Keepers of the Cave (14 page)

She felt a tear slide down her face and she wiped it away quickly. No tears. She was not allowed tears. It was far too late for that.

She got to her feet, her legs sore. The bruising had not entirely faded, but no one had made mention of her slacks and the long-sleeved shirt she wore during the heat of summer. She glanced to the clock on the wall, then eyed the coffeepot again. Her first class wasn’t for another forty-five minutes. She could spare time for another cup. Then she would make her way to her classroom to get ready. Even though she felt zapped of energy, she was looking forward to getting back to it. In there, at least, she felt normal.

She surprised herself by the quick smile she felt tugging at her lips.
Normal?
This was Celebration Week. Any one of her co-workers would be driven mad by the ceremony...and the chase that would occur within the caves.

Her smile quickly left her face, the taste of coffee no longer appealing. She shuffled out the door without it, her mind blank as she walked the familiar corridor to her classroom.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Despite their earlier interaction with Avery, the tension between them was still thick and conversation was inconsequential, to say the least. Paige knew she needed to apologize. She had started the argument. Whatever
game
they were playing while in public, she needed to just go with it and not take it personally. Kissing? Okay, she could handle it. She couldn’t get mad every time CJ did something that she deemed inappropriate. That would make for a very long assignment.

After seasoning the chicken breasts and getting them in the oven, she found CJ where she’d left her earlier—stretched out on the sofa, eyes closed. She wasn’t asleep, she knew. She glanced at the empty space against the wall where the previous tenants no doubt had kept a TV. Perhaps as a peace offering, she’d suggest a trip into San Augustine to purchase one for them. She wasn’t a big TV watcher, but maybe CJ was. If nothing else, it would provide mindless entertainment.        

She cleared her throat, about to engage CJ in conversation when CJ’s phone rang. Without opening her eyes, she reached out and picked it up. CJ nodded, then sat up, switching her phone to speaker mode and placing it on the table.

“Okay. You’re on,” CJ said.

“Hi, Paige.”

Paige smiled. “Hello, Ice. How are you?”

“Bald and beautiful as ever,” he said. “How are you two?”

Paige and CJ looked at each other, both with eyebrows raised. CJ finally grinned.

“She hasn’t killed me yet,” CJ said. “She’s thought about it, though.”

Paige smiled too. “Yes. I’ve considered it three times.”

“And it hasn’t even been three weeks yet.” He laughed. “But I don’t blame you.”

“Sure. Take sides,” CJ said. “What’s up? You got something new?”

“Let me just say I’m sick to death of researching all things Hoganville. Because it’s very hard to find. Apparently they’ve always kept a low profile.”

“Did anything come up on birth certificates?” Paige asked.

“Hit and miss. They’re still going through data, but Avery appears to be correct on that. Listen to what we found today,” he said. “We first found mention of this in a book published in the ’60s about the history of Angelina National Forest. We found the story in the Lufkin newspaper dated 1959.” He paused. “Can you believe they’ve got that shit archived going back that far? Anyway, a sheepherder went missing after telling quite a tale,” he said.

CJ got up and went to the fridge. “Hang on. I think I’ll need a beer for this,” she said. She glanced at Paige, who shook her head.

“Apparently something was stealing this man’s sheep. He suspected coyotes, not rustling, as only one or two at a time would come up missing. One morning, he’s out with the herd and he finds one mutilated and gutted, but not eaten. Again, he assumed a coyote. So his plan was to stake out the herd that night—with his gun—and kill the blood thirsty coyote,” he said.

CJ laughed. “Seriously? That’s what the paper said? Blood-thirsty?”

“No. They said rascal. I’m ad libbing.”

“Rascal?” CJ shook her head. “Okay. Go on,” she said, taking a large swallow from her beer.

“Right. So he’s out with the herd, keeping watch. He says at midnight, on the nose, he sees movement in the woods. But it’s not coyotes. He counted fifteen people, all dressed in black robes. They had ropes and were trying to lasso one of his sheep. So he fired his gun up in the air to scare them. Instead of running away, they ran after
him
,” Ice said. “Obviously, he made it home safely. He told his tale the next night at the local dive. No one believed him.”

“And he ends up missing?”

“Yep. Two days later. Never found a trace of him.”

“Any evidence his story was investigated?”

“Not in this article. Billy looked for the next two months, I think, but the only mention of this again was just reporting that there were no leads in his disappearance. So no.”

“Where did this guy live? How close to Hoganville?”

“He lived near a little place called Straw,” he said. “Twenty miles or so from Hoganville. And yes, we looked that up. Nothing there. The beer joint where he told his story is long gone. There are a few homes, nothing else.”

CJ shrugged. “Interesting story,” she said. “Robes? Mutilated sheep?” She looked at Paige. “Satanic?”

“Something of the sort, I suppose. I’m certainly no expert,” she said.

“We keep coming back to cults, don’t we?”

“So you’ve been into town, right?” Ice asked. “I heard about your café visit.”

“Yes, the café was quite fun. But you know it’s not really a town, right? But even the houses, they all look deserted,” CJ said.

“Like the community is dying,” Paige added. “Avery calls it old. There aren’t children or young people.”

“So is it as creepy as it sounds?”

“And then some,” CJ said. “Something’s going on there. But obviously most of it is speculation. One of the teachers relayed her story of a visit to the grocery store. Now that was downright scary.”

“Let me just say that I’m glad it’s you guys there and not me and Billy.” He paused. “So, what’s the nighttime entertainment like?”

CJ looked at Paige. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know. You met some lady friends already?”

“We’re supposed to be a happily married couple, remember,” CJ said.

“Yeah, of course. But if Paige is threatening to shoot you, I imagine you’ve been scoping out ladies with wandering eyes.”

CJ looked pointedly at Paige, one eyebrow arched. “Want to tell him why you’re mad at me?”

“No,” she said. “Ice, if there’s nothing else?”

“Oh, I see. My cue to hang up. Okay, girls. Try not to fight. We’ll be in touch.”

The apology she’d originally planned to utter was forgotten as the smirk on CJ’s face grew. Paige turned on her heels and retreated to the kitchen instead, eyeing the bottle of wine that she intended to have with their dinner. She sighed, reaching for the corkscrew.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Fiona felt her excitement grow as she joined the others in the chamber. With her new black robe, she no longer felt like an outcast, relegated to the back wall where the innocent, white-robed flock members were placed. She looked back there now, seeing only one white robe. It was Elizabeth, Belden’s sister. She had to be in her fifties by now, Fiona guessed. She wondered what she had done to displease Mother Hogan. She looked away, feeling sorry for Elizabeth. At the last celebration in October, Fiona had been standing beside Elizabeth, the last two innocents left. Of course, that wasn’t always the case. She remembered a time when there were eight or nine of them. Little by little, they were culled, mostly for disobedience. Randal had run away, something Fiona had secretly dreamed of. Belden and the hunters had found him and brought him back. Randal had not simply been culled. He had been offered up as a sacrifice. He had been taken beyond the chamber into the caves where his screams were heard in the deathly silence. Hearing that had chased away any thoughts of fleeing. She knew her place and was resigned to her fate. Mother Hogan had plans for her and she absorbed everything she could from the books, knowing she was going to be sent out so that she could learn to teach. Her mission was to integrate with the school, something she’d accomplished. Unfortunately, the four years she’d spent on the outside only fed the dream of leaving here...and leaving the nightmares that haunted her.

Ultimately, fear won out and she remained faithful to Mother Hogan and the flock. Now she feared she was more involved than ever before as she gently rubbed her belly, knowing something was growing inside her. Was it Antel’s child? Or was it something else? She closed her eyes, chasing the elusive dream that remained just out of her reach. No face, no body. Just cold, cold hands.

The scream shook her out of her musings. Belden and the others were bringing out the girl who had been chosen for the sacrifice. Fiona watched in fascination as the girl struggled, her screams loud and shrill. Mother Hogan liked that, she knew. She watched the older woman’s face, her smile broadening with each scream. Tonight would only be an appetizer. Tomorrow, the girl would be forced to drink one of Mother Hogan’s potions. Tomorrow, she would not scream. Tomorrow she would be offered up to
it
. Tomorrow they would feast. They would all feast as the girl ran for her life in the caves.

Mother Hogan stepped forward, eyeing the girl. Fiona could feel the excitement in the chamber. It was a ritual that had been going on for more years than anyone knew. Mother Hogan nodded at Belden and the girl was lifted easily up on the altar. Her struggles didn’t last long as the leather straps were secured with practiced ease. Fiona could see the girl trembling, her eyes wide with fright. Mother Hogan reached into the stone altar where she kept the knife. She heard the soft scraping as it was removed from its protective sheath. Mother Hogan held it high, its long, smooth surface reflecting the light of the torches and it glistened pleasantly overhead.

“No! Please, no,” the girl screamed then, her eyes riveted on the knife.

Mother Hogan laughed delightfully as she teased the knife back and forth in front of the girl, her screams turning into sobs.

“Please don’t hurt me,” the girl cried. “Please.”

“Yes. We have heard that plea hundreds of times before,” Mother Hogan said. She turned to the elders, all of them watching her every move.

The knife struck quickly, slicing into the girl’s arm as if it were nothing more than butter. Fiona, like the others, cheered as the first blood was spilled. It was expected of them. The girl mewed like the wounded animal that she was. Mother Hogan ran her fingers through the blood running down the girl’s arm, then held them up for the flock to see. They all watched with bated breath as Mother Hogan licked her fingers dry, then went back for more.

The girl’s head rolled to the side, her eyes glazing over in despair at the hopelessness of her situation. For a second, Fiona felt sympathy for her, knowing what was coming tomorrow night. She pushed it away. It would serve no purpose for her to empathize with this girl. Her fate was sealed.

Instead, she watched as the six elders mimicked Mother Hogan’s actions, partaking of their appetizer for tomorrow’s feast.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“I met Fiona today,” Paige said as she scooped out potatoes for her.

CJ raised an eyebrow. “And? Does she have horns?”

Paige smiled, the first true smile CJ had received from her in days. “No, she does not have horns. She was very friendly, but there was definitely something odd about her,” Paige said. “She was
overly
friendly, yet distant, if that makes sense.”

“Pretending to be open but not?”

“I suppose, but she was nice. I think I would call her sweet. The visit didn’t last long though. She was bringing her class down for their
exercise
period.” Paige laughed. “I swear, this is the worst assignment I’ve ever had. We ran sprints and the girls hated it. And as punishment, they didn’t speak to me.”

“That’s punishment?” CJ asked, taking her plate from Paige. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. And no, it was a bonus, they just didn’t know it,” she said with a grin. “I’ve decided I hate kids. Teenagers, anyway.”

CJ cut into the baked fish with her fork, eyeing it suspiciously. She only ate fish one way and that was fried. But considering how frosty things had been between them, she didn’t want to piss Paige off more by commenting. So she steeled herself on the first bite, preparing to have to force it down. It was surprisingly good. She looked up, seeing Paige’s amused expression. “What?” she said around a mouthful.

“All prepared to hate it, were you?”

“I’m used to southern fried fish,” she said. “But this is good.”

“Thanks. I don’t normally put a cornmeal batter on when I bake fish,” Paige said, “but I figured you would like it better this way.”

CJ was touched that Paige would even concern herself with what CJ might or might not like. Especially since their argument the other night, of which they had yet to speak or apologize for.

“Thank you,” CJ said. “But since I don’t cook, I can’t exactly be picky. You don’t have to alter things for me.”

“I know I don’t have to.”

The silence lengthened, their earlier levity giving way to suppressed tension again. CJ, for one, had had enough of it. She reached for her wineglass, taking a large sip. She had never been one to talk about things—feelings. She knew it stemmed from her childhood, where talking never happened. As an adult, she’d never been in any kind of relationship where it was required. But she was stuck here with Paige for what could be several long months. If these first few weeks were any indication, they would end up killing each other before they reached the end of their assignment.

“Let’s talk about it,” she said. “Let’s get it over with, clear the air.”

Paige put her fork down. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s talk about that night. Let’s talk about us having sex. Let’s talk about our argument last week. Let’s just do it and get it over with. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around you,” she admitted. “I hate it.”