Valley of the Shadow (34 page)

    
“I just don’t want us to be enemies anymore. I… I love you, Mitch.”

    That call had come out of the blue. Out of nowhere. His father had dropped the news that he was dying of cancer. At the time, Mitch had tried to block it out of his thoughts. He was too occupied with his own plans to be bothered.

    But his father had wanted to mend their relationship and Mitch had not wanted anything to do with that. He’d gotten comfortable hating his father. It had felt too good to give up.

    Now those words stung in his memory. He would never be able to respond to them. He’d never be able to tell his father that he’d forgiven him and that he was no longer filled with hate.

    That beast was dead. Killed at the foot of a cross.

    Though now his peace was invaded by something else. Regret. All those years wasted in self-righteous anger and the harboring of a grudge. And he’d blown the one chance he’d had to fix it. His eyes stung and his chest ached.

    Mitch also wondered at the vision he’d had of his mother. Had that been real? Had he actually spoken with her? Or was it something else?

    He’d never know for sure. But he thought of all the things he wished he had said to her as well.

    How sorry he was.

    Mitch found himself weeping now. But in his sorrow came a quiet feeling of peace. That maybe some good might still come of all this.

    He gazed out over the field of stars, trying to recall Nathan’s words. This was the place dying souls appeared. There was some kind of portal here. And he would have to pass through it when it opened in order to get back into his own body. If he was to ever have a chance.

    Then a cold wind gusted from the tunnel behind him. And on the wind came the sounds of whispering.

    Mitch turned to see the shadowy forms of Reapers emerging from the tunnel. Dozens of them. They lurched out into the open, fanning out on either side of the tunnel.

    Mitch searched his pockets and found the remaining stub of chalk. He scrawled a quick line with the last of it on the ground between himself and the growing crowd of Reapers. In moments he had sectioned off a twenty-foot area at the edge of the cliff. The blue line smoldered and glowed. But now he was trapped. The Reapers gathered around the wall of light, baring their teeth and hissing.

    Then a voice echoed from the darkness.

    “Just when you thought you were free,” it said, “the harsh reality of truth comes crashing down on you.”

    Howard stepped out from the tunnel, smiling.

    “How did you… ?” Mitch stammered. His peace had dissolved into fear. “How did you get past the chalk?”

    Howard shrugged. “You didn’t think that would keep us out forever, did you? I think you overestimate the power of that substance.”

    “Well, it’ll hold you off a little longer.”

    Howard laughed and shook his head as he shouldered his way through the crowd of Reapers. He stood at the edge of the chalk line for a moment. “Yes… and no.”

    Then he stepped over the line. Nothing happened.

    Mitch gasped, backing to the edge of the cliff.

    Howard patted his chest. “Mr. Bristol’s accommodations have proved helpful in this regard. You may recall his spirit is in the same state as yours. Not so affected by this defense as the rest of us.”

    Mitch struggled to control his fear. That night in the hotel, Nathan had explained the physics behind the chalk. Or tried to. Most of it was over Mitch’s head, but he did recall Nathan had said there was a reason why the chalk had no effect on them. It obviously held true for Howard as well. He had not yet entered that final stage of death either.

    Mitch glanced over the edge of the cliff. He had no idea what he was waiting for. He didn’t know what these portals would look like. He just assumed he’d know when he saw it.

    “Come now, Mitch,” Howard said. “I’ve pursued you over a great distance. Doesn’t that indicate my intentions? My concern is for you. We all need a little companionship.”

    “You want to keep me here. You lied to keep me here.”

    “Careful not to throw too many stones in your house of glass. Are you so pious now that you can’t forgive an old man his indiscretions? Come back with us, won’t you? It’s been so long since we’ve had a good game of cribbage.”

    “I don’t think so. I think you can just find yourself someone else to trap.”

    Howard’s expression darkened. His eyes glowed white against a deepening scowl. His face continued to contort into a mask of malice. So much so that now it no longer looked human. He spread his arms out and his clothes darkened. A black mist swirled around his limbs, coiling around him like a cloak. He rose, too, growing taller until he loomed over Mitch. His arms elongated and spread out like great wings. His lips peeled back and his jaws opened. Black saliva dripped down and Mitch found himself staring at Death face-to-face.

    “I am the lord of this world. I am sovereign here.” A deep, inhuman voice rolled like thunder. Like a thousand voices speaking as one.

    A dark terror clutched Mitch’s heart. As if Death had somehow reached into his mind and filled it with dread. Mitch shrank back, his heart pounding. But in his terror one memory returned to him. Something Nathan had said. That Mitch was safe until he entered the final stage of death—the purple rash. Until then they couldn’t touch him. They couldn’t do anything.

    
“Until then, it’s all just a show.”

    Then he recalled what Howard had said moments earlier. A good game of cribbage. Mitch gathered his strength again and straightened up. In all the years he’d played cribbage with Howard, the old farmer had never won a game.

    Not a single game.

    Mitch braced himself against the demonic creature’s fury. “You don’t have any authority over me,” he said. “You can’t touch me.”

    Death reared back and roared. A stream of black mist blasted down from its elongated claws, striking Mitch squarely in the chest.

    Mitch’s body seized, racked with pain. His mind flooded again with darkness and terror. Thick and heavy and impenetrable.

    Death leaned its head down. “I have more power than you can possibly imagine,” it growled. “I can show you what lies beyond this place. What you are destined for. Darkness so deep and endless that you will never find your way out. You have no concept of the horrors of hell.”

    Death released its grip and Mitch sank to his knees, gasping for breath. The image was more than Mitch could handle. The terror of it left him physically shaken and paralyzed. His limbs felt heavy, and though he struggled, he couldn’t move.

    Then below him, a light began to shine. A small spark appeared amid the stars, spinning in the darkness of space. It grew and spread until Mitch could see it clearly. A spiraling vortex of light. The center glowed brilliant white.

    It was beautiful, and for a moment, it drew Mitch’s gaze further inside. There in the middle, Mitch saw something moving.

    Something was emerging.

CONNER LAY, DAZED, IN THE DIRT.
His upper back burned like someone had taken a white-hot branding iron and seared his flesh. For a moment, his arms and legs went numb. The ground was spinning and he could hear himself groaning.

    A torrent of curses continued from the cabin behind them. Conner swore at himself. How could he have been so stupid as to take his eyes off the old woman or the gun? He’d been so relieved to see Amber that he’d lost all sense of caution. Pain racked his body and he struggled to get back to his feet.

    Suddenly Amber was there, tugging at his arms. Pulling him up again.

    Unable to move his arm and not knowing how serious his wounds were, Conner hobbled on through the forest. His breath came in painful, sharp gasps. He pointed with his left hand, in the direction of the farm, but Amber seemed to remember the way.

    “Come on!” she shouted at him, wrapping her arm around his waist. “Keep moving!”

    Behind them, now a little more distant, came a third blast. The old woman’s shriek echoed in the darkness like something inhuman.

    Conner’s mind flooded with thoughts as he stumbled forward. His lungs burned and he felt like he might collapse any moment. They pushed on through the darkness—no lantern, no flashlight. Branches slapped at them, clawing at their faces. Conner hoped that Katie might be somewhere ahead. He hoped she was going in the same direction.

    Their flight through the woods seemed to take forever. Three more shots blasted from the forest behind them. Conner could hear the pellets cracking into the wood of the trees around them.

    Then they were free. The trees and brush gave way to the open field so suddenly that Conner lost his balance and stumbled into the dirt. A sharp bolt of pain seemed to slice through his ribs and he cried out.

    For a moment, he lay facedown in the field. The ground was spinning and muffled noises echoed far off. He could hear someone pleading with him, and he knew Amber was tugging at his arm again, trying to get him back on his feet. He sucked in agonizing gasps of air.

    Branches snapped somewhere behind him.

    “Come on! Come on!”

    Conner rolled to his side, planted his one good arm on the ground, and pushed. First to his knees, then to his feet.

    The next thing he knew, he was hobbling across the open field. He could see the porch lights of the Bristol house ahead. He suddenly felt exposed. They were free targets here in the open. Once Mrs. Bristol emerged from the woods.

    He hurried, pushing his legs harder. His thigh muscles cramped. Conner stumbled and felt himself falling.

    Then another arm slid under his, propping him up again. He looked over to see Katie now, holding him up as well. The three of them shuffled across the field, past the barn, the house, and down the long front drive.

    They came at last to the road and Conner motioned in the direction of his car. They hurried off down the highway as fast as Conner could hobble. He barely managed the last several yards. He could no longer move his legs. His arms were numb as well. And he knew why.

    He was bleeding. In the dark, he couldn’t see it, but he could feel the warm wetness of his shirt beneath his jacket. He could feel blood trickling down his spine, dripping down his legs.

    They came to the spot where he’d left his car. Conner had half expected it to be gone—that maybe Owen had discovered it during his search for Amber while Conner had been unconscious. But it was still there.

    Every breath brought a new jolt of pain to his back and ribs. He fumbled for his keys but could barely move his hand.

    “Pocket…” he gasped. “Keys.”

    Amber found the keys, unlocked the doors. Conner collapsed onto the backseat, growing numb and cold. His head swam and he now felt himself sinking into darkness.

    “Bleeding… ,” he thought he heard himself say. “Bleed-… ing…”

    The interior of the car seemed to dissolve away, and darkness folded around him like a curtain closing on a stage.

    Then suddenly he saw Marta in front of him. Rachel was standing beside her. Only Rachel looked younger—like during those years when she wore pigtails. The sun was shining again and…

    Conner gasped.

    And Matthew jumped out from behind them. Tousled blond hair. Mischievous grin.

    “Boo!”

    Conner laughed. Matthew just stood there, hands on his hips, grinning back at him. Sunshine felt warm on Conner’s back, and he was suddenly aware that he no longer felt any pain. His family was all here, smiling. And he felt the distinct sensation of being home. Then they all looked up, beyond Conner. Past him. Behind him, the sunlight was growing brighter.

    And Conner turned around.…

MITCH WATCHED AS THE OBJECT
emerged completely from the glowing vortex directly below him. It was another spirit passing into eternity. It shone brightly against the background of stars and glided straight up the cliff face toward him.

    As it drew closer, it seemed to slow down, as if it saw Mitch lying helpless on the ledge. It was a being of pure light. It ebbed and flowed as it approached Mitch. As it did, it seemed to congeal. The light formed itself into a human shape.

    Mitch watched, unable to move. The spirit’s figure took on more detail until Mitch sucked in a gasp. A face was forming.

    But… but Mitch had seen it before. He recognized it. He knew this man.

    Strength returned and Mitch forced himself to his knees. The spirit hovered in front of him, within arm’s reach. Mitch stretched out his hand.

    “Conner?”

    The spirit’s face smiled. A voice emerged. “Mitch.”

    Mitch sat, stunned. A thousand emotions flooded over him and he couldn’t find the words to express them. The spirit of Conner Hayden reached out a hand to touch Mitch’s outstretched fingers.

    Mitch felt the rush of power flow into him. Through him. He felt strength returning to his limbs. Surging into them. He stood. All the effects of Death’s attack burned away like a morning mist in the heat of the risen sun.

    Tears flowed down his cheeks.

    Conner’s countenance shone as if bathed in sunlight. Mitch could barely stand to gaze on it.

    “Mitch,” the spirit said, “the way is open.”

    Mitch looked down at the swirl of light glowing against the field of stars. The portal Nathan had told him about.

    As Conner’s spirit rose upward, he glowed brighter. His last thoughts and feelings entered Mitch’s heart with explosive power.

    They were not words—Mitch knew words could never describe the experience. He could feel Conner’s emotions wash over him. They broke on him like ocean waves, crashing on the rocks and spraying foam high into the air. They filled Mitch. Flowed through him and around him. Successive explosions of joy and awe. Of anticipation and…

    Home.

    It was an overwhelming sense of someone who had been gone a very long time and was now finally coming home.