A giant head, a skull, with horns… a body of bone and spines.
He looked at the workbench and the floor and could now clearly visualise Preston feverishly at work by the light of a solitary oil lamp, fashioning a mask from the giant skull of a bison, or a stag. And all the while reassuring himself over and over in the muttered voice of a man utterly insane that he was engineering God’s will for the good of his people.
And yes, he thought, a mask of bone would be enough, wouldn’t it?
The mere fleeting glimpse of such a crudely fashioned mask amidst the bedevilling half-light of this forbidding place, and the low visibility of a gusting snowstorm, would certainly be enough to convince someone already terrified, someone already believing in such things as angels and demons, that something awful was in these woods.
There was no sign of such a thing here. Which he supposed could only mean that Preston had already been and gone.
What do I do now?
Presumably, he was already on his way back to the camp. He could try to pursue him and intercept him before they got back. Just the two of them, alone in the woods — one shot, and this could all be over.
If Preston’s followers didn’t lynch him first, Ben could show them the trapper’s hut, the skull mask. He could explain to them that the medicine Preston had been taking had sent him mad. He could tell them of the confession the elder had made, which Dorothy had heard and planned to tell the others… he could tell them all those things, and perhaps it would be enough.
If I hurry…
He emerged from the shelter with relief, filling his lungs with the clear, cool breeze outside. He exhaled a large cloud of fetid air, purging the dank, coppery odour of rotting vegetation and dried blood.
Ben cast a hurried glance towards the subtle mound across the clearing; the grave of Sam and Dorothy lying side by side, now only a faint hummock beneath the thick blanket of snow. Beside their graves was Mr Hearst’s; he’d been laid to rest not by his own people, but by Keats.
He wished Emily was standing with him right now. He wished he could show her the grave — that she could see both her brother and mother at rest side by side, properly buried, marked and prayed over. Instead, he imagined her last vision of them was an endless loop of sudden, barbaric butchery that dutifully played a performance for her time after time, night after night.
‘I have to go,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll save her from this madness, Sam. And come the spring, I’ll take her out of this place with me. I promise you that.’
CHAPTER 67
1 November, 1856
As the last of the sun’s rays shone daggers over the tree tops, and purple shadows like the claws of a giant hand grasped their way across the clearing, Preston emerged from the temple with his dark eyes seeming lost and far away. The whispered prayers of his people quickly hushed to silence as they all looked up at him from their clasped hands.
The campfire crackled and spat, and around them there was quiet save for the gentle hiss of shifting trees.
His remote, disengaged manner unsettled them. Right now they needed to know their First Elder was still empowered with certainty, righteousness… touched by the Almighty.
Mr Stolz was the first to speak up and break the silence. ‘William? What are we to do?’
Another spoke. ‘Night is almost upon us and they’re still there.’
The flickering light from their campfire reflected in the deep sockets of his eyes.
‘I entered the woods and prayed for guidance,’ he said. ‘I was ready to die for you, for God to come to me, to take my life and spare yours.’ A tear glistened on his sallow cheek. ‘I would do that for you, because I love you all like my children.’
His voice faltered. ‘I thought we had been forsaken, abandoned by Him, abandoned by His angel, Nephi, and left alone in this empty place with those outsiders. I thought we’d failed him. I feared He had judged us through Eric and Saul and found us wanting. But then it came out of the trees. It came to me, large and powerful.’
He took a deep breath, and smiled at them all. ‘I was with the angel!’
Across the assembled crowd, he could hear the sharp intake of breath, whispered ‘amens’ and the keening tears of relief and joy from both men and women.
‘God is with us. God has a mission for us still.’
One of the women dropped to her knees and cried with relief.
‘There will be no vengeance wrought upon us tonight. We’ll not face Eric’s fate, nor Saul’s, nor Dorothy’s.’
‘Thank you, Lord,’ Mr Hollander bellowed.
‘He asks of us one thing. To flush away those others across from us. They must be gone. And when what needs to be done here is done, we can finally begin work on God’s beautiful message. Remember this well, because tonight will be the night the first true faith of our Lord is born, and the apostasy of all the false faiths will be at an end.’
Several voices cried out, and a feverish sound of lips and tongues at prayer spread across his people, like the roll and hiss of a wave across a shingle beach. He allowed them time to pray and give thanks before continuing. There was need for that now, to show God their humble gratitude. When he could hear the concluding mutterings of ‘amen’ uttered from the gathering gloom, he spoke once more.
‘The angel confirmed what I feared. We have allowed devils to gather around us like jackals. They may look like people, they may walk and talk like people, they may bleed just like people, but they are nothing more than an evil deception.’
He shook his head. ‘The Devil nearly fooled us with them, didn’t he? With their fair skins, little ones resembling sweet, innocent children — looking so much like we do. But all along the Devil was mocking us with his clues. The dark-skinned family, the Negro woman, the savages from the woods. The Devil was laughing at our stupidity, showing his presence amongst them and mocking God!’
‘I heard say… that the white men over there have been sharing their wives with the savages!’ called out Mr Larkin.
Several women gasped.
Preston nodded. ‘I fear it might be true, Jed. I too have glimpsed things at night over there; gatherings around the fire, the noise of cloven feet, the chattering voices of evil.’
An uneasy murmur spread amongst them.
‘I have seen…’ Preston lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper that carried loudly across the gathering. ‘I have seen the curved horns of the Devil emerge from amidst their fire, his head that of a goat, turning towards us, staring across the way at us… challenging us!’
‘Oh Lord, please… please be with us!’ someone cried.
Preston clamped his eyes shut and clasped his hands together. ‘Pray now with me!’ his voice commanded deafeningly. ‘Pray with me now!’
They chorused his words.
‘Oh, Lord, forgive us our weaknesses. We see now how we have let you down. We see now that those of us who died — that was your warning. That you are prepared to spare the rest of us, we are eternally grateful. That you are prepared to let us prove ourselves to you this night, we are eternally grateful. That we will be your first true followers of the true word of God, we shall be eternally grateful. Tonight, we make amends. Tonight, as you ask of us, so we shall obey! Now, we will purge this place. Amen.’
‘Amen,’ a hundred voices rumbled.
Preston unclasped and lowered his hands, breathing deeply, sending tendrils of vapour out through his nose. ‘Gentlemen, gather your guns. Mothers, wives, sons and daughters, gather what tools you can find. Tonight we have to cleanse this place of poison. Make it a sacred place, so that Nephi can come in from those trees out there,
