weakly. “It’s just a flesh wound.” Then his arms went limp, falling from around her.

“No,” Caroline said tearfully.

A clap of thunder sounded overhead, and it began to rain. The waves rose, churning the water. Looking up through her tears, Caroline saw the fog clear, the isle of Latham’s Landing rising from the water, fingers of ice again spreading out from its base. A frantic look showed her the shoreline ahead was open, but ice was already forming on both sides of the boat, heading right for it.

It would trap her, as it had trapped the two women who tried to escape.

“Goodbye,” she said, kissing Helter’s cooling brow. She clasped Barb’s hand briefly, then dove into the waves, swimming hard for the shore.

The fire within her wasn’t hot anymore, but cold—the cold fury left in the aftermath of catastrophic pain. Everything else had been burned clean, leaving only the resolution to survive this night. Because her mother and Helter were right. She had to live.

Caroline staggered up on shore, the first light of dawn lightening the sky behind her. Her breath plumed in the frosty air, as she stood shivering before her car and Barb’s, turning to look back at the house. A fog began to rise, hiding Latham’s Landing from view, as the encroaching ice mysteriously stopped, leaving the last few inches of water open.

Cooper came out from behind her SUV, whining and wagging his tail. “You made it,” Caroline said, hugging him.

Thank you God, for saving me. I only wish you could have saved Helter, too.

Fishing in her pocket for the keys as she blinked back tears, Caroline unlocked the door, then started the SUV. Hitting the OnStar button, she activated the emergency help.

Opening the back door, she let Cooper onto the back seat, where he promptly shook himself.

Caroline gave a jittery laugh as she grabbed a blanket out of the back for her shoulders, then shut the door. “Let’s lock the doors and sleep while we wait for the police, shall we—?”

The sky darkened suddenly, the light fading. Caroline turned, the open driver’s side door falling closed with a click behind her. Cooper began to bark, pawing at the glass.

“Murderess,” a voice whispered. “Murderess.”

A row of yellow eyes, each easily eight feet up from the ground stared down at her. The beings had indistinct forms in the rising fog, their bodies made of darkness and shadow.

Hustermen hunt evildoers. They were made to guard against evil at sea…or any evil near water.

Caroline took a step backward. “No.”

“Murderess,” the voices chorused. “Murderess.”

They punish the guilty. They don’t see distinctions, only black and white.

Caroline’s eyes flicked to her wrist. Her handmade bracelet with her mother’s hair was gone. She turned to run, letting out a final shriek as the Hustermen engulfed her in living shadow.