“Do you trust this guy?”
She nodded. “If you’d seen what I have, you’d trust him, too.”
Ken turned back to Levi. “You’re not like any Amish per son I’ve ever met.”
“I’m not Amish.”
“But you were talking about God. Don’t you believe in Him?”
“I do. But I am not Amish and I am not a Christian.”
“Well, what are you then?”
“I am something worse. I am a soldier. Now go, please.”
Ken and Maria hurried back into the field and over to the exit. Adam studied Levi closely. The man’s expression was grim but determined as he opened his bag and began removing items from it.
“Earlier,” Adam said, “after we found the book, you said there was one more thing I had to do to help you. I’m guessing this is where that comes in?”
Levi nodded.
“Well, for what it’s worth, I just want to say thanks.”
“There is no need to thank me. I’m just doing what I’m called upon to do.”
The darkness began to gather again, lapping at the forest floor just feet from where they stood. It trembled and quivered, but did not progress farther.
Levi spread the items out on the ground, just at the edge of the forest, on the other side of the entrance. Then he turned to Adam.
“I need you to stand here, just inside the trail.”
“But the darkness—”
“Cannot reach this far. Not yet. Look at it. I’ve weakened it, at least temporarily. It needs to recuperate.”
Cautiously, Adam stepped back onto the trail again. He watched the forest carefully, tensed and ready to flee, but the darkness remained where it was. Behind him, Levi picked up another handful of salt and recited the same words over it. Then he took one step backward, just outside of the entrance. Kneeling, he poured the salt out of his hand in a straight line, just as he’d instructed Ken and Maria to do—joining it to the Ghost Walk’s outline. For a brief moment, the lime lines seemed to glow blue. Then the light faded.
“Seriously,” Adam said, still watching the darkness. “I mean it. I want to thank you. It’s been a really long time since I’ve trusted anybody—or since anybody has trusted me. But you changed that, and I’m grateful.”
As Adam talked, Levi sat two candles on either side of the entrance and lit them. Under his breath, so that Adam wouldn’t hear him, he prayed.
“Lord forgive me, for I do this in Your name. Please have mercy upon all our souls. Thy will be done, Lord.”
“Levi?”
“Thy will be done…”
“Hey, man? Are you listening? I’m unburdening my soul here, dude.”
“Forgive me, Father.”
“Levi, didn’t you hear me? I said thank you.”
Levi glanced up. “For what?”
Adam smiled. “For believing in me. For letting me help. I appreciate it. All this time, I’ve wished there was some way I could redeem myself. Some way to make up for everything that’s happened. And you’re giving me that. So I’m saying thanks.”
“Redemption?” Levi smirked. “There is no redemption for you, Adam Senft. You murdered your wife in cold blood. You slaughtered her—the woman who you swore before God and your family to love and honor and cherish and respect. You made a sacred, holy vow and then you discarded it. You pushed your wife out of the attic window.”
“No! I was trying to save her. I just wanted to kill the baby. Hylinus had—”
“You killed Tara. She split open and spilled out all over the ground. By your hand, Adam. By your red right hand. The reasons don’t matter, only the results. You fancied yourself one of us—a magician. Yet you were nothing more than a child playing war with a loaded gun. And then, when things turned tragic—when things went wrong—you didn’t even accept responsibility for your actions. You blamed it on everyone else. On Hylinus. On Nelson LeHorn. And especially on God.”
Still standing on the path, Adam whirled around. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“Then whose fault was it?”
“It was God’s fault!”
“No!” Levi shouted. “It was your fault! How dare you blame Him? He gave you everything. Your wife. Your dog. Your friends and family. And how did you repay that kindness? By leading them to their deaths and then blaming Him. You disgust me.”
“Shut up, Levi. You just shut the hell up, right now!”
“God didn’t do this to you, Adam Senft. You did this to yourself. And now you’re damned.”
Adam snarled, clenching his fists. “You motherfucking son of a bitch! I’ll fucking kill you!”
He charged, running at Levi with his head down and fists raised. His lips were pulled back, revealing gritted teeth. Levi remained sitting, not moving from his spot on the other side of the entrance. When Adam’s foot came in contact with the line of salt, he screamed, flying backward through the air and crashing to the trail with a thud.
“Oh, no,” Levi whispered. “Not this time. You already broke one circle. You don’t get to break another one.”
Groaning, Adam sat up. “Let me out of here. You hear me, motherfucker? I said let me out of here.”
Levi shook his head. “I’m sorry, Adam, but I’m afraid that’s impossible. It’s too late. Look at the darkness.”
Stumbling to his feet, Adam turned and stared down the trail. The entity was moving again. It swirled like mist, coalescing into different shapes.
“You’re not a man,” Levi goaded, trying to stoke Adam’s fears higher. “You’re nothing. You failed as a writer, as a husband, as a father, and as a friend. You’re not a protector. You’re a joke. You couldn’t save your wife or your children. And now, you can’t even save yourself.
“Look at it, Adam! Everyone that you damned. Tara. Big Steve. Merle Laughman. Dale Haubner. Cliff Swanson. Cory Peters. Paul and Shannon Legerski. Shelly Carpenter. Leslie Vandercamp and her boyfriend, Michael Gitleson. Officer Al Uylik. All dead because of your arrogance. Because of your incompetence. Their families grieve while you shirk the blame. Look upon your works, magus. Go on! Look into the darkness and stare upon your ghosts.”
Adam’s screams echoed across the forest and field. He shrank away, pressing against the invisible barrier behind him. The darkness rushed forward, flowing along the trail.
Levi’s voice rose in pitch and drowned out Adam’s wails.
“Eloim shammanta. Barra, Gigum xul. Barra, Maskim xul. Ia idimmu, descente Shtar. Destrato Nud. Destrato Verminus. Destrato Nuada.”
“Get back!” Adam screamed. “Levi, help me! Let me out!”
“Destrato Lud. Destrato Shub-Niggurath. Destrato Pahad. Destrato Lilitu. Destrato Lamashtu. Destrato Othel. Sator opera verminni. Sator opera fhatagn.”
Levi paused, watching. Attracted by the magnitude of Adam’s fears and guilt, Nodens was focusing on the distraught man, attracted by his boiling emotional energies. As it narrowed the distance between them, stretching to the very limits of its current boundaries, the entity condensed its mass, shrinking down and thickening. Without taking his eyes off it, Levi reached down and grabbed a candle with each hand. Then he touched the flames to the lime. Immediately, the darkness solidified inside the lines, occupying the Ghost Walk and withdrawing from the surrounding woods. The portion of Nodens that was left in the gateway retreated inside the portal.
“Got you.” There was no glee in Levi’s voice.
Levi had effectively split the entity in two. The earthbound portion was trapped inside the Ghost Walk. The rest, he knew, was cowering on the other side of the doorway, weakened and—for the first time in eons, he hoped—afraid.
“Levi,” Adam begged, “please don’t do this. Don’t do this to me.”
“For what it’s worth, Mr. Senft. I am sorry.”