PROLOGUE
Dark Harbor, Maine 1889
"I'll kill you all!" screamed Nathan Courtwright as his father and two brothers dragged him through the woods towards the mausoleum that loomed beyond a bank of fir and spruce. Body arching, he fought to twist free of their grip, unsuccessful. They hauled him another ten feet, his heels thudding over the frost-hardened ground, kicking up pine needles and dead leaves. The stench of autumn filled his nostrils, sharp and musky in the chilled night air.
Nathan let his body go slack in an effort to conserve his waning strength. Muscles quivered from exhaustion; his breath burned in his lungs and beat out in choppy gasps.
Images careened through his mind, scenes of Catherine and death and rebirth. Hazy, blurred, swept away as glimpses of his surroundings gyrated before his eyes: the dark hulk of the mansion from which he'd been dragged, growing rapidly more distant; branches of maples and oaks, interlacing above him like the fingers of charred skeletons; the frosty speckling of stars glittering in the dying October sky.
The moon shined through an opening in the branches. A wispy haze serrated its alabaster face with jagged gauzy strings.
Nathan uttered a sharp cry and thrashed about. With a burst of strength, the little he had remaining, he fought to wrench an arm loose.
And failed.
"Bastards!" he shouted. "Let me finish!" Both brothers halted, feet skidding on the slick needles. Tightening their grips, they struggled to restrain him. "Noooo!" Nathan screamed, insanity chiseled on his gaunt face. Eyes livid with hate, his gaze drilled Jerediah, his younger brother. Jerediah was the weakest; he could get to him, tear out his fear. "You'll die for this, brother. I promise you that--" A brittle thud punctuated his words. Terror on his face, Jerediah jerked back his foot and kicked Nathan in the teeth. His head snapped back and a welt of pain shot through his jaw. Blood sprayed from his lips.
Nathaniel Courtwright, his father, stepped close and glanced at Nathan, then to Jerediah. His lips tightened into a hard line.
Through the noise of pain swelling in his head, Nathan heard his brother's voice ring out, brittle and fear-drenched.
"I-I felt him! I felt him in my mind!" "I felt it, also." Chad, the eldest brother, nodded towards Nathan. Contempt laced his voice. "It was him. He is a monster, now. There is nothing left of our brother."
"Resist him," commanded Nathaniel, voice solid. "We must end this tonight. It has already gone too far."
"We don't have the gift." Jerediah shook his head. "I feel the hate inside him, the evil. He is too strong." "No, he is not," said Nathaniel. "Not as long as I am with you. Hurry, now, while he is still dazed."
Jerediah and Chad shot each other glances, eyes frosted with fear, indecision. Resolve overcame the fear in Chad's, and he motioned to his brother. "It must be done." Moving forward, they dragged Nathan from the woods.
Reaching the mausoleum, Nathaniel threw open the iron door and stepped into the anteroom. Moonlight spilled in, bathing the room with a ghostly glow. Jerediah and Chad dragged Nathan across the threshold and paused, drawing stuttering breaths.
"Christ, it's awful in here." Chad threw a nervous glance about the anteroom.
"Feels like a bloody grave." Jerediah trembled visibly.
"It feels him." Nathaniel nodded towards Nathan, who glared. "It feels the monster inside my son." Nathan laughed, an insane look flittering on his face. Hate raged within him, burning. Oh, yes, he hated them, hated them utterly and completely for doing this. Hated them for interrupting.
"Let's get this over with." Nathaniel stepped to a second iron door, which led to the main chamber. As the door creaked open, Nathan's struggling increased. He kicked out; his heels thudding on the stone floor sounded like pistol shots. His brothers, struggling to hold onto him, hauled him into the chamber.
The main room was drenched in gloom. A torch blazed on one wall, casting shimmering lazy shadows on the stone, which seeped moisture. Veins of liquid trickled down, black and shiny in the anemic light, as though the walls dripped blood.
At the far end of the chamber, a brick cubicle, partially completed, stood out from the wall. Its front gaped open, inviting, its interior shadowy. Waiting. "Bring him..." Nathaniel's voice came strained, a bit quivery.
"No!" Anger glinted like black ice in Nathan's eyes. "You cannot do this!" He fought furiously at his brothers' hold, wrenching an arm free from a startled Jerediah's grip. The younger brother recoiled; a gasp escaped his lips as he took a step back. Nathan's movement ceased. His gaze stabbed Jerediah again. FEAR ME!
Jerediah shook his head. "Voices..."
Terror lay naked on his face. "Thousands of them--in my mind! Begging--they want to be free--'Help us! Help us!' Release...hate...anger--" "Stop it!" Nathaniel stepped close to Nathan, hand lashing out. A brittle crack! echoed through the chamber. Grabbing a handful of Nathan's hair, he wrenched up his son's head. "Stop it, now!"
Nathan laughed, the sound chilling, inhuman. Its rhythm ululated with the flickering shadows, as if the shadows were part on him, of what he had become. "It does not matter." Spittle, flecked with blood, gathered at the corners of his mouth. "You will all burn in the same hell."
"Hell is reserved for the ungodly, my son. Hell is reserved for you." Nathaniel turned and looked at Jerediah, who was staring, blank-eyed, with shock. "Put him in the hole." Jerediah hesitated, glancing from his father to Nathan. "Go on! He will not bother you this time."
Jerediah shook his head and mouthed a barely audible,
"No."
"Jerediah, help us!" Nathaniel's voice raised with an air of command. "It must be done."
"I...cannot. I cannot." Jerediah whirled and dashed from the room. Nathan's laugh chased his footsteps. Silence.
Nathaniel grabbed Nathan's arm. "He will be long forgetting the stain you have cast upon this family."
"So?" Sarcasm laced Nathan's tone. "You will not forget. You will never forget."
"Hell is waiting for you, Nathan."
Nathaniel looked to Chad, whose fear danced black waltzes in his eyes, but whose face had set with determination. Without a word, they heaved Nathan up and dragged him to the cubicle, forcing him inside. Nathan didn't resist further as they locked his wrists in the shackles embedded into the wall above his head. He saw no use. This night, victory belonged to his father.
"Leave," said Nathaniel, as they stepped back.
"But--"
"Leave!"
Chad hesitated, then strode from the chamber.
"The glory belongs to you, father..." Shackles clacked against stone as Nathan's head lifted.
"I prayed you would understand, Nathan, but I see Evil has completely devoured your reason. You are my son. No matter how much I detest what you have done, I cannot bring myself to let them destroy you. This is the only way." Nathaniel went to a pile of bricks stacked near the cubicle. A wheelbarrow filled with dry mortar stood beside the bricks. A bucket of water reflected shimmering torchlight. Nathaniel slowly rolled up his sleeves... After Nathaniel bricked up the front of the cubicle, he hesitated, clutching the last brick in bleached fingers. "It is the only way, Nathan." His voice broke with emotion. "No." Nathan's voice grew colder. "You can join me, free them. You have the key." "The key...yes, the key. The gift occurs but once a generation, sometimes less often than that. I gave you that gift and you abused it, soiled it." Nathan laughed a mocking laugh. "Gift? You gave me no gift, father. You gave me a disease." Nathaniel bowed his head. "Perhaps. Perhaps I did at that. For my part in this I will carry the burden of guilt throughout my life, but if I am responsible for infecting you, then I am also responsible for your cure. I am sorry, Nathan. May God have mercy on your damned soul." Nathan's scream of protest became a muffled wail as his father slid the last brick into place...
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