Convocation, page 4
Suddenly, a figure came running from behind, rushing past him and hitting him on his shoulder. The smack knocked Jarek completely off balance. He landed on all fours from the force. His mind attempted to process what was happening. He drew a deep breath before standing up and running through the gloomy woodlands. More screeching from the distance began to encircle him. The sound of an explosion rang through the trees as screams made Jarek’s head quiver in pain. His brain was whirling, confused with sensory overload.
Jarek slowed his pace back to a walk and then halted. He leaned down, placing his hands on his knees as he tried to look around. Through his watery eyes he could see shadows move about in the distance, in every direction . . . slowly getting closer and closer. He tried to slow his breathing, beginning to focus on the shadows. Things began to get clearer. He realized this wasn’t reality; he was in a different plane. Not quite a dream . . . just somewhere else.
The sound of a low rumble interrupted Jarek’s thoughts. There was a growl, followed by an almost hissing sound. This noise was not like anything he had heard before—a low, snarly rumble. Not like a dog or a wild hog either. The noise grew louder as Jarek stood there, but he could not see anything besides the shadows darting all around him intertwined with the thick trees.
Then, suddenly the sound of massive jaws snapping shut was unmistakable. Jarek stumbled as his foot became tangled in moss-covered tree roots protruding from the ground. As his body hit the dirt, total silence ensued. The darting shadows vanished as Jarek lay with his back on the earth. The silence was nearly deafening. As he looked around, he noticed the shadows had not vanished . . . they had simply stopped moving. In their unearthly gangly shapes, the shadows hovered above the forest floor. They appeared to be watching Jarek as he stared up from the ground.
The silence was finally broken when the sound of something dragging through the dirt and leaves reached Jarek’s ears. Delicate sounds of crackling and twisting followed. Just as he turned his head toward the noise, he could see the roots of the trees twisting and turning out of the glossy black dirt, slithering their way across the forest floor toward him. Jarek scrambled to stand, but it was in vain as the woody snakes took hold of his ankles and wrists, pulling him tightly to the dank earth. The crackling roots continued to wrap around his extremities until he was held down so tightly, he couldn’t move anything except his chest as it gasped for oxygen. As he was about to scream from the pain, another root burst from the ground and twisted right over his mouth. Jarek could taste the wet, dirt-covered wood. The taste made him nearly swallow his tongue as he tried moving his jaw to loosen the grip.
“Jarek,” came a whisper from beyond where his eyes could see. “Jarek, you must ask for help. You are strong, but with companions you are stronger. You are not alone in this journey.”
Jarek tried to tear away from the roots with no luck. His mind was overwhelmed as he tried to process what was being said, while simultaneously wondering what was happening to him. Body and mind were panicking, his breath uncontrollable as his jaw ached from the constricting root.
Jarek’s eyes closed tight as he felt a cold sensation graze across his neck and chin. He knew immediately it was a hand. The hand began to form a grip. His stomach turned as the smell of rotting flesh stung his senses. His whole backside became cold as he felt pressure from the ground closing in, tighter and tighter. As his eyes opened and gained more clarity, he saw decomposing skin hanging from an arm that was wrapping around him firmly.
A low groan began to emerge from the ground beneath his body. Jarek remained petrified as he realized it was a corpse pulling him down into the ground, the dead arm pulling Jarek’s own body into the decaying flesh of its own. Jarek shifted his eyes, straining to see more. He could see the face of a man out of the corner of his eye as it pulled him in even tighter. Jarek felt wet spit splatter on his face as it shot out of the dead man’s mouth with each long, deep groan.
“Yooouu . . . lefffft me,” echoed from the mouth of the dead man. “Youu . . . you failed me.”
Jarek’s head throbbed with a searing pain from the constraints and screams in the distance. He knew who this dead man was . . . there was no mistaking it. Jarek’s mind began to jump from moment to moment in time. His face grew even more cold as tears streamed from his bloodshot eyes.
“You cooould have savvveed me . . .”
“I . . . I . . . could-d-d . . . couldn’t,” Jarek finally choked out between the root still covering his dirt- and spit-filled mouth. “I . . . I—”
The dead man squeezed tighter, cutting off all Jarek’s air supply, causing him to gasp in vain. “Howww . . . How can you liiivve with yourself? You should doooo the honorable taskssss . . .”
“No . . . I . . . I am sorry,” Jarek was able to squeak out slowly.
“You knnnoooww you muuusst . . . You must dooo it for clemency . . . I deserve it . . . The fammmily deserves it.”
Tears were rushing from Jarek’s eyes uncontrollably. Streaming directly down the sides of his face and onto the dead man.
“Mmmm. These tears aaarre delicioussss,” the corpse said as it licked them off Jarek’s cheek. “Buuut you owwwe me more than tears, Videnniii . . .”
Jarek’s vision began to go black as the oxygen nearly vanished from his body.
“Jarek, stop!” the voice from earlier in the woods said in a loud whisper now. “You must stop. Observe your surroundings. You must take control! What is in the past is in the past. Learn from it. Move on from it.”
Jarek slowed his breathing. He closed his eyes, tears still streaming onto the ground and corpse. He tried relaxing his body. Soon, the corpse’s grip began to ease as it slowly sank back into the ground. When Jarek opened his eyes, he shifted them around, looking at everything surrounding him. The root over his mouth retracted slowly back into the earth. The low snarl began again in the background.
As Jarek focused his energy, the root holding his chest loosened and slinked back into the earth. He shifted his head around. The trees were unfamiliar to him, covered in a dense hanging moss. He knew he was somewhere he had never been. Yet it was familiar to him too.
As his eyes continued to focus, he saw a structure in the distance. It was a small white farmhouse with chipped paint, completely overgrown with vegetation. It would have appeared to be abandoned to anyone passing by.
“Jarek, do not be afraid to ask.”
Then it struck him. The voice, the house . . . it was his grandmother’s. Leona’s voice and her childhood home he had seen in a photograph years ago. How is she able to do this? In this moment, Jarek realized he had much to learn about his gifts, but something was continuing to hold him back.
Leona’s voice continued: “Just let go, my boy. Let those around you help you. Let the past be the past. There is nothing you can do to change what has already transpired. You can only use the past to learn how to better the future.”
The shadows began to drift, moving closer to Jarek as he lay there. The roots of the trees all began to recede back into the ground. As the shadows moved in closer, they began to take a more humanly shape. Men in uniforms with weapons.
As Jarek began to sit up, a loud bang sounded. A sharp pain hit his thigh. He grabbed for it, realizing it was a bullet that had penetrated his body. The lead round had clearly hit a major vein, as blood was rushing from the wound. His mind transported back to the battlefield years ago. He’d tried so hard to block those days from his memory. His eyesight began to fade; the blood exiting his body was leaving him light-headed. He fell back on the ground just as one of the figures came rushing over.
“Don’t worry, Mac, it’s going to be all right,” said the figure kneeling over him. The man began to wrap something around his thigh tightly. “You’ve lost a lot of blood already, but I got the blood slowing down. You’re going to be just fine.”
Jarek blinked his eyes, trying to focus on the figure. A blast of calm and gratitude swept over him as the man tightened the bloody tourniquet on his leg.
“I’m here to help, you’re going to be all right,” he continued as he laid a hand on Jarek’s forehead.
Jarek closed his eyes tightly just as a shooting pain ran through his injured leg. He reached down and grabbed the bleeding wound. As his fingers touched the gory bandage, his eyes jolted open. He plummeted to the bed in his hotel room. He had awoken from the vision and fallen back onto the mattress as if he had been floating in the air. How is that even possible? Jarek stretched out toward his leg, rubbing his old wound from the war. It had not caused him pain in several years, but now it ached. His mind was being brought back to that moment, but he did not understand why.
The sun had nearly set outside. Birds chirped faintly on the other side of the frosty windowpanes. Jarek remembered he had come up here to journal what he had experienced since arriving in Deadwood, but he must have fallen asleep while writing. He sat up and shifted on the bed so his feet were on the floor. He pulled out his pocket watch and saw it was 4:40 in the afternoon. While pondering what he had just witnessed, Jarek knew he was given this vision to help answer some of the burning questions he had. Ever since defeating the demon Astaroth at the O’Connell mansion, he felt he was able to channel the energies surrounding him to help provide answers. The spirits from beyond see so much more than those still walking the Earth. However, he knew it could be difficult to decipher the answers the spirits were trying to give.
Jarek knew what he needed to do. He stood from the bed and walked over to his satchel on the chair. He opened the top flap and retrieved his deck of Tarot cards and set them on the floor in the center of the room. He moved over to the dresser and took the matchsticks sitting in a small glass bowl and lit the oil lamp. Jarek next went to the window, looking at the sun slowly finishing to set before he closed the drapes, making the room’s only light come from the oil lamp.
Jarek sat on the floor and crisscrossed his legs while reaching for the Tarot deck. He began to shuffle the cards as he contemplated what spread to draw and what questions he sought answers for. The entirety of his vision came to mind. The woods with moss hanging from the branches, the shadows darting all around, and whatever creature was making the snarly growling noise. Then he focused on how the roots restrained him, holding him back from getting closer to Leona’s childhood home, and finally how it transitioned to when he was shot during the Great War.
As he continued to shuffle the cards, he recalled Leona’s soothing voice.
“I am asking now for help,” Jarek said softly, “from those near and far. I know you can hear me and have the answers I need. Please help to guide me now.”
A cool draft moved through the room, blowing Jarek’s hair slightly and rustling the drapes. He set the cards down in a pile in front of him. He took a deep breath and then proceeded to draw four cards and set them in front of him facedown, in a straight line. Grandmother . . . Leona, if you can hear me, somehow, I could use your guidance as well.
Jarek turned over the card farthest to the left, revealing Strength. This card signified that strength is what overcomes current fears. Embrace that fear, face it head-on, and courage will follow. Jarek had to determine what he needed at this time, in all this uncertainty. Even though he knew that his ember of hope and passion had been ignited at the O’Connell home, giving his abilities so much more power, he still was afraid of uncertainty and inability. He regretted past decisions, and a few particular moments hit him hard. He resented himself for it, so he was always afraid to make a decision. He would rather make no decision instead of making a decision that might cause great harm to someone.
But Jarek knew he must quit his self-doubt. He had helped so many spirits lost and stuck in this world to move on to the beyond. Hell, I even conquered a demon. Finding the confidence and strength to always move forward is what he had to embrace. Not arrogantly, though, because arrogance causes complacency, but rather he must remain humble with these gifts he was born with.
Jarek’s mouth turned into a tight smile knowing he was in tune with his guides in this moment. He needed to see this card. Strength would be his guide moving forward with this case, or rather cases, that presented themselves before him.
The current of air in the room began to circulate again. Jarek could feel the spirits drifting around the room observing him. Every so often when the flame in the oil lamp flickered, he could see glimpses of the entities surrounding him, watching. They were not threatening to him; he knew that. But they were giving the room so much energy, Jarek began to feel nauseous from being inundated with the forces.
After a few moments, Jarek turned over the second card. He needed guidance on what was to come. When he looked down, he saw Death, inverted.
Jarek’s stomach sank. He knew in Tarot that Death does not mean literal death but rather a major change has come to a close. However, this card was inverted, meaning he was on the verge of a major change or discovery, but something was holding him back. Or he was letting himself hold back recognizing a major change coming. Jarek’s eyes shifted back toward Strength. He took solace in knowing he had the courage within to overcome whatever was on the edge of the precipice awaiting him.
His eyes continued to peer at Death riding in on a horse. What major change could he not be aware of yet, he thought as he turned over the third card. His eyes shifted to the first Minor Arcana card he’d pulled in a long time, Ten of Swords. The suit of Swords in the Minor Arcana often represents changes or issues within relationships. When drawing this card, Jarek was channeling his energy in relation to his recent past and everything that had transpired. The Ten of Swords represents a betrayal or a sense of being stabbed in the back. He wanted to draw a card to help focus his energy from the recent past, because it could help to guide him in his current endeavors as well as with whatever it was that Leona wanted him to do.
Seeing the Ten of Swords made Jarek’s mind begin to dash all over, his thoughts trying to identify who the backstabber could be. He knew he needed to figure this out. He felt it was critical to solving the case at hand.
Jarek’s legs were getting antsy. He was about to stand to shake the numbness off, but a force of energy jolted through him, causing him to drop back to the floor. The entities in the room clearly began encircling him, keeping him in his place. He knew he had to finish reading the cards he drew. It was disrespectful to stop a Tarot reading because of distraction. I am sorry. Jarek examined the room, feeling the eyes of shadows all around him, staring at his core within.
Jarek returned his focus to the spread of cards. One card remained to be revealed. His chest puffed as he drew another deep breath while reaching down and turning the card.
The Moon inverted faced back at him. The eighteenth card of the Major Arcana inverted symbolizes the reader may have hindered intuition, confusion, or unusual dreams that are out of order. It means that the reader needs to truly turn inward and listen to themselves. Their intuition will guide them. The reader has to regain composure in order to uncover the mysteries they are being led to unveil.
The silence of the room was ended by a draft slowly swirling about, making the drapes move a bit. The shadows surrounding Jarek vanished in an instant. A true calmness set upon him. He thought deeply, deducing the messages brought to him through the cards. He knew it meant that there was something major about to happen to him that he had yet to recognize, but he had the strength within to overcome whatever was about to occur. He realized too that he needed to dig down to his own ember of hope and passion within to find the right path to take on this current journey. There was much to uncover, he could feel it, and he must use what he already knew as well as his own gifts, but he also knew he needed to ask for help . . . at some point.
As he reflected, Jarek admired the beauty of Tarot, because it typically can reveal to the reader what they already recognize deep within themselves. But first things first. He knew someone had recently betrayed him, and he had to figure that piece out. Without recognizing who, it could lead him astray on this mystery.
Jarek gathered up his Tarot cards and placed them back in his satchel. He moved to the window and opened the drapes, not providing much light since the sun was already set. He gathered his coat, hat, and satchel, snuffed out the oil lamp, and proceeded to leave his room. He needed to get to the lobby on time to catch Ulrika before she left for the evening. He had some questions ready that he hoped she could help answer.
Chapter 5
The Black Hills
December 30, 1924, 6:05 p.m.
The lobby of the hotel was quiet as Jarek stood waiting for Ulrika. He could hear the gentle scratching of a ballpoint pen hitting paper as Mr. Clark worked on some paperwork behind the registration desk. Agatha sat in a velvety dark blue high-backed chair in the corner boxing up ornaments she must had removed from the Christmas tree near her in the corner. She was wearing her maid’s uniform still, a bit dirty from the day’s work.
As she sat there, Jarek noticed her demeanor seemed to be trying to portray a calmness, but he could feel her nervousness. I would be too with the deaths of the women in this town. This thought gave Jarek a sense of sadness—having to live with fear can be detrimental to any person’s well-being. It eats away at a person’s core, consuming their energy and slowly draining them of all happiness and pleasure.
As Jarek watched her, the ornaments sparkled as energetic vibrations began to pulse through the room. He closed his eyes and embraced the quick beats traveling throughout his body. A tingling prickled his skin as his eyes slowly reopened. There, directly above Agatha, hovered multiple orbs. Floating and dancing, suspended in the air. Agatha seemed completely unaware as she wrapped a red glass ornament in newspaper and tucked it into a box. Mr. Clark still scratching away with his ballpoint pen clearly did not see them either.
The spirits looked brilliant, swaying about. Jarek noticed Agatha’s energy begin to calm as the orbs pranced about in the air above her. She tucked a loose strand of her coarse hair behind her ear before letting out a soft sigh. Jarek stared, captivated at the sight of them bringing Agatha some peace. It was as if this is how some spirits provide an embrace to someone in distress. Those that have left their earthly bodies may still be able to provide much needed comfort to those still in their own. Jarek knew that spirits can feel emotional pain, and maybe they have the ability to sense pain among the living and do what they can to ease that pain.
