Garden of the Soultaker: Garden of the Soultaker: A White Owl Mystery: Book Two, #2

By Alan G Button

Sabrina and Copper are drawn to mysterious tragedies taking place within wells across the Maine countryside. And it's not long before these two high school teens, connected at the hip on a Spiritual path, get in over their heads. Because a psychotic Shaman, using black magic, wishes to sacrifice the children and mother in order to resurrect an ancient demon. It will be up to local tribal members, using the combined powers of the children and the forest 'Night-fliers', to locate and stop the Shaman's terrible creation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alan G Button
• Release date: Sep 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9780463034149

Alan G Button

With a Bachelor's of Environmental Science, the extensive fields of research include archaeology, 20 years of shell-midden research, wildlife behavior, ancient cultures & beliefs, Native American spirituality & mysticism, and world mythology. The writer of several screenplays, novels, and short-stories, Alan G Button lives alone in Waldoboro, Maine where he enjoys a menagerie of backyard wildlife and woodland trails.

Book preview

Garden of the Soultaker

A White Owl Mystery: Book Two

Alan G Button

Copyright © 2020 by Alan G Button

All rights reserved

First Edition: July 2020

Second Edition: September 2021

Alan G Button Publishing

2829 Washington Road

Waldoboro, Maine 04572

[e-mail]

Product of the United States of America

Distributed by draft2digital.com

Edited by Pearl Review [e-mail]

Book Cover created by Vila Design

Other eBooks by Alan G Button:

DANCE of the FIREWALKER: Book One

ISLE of the GHOST WALKER: Book Three (launch date Fall 2021)

Contents

The First People

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

About the Author

The First People

When the First People evolved and gained wisdom, Great Spirit led them to a land between two mighty rivers. With a wealth of game, trees ripe with fruits and nuts, and water pure and sacred, His people lived a peaceful coexistence—giving honor to both Earth below and Sky above.

"Until... from the North came the Outsiders... powerful invaders with a strange and dangerous magic... They walked different, ate the flesh of man—and they were not alone.

For protection, the healers of the First People turned to the medicine of the Great Garden—reaching deep within Mother Earth for her energy, wisdom, and a strong and great magic—seeking her protection.

Everything changed when the Shamans disappeared...

Prologue

Beneath a dark starless night where even the moon hid its face, a void from ancient times has been opened... a place where the earth runs cold and turbulent, a place devoid of the mundane.

A man sits naked here, within the bowels of the Great Mother; a sanctum of rock and earth and rotting logs... where the bones of ancient healers had been interned, with rattles to ward off the night-Spirits, and sacred mushrooms to seek vision.

This is a place once revered as the center of a Great Garden miles across, idolized as the tribe’s protector. But an evil people from the north invaded, and a war brought a change neither side had expected. Because once the shamans had all been slaughtered, an unimaginable darkness evolved.

The sanctum had been enclosed by the Ancients because of this energy—alive, hungry, feeding on the souls of the innocent, caught between the physical and spiritual worlds...

But now, once again the doorway has been opened. And this seeker of evil, this neophyte, this self-righteous pursuer of darkness, knows well the power of the essence residing below, within the depths, alone, lying dormant, a demon, seeking resurgence.

After two long years of searching, connecting to the ancient bloodlines with unearthly intentions, he prepares with trepidation. Knowing what lies encased beneath him, it is time to prepare for the awakening...

Tucked within the wall’s orifice, where he located a skull painted red, he had found a short pipe carved from human bone, wrapped in a leather pouch and sealed with pitch.

With a mixture of tobacco and dried mushrooms he smokes the pipe, to worship the image painted on the wall-face before him; a figure representing rebirth, its swollen womb stained in ochre-red, and displaying the antlers of the most domineering stag, representing the Life-force of the entity below.

And on the wall to his left, a decaying wreath of desiccated bats hangs boldly. Not something created by man, but a bundle of life that had together died and mummified, representing the unending circle of immortality to the Underworld. This would be his safeguard... his protection... from the small but powerful Flutter-Wings that patrol the expansive forest and mysterious night-sky just above.

Upon a matt of woven cattail-leaves he spreads his legs, presenting to the sacred idol before him the inverted tattoo of a winged white-headed eagle, etched in grandeur across his body, proud to be so close to his ancestry.

And under the spell of the sacred mushrooms, believing he’s become part of the ethereal world, he finishes work on a large palm-sized piece of black obsidian, napping its edges carefully, methodically, removing tiny flakes—forming a knife with an edge unmatched by the mechanized world above. With his hands it takes form, a work of perfection—a shape designed and used only in sacrifice.

With the essence of the mushrooms and mustard-grass messaging his thoughts, and with the pitch-black stone knife clutched firmly in his hand, he bends low his head in submission and hums a low resonance—paying homage to the magnificent image before him.

It was time, he knew... It was time to awaken the demon, to satiate its hunger... it was time to hear the helpless screams of the innocent.

Chapter One

Sun and Moon whispered with excitement as the newborn son of Coyote came forth. But its parents tried not to notice its left ear, refusing to stand up straight, giving him a lop-sided and unnatural appearance

See the source image

N o!

That was the one word he was allowed to use when no one would listen.

Please Alvin, you must go...

No, he repeated, I don’t want to!

Miss Hanson had been trying for nearly half an hour to convince the little boy that it was time to leave. Since September this had become an almost daily event, and the impatient teacher, well aware of her student’s frustrated outbursts, now looked forward to his final departure.

Alvin! Demanded his best friend Sarah who was standing with hands on her hips and angry at his stubbornness, We’re done! Kindergarten is over! Next year we begin first grade. Remember Miss Tietus? she asked, mispronouncing their soon to be new teacher’s name.

That’s Mrs. Tighthus, Sarah, Miss Hanson stated.

The little boy ignored her correction as he played within the sandbox. His only concern was to continue digging the long narrow ditch with the aid of a bright yellow backhoe—Alvin’s most favorite toy because it reminded him of the tractor his grandfather used to give him rides on.

Alvin was a most difficult student to teach. Not only due to the fact that he had a learning disability and was classified as a slow learner, but far more important, he was a sensitive child that carried within the frustration and anger of a troubling and most unhappy home-life. Guiding him through each day required great patience, great sacrifice, and great love.

Miss Hanson was fully aware of the reason for the boy not wanting to leave. And time and time again she had to find ways to redirect his thought process, having to be overly concerning, even manipulating, until he was ready.

She bit her tongue and waited for Alvin to make up his own mind, knowing full well that laying the pipe around the outside of the small sandbox was a job he had to finish. If only life itself could be so simple she wished.

Sarah’s mother walked into the classroom; a room now vacant of all the noisy five-year-olds that had rushed out to find their own summer’s dream. She exchanged pleasantries with Miss Hanson, said Hi, sweetie, to her daughter who was standing impatiently with an empty lunchbox in hand, and then concentrated her efforts on the little boy digging holes in the sand.

Hello Alvin, she spoke firmly but calmly. It’s time to leave now. Have you finished your construction site?

Alvin liked Mrs. Grier. Not only because she was Sarah’s mom, but because she always had something special to eat whenever he would visit.

Do I have to go right home? he asked smartly as he set the last piece of white plastic-pipe in the ditch.

No honey... In fact, I have a very special surprise for both of you, to celebrate your incredible graduation.

Mommy, did you make peanut butter cookies again? Sarah asked knowing they were her favorite.

Ooh, something far better, Mrs. Grier stated with a tone in her voice Alvin could not ignore. How would you both like a big piece of chocolate cake, with some vanilla ice-cream... and a tall glass of warm milk?

Alvin had completed backfilling the ditch with the backhoe. Turning, tilting his head upwards, his eyes became transfixed by the bright sunlight shinning in through the window. Quietly, he was thinking to himself about the vanilla ice cream, tasting its sweetness. His right hand moved subconsciously, smoothing out and then digging down into the soft sand—as if he was holding a giant spoon.

Alvin, Mrs. Grier spoke softly, but with a direct voice to draw his attention, Let’s go have some of that cake... What do you say?

He looked at her with those deep blue eyes that were round and bright, but held within a sadness that required kindness. She reached out to him, and he accepted.

Comforted, Alvin released his grip from the edge of the sandbox. And then stepping smartly, he walked past his best friend and stated with a childish indifference, Time to go Sarah... Hungry!

Miss Hanson smiled with relief as they left her room, hoping that Mrs. Tighthus would have far better luck.

Pushing together, Sarah and Alvin led the way out of the building, waving goodbye to Miss Hanson as they ran chaotically out through the oversized double wooden-doors, and down the building’s solid granite steps.

Alvin spotted the bright yellow car sitting in the small parking lot, its white canvas top folded back. He giggled with joy as the sun touched his face with a kiss of warmth and love.

But on the pavement, just beyond the convertible, a large black bird ambled about, slowly stepping...searching...then picking off grasshoppers that had crawled up out of the ground with under-developed wings.

Spotting the children’s hasty approach, it stopped briefly and froze...

Alvin peered back at the black eyes that watched him, not liking the noisy flyers because of something he had learned in a nursery tale. He stomped his feet with exaggeration, sending it a message.

The black bird lunged suddenly into the air and flew off, remembering it must return.

Jumping into the back seat of her mom’s car Sarah buckled in. And she helped Alvin, with his clumsy fingers, to do the same as he rocked back and forth, as if to move the car before it was ready.

And as Mrs. Grier pulled out of the parking lot and drove the short two-miles home, the children enjoyed the fresh air and the free spirit of moving so fast while being out in the clear blue sky.

Alvin sat quiet; his head laid back so he could watch the treetops pass by overhead. With the wind tossing his golden hair he watched the sun sparkle as it jumped from tree to tree, presenting him with imagines of some far-off distant place. He smiled softly with warm thoughts, looking forward to his next visit with his grandparents.

Pulling the car into her driveway, Mrs. Grier parked inside the garage attached to her white house with its long sloping back roof.

Alvin had already unbuckled his restraint and was standing up on the back seat, impatient to get out, waiting for the car’s ignition to be switched off.

Stepping out first, Sara’s mom had to move out of the way as the two children challenged each other over ‘rotten-eggs’ and pushed past. Slamming her door shut, she wondered about the degree of patience his parents must have in raising him, and the incredible financial burden that lay ahead.

She walked into the kitchen as Sarah removed a half-gallon of frozen dessert from the bottom freezer. I sure am hungry, Mommy, she gestured as she hefted the tub up onto the table.

Servings were presented all around...

With little concern but for the moment, Alvin gleefully dug into the cake that had been set before him. And with chocolate frosting sticking to the dull point of his nose, he had to wait patiently for a glass of milk sitting briefly in the microwave, to be served so he could wash away the cake sticking to the roof of his mouth.

With the cake finally washed down, he turned his attention to licking clean the oversized silver spoon, as if holding a giant lollypop.

Mrs. Grier smiled at the children’s antics, so independent and innocent. Alone since her husband’s deployment overseas, she enjoyed everything the children offered... These were memories she would always cherish.

She stopped smiling when the phone rang...

Later that evening , sitting at the dinner table with an oversized soup-spoon in his left hand, Alvin shoveled the last of the sweet corn kernels into his mouth; he had already finished the carrots and mashed-potatoes. But he saved the barbecued glazed-chicken for last because he enjoyed licking the sticky sweetness from his fingers that had the taste of soft candy.

His mother, exhausted from another long day of work at the nursing home, sat to enjoy the last few peaceful moments of the evening. She tried not to think about what lay ahead.

Remembering what Sarah’s mom had shared with her, she decided to ask...

Alvin... sweetie... I understand that you graduated today. I’m so happy for you. Aren’t you happy too?

With his mouth full of mushed corn, he looked beyond the face of his patient mother. He was watching the clock’s hands on the wall over the sink—its big hand was almost straight up.

Sweetie, please talk to me... Did you enjoy the cake and ice cream Mrs. Grier made for you? Next year you’ll be in first grade... What a big boy you’re growing into. I’m so proud of you.

Sarah helped me with the fire-hyd’ants...

Wendy had to think for a moment, and then realized where his mind was...

The sandbox... yes, of course... Did you finish?

Alvin proudly nodded his head in recognition as he finished swallowing the last of the corn. With his right hand he took a gulp of cold milk. And then setting the half-empty glass back in its place, almost spilling its contents, he dropped the spoon and hurriedly pushed pieces of cut chicken into his mouth.

The large finger of the clock had covered the twelve—nothing more needed to be said...

A vehicle pulled into the driveway, its headlights shining through the kitchen window like a sentinel, warning everyone to take heed.

Alvin knew by the sound of the muffler that it was a truck. His contentment dissolved.

Daddy’s home honey... Wendy stated in a voice that sounded disappointing. He’s going to be very happy to hear that you finished kindergarten. You know that Daddy loves you too.

A wave of tense uncertainty filled the room when the kitchen’s door opened. A tall man, with blackened hands and face, and wearing a dirty ripped ball-cap, walked in.

Hi, honey, Wendy expressed nervously as she had so many times before.

The man grumbled a heartless response as Wendy rose from her chair to great him with a half-hearted kiss. He responded equally by dropping his black metal lunch box onto the kitchen counter with a metallic thunk, then sat down at the table, opposite the boy.

Wendy could smell the odor of beer on his breath...

Guess what Alvin did today? Wendy asked as she served a dinner plate from the warm oven.

I’m really in no mood for guessing games... Now get me a beer to wash this down? And turn on the TV while you’re at it.

Roger, your son has worked so hard to accomplish ...

And what do you think I’m doing all day, he jeered back as he grabbed the cold can of beer from her hand and popped its top.

Alvin tensed up, preprogrammed by what was about to happen.

Please honey, let’s not argue tonight! Wendy stated, determined to make her husband listen.

She stood over him as he began to shovel food into his orifice. And then placing a hand gently on his shoulder, as if it was something she was supposed to do, she continued, Did you know that he finished kindergarten today? He starts first grade in September... You should be proud of him.

Roger hated to be told to do anything and shrugged off her closeness.

Do you know what tomorrow is? Saturday... Roger answered himself. I have to work another weekend at that damn shipyard. I’m tired—so leave me alone!

He continued to grumble to himself, about the long back-and-forth trips to Bath, about the gas money he had to fork out, and about the constant wear and tear on his ageing truck. He didn’t need to spend time thinking about a kid who couldn’t think straight, and whom he wished had never been born. How much had it already cost him?  It was something only the booze could help him forget.

He thought about jumping into his truck and just driving away...  He finished his beer and burped loudly instead.

Wendy returned to her seat to face her husband of six-and-a-half years. Roger, what’s wrong with us?

Alvin had finished his dinner. Although he wished he could stay for a big helping of dessert that his mom had promised, he decided to push himself away from the table.

Sliding off the oversized pillow that had raised him high above the chair, ever so quietly he sneaked away to his room.

The noise in the kitchen escalated as Alvin slammed the door to his room shut, closing out the misery of a world he could not understand. He jumped up onto his bed and worked to remove his dirty red sneakers without untying them.

He then reached over and flipped on the switch to the old radio Sarah had given him last year, a radio she had planned to sell during a summer yard-sale. And from it, for some reason, he enjoyed the old rock-and-roll songs from the 60’s—perhaps, because he found it difficult to tune in anything else.

Removing a coloring book and a small tin of crayons from under his pillow, he sat back against the headboard—a song about rainy days filled his imagination. And as the muffled sounds of madness continued from outside his room, Alvin’s mind wandered from place to place, seeking a thought to pacify his needs. Perhaps tomorrow, he wished, Grandma would hold him for a while...

In his lap he opened the coloring book entitled ‘Seashore Life’. On the left page, a picture of a seahorse, facing a lobster on the right, reflected the antipathy of events taking place around him.

Alvin removed a black crayon from the tin. Holding it firmly within his left palm with tightly clenched fingers, he pressed down on the lobster’s head—creating circle after circle after circle of a child’s unending frustration.

And as the circles grew larger and larger—like a deep bottomless pit of darkness—the face of the lobster disappeared into oblivion. Somewhere deep inside, unnoticed to the little boy, a hidden insensible pain began to feel just a little better...

Chapter Two

It was the first time the young pup had ventured so far away from home, when he came upon a large boulder all covered in moss. Wanting to see better the world around him he decided to climb to its top. But within moments he slipped and had fallen hard on his face... How come you’re so big? Coyote demanded in disgust. But the young pup withdrew when the ageless boulder replied in a deep bellowing voice, Well, how come you’re so small...

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Sabrina was surprised of the darkness as she awoke next to a body that had kept her warm. The residue of a pervaded dream lingered within her thoughts, a dream of intangible magic and mysterious circles. Searching forward in the darkness, she wondered how far they had traveled.

Leaning heavily against her shoulder, Copper once again began to snore a deep melodious irritant which resonated up through her neck and vibrated her inner ear. Why she tolerated him like this she sometimes wondered. Perhaps because he reminded her of a brother she never had.

Up front, between the seats, Sabrina could see light raindrops forming on the windshield as a noisy truck passed by in the opposite direction. Her mom was listening to one of her Native American flute tapes, humming and tapping her finger to the beat of the drum on the steering wheel.

The left window was open just enough to ruffle the driver’s long brown hair, and the cool moist air began to permeate the restful state of the backseat occupants. Sabrina shivered as she experienced a chill...

Mom, can you turn on the heat, please? she asked softly trying not to wake Copper.

Emily reached over and fumbled through several switches, trying to direct more heat towards the back. The new blue caravan was now six months old, but she still had trouble figuring out how to operate some of its features.

Copper mumbled as he began to emerge from his dream-state, readjusting his head’s position by falling into Sabrina’s lap.

Annoyed, Sabrina, as gently as possible, pulled the knitted afghan she had made during her home-ed class, up and over his head, hoping to muffle his annoying sounds. She smiled at his resistance when he growled some kind of inaudible retort.

Where are we, Mom? Sabrina asked more loudly now that Copper began his return to the real world.

Just outside of Unity... still a way to go... How are the two of you doing back there?

Oh, dream-boy is almost back from la-la-land... Mom, can I sit up front?

Sure, as Emily reached over and removed her overstuffed handbag from the right seat. Be careful sweetie...

Unbuckling her seatbelt, Sabrina pushed and nudged as she slid out from under Copper’s near dead weight. Sensing relief, she stepped forward between the seats to where a much warmer environment greeted her, and to where she could better chat with her mom.

Retrieving several information pamphlets from the dash that were about to fall off, Sabrina stuck them into her mom’s handbag. And then folding it roughly, she stuffed the bag out of her way into a large pocket under the center console.

It began to rain harder.

Mom, after a brief moment of silence, I had a really great time today.

I’m glad... These meetings are like visiting with an extended family.

How many Powwows have you been to now?

This was my sixth, Emily pointed out as she spotted the unlit Unity Raceway entrance sign passing by on the right in the darkness. Now that you’ve been to your first, what do you think?