Page 45 of Sinistram
“Creepy. And probably mostly made up,” Travis replied.
“Except that there have been three fatalities and two near-tragedies over the last couple of months,” Brent pointed out. “And the last hunters who went to dispel her ended up dead. The official report says ‘animal attack’ but didn’t specify what kind ofanimal, and the area isn’t known for anything larger than deer. No bears, mountain lions, or wolves.”
“And the cemetery?”
“People have claimed to see ghosts there since the dam was built. They also say they feel watched or just get a creepy feeling.” Brent glanced at his notes. “No reported deaths or injuries. But there are other stories about a monster in the woods that sound more dangerous.”
“Monster?” Travis finished his coffee, stood, and poured himself another cup.
“Ol’ Red Eyes. He shows up to warn of looming catastrophe. Covered with dark fur, has bat wings, and red eyes,” Brent said. “Sort of like the Mothman in West Virginia lore, but the stories don’t say that he attacks anyone, just appears before something bad happens.”
“Yet another omen,” Travis said with a sigh.
“There’s a lot of woods out there,” Brent remarked, toying with his empty cup. “I know people go hunting and tramp around, but some of the territory is pretty rugged. It’s not impossible that there are creatures who hide, especially if they have supernatural abilities.”
“So do you want to go after the witch, or Ol’ Red Eyes?” Travis asked.
Brent glanced at his partner to make sure he wasn’t kidding, but Travis looked quite serious. “Let’s deal with the witch, since her appearances are tied to recent fatal accidents and two dead hunters. We can check for Ol’ Red Eyes afterward.”
“What about the vampires?” Travis’s fingers drummed on the lip of his mug.
“The dam is close enough we can go out and come back in daylight. Should keep the vamps off our tail while we wait to hear from Sorren and do a little more digging.”
“Okay. Beats sitting around waiting for something to get the jump on us,” Travis said. “Any reason we can’t go tomorrow?”
Brent shook his head. “I’ve got a couple of new detective cases coming up, but not until next week. Gotta pay the rent. But tomorrow’s open.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“It’s so pretty here,”Brent remarked, taking in the green hills and blue water of the haunted lake.
The area offered a visitor’s center, picnic area, hiking trails, sporting fields, pavilions for gatherings, and a history display. In the distance, Brent could see the Conemaugh Dam and hear the rush of falling water.
“Doesn’t exactly look like a death trap,” he commented as they walked toward the lake from where they parked.
“Good death traps rarely do,” Travis said.
Signs warned boaters to be careful and made it clear that swimming was prohibited, but fishing was permitted. This early in the day, only a few kayakers and canoes dotted the lake’s surface.
“It’s a nice place,” Brent said wistfully. “Maybe we can make it safer.”
Someone had left a faded bouquet of flowers at the edge of the water, with a note commemorating the most recent boater to drown. Travis put his hands on his hips and surveyed the area. “It’s way too big a lake for us to easily walk the whole way around it. Which is going to make it difficult to find any sign of the witch.”
Brent scanned the shoreline. “Maybe not. Let’s walk for a while and see if anything happens.”
They had brought their usual protections: amulets, salt, and silver in their pockets, steel blades discreetly hidden beneath their jackets, and Travis’s notebook of banishment spells and sigils. Brent had a shotgun with salt rounds and his Glock, while Travis carried his own handgun.
“Go ahead and listen for the ghosts,” Brent told Travis. “I’ll watch your back.”
“I’ll tell you what I hear,” Travis replied. “I know it’s a little weird having me report both sides of the conversation, but that way you know what they’re telling me.”
They found a spot in the shade, and Travis reached out to the ghosts, listening closely.
“The Livermore ghosts are faint, but there are a few that are stronger,” Travis reported. “They might be the witch’s most recent victims.”
Brent drew his shotgun with salt rounds and kept watch while they stopped so Travis could focus on hearing what the ghosts could tell him.
“There’s a man who looks like he was kayaking,” Travis told Brent. “He says she flipped his kayak and dragged him under. Another ghost says the same thing happened to him.”
