The Seventh Sense: The Seventh Sense, #1

PROLOGUE

THE ARRIVAL

The asphalt exploded with a flash of lightening. Sulfurous smoke, like an erupting volcano, billowed out of the hole, widening as flames licked the edges.  The creature birthed itself into this world among the wails of the damned.  Coyotes howled in fear, as the town dogs, catching the aroma of sulfur and death, bayed in unison. The cavernous hole snapped shut with the sound of thunder.

The creature, older than time itself, stopped, sniffed the air, and knew others of his kind were close. The sign on the side of the road confirmed he was near his destination.  The streets were deserted, but what could he expect from such a one-horse town?

Butler’s Grove was a mediocre town, where nothing good had ever happened, unless you count the baseball player who made it to the minors. Nothing really bad had happened except the double murder-suicide that took place in the Butler House in the 1920’s. And what town doesn’t have its legends? However, because of its luke-warmness, Butler’s Grove was ripe for something huge to happen, and so it did.

He bent over, picked up a pile of dirt with a long clawed hand, sniffed it, and tossed it away with a snort of disgust.  Hating the smell of the earth, he still craved it.

Having answered the summons, it waited and watched.  Once again, he lifted his pointed head and sniffed the air and was slightly alarmed by the odor of Them, his kind’s eternal Enemy.

The wind shifted bringing with it the Commander’s voice and the all too familiar stench. Literally, following its nose, the creature crept through the town and towards a pond that was dangerously close to the Enemy’s stronghold.

A whole horde of his kind milled around like attendants at a congressional party. He, if such a creature had a sex, felt relief to see them in such casual repose. Raucous laughter filtered through the air. A great many of them participated in the ritual wringing of the ‘hands’ in anticipation of events to come. A few, recognizing him, screeched in delight at his arrival.

He was small in stature compared to the others, but welcomed, nonetheless, wherever he went. His title, Deceiver, was coveted by many.  Having the ability to deceive even the elect of the Enemy made him extremely desirable, especially to Master Commanders.

So you made it, the Master Commander uttered from the shadows.

Always when you call. Bowing his head in mock respect, Deceiver, kept his navy-blue eyes pinned on the indecipherable figure in the darkness.

Before he could control himself, Deceiver leapt back as the Master Commander strode forward with a growl of disapproval.  He swallowed hard when he recognized the MC (Master Commander) as Malechus. Although, never having personally worked the Master, he had heard the rumors concerning his infamous temper, and immediately regretted his insolence.

Malechus, overlooked his subordinates tone and threw a large muscled arm around Deceiver’s scrawny shoulders, nearly knocking him over.  Come to council, let’s talk, plan and see how we can take this town.

Deceiver allowed himself to be led to an area where several well-known demons and imps waited. Many of them stood up as they passed. Malechus sat on the throne he always carried with him on missions. He took notes of those who did not stand up for future references, and motioned for the others to be seated.

Now, this is a small town, but with plenty of potential. Give me ideas. How about you, Deceiver, what do you bring to the table? All eyes turned to the most prominent lieutenant in the group. Deceiver cleared his throat, angry at being put on the spot.

He is well aware that I just got into town. Let’s see, what do I know about small towns?  He asked himself, Aww yes...

Since practically everyone knows everyone else, it will be easy to generate devastating rumors, and cultivate them into disasters.

Excellent, excellent, Malechus said, somewhat grudgingly. Anyone else?

We can prod them into eating too much, an imp of gluttony spoke up. For such a small town it has all your major franchises for this part of Texas, KFC, McDonalds, Burger King, Dairy Queen, and Sonic.  It has several Mexican food restaurants, a couple of mom and pop eateries and several convenience stores. The imp was a rolly poly blob of a demon with a cherubic face.  This might have made him tolerable, except his skin looked like human vomit, and worse still, smelled like it.

OhhhKaay, not exactly a priority. Maybe you can get a human to choke on a hamburger or have a heart attack. Work with Serone on a crime wave of restaurant robberies. So, what about crime Serone?

Serone was a tall, muscled demon, who liked to dress in well-tailored 1930’s pinstripe suits. Well, the criminal element is mostly prostitutes and their johns, and junkies and their dealers. Everyone knows where to get sex and drugs, even the cops.

Even the cops, I like that. Titters of laughter scattered about the group. However, Malechus continued, we need to work on increasing crime. See what you can do, and Serone?

Yeah, Boss?

Have fun with it.

Yes sir, thank you, sir.

Now, how about the Christians? the Master Commander asked, successfully suppressing a shudder, although, many among the group failed in their efforts.

Well, sir, there doesn’t seem to be too many of those, reported a tall lanky demon wearing wire frame glasses on the tip of his snout.

What do you mean, Geronicus? There are churches everywhere!

Yes, so there are. Let’s see, there’s your diehard Baptist, your freewheeling Pentecostals, your middle of the road Methodists, and the Catholics steeped in ritualistic mysteries, Geronicus was interrupted by generalized laughter. Now, now, we are all professionals here. Eventually the guffaws subsided.

"Let’s see, where was I, oh yes, there are also your nondenominational churches and many of your lesser denominations. Believe me, the pews are filled to the brim. Oddly enough, though, there are very few that pose a threat to our side. 

Also, Butler’s Grove, to our advantage, has your atheist groups, humanist groups, pro-choice activists and New Age Philosophers which, of course, are in constant war with the others."

Hmmm, well let’s see if we can enter the fray and make sure that our side wins, whadaya say? Malechus asked, in a comeradic tone, but everyone knew his suggestions were orders.

Yes, sir, of course, sir, Geronicus said, clearing his throat.

Nothing good or bad has happened in this town, unless you count the baseball player that made it to the minors...

We fixed that sir, he now claims Lubbock as his hometown, a voice, Deceiver could not identify, cried out and would have continued had Malechus not cast the speaker a murderous warning glance.

As I was saying. Geronicus, you’re in charge of the churches, and the so-called believers. I’ll take care of the true Christians, he held up a talloned claw to stop any protests and continued, I know that’s your area Deceiver, but there’s a woman in town, already our ally, of course she doesn’t know it, and I don’t want her to find out. Use her as you see fit. She has great potential to do a lot of damage. Serone, crime’s your domain, step it up...

A hush, sweeping over the crowd like a wave, proceeded a stunning woman as she glided through them towards the Master. The silence was so profound that Malechus soon realized that he wasn’t the center of attention.

He turned an intended glare towards the silence. It melted into pleasure and lust when he recognized who the being that stood before him was.

Etiana, what a pleasant surprise. Have you come to join us?

The pleasure is mine dear, Malechus, she purred, as she raised a gentle hand and caressed one of his ram-like horns. Had he been a dog, he would have turned over on his back and offered her his belly.

Believe me, Etiana, the pleasure is all mine.

Tell me, Malechus, the she-demon switched horns and whispered into his ear, will you have me serve you?

Malechus grabbed her wrist and roughly pulled her close so that her lovely features were only inches from his hideous mug.

You will serve me and no other, he growled.

Startled as she was, she refused to cringe before him or retch, even though his breath, carrying the stench of the dead and damned wafted over her.

As long as you command me, she said bowing her head.

Do not forget.

Satisfied, he released her and shouted to those gathered, This town is lukewarm and that makes it fair game. Let’s go hunting!

#

As if in answer to the creature’s cheers, dogs all over town howled, birds flew from their roosts in desperate terror, trying to escape the assault on their senses. Many failed and fell to the ground, wings still flapping in death throes. Babies screamed and young children ran to their mothers in the wake of a nightmare.

#

An old woman sitting at her window shuddered, and pulled the drapes closed, as a teenage girl across the street cried out in her sleep, struggling but unable to awaken.

#

Down the street, a young boy, making a wrong move on the Game boy he wasn’t supposed to be playing, threw it in a fit of rage, and a nurse across the town, opening a glass vial cut her finger when it broke on tiny jagged teeth.

#

On the other side of town from the pond, a fortuneteller practicing her trade saw for the first time a real face in her crystal ball.

A thousand miles away, an ex-minister winced as a blinding headache chose that moment to burst into existence.

#

Deceiver looked around, letting his eyes roam over the army gathered and felt exhilarated. Even though the Enemies were nearby, they were weak, so he allowed himself to join the celebration.

CHAPTER ONE

Millers Pond was located a stone’s throw from the end of Elm Street where the girl lived. It was separated from the road by a wire fence that served to keep what few goats John Miller had left from rambling all over the nearby neighborhood.

Surrounded by several shade trees, the pond made a pretty picnic spot in the spring and summer.

The crowd watched gleefully, as others delivered Etiana’s assignment to the pond on schedule.  The girl paused to push a mischievous wisp of auburn hair, which she kept parted in the middle, behind her ear.  They cringed in frustration when her pixie nose, sporting a few scattered freckles, wrinkled in disgust. April had caught a whiff of the creatures that surrounded her.

She can smell us! an imp cried out in near panic and yelped when he was elbowed sharply by its nearest companion.

Shut up you fools, Alchemus, the Sargent in charge admonished.

Large sea green eyes flicked across Millers Pond. They were always expressive of what she was thinking at the time. This particular moment they stormed with fury. Her mouth turned in a dainty, fetching pout.

April often came to the pond, not to picnic, but to sulk, and today she was definitely sulking. She refused to accept any reason, whatsoever, why her mother would not let her go with her friend, Jenny, and her mother to the Lubbock Mall.

I’m nearly thirteen, she said aloud. She threw a stone in the pond and watched it skip.

As the rock sunk after its last hop, April lifted her face towards the cloudless sky, a hint of a breeze against her sleeveless arms. She had to admit that she enjoyed being by herself on this not so typical Texas south plains day.

April felt her spirits lift as the call of a sparrow grabbed her attention. She sat, crossing long athletic legs, under the elm tree where the songster perched.

After a few moments of mindlessly playing with the already deep green grass, she decided to meditate like her best friend Jennifer had taught her.  April passed several minutes in this silent state.

April, a voice called, sounding as if it was coming from a tunnel. This small sound threatened April’s peaceful meditation. She shook her head trying to clear it of the sound.

Help! Somebody help me! came a shrill cry followed by a splash.  This intrusive noise opened April’s eyes and jerked her to her feet.

Without hesitation, she ran towards the pond, stopping at the edge, trying to determine where the voice came from.

Please, help me!

April spotted a figure twenty yards in front of her, frantically waving and fighting the water. She hurriedly took off her shoes and socks.

Hold on, I’m coming, April shouted, wading into the water.

When it was deep enough, she dove and started swimming full speed with strong, well practiced strokes, towards the struggling victim. April stopped to tread water till she could get an idea of where to go next. She glimpsed fingers clutching at empty air moments before they disappeared, just a few feet in front of her. Taking a deep breath, April dove for the hand, instinctively making a blind reach for whatever she could grab, but came up empty.

Directly beneath her, she spotted a white face with cheeks puffed out in an effort to retain life giving breath. Swirling blonde hair enclosed and partially obscured the drowning girl’s face. The large blue eyes stared in silent desperation at her would be rescuer.

Her own lungs screamed for air, and her chest burned with effort of holding her breath. She made another frantic grasp one last time for the girl, only to brush against cold fingers that in the next instant fell out of reach. She watched in horror as the girl expelled the last of her breath. Time stood still as the bubbles rose to the surface. The girl squeezed her eyes shut in defeat, and sunk out of sight.

Heroically fighting the urge to succumb to the oily darkness around her, she kicked hard towards the surface, frantic to reach it before she was forced into taking a breath of water.

The same instant she broke the surface, April gasped for air. Drawing in the breath hurt like a flaming sword piercing her chest. She savored the stabbing ache realizing that the pain meant life.

She swam to the nearest bank, and drug herself out of the water.  Knowing it was hopeless, her heart urged her to get help. She had to do something, anything to keep from being overwhelmed by the shadowy darkness that followed her from the depths of the pond.

With superhuman strength, April pulled herself up and ran. The strain of water drenched denim dragging on her already tired legs caused her to stumble several times, falling twice, skinning hands and knees.

On concrete slabs that only moments ago were light and

agile legs, she trudged up the steps to the first house she came to.  Grace Whitmore, the owner, opened the door immediately.

Oh, my dear, what’s wrong? She asked, leading April inside with gentle strong arms.

Call 911, a girl just drowned in Miller’s Pond! April answered, struggling to catch her breath as she fell into the woman’s embrace.

The adrenaline that had carried her from the pond dropped her like excess baggage. The unrelenting black void finally caught up with her, engulfed her and succeeded to take her prisoner.

#

The sun, a giant ball, flaming rebelliously orange, rolled towards the western horizon. The moon full of an old man’s face was visible in the east, as April stood with her mother, Darlene, in the cool evening air.

For the last two hours, they had been watching the divers in full scuba gear search the pond.  Sheriff Tom Jameson stood beside them observing his men drag the pond.  From time to time a diver would resurface and shake their head.

He turned his attention once again towards the girl. Although the mother had not left the girl’s side since they had been there, he noticed she stood somewhat aloof from her mother.

Now, you said before, that you didn’t recognize her? He asked for the third time.

I told you I could see her plain as day, I don’t know how I could, but I did, and no, I didn’t recognize her, April answered, unfolding her arms so she could replace a straying lock of hair behind her ear.

Uhhuh, well, I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe the two of you ought to go on home. We have all the information we need. I’ll drop by in the morning and let you know what we find, he said, talking over the teen’s head, catching the mother’s eye.

Sure, that sounds OK, doesn’t it April? You need to go home and get some sleep, her mother said, brushing by habit, the lock of hair out from behind her daughter’ s ear.

Whaddaya mean sleep? I can’t sleep! I gotta stay here ‘till they find her, her voice, growing shrill, edged on hysterics. I can’t leave her again, I just can’t!

Honey, we can’t do anything more here. Come on, let’s go home. You’ve been through enough for one day, Darlene said, putting a well-meaning hand on her daughter’s shoulder in attempt to calm her.

April shrugged it off and turned to face the sheriff. She started to protest further, but was interrupted in mid breath, by the now tired and perturbed bachelor sheriff. Drunks he could handle. Unruly teens and criminals, at times, more often than not, one and the same were a snap. Anxious and hysterical females were another matter.

That’s right, April, you go on home now, that’s an order, he said, a little more gruffly than he intended. In a gentler tone, he continued, I promise I’ll stop by first thing in the morning and let you know something one way or another. What you did was a very brave thing, but you can’t do anything else for her.

In the morning, first thing, right? April asked, in a small voice hating the childish sound of it.

First thing, I promise, he repeated with a sharp nod of his head.

OK, I guess.

With her head held down by dejection, and hugging herself tightly, she turned and started towards her mother’s Toyota. Darlene followed.

The sheriff turned to watch his men. It was getting too dark for them to continue, and when the girl left, he would call them in. He might try again in the morning, but doubt he could justify the manpower it would take for a second search.

April reached for the door handle and heard her name whispered in the wind. She turned back towards the pond and a chill passed over her.  Even the leaves on the trees seemed to rustle her name and she knew in that moment that whatever she had seen in the pond, would not produce a body.

#

Early the next morning, true to his word, the Sheriff stopped by the Jenkins house. Before knocking on the wooden screen door that was badly in need of a paint job, he took off his hat and rubbed his hand through his close-cropped hair. He recalled how he had been up the whole night trying to puzzle through the riddle of what had happened.

April was convinced that she had seen another girl drown. Someone else in his position might think April was acting out, trying to get attention, but he had watched the girl grow up and had never heard anything negative about her. The mother, now, was entirely a different matter.

Unable to put it off any longer, he knocked, waited, and was soon rewarded with muffled sounds coming from behind the closed door. But no one came. He knocked again and heard more noises and what sounded like doors closing and things sliding over the floor.  He was about to knock again, when Darlene, harried and disheveled, opened the door, cigarette in hand, and motioned him inside.

The Sheriff stepped into the small living room. He ignored the untidiness of the room and the telltale signs of a quick, rather unsuccessful attempt to clean up.

Can I offer you something, Sheriff?

No ma’am, I just came to talk to your daughter, he answered. April came through the kitchen door carrying a bowl of cereal. I’m sorry, April, we didn’t find any sign of her.

I knew it, April cried.  Shaken, she dropped the bowl and ran down the hall to her room.

Neither of the adults moved for a few moments, then Darlene sighed audibly breaking the spell. On returning from the kitchen with a dishtowel, she began cleaning up the mess.

How did she know that we wouldn’t find anything, Mrs. Jenkins? Could it be possible that April might have imagined all this?

April saw something, Sheriff. She was too upset not to have seen what she said she did. I don’t know what she saw, but she was not lying. That much I do know about my daughter, Sheriff, she does not lie, Darlene answered, each word punctuated with firmness. 

Well, OK then. If anything comes up, I’ll let you know. He replaced his hat and tipped it in politeness. Relieved to be going, he left.

He didn’t know how he was going to write this one up. All those hours of manpower with nothing to show for it. Perhaps he would just write it up as false alarm. His intuition told him that the girl had seen something. He couldn’t prove it; then again the way things had been going in his town lately, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

April watched from her bedroom window as the Sheriff left. She was scared, and even though her mother had been there for her, and seemed to believe her, she felt utterly alone.

#

Grace, sitting by her window, watched as the county car went past. What was it that girl saw? Grace asked herself. Just the thought of what that answer might be made her draw her shawl closer about her shoulders.

#

The night before April tried to save a girl from drowning, Genevieve Bambioni was practicing for a reading.

After all, she was an actress of sorts and in her line of work she had to be convincing. Something had changed that night as she practiced with the crystal ball.

When she gazed into the ball, using her most serious demeanor, and called upon the spirits, a hideous face appeared.

CHAPTER TWO

A sound, like freshly laundered sheets snapping in the wind, silenced the usual sounds of the night.  A figure transformed out of the darkness, boot steps echoing on the pavement of the road.

A horn blasted from the oncoming semi-truck barreling up from behind the being.  The dark silhouette turned around and the lights of the truck momentarily outlined the form of an old man with a cane. He stood where he was, held out his hand, palm outward. A shimmer of darkness hit the machine, absorbing its power, and the truck gasped to a standstill just inches from the outstretched hand. The figure tilted its head and observed the occupant of the vehicle. Dismissing the human as insignificant to its mission, it turned to continue on its way.

The driver had other plans. Grabbing the tire iron, he kept under his seat, the large truck driver ran after the departing figure still outlined in the darkness.

What’d you do old man? he shouted.

The old man turned casually around and smiled. Had the man seen better in the dark, that smile would’ve curdled his heart.

I asked you a question, you old idiot, are you deaf? He asked, tapping the tire iron in his other hand.

I heard you, the being answered, without turning around. Well, what’d you do to my truck?

The Old man turned slowly. This, he answered, waving the cane over the truck, which immediately burst into flames. The explosion knocked the driver off his feet. The being, still dark against the roaring inferno turned and continued walking tapping the cane against the pavement.

When the owner of the truck came to his senses, murderous rage consumed him. Crying out in an animalistic howl, he ran after the source of his rage, yelling and waving the tire iron mindlessly.

Be still, the old man whispered, seeming to ignore the engine of death coming swiftly upon him. He held up his right hand over his left shoulder as if tossing away trash. The driver dropped to his knees, fell on his face and bothered the old man no more.

Humans! A stubborn, foolish lot, he mumbled, then held up his head and cried to the heavens, And You love them more! Why?

It was a question he had asked for more eons than he cared to admit and would continue to ask for more eons than he cared to exist.