Canyon Shadows by C R Langille

Author:C R Langille [Langille, C R]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780997197044
Publisher: Griffin Publishers, LLC
Published: 2019-01-21T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

October 31, 1180

After hours of pleading and debate, we left that Godforsaken cavern. Sir William was set in his course, and it was difficult to get him away, but in the end, my constant requests won over, and under the guise of regrouping and getting the rest of the men-at-arms, we resurfaced.

Satan Himself must have made that monolith; I feel it deep down inside. The way the shadows played at the corner of my vision, showing me things I wish I could forget—and the whispers. The whispers dancing at the edge of my ears, quietly spilling secrets and tempting me with more. “Come to me, deep in the mountain. Come and learn all there is to learn,” they would say. Like a thousand unholy voices joined in some orgy against God. It made my skin crawl. I still hear them flitting in the winds.

How Sir William couldn’t feel it, I know not. I do know this; I will not re-enter that tomb. We are outmatched. What can we, a small group of knights, hope to do against such an evil? We must leave and inform the Holy Pope of what dwells here. For what good it will do, I know not. God holds no sway in that darkness. We are doomed to fall under its heavy weight.

-Sir Ralph Mounford

Canyon Shadows, Utah

Deputy Brent Rockwell couldn’t sleep. Something wasn’t right with the whole story of the fire. Instead of tossing and turning, or even worse, getting up to sit at his computer trolling forums on “gun violence” he decided he’d go check out the crime scene again.

Brent pulled his police cruiser up to the remains of Jared Barlow’s pawn shop. He flipped his spotlight on and searched the charred foundation from inside the car, letting the light run over the burned-out walls. Finally, he let out a sigh.

“I’m not going to find shit inside here,” he said to himself, more as an attempt to fool himself into leaving. It was a mistake to drive out there. Poking at it would only lead to disciplinary action from Sheriff Blackwood or the fire chief. Leaving and returning to his warm bed and let someone else deal with the bullshit would have been the smart thing. But, he knew he couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

Flipping the light off, Brent stepped out of the cool confines of the cop car and surrendered to the abrasive heat of the southern night. He hiked up his pants and did the buckle up on the belt. On account of his overly large fuel tank, as he jokingly said whenever he went out eating with his friends or family, the buckle of his belt would bite him when he sat in the car for too long or at his desk. Hence, letting it hang at half-mast when sitting down.

He walked to the trunk of the cruiser and popped it open. Reaching into the dark confines, he pulled out a large Maglite.

He ducked under a yellow piece of police tape and through the burned-out doorway.

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