Watcher of the Dark: A Jeremiah Hunt Supernatual Thriller (The Jeremiah Hunt Chronicle) by Joseph Nassise Page B
Authors: Joseph Nassise
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to himself.
“Of course,” he said softly, then reached out and pushed the trim directly opposite where he’d tried before.
A six-foot section of the wall popped open to our left.
Behind it was a passage leading downward, beneath the altar.
Perkins smiled.
“After you,” he said.
9
The stairs were narrow, so we went down them in single file. Max led the way and Ilyana brought up the rear, with the rest of us scattered haphazardly between them. I had Rivera in front of me, where I could keep an eye on him, and Grady at my back.
“What are we doing here, anyway?” I asked in a whisper just loud enough for either of them to hear me.
Neither of them said anything in response.
Apparently it was “Keep Hunt in the Dark” day.
Fine. So be it.
We continued downward and I counted thirty-nine steps before we reached the bottom. That put us about fifty feet below ground, and we all felt the cooler temperatures as soon as we stepped off the stairs.
The room spread out ahead of us and it was immediately obvious that we were in the church crypt; grottos had been carved into the walls and ossuaries of different shapes, sizes, and colors could be seen in many of them. There were dozens of sarcophagus-like tombs littering the floor as well.
Max headed out into the cavern, searching for what it was we had come there to find.
I tried again. “It might be helpful for me to know what we’re supposed to be looking for.”
Grady glanced in my direction and shrugged, as if to say it was out of his hands. The others simply ignored me, moving off in different directions as Perkins had, trying to cover as much ground as possible.
Okay, guess I’ll have to figure it out on my own , I thought.
With this many tombs in here, I knew there’d be more than a soul or two hanging about, so I triggered my ghostsight, thinking maybe I could learn something that way.
For a moment I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
The crypt was littered with ghosts.
I lost count after the first few dozen and simply stood there and stared for a moment. There were a lot of them, yes, but that wasn’t what had me standing there in dumbfounded amazement; it was the fact that every single one of them was staring at one particular corner of the room. I turned in place, looking about, and it didn’t matter which direction I faced, the end result was always the same; the dead were all looking in that direction.
Almost like statues, frozen in place.
What the hell?
I began to thread my way through the tombs, headed for the one on the far side of the room that had captured the attention of all of the ghosts. I’d never seen them act this way, and I have to admit I was growing more curious by the minute.
As I drew closer, I began to see that this particular sarcophagus was different from the others. Most had flat- or rounded-top stones, but this one had a full-sized figure of a man carved into its face. Most were of dark gray or brown stone; this one was fashioned of white marble with veins of rose running through it. Perhaps most significantly, all of the others were crammed into small plots, causing some of the large ones to overlap the smaller, yet this particular tomb was set aside from all the rest in a double-sized plot all its own.
I slipped between the other tombs and the ghosts themselves until I stood right next to the object of their obsession and looked down at what had captured their attention.
The figure on the lid of the sarcophagus was that of a knight, complete with chain armor, sword, and shield!
I stared at it for a long moment, nonplussed.
What the hell was a knight doing on the lid of a stone coffin built in the mid-1990s?
It was something I would expect to see on the tomb of a wealthy merchant or lord from the middle ages. Certainly not anything from the modern era.
Feeling a bit uncomfortable, I looked up and discovered that all of the ghosts had stopped staring at the coffin and were now staring at me.
The hair on
“Of course,” he said softly, then reached out and pushed the trim directly opposite where he’d tried before.
A six-foot section of the wall popped open to our left.
Behind it was a passage leading downward, beneath the altar.
Perkins smiled.
“After you,” he said.
9
The stairs were narrow, so we went down them in single file. Max led the way and Ilyana brought up the rear, with the rest of us scattered haphazardly between them. I had Rivera in front of me, where I could keep an eye on him, and Grady at my back.
“What are we doing here, anyway?” I asked in a whisper just loud enough for either of them to hear me.
Neither of them said anything in response.
Apparently it was “Keep Hunt in the Dark” day.
Fine. So be it.
We continued downward and I counted thirty-nine steps before we reached the bottom. That put us about fifty feet below ground, and we all felt the cooler temperatures as soon as we stepped off the stairs.
The room spread out ahead of us and it was immediately obvious that we were in the church crypt; grottos had been carved into the walls and ossuaries of different shapes, sizes, and colors could be seen in many of them. There were dozens of sarcophagus-like tombs littering the floor as well.
Max headed out into the cavern, searching for what it was we had come there to find.
I tried again. “It might be helpful for me to know what we’re supposed to be looking for.”
Grady glanced in my direction and shrugged, as if to say it was out of his hands. The others simply ignored me, moving off in different directions as Perkins had, trying to cover as much ground as possible.
Okay, guess I’ll have to figure it out on my own , I thought.
With this many tombs in here, I knew there’d be more than a soul or two hanging about, so I triggered my ghostsight, thinking maybe I could learn something that way.
For a moment I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
The crypt was littered with ghosts.
I lost count after the first few dozen and simply stood there and stared for a moment. There were a lot of them, yes, but that wasn’t what had me standing there in dumbfounded amazement; it was the fact that every single one of them was staring at one particular corner of the room. I turned in place, looking about, and it didn’t matter which direction I faced, the end result was always the same; the dead were all looking in that direction.
Almost like statues, frozen in place.
What the hell?
I began to thread my way through the tombs, headed for the one on the far side of the room that had captured the attention of all of the ghosts. I’d never seen them act this way, and I have to admit I was growing more curious by the minute.
As I drew closer, I began to see that this particular sarcophagus was different from the others. Most had flat- or rounded-top stones, but this one had a full-sized figure of a man carved into its face. Most were of dark gray or brown stone; this one was fashioned of white marble with veins of rose running through it. Perhaps most significantly, all of the others were crammed into small plots, causing some of the large ones to overlap the smaller, yet this particular tomb was set aside from all the rest in a double-sized plot all its own.
I slipped between the other tombs and the ghosts themselves until I stood right next to the object of their obsession and looked down at what had captured their attention.
The figure on the lid of the sarcophagus was that of a knight, complete with chain armor, sword, and shield!
I stared at it for a long moment, nonplussed.
What the hell was a knight doing on the lid of a stone coffin built in the mid-1990s?
It was something I would expect to see on the tomb of a wealthy merchant or lord from the middle ages. Certainly not anything from the modern era.
Feeling a bit uncomfortable, I looked up and discovered that all of the ghosts had stopped staring at the coffin and were now staring at me.
The hair on
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