Convocation, p.1
Convocation, page 1
Praise for
Chasing Shadows
“Jones interweaves intense thrills with the supernatural to create a superb mystery that is surprising as well as rewarding.”
“…a gripping addition to the horror genre.”
“A wonderfully suspenseful and engrossing thriller.”
- Kirkus Reviews
“Chasing Shadows [Genesis] pays homage to works from the past … the story offers an intriguing historical mystery with nicely executed supernatural elements.”
- BookLife Reviews
“Jones has a strong imagination and he knows how to write a narrative that moves rather swiftly and engagingly…”
- Nicolò Grasso, Reedsy Discovery
“Chasing Shadows: Genesis weaves together spiritualism, mystery, and the 1920s.”
- Adrian Gomez, Albuquerque Journal
“I fell immediately into the story as well as I would have had I been viewing it on the big screen.”
- Jennifer Cyphers, Author
Winner [Genesis]: Midwest – Best Regional Fiction (Bronze)
- Independent Publisher Book Award
Finalist [Genesis]: Best Horror Fiction
- National Indie Excellence Awards
Nominated [Genesis]: Best Horror Fiction
- Eric Hoffer Book Award
Chasing Shadows
Convocation
Chasing Shadows
Convocation
Zachariah Jones
WATER SIGN BOOKS
Published by Water Sign Books
Stillwater, Minnesota 55082, USA
Copyright © 2023 by Water Sign Books
All rights reserved
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023910780
ISBNs:
979-8-9863440-5-8 (hardcover)
979-8-9863440-6-5 (paperback)
979-8-9863440-7-2 (eBook – EPUB)
Chasing Shadows is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover art by Nicolas Alexander Xayne
Set in Deadwood, South Dakota ~ 1924 and 1925
For Joshua
Chasing Shadows
Convocation
Prescient (adjective): having or showing knowledge of events before they take place
~ MERRIAM-WEBSTER DICTIONARY
Chapter 1
Deadwood
December 30, 1924, 5:32 a.m.
Clouds covering the dawning sky made the world black outside the automobile this early in the morning. Its squeaking brakes could be heard as the vehicle came to a stop along the edge of the road. The cobblestone streets of the modest downtown were deserted. The driver, a man with a large mustache that matched his large physique, sat in silence. He shifted the vehicle into park before getting out and opening the rear door for the passenger to exit. “We’re here, sir,” the man said in a raspy voice.
The frigid morning air hit Jarek’s face as he stepped out onto the snowy cobblestones. He stretched his legs for a short moment, which he needed after sitting so much over the past three days of his journey from Saint Paul, Minnesota, to Deadwood, a whole state over. Jarek’s trip consisted of a train ride and several legs in different automobiles to get to this former gold rush city.
“Thank you, sir. I greatly appreciate you risking the drive on these wintry roads,” he said before reaching into his pocket and retrieving a clip of banknotes. “This should be more than enough to cover the cost of the trip here and your return trip to Rapid City.”
“Thank you,” the driver said. “I appreciate it, sir. I still don’t get why you are coming to this glum town, though. It’s dwindling away. I reckon it used to be a city of nearly twenty thousand people, and now I wouldn’t expect more than a couple thousand . . . if that.” He looked up and down the empty streets. “And it seems to attract a lot of lowlifes out there . . .” He paused before jerking his head back toward Jarek. “I am not insinuating anything, mister.”
“Oh, no offense taken,” Jarek replied with a smile. “I am here on business. I don’t plan on staying here very long.” He paused, furrowing his brow, looking at the empty street. A hawk shrieked somewhere off in the distance, adding to the gloom and eeriness of the city.
“Well, that’s good. I would have warned you to not do business out here these days. A lot of drunks and gamblers. Which, of course, attracts all kinds of other types too . . . but to each their own.”
“Certainly,” Jarek responded as he was looking around. He didn’t need someone to tell him that this city had a colorful past. He already could feel so much energy and wandering spirits all around him.
“Now,” the driver said, “when you are finished here with your business, just find a telephone and give me a ring if you need a ride back to Rapid City. I will need at least twenty-four-hour notice to get here, though. Remember that when makin’ your plans.”
The two men were startled by the sound of a rifle being fired. It seemed to be far off in the distance. Several birds took off in flight from the noise before the city returned to near total silence.
“Like I said,” the man said through his now scrunched face, “this city attracts all kinds.” He shook his head in disappointment as he took a suitcase out of the automobile and placed it on the ground next to Jarek.
“Well, I thank you again, mister. I’ll give you that call in a few days likely. I honestly can’t say exactly when, though,” he said as he rubbed his chilled hands together, attempting to warm them up a bit.
“Take care, sir. I will see you soon . . . God willing,” he said as he climbed back into the driver’s seat, making it inch closer to the ground. “I wish you luck on your business.” The automobile door slammed shut and the vehicle began to roll away from Jarek. It slowly made a U-turn at the first intersection where a sign read MAIN STREET, and he began to drive back in the direction it had come just minutes ago, back toward Rapid City at the base of the Black Hills.
Jarek stood on the cobblestone street holding his satchel as he gave his body a few more stretches. There wasn’t as much snow on the ground compared to Saint Paul, but it did feel nearly as cold to him. As he stood there, the street slowly began to come to life as the morning light started to peek over the horizon. The sounds of people waking up and beginning to get ready for the day began to echo off the buildings and through the streets. The remnants of Christmas decorations could be seen dotted all around, wreaths and garland still accessorized with red ribbons and bows. A few people were emerging onto the street, some lights were on in the bakery a few buildings down, and a few more lights flickered on in what appeared to be hotel lobbies. Jarek assumed the hotels must serve breakfast if they were open this early in the morning, so he gathered his suitcase up from the ground and walked to the closest hotel that appeared to be open. TERRY HOTEL was painted on a wooden sign fastened to the front of the building. This will do.
As Jarek placed a foot on the step of the large sandstone building, he paused. He felt a mix of emotions flow through his body, sadness blended with confusion all at once. Turning his gaze skyward, there above him, he saw several orbs moving in and out of the hotel’s brick walls and the weathered wooden walls of the building next door. The spheres of light were moving directly through the walls as if the structures were not even there. Nearly a dozen glowing balls danced about, and after a few moments, the graceful balls all disappeared into the buildings.
Jarek stood still, watching the sky for more orbs. He had never seen this many in one location before. It gave him an uneasy feeling, yet he found the sight beautiful and mesmerizing.
“Young man, are you looking to come inside?” a soft male voice said right next to Jarek.
Jarek jumped slightly, not having heard the door to the hotel opening right behind him. He turned to see a rather small-framed man leaning out of the hotel doorway into the chilly air.
“Uh, yes. Sorry, I was in a bit of a daydream, I guess,” Jarek replied before giving the man a smile, his face clearly rosy from cold.
“Well, come on in. It’s damn cold out, son,” the older man said as his mouth pursed into a slight smile. He ran his hand through his thick salt-and-pepper hair as he nodded.
Jarek quickly did as the man said, moving into the building and closing the door tightly behind him. His body shivered after moving in from the cold to the warm hotel lobby. Jarek immediately noticed, much to his surprise, how lovely the establishment appeared. There was rich scarlet carpet, and elegant light fixtures hung above with coordinating sconces on the walls. Portraits of people he didn’t recognize hung from the ivory-colored plaster walls.
“What can I do for you this early in the morning, son?” the man said as he pinched his gray mustache.
“I need a room for a few days. Do you happen to have any vacancies?”
“You are in luck.” The man paused as his eyes peered over toward the stairs that likely led up to where the rooms were located. “I have many vacancies,” he finally said with a bit of a chuckle. “You see, this town isn’t as busy as it once was. Plus, in the winter we don’t get visitors very often. You’re the third person this week to stop here that I have never seen. Otherwise, it is just my one periodic customer for this time of year,” he said with a huff as he rolled his eyes a bit. “So yes, with twelve rooms in the hotel in all, I have several rooms still available for guests.”
“Excellent, Jarek said, before realizing it likely wasn’t excellent from a business perspective. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that in a celebratory way.”
“Oh, no offence taken. I realize what you meant, mister.” The man crossed the open floor and got behind the registration desk, waving for Jarek to come up to the desk too. He retrieved a ledger from below and placed it on the counter as cracks sounded from the spine being opened. “Now, how long are you looking to stay with us?”
“Honestly, I am not sure. I am here in town for business, and it all depends on the outcome of that.”
“All right . . . I guess it doesn’t matter much anyway; we have the rooms available.”
Before Jarek leaned on the registration desk, he set his suitcase and satchel on the floor. “My best guess is a few days at minimum and, well, the rest of my life at maximum,” he said, trying to make light of his own uncertainty.
The man gave Jarek a smile in acknowledgment of the terrible jest. “Okay, I will put you in room thirty-three. You will have to share the common washroom with the other male guests.”
As the man provided various information about the hotel, Jarek began to think that less than a week ago he was staying at the extravagant O’Connell mansion. I had my own room . . . and a private bath. Far more elegant than what awaited him upstairs, he assumed. But still nicer than his place in New York City.
Still not paying close attention, Jarek noticed the gentleman had finished up with his standard guest speech. “That sounds all fine, Mr. . . . ?”
“Clark. Call me Mr. Clark. And don’t worry, the building may be too old for individual bathrooms, but we have a boiler in the basement so the water runs hot up there,” Mr. Clark said, almost as if he had read Jarek’s mind.
“Perfect. It sounds great to me.” Jarek’s gaze pulled from Mr. Clark to the staircase on the far side of the lobby. Something was at the top of the first flight. Jarek couldn’t see it, but he could sense it. Something was watching him. After a few moments the feeling disappeared.
“Ahem.” Mr. Clark cleared his throat, bringing Jarek’s attention back to the registration desk. “The room is two dollars a night, due at checkout, or weekly if you stay longer. Also, I forgot to mention that if you require fresh linens or towels, simply come down here, or ask Agatha the maid if you see her during the day. And the restaurant is open from seven in the morning until six in the evening during the winter season. There are plenty of clip joints around here, but we don’t break the law here in this building, so if you plan to search for one, you better not try smuggling any bottles back here. I am not looking to have law enforcement find a reason to visit our fine hotel.”
“That won’t be an issue,” Jarek responded. Though I certainly could use a stiff drink right now, even this early in the morning.
“Excellent. Just sign right here and I will get you your key,” Mr. Clark said as he turned the ledger toward Jarek and handed him a fountain pen.
Jarek took the pen and began to sign the guest ledger. While signing his name on the nearly fresh page, he looked just above his own signature and saw another that was extremely sloppy. He could only decipher that the first name started with an M and the surname started with an L. Just above the sloppy signature, Jarek saw a beautifully done signature, written in elegant script: Mary Frank.
“Here is the key to your room. Again, it’s room thirty-three,” Mr. Clark said, handing Jarek a key with a ribbon tied to the end. “Try not to lose it; we only have one spare key for each room.”
“I will do my best,” Jarek said with a small smile and wink.
Mr. Clark stared at the register for a moment before closing it and tucking it back under the desk. “Enjoy your stay, Mr. Videni. If you need anything at all, just come see old Mr. Clark.”
“Thank you very much, I will, Mr. Clark,” Jarek replied as he bent over and retrieved his satchel and suitcase from the floor. While following the scarlet carpet to the staircase on the far side of the lobby, he began to glance around the room. As he took each step, the hair on his neck slowly began to rise, and his chest got a tingling sensation. A spirit was nearby, he knew it instantly. It gave him the same feeling he’d had at the O’Connell home when Samuel would be nearby.
As he reached the top of the stairs, he turned his head to his right and saw a long hallway with several doors to rooms on one side and the opening overlooking the lobby on the other. He felt a sensation on his left side and turned his head. All he could see were doors to the guest rooms. However, about twenty feet down, he could see something . . . no, someone. A full apparition was floating, which he felt was causing these sensations. A woman in shambled clothes with her hair curled and pinned up. Even from that far away, Jarek could see the bruises on her semitranslucent body. As her body came more into focus for Jarek, the wound in her gut became apparent, along with the remnants of dirt on her dress and skin.
He stared for a few moments, her eyes staring directly at him in return. The helplessness on her face made Jarek’s heart ache a bit. But then she walked through a closed door, disappearing from his sight. He cleared his throat softly, feeling pure sadness inside. He felt as if her pain were projecting into him. He took a deep breath, rounded the corner on the stairs to his left, and continued to the third floor.
Once he got to room 33, he retrieved the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. It opened to reveal a small, dark room. He reached over and turned the switch, illuminating the electric wall sconces. This new light allowed Jarek to see it was a basic room with a bed off to the left, a small wardrobe just past it, a dresser with a mirror to the right, and a high-back chair with a small footstool in the corner next to the dresser. All the furniture was made of pine and stained a dark brown. A comfy-looking quilt dressed the bed. It was all a stark contrast to the luxurious accommodations he’d had while staying at the O’Connell’s. However, Jarek took a breath and was thankful the bed appeared to be comfortable, and at least there was a window that overlooked the road he had been dropped off on. Besides, it was in fact still nicer than his room awaiting him in New York City.
After Jarek put away his few belongings from the suitcase into the dresser and wardrobe, he retrieved the pitcher for the washbasin, ensured his room key was in his pocket, and left to find the washroom.
As he walked into the hallway, he saw the door for room 31 opening and a man walking out. The man was dressed fairly nice in a three-piece suit. His dirty blond hair was clean-cut and slicked back on top, indicating he had just gotten ready for the day. His defined face structure somehow seemed familiar to Jarek. He must just have one of those faces. The young man glanced at Jarek and gave a small smile and nod.
“Good morning,” Jarek said, returning the smile and nod.
“Good morning,” the man said before pulling the door closed behind him and shuffling down the stairs to the lobby.
Jarek looked around and saw the sign for the washroom off to the left just a bit farther down. Before entering the room, he knocked to ensure it wasn’t occupied. After a moment of no response, he entered the room and filled the pitcher with warm water from the sink. He knew that a simple shave of his scruff and a face washing would feel good after this last leg of the journey. He searched for a towel before leaving the washroom, as he didn’t recall seeing any in his room. Jarek grabbed two, not out of greed but because the bathroom at the O’Connell’s had two for him.
As Jarek’s hand touched the doorknob to leave the washroom, his body ran cold. An icy breath pricked his cheek harshly, sending a chill throughout his body.
“Help us,” said a loud whisper directly into his ear.
The voice hit Jarek’s eardrum with a sharp pain, causing him to close his eyes and stiffen his neck. He didn’t need to turn his head to realize it was the woman he saw in the hallway on the second floor just minutes ago. He felt her energy now, the same absolute sadness. It began to expand, and his entire body felt tingly. He opened his eyes and looked straight ahead at the door. While standing motionless, he began to feel hands on his body. Two at first, then four distinct hands, then he lost count. Several people touching his body. They began grabbing at his clothes, like when a child tugs a pant leg to gain the attention of a grown-up.
