The Essence of Darkness Page 8

  “Okay, Eliott. You’re asking me to believe you’re possessed by some kind of . . . demonic being or something like that, is that it?”

  “No, Lauren, not exactly. It’s physical. My body . . . transforms into something no longer me. Even if the genetic fingerprint is still mine, it’s not me anymore, Chambers, do you hear me? It isn’t me anymore!” he repeated, clenching his teeth and controlling his rage at being powerless to make anyone understand him.

  “Okay, okay, Eliott! I hear you. I’m listening to you and I’m ready to believe you, even though I admit it’s extremely difficult.”

  “Imagine how I feel, Lauren! It’s like the gates of hell opened up in these woods. It’s a fucking nightmare that’s truer than real life! You have to help me!”

  “Okay, Eliott. Okay. You’re going to have to tell me everything from the beginning, since you started your mission, without leaving out a single detail.”

  She was speaking with compassion, almost like a mother—because she had understood he was suffering. She believed him. At least, she was open to believing him. He told her everything, from his arrival in St. Marys to the final night of horror. She didn’t interrupt him once and listened to the unimaginable story to the end.

  “So that’s where I am now, Lauren. I live in a body that’s disappearing a little more every second to be replaced by this thing that’s possessing me like an object, as if this creature needed a human carrier to exist. Soon, insanity will take over, or else this monstrosity will exist all the time, instead of me.”

  As he said these words, he already felt resigned to this possibility. He knew this malevolent force had unlimited power over him. Cold tears began running down his cheeks. They carried acceptance of the death that seemed inevitable. He saw that the hand holding his cell phone was shaking.

  “Eliott . . .” Lauren’s voice was tight. She probably didn’t know what to say to him, where to start to try to ease so much suffering. “Where are you now?” She sounded afraid—likely afraid to face the fact that he was suffering from irreversible psychological problems and that she wouldn’t be able to help him.

  “I’m going to come.”

  That was all she said. She had spoken from the heart—even if she didn’t know what she could do or say once she was there with him.

  Cooper trusted her.

  “I’m somewhere in the hills above Bradford, Pennsylvania. But I’m going to keep heading north into New York state, near Olean; it’s a town east of Bradford. Where are you?”

  “Atlanta.”

  “Are you on a case?”

  “Yes, I just finished a big case.”

  “A big case?” He was asking about her mission more to find some relative normality in their conversation than out of real interest.

  “The Sicilian resurgence that’s happening in the South. You must have heard about it,” she replied.

  “Apparently, they’re not messing around.”

  “They brought in the worst killers they had at their disposal. And they hired mercenaries who had just arrived from Syria. Real pros.”

  “That must not have been pretty,” he said, imagining the scene.

  “To say the least. We were mainly there to pick up the pieces after their cleanup. There was nothing left of the gangs that had been running a peaceful operation in the city. Blacks, Hispanics, Russians . . . the Sicilians wiped them all out.”

  “How soon can you meet me?”

  “I’m hopping on the first plane. I can be there in four hours.”

  “Lauren . . .”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for being there.”

  “I’m happy to help.”

  “I’ll give you my GPS coordinates when you land.”

  Buffalo Airport—that’s the closest to where you are, isn’t it?”

  “Right.”

  “See you very soon, Eliott.”

  “Be careful, Lauren, and make sure no one follows you.”

  “Of course. I’m heading out.”

  9

  The sun was setting behind the valleys in the distance. Cooper stared at it, absorbed in a stupor of dark and confused thoughts. He had tried to sleep, but the amount of adrenaline he was producing kept him from getting the slightest bit of rest. Gradually, the sunset infused the horizon with crimson rays as red as the blood shed in the hospital that afternoon. From the clutter of morbid images that surged forth in waves emerged a coherent reflection, drawn from the events that had occurred in the hospital lab. It seemed to him that the evil force had waited for the right moment to strike. It hadn’t been interested in the paunchy man who had been flipping through magazines. No, it had waited. And when the nurse came to get him, the thing had shown up in the form of contained inner turmoil. But then the doctor had begun to take an interest in him, to ask questions about the alleged dog attack, to examine his wound. Then it had made itself known forcefully. And when the doctor had prescribed blood tests, the thing had understood that the doctor could be a threat, that he could reveal its presence.

  The thing was thinking—and it was acting consciously inside him.

  Lauren jumped out of the taxi and grabbed her bag from the trunk without even giving the driver time to get out of the vehicle.

  “Here, keep the change,” she said, handing him a twenty-dollar bill through the window with one of her most disarming smiles.

  She ran off to blend in with the handful of travelers milling around the entrances to Atlanta’s Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport. The cold wind rushed through the automatic doors with her and died in the heated warmth of the large entrance hall. She checked her watch, which indicated 9:34 p.m., and then the flight information screen above the counters. Her flight to Buffalo was leaving in sixteen minutes—just enough time to send a message to Eliott to confirm her departure.

  I’m taking off now. I’ll arrive in Buffalo at 11:40 p.m.

  Once she had bought her ticket, she rushed to the boarding gates. A few minutes later, settled comfortably in her seat, she watched the airport’s white buildings scroll past the airplane window. Wind buffeted the plane, but it rose powerfully into the air, indifferent to the temporary bad weather.

  All her thoughts were on Eliott. She pictured him as wounded, weak, in a pitiful state—and she knew she wasn’t wrong. Was he still rational, or had insanity taken over permanently? She was torn between the pleasure of seeing him again and apprehension that she might confront a psychopath in the middle of an episode. She feared for herself. But she also feared losing him. Five years had passed since their mission in Colombia. They had both experienced something very powerful there, something that had left a deep impression on her. First, he had looked at her as a father. During a one-month mission, he had passed on to her all the experience he had acquired in hostile environments, his survival techniques, his methods, and all his own tricks. Then he had looked at her as a lover. Their passion had been brutal, like that mission. He had set her body and her heart on fire. Even now, Eliott’s eyes were still on her. In addition to being physically irresistible, he had a thing inside that melted every woman he met. He didn’t even realize it. She had let herself go with him without giving herself over to him completely. She had also known exactly how to inflame him and hold him captive to her charms. Through their games of seduction and their fiery lovemaking, they had both felt they were moving toward something transformative. This relationship wouldn’t have fit with the job. It was far too powerful to let schedules or conventions limit it. It was completely out of the ordinary. They had agreed to give each other time. Was it the first step in a definitive break-up? No. Work had been the only real reason. Their obligations to the Bureau had come first, but they continued to maintain their relationship, casually, as they moved around, depending on their assignments. Now, as her large green eyes were lost between the clouds and the drops of water sliding across the window, she realized how much she loved him.

  The gentle voice of a young flight attendant jerked her out of
her reverie.

  “Ma’am, would you like something to drink? Coffee? Orange juice?”

  “I’d like a little orange juice, thank you.”

  The young woman with red curls handed her a drink with a gracious smile and continued her distribution.

  “Excuse me, ma’am?” Lauren discreetly called her back.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you tell me what the weather report is for Buffalo?”

  The hostess gave a little pout. “It’s overcast. We’re expecting heavy rains when we land.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Lauren was sleeping when the plane started shaking. She woke with a jolt.

  “Passengers, please fasten your seatbelts. We are currently passing through a layer of turbulence and safely beginning our descent to Buffalo Niagara Airport.”

  A few minutes later, the Boeing landed easily in the torrential rains flooding the runways. With her cell phone back on, she checked her messages. A certain Robert Woods had left her two text messages, which she opened immediately with an amused smile.

  Hello, still up for our little escapade?

  Call me back so I can send you the directions.

  He hadn’t lost his sense of humor. That was a good sign.

  She went to the first car rental agency available. She rented a Jeep Wrangler under the name Natalie Gray, paid cash, and went down to the parking lot to pick up the vehicle.

  Take the 219 Expressway south. Just after Carrollton, you’ll go left onto 417 to Olean. You’ll take a right onto Route 16 toward Knapp Creek at the intersection outside the city. Message me when you’re on Route 16.

  Based on their phone conversations, Cooper didn’t seem to have a major mental disorder, at least not to the extent that he was no longer responsible for his actions. He was lucid and showed relative coherence in his thinking. Lauren thought back to the atrocious crimes of which he was accused. Devouring three young women and a child; these were acts one couldn’t reasonably attribute to a human being. Even a wild animal would have trouble consuming four people in a row. As an FBI agent, she had already handled sordid cases where maniacs had committed inhuman crimes. But what Cooper allegedly had done went far beyond the worst cases she had ever seen. Witches, ruins with strange properties, his metamorphosis . . . She kept wondering how this whole situation could be conceivable. Even if Cooper seemed sane to her, his words were completely detached from reality. There were only two possibilities: either Cooper had gone crazy, or his experience in these woods really involved supernatural phenomena.

  She drove up to the automatic gates at the exit of the parking lot. A heady scent of leather and plastic filled the Jeep, a shiny gray Smoky Mountain. The odometer read just under five thousand miles. She could have chosen a more generic vehicle, but this model was perfectly adapted to the rough terrain they would have to cover.

  The rain continued unabated over Buffalo. Lauren took the expressway to leave the city and then got on the highway. She checked the road behind her several times; no vehicle was following her. When she glanced into the rearview mirror, she saw that her eyes looked tired, yet she felt perfectly alert. The deserted lanes of 417 ran straight south through the sleeping lowlands. From time to time, lightning streaked across the night sky in silvery shards.

  *

  Eliott set up his tent in a recess at the foot of a large rocky slope to give him shelter from the weather; then fetched dry wood for a campfire. He had eaten his last food rations the day before. He was starving. He took along his handgun, equipped with a silencer, hoping against hope to come across some game. But he was exhausted and made too much noise, grabbing branches so he wouldn’t fall every time he stumbled. He was so exhausted that even if a wild boar were to appear, he wasn’t sure he could kill it, even at a distance of fifteen feet. He returned to his makeshift camp empty-handed but shouldering a bundle of fairly dry wood. The wind was blowing hard, and the air smelled of wet soil. The storm must not be far away now. Later, when he had fallen asleep in front of the glowing embers, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a call from Lauren. He answered right away.

  “Mr. Robert Woods?” she joked.

  “Where are you?”

  “Just outside Olean. I just took Route 16 toward Knapp Creek like you told me.”

  “Perfect. You’re not far away now. Here, I’ll send you my GPS coordinates.”

  “Okay.”

  A few seconds went by as he sent the file.

  “Got it,” she confirmed. “I should reach you in about eight minutes. See you soon.”

  “Lauren!” he called out before she hung up.

  “Yes?”

  “Could you bring me something to eat? I used up all my rations. I’m going starve to death soon.”

  “Oops, sorry, sure. I’d forgotten all about that. Do you want anything in particular?”

  Eliott’s belly began to gurgle oddly, as if his stomach were trying to answer the question.

  “It doesn’t matter, just bring substantial, nutritious food, and enough to last several days—and water too. That will be perfect.”

  “Okay. I just passed a twenty-four-hour supermarket. I’m going to go back and buy some stuff.”

  “Okay. For our meeting, call me as soon as you get there.”

  “You want me to call you?”

  “I don’t want to risk having direct contact with you. Not until I know exactly what’s happening to me. We’re going to have to keep our distance. I’m a serious threat to anyone who comes near me, Lauren.”

  It took her a few seconds to respond. “Okay, Eliott. I . . . I’ll listen and do what you say. I’m pulling into the supermarket parking lot right now. I’m going to buy supplies and then will meet up with you. Well, I mean, I’ll be at the meeting spot.”

  “Lauren.”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re convinced I’m nuts, aren’t you?”

  “No, what scares me is your coherence when you explain all of this.”

  “You’ll soon have proof that it’s all true, Lauren.”

  There was another pause, and it sounded like she had parked her vehicle. “I’m going to do the shopping and will be there in about twenty minutes.”

  “Okay. See you in a little while.”

  10

  The Jeep’s headlights were gliding down Route 16, which wound through the valleys. The rain wasn’t there yet; she hoped that maybe the downpours would spare this area. Carried along by the curves in the road, she relaxed for a moment, lulled by the bewitching Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young song playing on the radio:

  Guinnevere

  Had green eyes

  Like yours, my lady, like yours . . .

  She remembered she and Cooper had made passionate love to this song one winter evening in New York. That had been almost two years ago. They had met in a tiny jazz club at the end of an alley in Brooklyn. An Afro-Cuban diva had been singing bewitching blues to the rhythm of the bells she’d played seductively on her hips. They had held each other close, toasty warm in this club where they’d been practically the only customers, while the snow had fallen in big flakes outside. Later, the singer had slipped into a blind trance that she fed with voracious swigs of whiskey. They also had downed several drinks and started groping each other feverishly under the table. She’d felt his desire coming alive. She loved his animal side and knew how to wake the beast. In this particular field, she had the upper hand. While sipping from his glass, his eyes fixed on hers, he had slipped his hand between her thighs, hot and moist. She’d left just enough space for his fingers. She had boldly unzipped his fly and, without taking her eyes from his, slid her hand inside with a defiant look. They hadn’t even left the club, and he’d almost ripped off her panties. Without waiting any longer, they’d taken a taxi to a hotel. They’d made out even more intensely in the back of the cab. She’d freed him from his jeans, fanning the flames even more with her eager mouth, while Eliott’s hands had slipped inside
her, clasped her beautiful, round, firm breasts, and grabbed her hips, pressing her, biting her. He had torn off her black lace panties with his teeth. He’d eased her on top of him, like a queen of perversity upon her throne. From that moment, she’d known she would lose control, and she had given herself to him completely. He’d had her move slowly on top of him all the way to the hotel, holding her firmly under his control, whispering words she wouldn’t dare repeat. She loved it when she felt manhandled by him, and he knew just how to do it. He knew how to make her take off so high, just to the point of no return, and to keep her at the very edge until she begged him. She had come twice in the taxi, hard.

  Eliott was a real sex machine, unlike any man she had ever known. Sometimes she would admit to herself that this was the primary reason for their relationship. But where was the harm in that? Once in the modern, luxurious room at the Park Hyatt, they had taken their games into the bathroom. After a long bath together, he had pulled her to him by her hips and taken her at the edge of the Jacuzzi, covering her back and neck with kisses and delicate nibbles. Suddenly, she had taken over and seized him fiercely, like an untamed tigress with claws out, laying him on his back. She’d straddled him, her eyes riveted to his, and had ridden him until he’d had nothing left. Later, they’d continued their erotic journey, trying out the invigorating snow-covered terrace and then ending back inside with a carnal grand finale on the beautifully designed king-size bed. There, they had fused completely, their two bodies like a single river of lava, radiant shadows, their breathing and gasping intermingled, the amber scent of their embrace, the fragrance of flesh calling flesh, over and over again. Abandonment and control, life and death . . . All the forces of the cosmos had been in their hips, a god and a goddess, light years above the celestial vault, coupling in infinite space. Supreme ecstasy.

  After several hours of caressing and making love in another world, they had returned to Earth, languidly exchanging endless kisses, whispering into each other’s ears, making crazy plans, talking of trips to Europe, Asia. Their passion had been emerging from its chrysalis to transform into a superb love butterfly, with wings as colorful as all the flowers in the most marvelous gardens in the world. The memory of that night was still so clear that if she closed her eyes, she could feel his hands running over her body again, his black eyes plunging into the intimacy of her thoughts. She could hear his deep voice and drove on, soothed by the ballads of the old rock bands playing on the radio.