The Ship

By Allan Krummenacker and Helen Krummenacker

What starts as a simple surfing lesson, turns into a struggle for survival for billionaire heiress Cassandra Elliott and her new love interest the Seneca shamaness Julie Cloudfoot.
Cassandra is knocked off her board by an unseen assailant that leaves a terrifying gash in her wetsuit, along with a small red mark on her leg. Soon, terrifying visions of a ghost ship begin haunting the heiress' dreams. She begins to feel strangely drawn to the sea whenever a strange fog bank appears in the distance.
Is something hiding within the miasma, and what connection does it have to the legendary "Lost Colony of Roanoke", and the tribe of Tuscarora Indians, that Julie is distantly related to...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Allan Krummenacker
• Release date: May 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311662699

Allan Krummenacker

I was born and raised on Long Island New York. Always a dreamer I fell in love with Fantasy, Sci-Fi, and Horror shows and movies. Some of my favorite all time TV shows that I still watch on DVD are the original Dark Shadows, the original Twilight Zone series, Doctor Who, The Outer Limits (original) and many others.I came to California in the mid 1980's with my Mom and one of my brothers. Once here, I fell in with a great crowd of Doctor Who fans who introduced me to other science fiction clubs and conventions. It was while attending the Sacramento Doctor Who Fan Club that I met my wife Helen. Together, we got into costuming and attending sci-fi conventions where I learned a great deal from authors, actors, and those folks in the special effects departments. All these experiences helped fire my imagination and I began writing short fan-fic stories for the club newsletters.in 2008 my career in Real Estate took a downward spiral and I began to rewrite story-lines of shows to keep my spirits up. Soon I realized my rewriting efforts had taken on a completely different life from the original shows I was watching. Eventually, I began taking the story lines I'd created and re-populated them with original characters of my own. I brushed up on my grammar and began researching agents and publishing as well.The result was my Para-Earth Series where I introduce both my characters and readers to a whole new take on the parallel world concept. To date I've produced two novels in this series and am currently working on my third book with more coming next year.So pull up a chair and sit back as I share with you tales of ghosts, psychics, and mysterious beings unlike anything you've ever read before.

Book preview

THE SHIP

Written by

Allan Krummenacker

Developed by

Helen Krummenacker

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2014 Allan and Helen Krummenacker

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owners and the above publishers of this book.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the creations of the author’s imagination or are used factiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, organizations or locales is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATed to THE MEMORY OF BRENDA MINTON-SMITH

Friend, unofficial big-sister, cheering squad, and sincere lover of the ocean. May the waves always carry you to wondrous and peaceful shores… and remember your blue crystal.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book has been over a year in the making and we want to thank all our readers for waiting so patiently for it. Although it is considered the second in the series, have no fear that if you missed the first you won’t be able to follow this one. This story is complete unto itself and we hope will entertain and delight you to no end.

But like any book, it isn’t just the author who makes it complete. A lot of other good people were working behind the scenes to help us finish it and we’d like to introduce them.

Caroline Henry, our acting-editor and proof-reader.

We’d also like to thank our awesome beta-readers:

Author Raani York

Mark Krummenacker

Marla Todd

Joe Hinojosa

Victoria Laing-Short

Gerald Yagy

Elizabeth Eiler Reichert

Mona Albano

Thanks for all your support and input. You all helped get this book into better shape, and make it something we can be truly proud of.

FAMILY HISTORY

Port Helena, Long Island, New York 1790…

Evening had fallen like a blackened shroud over the land surrounding Elliott Hall, a breath-taking structure of solid stone three stories high with two wings that reached east and west. Tall ornately carved pillars flanked the massive front doors. Jutting from above the entry a long carriage porch stretched forth, to protect visitors from the elements.

It had taken years and much money to build the great mansion, and almost as much to decorate its interior in a manner befitting royalty. But no such persons dwelt within these walls, only patriots to the new formed nation. The Elliott family had battled against the tyranny of British rule, secretly running vessels past blockades and returning with supplies and weapons from France and Spain. Even during the occupation of the Hall and the town of Port Helena, they fought in secret.

However, the occupation was a short one. Once the plague scare began the British quickly pulled up stakes and left, followed closely by their Hessian allies. Oddly enough, almost no one who survived could ever say for sure that it was the plague that hit the town. For the outbreak ended as abruptly as it began. Only a handful of the older folks spoke of a similar occurrence from long ago, and cursed the name of Elliott as they spoke.

Between the ‘plague’ and the war for independence, the size of the Elliott family decreased considerably. These days barely a quarter of the rooms of the magnificent building saw use. Most of the manor languished in silence, dreaming of a time when another generation would fill its rooms and corridors with life and laughter.

Unfortunately, there was no merriment to be found anywhere within the walls of the huge domicile. For this was the night of the Drawing.

A bell rang out from the family chapel, which was located on the grounds some fifty yards from the mansion. The loud ringing signalled not the hour, nor the birth of a child, but of something far more ominous.

As the last peels faded into the night, three lone figures left the structure in a solemn procession. They moved silently past the great house and into the woods nearby.

The trio made for a study in contrasts.

The eldest, a man of some forty years, led the way carrying lanterns and blankets. Heavy lidded eyes stared out of a grizzled countenance, which was marred by a long scar that ran down the side of his face. The wound, long healed, had been a parting gift from a Hessian sword. His gait was slow and laboured thanks to a ball fired from a British musket, which remained lodged in his hip. He had survived both encounters and many others, including the long deadly winter at Valley Forge. Yet none of those hardships compared to the burden that weighed down on him this night.

It wasn’t the items he carried that were the problem, for he was accustomed to transporting heavy gear. No, it was their destination and the long night’s vigil that lay ahead which troubled him so; for he knew that before the coming of the dawn one of the two excellent men following him would be either dead or mad.

Glancing over his shoulder he studied his employer’s face.

Tall, elegantly dressed, William Elliott looked every bit the respectable and honorable man he was. Only tonight his brown eyes held nothing of the warmth and ease that was their norm. The moustache, which always accentuated the kind smile he typically wore, seemed to droop over the tight, thin line of his mouth. Glancing at the third member of their party the lord of the manor sighed, Jerome, I wish…

Don’t, said the other man who coughed loudly. The clothing he wore seemed as tired and worn as its owner. Years of hard work at sea had aged him, but not so much that the family resemblance to his companion was in any way diminished. They could have been brothers. Indeed, as children they had been as close as any siblings could be. He coughed violently once more and then spoke again. There’s nothing more to be said, Cousin. We both know what has to be.

William nodded, but his jaw was tense. Damn Grandfather! Damn him for lying and keeping us apart for so long. If only…

If only I had come to you three years ago when he had passed, nodded his poor relation. But, alas I was out at sea and remained there for two years.

And when you finally came back to port eight months ago, it was I who was away, William sighed shaking his head. It’s as if the fates themselves conspired along with grandfather to keep us apart. His machinations sent me away to school and forced you to find a life at sea. Now, when we are finally reunited, it has to be on the worst of all possible nights. Perhaps the townspeople are correct in describing us as an accursed family.

They had just reached the edge of the woods where an open meadow lay. It stretched for over a hundred yards before becoming lost in the bushes and trees, except for one side. There a tall hillside hemmed the grassland in. In all respects it seemed like any other hill, except for the stonework built around a wooden doorway at its base.

Slowly the three men approached the portal.

The vegetation is even more twisted than when I last looked, William noted with concern.

Jerome took a lantern from their guide and leaned in. Indeed, the plants are barely recognizable, he wheezed. We’re doing this none too soon.

Will you not reconsider, Cousin? implored William desperately.

Jerome shook his head savagely, as another series of racking coughs struck. His long blonde hair swung wildly as he tried to find his breath. Finally, after the fit had passed he spoke. Your grandfather’s will clearly states that I, or a member of my side of the family, must do this. Otherwise, you cannot assist us in any way.

At that moment the manservant spoke up, Mister Jerome, your wife is with child and is expecting at any moment. They’re gonna need you. Let me go in your place. No one has to know.

The ragged sea traveler looked at the former soldier and smiled, Tom, I thank you. But, they will not have me for very long in any case. The consumption is upon me. I dare not risk exposing either my wife or our unborn child to it. This way is best. My cousin will be free to take care of them and see that they do not want for anything. And you… he put a hand on the older man’s shoulder, Can be there for them as well.

My missus and I will watch over them, I swear it.

As William watched the two men, his thoughts went back to the years of companionship he and Jerome had been robbed of. ‘Why did you keep us apart Grandfather? The feud between you and your brother ended years before either of us were even born?’

* * * * *

A short distance away, hidden among the trees a small figure lurked. He had waited in the shadows for the men to pass the mansion before following them. Now he had a good hiding place that was far enough that he would not be detected, but would still permit him to see all that was about to transpire.

* * * * *

Back at the door Tom shook his head. I can’t believe we’re back here so soon, he muttered, trying not to look at the portal. I was always told it was usually a good number a years before it had to be done again.

His master nodded, looking very troubled. You’re right. Usually, we can expect ten years or more to pass between the Drawings. But, when Grandfather entered three years ago there was no sign of him when we unlocked the chamber the next morning. The time between drawings is always shortened considerably when the person who enters becomes one of the ‘Lost’.

Silently his two companions crossed themselves. They each knew the names of the ‘Lost’ only too well. It was a short list, but one that always sent shudders down the spines of those who knew about the family curse.

Staring at the dreaded portal, William took off his hat and dropped two pieces of paper into it. After shaking the hat briskly he held it out to his cousin.

What’s this? asked Jerome.

We have to do it right, William replied quietly.

Suddenly, Jerome whipped out a pistol and pointed it at him, It has already been decided which of us will be going inside, Cousin…

* * * *

At the sight of the weapon being drawn the small figure jumped up from his hiding spot, and raced back to the manor. Although only nine years old, Gerald Elliott knew fully well that he could not save his father all by himself. He’d need help.

If only his father had listened to him earlier. Great-grandfather had told him many a time about the treacherous ways of his elder brother, who had been Jerome’s grandfather. How they were all alike on that side of the family. They could not be trusted. No matter how much charity or kindness they were shown, they were always wanted more.

And now, apparently not satisfied with all that he and his wife had been given in the last few days, Jerome was trying to take the family fortune by force! ‘First he’ll kill father and then come for the rest of us,’ he thought. ‘That would leave him as the only surviving heir. But he won’t get away with it. I’ll get help back at the mansion. If no one listens, then I’ll arm myself and go back alone. I know how to use a pistol, and I’m not afraid to use it against anyone who threatens my family!’

* * * * *

In the lush drawing room of Elliott Hall, three women sat in uncomfortable silence. Two of them wore gowns of expensive lace and silk, while the other wore a simple dress of muslin. Her hair was the color of the night, which contrasted with her pale white skin. Such pallor could have been from worry, or the fact that she was in the last days of pregnancy, and was due to give birth at any time.

One of her companions, watching her with blue eyes full of concern, came over and sat next to her and said in a voice tight with emotion, Be easy, Evelyn. It will do neither you nor the baby any good to fret so.

I know, the expectant mother replied in voice barely above a whisper. You have been quite good to me, Margaret, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

As well you should! snapped the third woman standing up, as her green eyes blazed with a fierceness that matched her mood. We have tolerated your presence at the Old Manor all these years, even though your husband was away at sea most of the time. If not for the fact that he is family, your time among us would’ve ended when you ceased to be governess to Gerald and Jacob. Perhaps if Jerome had chosen his bride more wisely, Grandfather would have been more agreeable towards him, and his fortunes would’ve improved instead of falling even further.

That will do, Samantha, cried Margaret, silencing her sister-in-law. Do not bring your petty recriminations up yet again. There is enough suffering this night. If all you are going to do is add to it, then leave the room.

Gladly, the other woman replied icily. Then without another word she turned and left the room, closing the doors behind her. Standing alone in the foyer she calmed herself and took pride in having said her piece. But now the fear in her heart began to take hold. Margaret was right, there would be suffering before this night was over.

Silently, Samantha Elliott wandered over to the great doors that led outside and reached for the handles, then stopped and took a few steps back. Did she have the courage to go and find out who had gone into the hillside? The thought of her brother being lost to her forever was unthinkable. But if it was Jerome, then any hope she ever had of one day getting another chance to become…

Just then the great wooden doors burst inwards, apparently of their own accord. Stepping back in alarm, she finally noticed the small, disheveled figure of her nephew Gerald. His dark hair was wild and tangled, while his blue eyes darted around wildly as if looking for something.

Surprised and still a little flustered, Samantha spoke to the boy sternly. Gerald! What is the meaning of this? You were supposed to have gone to bed hours ago.

He has a pistol! the boy cried anxiously.

She blinked, Who has a pistol?

Uncle Jerome! He has it aimed at my father, the boy repeated in exasperation. Where are the guns? I’ll teach him not to threaten my family!

You will do no such thing, came Margaret’s stern rebuke, from the doorway of the drawing room. Quickly she approached her child, with Evelyn close behind her. Now, what is all this talk of guns and pistols?

Staring defiantly, Gerald told them all that he had seen.

Turning to Evelyn, Margaret said, I think we should go and see what this is all about.

Agreed, the expectant mother nodded.

Samantha watched the pair head out the door and into the night, while keeping one hand on her nephew’s shoulder.

After a few moments, the boy looked up at her and said angrily, I did see it.

Glancing down at him she sighed, I believe you. I just don’t understand why he would do such a thing.

Because he is a wicked coward who cares nothing for our family, snapped her nephew. That’s what Great-Grandfather used to say and he was right. I shall never forgive Uncle Jerome for this. I will hate him and his kin forever! With that, the boy ran up the stairs and out of sight.

Staring at the empty steps, Samantha shook her head. No, Gerald. Jerome is neither wicked nor a coward. He’s just a man who did not make the best choices.

* * * * *

Margaret kept a watchful eye on her companion as they made their way through the woods. She was worried. Evelyn was breathing heavily and the journey was becoming more of an effort for her. Was it the pregnancy? Or had she not been getting enough to eat? Then a much darker thought occurred to her, could the malaria be rearing its ugly head once more?

I’m all right, the expectant mother said suddenly, as if reading her thoughts. It’s just… concern.

I understand, Margaret replied truthfully. She was about to say more when the sound of a heavy door slamming shut echoed in the night. Oh, dear God, we are too late. That was the sound of the door in the hillside being closed. I’ve heard it twice before. And it has haunted my dreams ever since. They’ve held the Drawing and one of them has entered.

Evelyn felt her heart sink. JEROME! she screamed and raced past Margaret. It couldn’t end like this; there was still so much they needed to say to one another. And she needed to feel his arms around her one more time, even if it meant she might catch his…

A figure loomed out of the darkness and grabbed her. No, I must go to him! she cried, trying to free herself.

But William did not release his grip. Instead he pulled her close and said sadly, It’s too late, Evelyn, he is already inside. I tried to get him to do the drawing with just the two of us, but he pulled out a pistol to force me into letting him pass.

He drew a weapon on you?

Yes, William nodded, I knew he planned to be the one to go in but…

Then why did you bother trying to draw lots? she demanded.

So I could tell his child how brave a man he was for taking my place if I had turned out to be the one who drew the slip with the X on it, he answered in a voice tight with emotion. When I told him this, he relented and we proceeded with the drawing.

And he drew the marked slip? she asked quietly.

No, I did.

As Evelyn fell into his arms sobbing, William looked back at the door across the field where Tom kept vigil. He could see the servant talking to the wooden portal. Obviously he was keeping a dialogue going with the man inside. ‘Dear God, let this work,’ he thought. All those who had gone in before had been left to their fate with no one to talk to. Perhaps knowing someone was nearby, helping him through the night’s vigil would give Jerome a fighting chance. Maybe, they would finally break the curse once and for all.

His thoughts were interrupted by the woman in his arms uttering a gasp of surprise, which was followed by a splashing at his feet. Oh no, her water has burst, he realized in horror. The baby might soon follow.

Looking up he saw his wife standing nearby, her face filled with relief and sorrow. Margaret, take Evelyn back to the mansion and send for the doctor, he instructed, The baby’s time has come.

With the cool headedness he had always admired, his wife took control of both the situation and the soon-to-be mother. Gently taking Evelyn in her arms, she headed back to the mansion while calling out to the servants for assistance.

Alone once more, William hurried back to the wooden barrier. Jerome? Jerome can you hear me?

Yes, came the muffled reply. What happened? I thought I heard my Evelyn.

It was. She came looking for you.

Send her away. I don’t want her to come anywhere near this place.

I’ve already sent her back to the mansion, William replied hurriedly. Jerome, she’s gone into labor. Your child is coming.

What? So soon?

Yes, so you have to make it through this night, William persisted. You know the family tradition. If it’s a girl, the mother takes the child and gives her a name. But, if it’s a boy…

I have to be the one to give him a name, Jerome finished from within the chamber.

And you have to be holding him when you do it, interjected Tom firmly. Now come out of there and let one of us take your place. And it ain’t gonna be Mister William, I can tell you that right now.

William beamed at his servant, grateful once more for the man’s loyalty and courage.

After several seconds of silence, they heard Jerome say, I… I cannot. It has already begun.

What do you mean? William demanded with growing alarm. No one knew what went on inside the chamber after the person who drew marked slip had entered. Once the door was sealed everyone would leave the area, too fearful to stay nearby. Only with the first rays of dawn would they return to learn the fate of the chosen man or woman.

The far wall… it seems to be moving away from me, Jerome answered, his voice seemed to be coming from much farther away than before.

Do not pursue it. Stay where you are, don’t move.

I haven’t moved, came the even more distant reply. It’s the chamber, it has grown. All around me it keeps moving, even the ceiling. I look up and… OH DEAR GOD, I’M FALLING INTO IT!

JEROME! William screamed and began hammering on the door.

Open it Mr. Elliott. I’ll get him outta there, yelled Tom stepping forward.

Just then the muffled sound of two flintlock pistols being fired echoed from within the chamber.

The two men stared at one another.

You don’t think he… began Tom, when Jerome’s voice spoke again.

It’s all right. I’m still here. I have not taken my own life. I saw a shape in the distance. It’s gone now.

William breathed a sigh of relief, not only at the words that were spoken but because the voice sounded close once more. That is good to hear. What was it, cousin? What did it look like?

I cannot say. All I saw was movement and I opened fire, was his cousin’s reply.

Tom smiled at his master, It was a good idea of yours that he should be armed.

William nodded and said quietly, From what I’ve read of the family records no one’s ever tried it before. Let us hope it was enough. Then speaking more loudly he called out, Jerome, what’s happening now?

Nothing. The room is still the same.

Then, let us talk. We will talk throughout the night as we did when we were children, William replied warmly.

I will enjoy that, cousin.

As the two men continued to speak through the wooden barrier, Tom stepped away to give them some privacy but did not go far. He wanted to be nearby and at the ready, in case he was needed. Looking up he saw the stars and moon were slowly giving way to thickening clouds. A storm was coming. It would probably hit by morning. Hopefully, the three of them would be away from this terrible place before then.

As the hours passed, he eventually heard the gallop of hooves and a carriage drawing up to the mansion. The doctor had arrived. Tom was tempted to go and find out how things were going, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his post. This was where he belonged, watching over his master who was more like a friend to him. Every so often a serving girl would come from the mansion bringing them food and drink, along with news. The baby was expected by morning.

A few hours later, the sky lightened but only slightly. The clouds were in full control of the sky now, and threatened to release the rain at any moment.

William was doing his best to keep his cousin talking. Jerome was sounding well, if a little distracted at times. But, that didn’t matter. He was talking and that was the important thing. If they could keep this up for another hour, perhaps the curse that had plagued their family for almost two centuries would finally be broken.

In the distance he could hear Evelyn crying out. The time had come. Jerome, do you hear that? Your child is coming! he shouted at the door.

Only this time instead of a reply they heard a tremendous crash, followed by cursing and thumping noises. It was as if some great struggle was taking place beyond the barrier. Then there was silence.

Mister Jerome! cried Tom coming over and hammering on the door. Receiving no answer, he turned to his employer and asked anxiously, How long has he got left in there?

Another thirty minutes, William replied, his face full of worry.

Can’t we get him out sooner?

NO! thundered Jerome from the other side of the door, causing both men to step back. I have to stay here. It’s too important.

William sighed with relief, but a cold feeling of dread had taken hold of his heart. Are you all right? he asked.

I’m fine, his cousin answered. That shape returned. It took me by surprise, but I drove it back once more.

What was it? What did it look like? William asked eagerly.

I… I do not wish to say, Jerome called back tentatively.

You won’t be in there much longer, Tom called out reassuringly, but his face looked troubled.

What is it? William asked his servant.

Dunno, the old soldier replied, Did he sound kinda different somehow?

Before William could answer, a maid came running through the woods all excited and smiling. Tis a boy, she cried rushing up to them, A beautiful baby boy, with dark hair and eyes to match.

Did you hear that, Jerome? You have a son! William yelled at the door. As soon as you’re out of there, we’ll take you to him so you can give him his name.

There was a long pause before his cousin answered. I’m afraid that may not be possible. My condition…

William shook his head dismissively. Don’t talk nonsense, man. Why, I have not heard you cough once since… you… entered… his voice trailed off as the words left his lips. They had spent the last two days together, and during that time not an hour passed, much less fifteen minutes, when his cousin hadn’t been plagued by a powerful coughing fit.

Staring at the door he gestured to the maid to come closer. With obvious reluctance the girl obeyed. He remembered now that she had grown up in town. Undoubtedly she had heard rumors about the door in the hillside, and the evil that supposedly resided beyond it.

Quietly, he whispered some instructions in her ear and then watched as she quickly turned and fled back towards the mansion as fast as she could. He barely noticed that she didn’t curtsey before taking off, not that he cared because he was busy reaching for the ancient key in his pocket.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tom drawing a pistol from his belt. Good, they couldn’t be too careful. The door had never been opened before sunrise, and there was no telling what might happen.

As soon as he inserted the key into the lock there was a loud rumble like stone moving within the hillside itself, causing both of them to jump back in alarm. Then there was silence.

Breathing heavily, William rushed forward, twisted the key, and flung the door open. Nothing happened.

Jerome? he called.

For a moment there was no reply. Then, as if speaking from down a long tunnel, his cousin answered, Please, don’t come in here.

Once more, fear slowly began to grip William’s heart. Your vigil is over, he called back. It’s time for you to come out.

I can’t; it’s too soon, his cousin replied.

DAMN THE TIME, MAN! he cried impatiently. It’s almost dawn and that is more than enough. You’ve made it through the night, with both your life and mind intact. He paused and added pleadingly, Come out and let us leave this place together.

No, I can never…

Mr. William? interrupted Tom excitedly. The maid’s coming with the doctor. They’ve got the boy with them.

Looking up, William saw the familiar figure of the town’s young physician approaching, along with the maid who had brought them food earlier. In her arms she gently cradled a small squirming bundle.

The boy? came Jerome’s voice from the darkness. My son?

Yes, William cried, He’s here now, waiting for his father to give him his name.

For a moment no one spoke. Finally, there was the sound of shuffling feet from within the chamber, then a pause. Call him…

NO! William cried, and grabbed the child from the girl. Then he marched over to the doorway and shouted, I’ve got the boy in my hands right now, Jerome. Either you come out, or I’m bringing him in there.

From somewhere inside the chamber came the clatter of pistols falling onto the stone floor, followed by the sound of someone running as if from a great distance. Several moments later, Jerome burst out of the darkness and snatched the infant. Without stopping he staggered for several yards before collapsing to his knees.

My son… the others heard him murmur tenderly as he cradled the child in his arms.

He needs a name, Mister Jerome, Tom reminded him.

Brandon, the new father replied, as the first raindrops began to fall. Then, turning his head slightly he said, You must never let him near this place again, cousin.

I promise, William told him, drawing closer. Both he and his mother will be kept out of any future Drawings, just as we agreed.

I know you will keep your promise, Jerome replied, his voice seemed to be growing heavier and more labored. But you must keep him away from here. It knows about him… it felt him… the rest of his words trailed off and his head drooped in apparent exhaustion.

Once more silence reigned, only to be broken when the child suddenly began to cry.

Something about the baby’s wail sent a chill down William’s spine. Gesturing to the doctor, they walked over to where his cousin knelt. Jerome? he called gently.

There was no response.

Jerome! he repeated loudly and bent down. Jerome, can you hea… he began and then stopped. Something was very wrong.

The doctor seemed to sense it too, as he quickly knelt down on the other side of Jerome and began checking for a pulse. A moment later, he shook his head, muttering, It’s not possible!

What? William demanded anxiously.

Rigor Mortis, the man replied drawing back.

Already? exclaimed Tom in surprise.

Eyes wide with shock, the doctor nodded, Extremely advanced, too. This man’s been dead for at least seven to eight hours…

Santa Cruz, California, Modern Day…

A snow crab leg, dripping in melted butter and lemon, hovered just inches in front of the red lips of a muscular woman with raven-black hair. She seemed to have forgotten all about her meal as her eyes remained fixed on the petite auburn haired beauty seated across from her. Finally she found her voice. Seven to eight hours? You’re kidding me, right, Cassie?

Her companion looked up and shook her head. I’m afraid not, Julie, she replied, between mouthfuls.

But that would mean Jerome died shortly after entering that chamber, the big girl breathed and sat back in her chair. She’d never heard of such a thing before. Could the doctor have gotten his diagnosis wrong? she persisted.

No, the smaller woman shook her head, The physician even got a second opinion when he performed a post mortem at William’s request. The cause of death was never determined.

Unbelievable, Julie gasped in amazement, and then glanced down at the book sitting next to her plate. She’d been reading it since they’d left Connecticut a few days earlier. According to the inside jacket, it delved deep into the history of her girlfriend’s family from their humble beginnings as traders back in the 1600’s, to their slow and steady rise to as one of the richest and most powerful families of today.

Yet there was nothing in those pages that mentioned a lottery or ‘drawing’ that involved a member of the family being imprisoned inside a chamber in a hillside. Oh there had been some vague references to certain family members passing away due to strange illnesses, and even one or two becoming mentally imbalanced. But there certainly weren’t any allusions to a dead man coming out of such a place to give his new born son a name in front of witnesses.

Still reeling from this new information, she asked, Did anyone else find out what happened that night?

Unfortunately, yes, Cassie sighed. The maid ran back to the mansion and told the entire household before William could stop her. Of course my family tried bribing and swearing the servants to secrecy, but word still got out.

Julie shrugged, Let me guess someone goes into town, has a few too many drinks and starts talking. Next day the gossip network is in full swing.

Exactly, Cassie sighed. Poor Brandon wound up taking the brunt of gossip in the end.

Why him? He was just a baby.

A baby who had been held and named by a dead man, her girlfriend corrected. Remember, this was the late 1700’s. The Salem Witch trials had taken place only a hundred years earlier. There were still a lot of people who believed in that stuff. So word quickly spread that the Devil had been abroad that night and had touched him. Thus he was nicknamed…

Black Brandon, the Dark Elliott, Julie finished glancing down at the book once more. That part had not been omitted from the tome. It was that name that had caught her eye just before they sat down to dinner.

Two weeks ago she and Cassie, along with their friends Alex and Veronica, had found themselves caught between two terrifying beings on an old stone bridge. One was a man with long white hair who, in spite of taking three bullets from Veronica’s police revolver, kept coming at them. While just behind them, a nightmare creature was breaking out of the bridge itself, cutting off their retreat.

Only the sudden intervention by a young man wearing clothing from the 1800’s had saved them. He seemed to have appeared from out of nowhere, wielding a sword. Cassandra had instantly recognized the newcomer and called him Brandon, declaring he was an ancestor who had come to help them. And he did.

The bullet riddled figure had shown anger at Brandon’s appearance at first, then fear as the younger man closed the gap between them. When they were within striking distance of one another, they both vanished in a flash of lightning.

Naturally, upon seeing the name in the book she had asked her girlfriend if he was same man who had saved them. Cassie’s response had been the story she’d just finished telling.

Surprising even herself, Julie took this news in stride. After the night on the bridge she’d thought long and hard about a great many things, in particular, her Native American heritage.

Her father was a full-blooded Seneca, one of five tribes who created the League of Five Nations, also known as the Iroquois Indians. Naturally, she had been brought up on the many tales and legends of her people by both her father, and his older brother who had been the family Shaman.

‘Uncle Jason,’ she thought sadly, as her eyes wandered over to the urn atop the mantelpiece above the fireplace. He had been another victim of the terrifying being that lay hidden inside the stone bridge. For decades he had known about the creature and had acted as its jailer, just as his father and grandfather had done. It was a job that had been handed down through their family for generations, going back in time to before the first white men had come to America.

Until that night on the bridge, she had known none of this. But now the threat was dead, and no one else in her family had to watch over the bridge anymore.

Uncle Jason’s children lived out this way, and had asked her to bring his remains to them so they could give their father a proper send off. The custom among her people was to have a huge memorial feast after a member of the family had died.

Thanks to Cassandra, the feast would be held here in just a few days allowing her family to say goodbye to one of their own in the traditional manner he had taught them.

‘Tradition,’ she thought quietly. Apparently, Cassie’s family had had a very dark one that was conveniently omitted from the book. She began to wonder if there were any other family secrets that were left out of the tome as well. If