Ash Return of the Beast

CHAPTER 68



Trail’s End Trailer Park…

Like a parent leaning over a sleeping child, about to gently awaken it with a soft whisper, the Doppelganger leaned over Pastor Pete’s limp body. “Nice try, you pathetic little piece of shit.” The voice, soft and low, was projected telepathically directly into the old man’s half-conscious mind.

A pitiful moan gurgled up from Pastor Pete’s throat. His suicide attempt had resulted in a bloody chunk being ripped from the side of his head but the bullet hadn’t penetrated the skull. The attempt wasn’t because he preferred death over life. But the unthinkable horror of the torturous death he would suffer at the pleasure of the one who was coming to kill him left him with no option. His eyelids quivered now, struggling to open. Confused and groggy, he wasn’t sure if he was dead or alive. Moments ago he’d been moving, weightless, through a tunnel, gliding toward the light. Now he felt heavy, his head throbbing. He heard the sound again––a low, soft laughter––somehow resonating inside his head. He managed to open his eyes and they widened in terror as the hooded figure, still leaning over him, came into focus. In that single terrifying moment, he found himself awash in a realization he could barely comprehend: not only was he still alive but he was face to face with the Devil himself.

***

Ravenwood eased on the brakes and brought the SUV to a crawl. She and Kane leaned forward, straining to see what was happening up ahead. About a quarter mile down the road, several amber lights were flashing. Suddenly, the road dipped and they lost sight of the lights. A moment later they came up over the rise and they could see two big white trucks were blocking the street.

Kane slammed his fist on the armrest. “Jesus Christ. What the f*ck is this?”

“Looks like D.O.T. vehicles.”

As they got closer they could see what had happened. A huge tree had fallen across the road and a Department of Transportation crew was on the scene. A flagman in a hardhat approached with a cigarette dangling from his lips. Ravenwood brought the SUV to a stop and let her window down.

“FBI,” she said, flashing her ID. “We have to get through.”

The man shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am. No can do. There’s no way around this sucker.”

***

The Doppelganger stepped back from the bloody bed and commanded the old man to get up.

Pastor Pete struggled to move. The excruciating pain, combined with the voice inside his head, was more than he could bear. He wanted to die––right there––right then––just close his eyes and return to the light. Dear God, have mercy on my soul.

“Here,” the Doppelganger said, “let me help you.”

Without touching the old man, the Doppelganger slowly raised it’s right arm and the old man’s upper body began to rise up from the bed until he found himself in a sitting position. Then he felt his legs moving, his body was turning. Now he was sitting on the edge of the bed. The sins of his past had come to wreak revenge. Cold, shivering, frightened, unsure of what was about to happen next, the only thing he knew for certain was that his time had come and the torture was about to begin.

***

Ravenwood surveyed the situation. The flagman was right. Steel guardrails lined both sides of the road. Even if there was a way to get the vehicle over the guardrails, the rails themselves were butted up against a swath of massively thick overgrowth with the forest of trees just beyond that.

Kane was fuming. He stepped out of the SUV and approached the flagman. “How long?” he asked.

The man flicked his cigarette onto the ground and crushed it out with a twist of his work boot. “Say again?”

Kane tried not to explode. “How long before you get the goddamn tree out of the way?”

“We just got here. I dunno. An hour, maybe? You see the size of that sucker?”

Kane muttered something and climbed back into the SUV.

Ravenwood leaned out the window. “What’s the closest alternate route?”

The flagman pushed his hardhat back and scratched his head. “About a mile back the way you came. There’s an abandoned logging road. Kinda hard to see. It’ll be on your right. You can take that. It’ll circle up and around this way,” he motioned the direction with his hand, “and bring you back down to this same road about a mile or so up ahead of where we are here. Kinda rough, though. Probably take you fifteen, twenty minutes.”

Ravenwood thanked the man, turned the SUV around and sped off to find the logging road.

“Unbelieveable,” Kane mumbled under his breath. “Just f*cking unbelieveable.”

Ravenwood didn’t hear him. She was lost in her own thoughts. Was the fallen tree simply an unfortunate coincidence or could Crowley’s magick have been responsible? Or…worse yet…were she and Kane already too late? Had Kutulu been awakened? Had the Gate been opened? Was the tree the first sign that the offspring of the Old Ones had been loosed from the Underworld?

“Hold it,” Kane shouted. “Back up. We just passed the logging road.”

Ravenwood brought the SUV to a screeching halt and started backing it down the road. “How far?”

“Stop,” Kane said. “Right there.” He pointed to a gap in the guard rails.

Ravenwood cranked the wheel and positioned the vehicle in front of the entrance and paused. The light from the headlamps seemed to get lost in the dense forest ahead. Uncharacteristically, she had managed to spook herself with her previous train of thought. What might be waiting for them up there in the woods?

Kane’s patience, or what had thinly passed for it up to this point, had completely run out. He barked at her. “The hell are you waiting for? Drive!”

***

“Now, before we continue,” the Doppelganger said, “there’s the little matter of something you have that belongs to me.” The voice was calm, unnervingly so.

Before the old man could reply, his trembling body slid, slowly, unwillingly––completely beyond his control––off the edge of the bed. He toppled over, face first, onto the floor. The crushing impact broke his nose and snapped an upper tooth clean off at the gum. Blood spurted ferociously from his mangled face onto the dusty beige shag carpet. The fibers of the carpet sucked the blood up like a thirsty vampire. A weak, pleading sound gurgled up from the old man’s throat.

Deep within the cowled shadows of the hooded robe, a spiteful grin crawled its way across the Doppelganger’s hidden face as the old man writhed in pain.

***

At the Inner Sanctum, within the hallowed darkness of Moorehouse Manor, Rye Cowl sat cross-legged in the center of the Lucifer Seal, absorbing every blessed moment of pleasure from these first few moments of his revenge. His Someday had arrived.

***

Ravenwood put the SUV into gear and slowly proceeded to enter the logging road. Broken twigs and gravel crunched loudly under the weight of the vehicle as it crawled along, bumping and jostling its way over the ruts into the inky black woods. As she fought the wheel to keep the SUV from veering off course, a large dark thing appeared briefly in the headlight beams and then darted out of sight. She slammed on the brakes. “What the hell was that?”

The sudden stop thrust Kane forward, his seat belt yanked him back. “What the hell are you doing? What was what?”

“You didn’t see that? How could you not see that? It was right there.” She was nearly shouting.

“A bear. A goddamn Sasquatch. Your imagination. How the hell do I know? Can we just go, please? Like, now?”

***

Pastor Pete crawled at a snail’s pace across the floor toward the bottom drawer of the dresser. Every movement brought a jolt of pain, his frail joints burned, his sagging muscles quivered under the strain. After what seemed like an endless journey, he reached the drawer and, with great effort, pulled it open. He knew what the Doppelganger had come for.

The Doppelganger stood over the old man, watching him like a heartless hunter delighting in the struggling movements of his wounded prey.

The preacher reached into the drawer, his arthritic fingers painfully groping, fumbling through various items until he found the coin. He held it up and the Doppelganger snatched it from his trembling hand.

Turning it over and over, The Doppelganger examined the long lost prize and spoke reverently, admiring it as if it were the most rare of precious gems. “A beautiful thing, isn’t it? Brings back memories. Remember that beautiful summer day you had me tied down to your bed? You did things to me. Remember that? I still remember what you told me. Do you remember what you told me?”

The old man whimpered, sniveling like a baby, tears welling up in his eyes. “I… I don’t…”

“Oh, sure you do. You said if I told anyone, you would… what? Remember? Think. What did you tell me?”

The old man could barely get the words out between heaving sobs. “I…I said… I would…ki…ki…”

The Doppelganger gave a quite laugh of indifference and slipped the coin into the pocket of the robe. “You would kill me. Yes. Well, you won’t have to kill me. I never told anyone. Not a living soul. Ever. So, you see, I kept my end of the bargain. And now I’m going to make a bargain with you.”

“A… a bargain?”

“Yes. You see, there’s one more thing I need from you. You give it to me and I will let you live. More than that. I’ll even offer you protection––sanctuary, you might call it––from what’s coming.”

“I don’t understand. What… what’s… coming?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“What do you…” the old man choked the words out, “…what do you want?”

“I need you to give me the book. I need the book of keys.”

“Book? Keys? I… I don’t know what you mean.”

“The Keys of the Gate Keeper. You inherited it from your father. Remember?”

“My...father? Why would my––”

“Let me jog your memory.”

The hooded figure extended a hand, touching the preacher on the forehead. The touch was gentle but it sent a shockwave coursing down the old man’s spine. His body lurched and fell. His mind lit up as if struck by a bolt of lightening. In that brief, intense moment of illumination, a memory flashed through his brain. He remembered going through the various things his father had left for him. He remembered the cardboard box packed full of books. He recalled one of the titles: The Keys of the Gate Keeper. He’d paid it no attention at the time but now it seared itself into his consciousness. “Yes, yes, I…I remember it now.”

“Of course you do. Now get it for me.”

“I…I can’t. It’s…not here.”

“You don’t want to play games with me, old man. I’m offering to spare you from an agony beyond your comprehension. I want the book. Now.”

Pastor Pete struggled to move his feeble body but it wouldn’t respond. “I swear… I swear to God. I…I don’t have it.”

The Doppelganger bellowed. “What do you mean you don’t have it?”

The old man cringed as the voice exploded inside his head. He cried. “Dear God, please…”

“I’m your god, now, you piece of shit. The book. Where is the god damned book?”

The old man trembled. “It’s…it’s at my son’s house. All of my father’s things… I didn’t have room here…”

“Your son? Who the hell is your son?”

“Bri…Brian.”

The Doppleganger was silent for a moment, processing the unexpected information. “Your son is Brian Kane? The god damned cop who’s been trying to f*ck everything up?”

The old pastor nodded.

The Doppelganger chuckled. “Well now, isn’t that just ironic as all hell. Where does he live? Where is his house?”

“He doesn’t… live there anymore.”

“What?”

“Linda, his ex-wife… and Sarah… his daughter…they…”

“They live there? Alone?”

The old man nodded.

“And the book… it’s there?”

The look on the old man’s face told the Doppelganger the answer was ‘yes’. “You’re doing very well,” the Doppelganger said. “Now, you’re going to tell me the exact location of that lovely little house.”