New Novel Excerpt - (Not for the faint of heart)

 

The Bloodthick Deliverance

By

Riley St. James

 

                                                                      Even the binding thickness of family blood cannot defy kindred treachery when impelled by the demonic forces of darkness…

                                                                                                                                         A night of unearthly misjudgment - Sedona, Arizona

The skittish Arabian mare bowed her head and stubbornly pawed at the rock-hard soil of the grassy buggy trail that threaded past the shoddy wooden gate and up to the stable of the old deserted ranch. Timidly balking, the mare released a foreboding neigh and a heavy guttural snort while shying away from the gate, resisting her master's persistent but gentle "forward" prods against her belly.

"Whoa there, Lady, slow now," droned the masculine voice of Ethan John Brandleson.  Slackening the reins, he continued to mumble soft assurances while patting her velvety auburn coat at the shoulder, attempting to soothe the edgy horse.

Gradually, the mare calmed as Ethan eased backward in the saddle.  Taking a deep breath, he wiped the tiny beads of nervous perspiration from his deeply lined forehead with the back of his hand.  He was growing apprehensive over the bold reluctance of the horse to enter the ranch. He strongly believed that horses possess a natural sense of foretelling -- harboring telepathic perceptions of unseen danger. This was one of the main reasons he rode the horse instead of taking a jeep up here, he reminded himself.

The horse remained still while Ethan straightened himself in the saddle and peered up at the darkening Arizona sky.  He buttoned up his denim vest as a restless chill whipped across the vast lowland, whistling through the distant pines, wafting a wild spicy fragrance.  With dusk settling in, only a faint reflection from autumn's final crescent of moonlight outlined the jagged mountain caps cutting through the chalky horizon of the red rock wilds of Sedona.

Ethan lowered his gaze, looking above the withering fence rails and through a small grove of cottonwoods that edged the foreground of the desolate ranch land.  Just beyond he studied the deteriorating nineteenth-century manor that had once  been a gaudy feature of the valley when it was built and occupied by the family of Philip Orloff, now all deceased.   As the story goes, anyway, Ethan thought.

Tucked into the pine-shrouded foothills of the sheer canyon cliffs, and surrounded by enormous patches of coyote brush and dried yellow chaparral, the forsaken two-story estate was infested with clinging vines and massive clumps of unkempt wild flowers.  All window casings were enclosed by shriveled and splintered boards.  The lofty Victorian roof was dilapidated and full of gaping holes; only a crumbling remnant of the stone-block chimney cap extended above what was left of the fractured roof peak.   Sporadic patches of pear cactus sprouted at the base of the mortared walls that were hopelessly moldering after nearly a century of neglect.

Ethan gently stroked the mare's neatly cropped mane as he turned to the shabby remainder of the ranch chapel set off to the left of the house.  In equal shambles, the tall adobe structure consisted of only skeletal remains of rotting wooden beams and scattered sections of corroded and warped wallboards.  The remaining benches and the Orloff-constructed altar sat fissured and rotted.  A wooden cross, parched and brittle-dry, hung loosely downward from the apex of the bell-towered roof.  At best, the once admirable building, that Orloff had deemed hallowed, now appeared to provide only a dusty haven for scorpions, tarantulas and preying rodents.

Ethan turned and gently tugged on the reins, guiding the horse away from the gate and back onto the unpaved, craggy road.  Awkardly backing away with relief, she punched her metallic shoes into the rocky clay, casting a faint rhythm into the eerie quiet that had enveloped the vast canyonlands along with total nightfall.

As the horse ambled along the front perimeter of the ranch, Ethan's anticipation peaked anxiously when they finally passed the far edge of the ranch house.  He craned his neck, staring through the evening shadows until he spotted the immense silhouette of the man-made entanglement of heavy foliage and sycamore trees.  A gigantic chambered labyrinth encased of thick towering evergreen hedges, and a dense, ferocious overgrowth of knotty branches and thorn bushes that had almost completely covered the top.

The Orloff maze! Ethan thought excitedly, firmly pulling on the reins to halt the horse.   Ethan froze, transfixed on the magnificent mass.   Even though he'd seen the maze yesterday afternoon while sightseeing on Elwens' jeep tour, he was newly struck.  He was still in awe, even though Elwens had courteously allowed him the time to hike up to the vine-gnarled entrance, and had even stepped inside a few feet, seeing the plainly marked route that Elwens had told him led to the center.

Yet, Ethan had never seen the mystical maze when he was alone.  And never in the darkness. But tonight he was here -- experiencing it!   And tonight he would enter and make his way to the center, completing his delivery at the Orloff mausoleum.  Regardless of the perils the task might pose, he thought, squinting, recalling the conversation he'd had with Elwens at the end of the tour warning him not top come up here alone...the place reeked with wickedness.... Stay away ... he was warned.  

But Ethan wouldn't forget this malarkey, as Elwens had put it.  He couldn't! Tonight he would complete his mission, he determined again, staring up at the maze. He turned toward the ranch, his eyes narrowing with solemn wonder as he recalled the gruesome tale of the wealthy and deeply religious family of Philip Orloff.  The tale his father had recited to him many times when he was a boy growing up in London… The Orloff Legend! ................................................

In 1895, Philip Orloff gathered up his share of his father's British real estate fortune, and along with his wife, Catherine, emigrated from England to Sedona because of the highly profiled religious and metaphysical energy that flourished there.  Yet, before leaving, Philip had steadfastly arranged to have their only child, a beautiful daughter, Jessalyn, stay behind with her grandfather so she could complete her graduation from one of London's finest ladies' finishing schools, before entering a British convent upon her nineteenth birthday.  Philip had unexpectedly decided to mold her a stringent religious path after finishing school rather than for her to enter into fashionable society as he had originally planned.  He felt this would assuredly pave her reverent ways throughout life without his continual guidance-a control that would now be thoroughly thinned by absence and distance.

Upon arriving in Sedona, Philip immediately appointed himself the valley cleric and engaged the finest Arizona architect to design a suitable manor house, along with an adjoining chapel.  Hiring the best valley craftsmen to complete the construction, Philip believed the grandiose complex would surely befit the eyes of the Lord while being devoutly served.

Soon after the completion of the complex, Philip brought in one of London's master maze makers to pattern and assist in fabricating a massive labyrinth; including a spacious center-chamber-a dense domain for him to further carry out his spiritual aspirations in total privacy.  To polish off the picturesque core, Philip tediously planted a brilliant garden, which welcomed the area's abundant sunshine to enhance the colorful array of flowers, shrubs and hedges. Finally, to ensure the overall security of the maze, Philip painstakingly imported a pair of coal-black Rottweilers from Germany, training the powerful dogs to indiscriminately and viciously patrol the network of paths and hedges.  This ensured that his sanctuary was virtually impenetrable from any intelligent being unless accompanied closely by himself; or the aggressive dogs were safely locked up inside their reinforced wire-meshed pen setting just inside the entrance.

One of Philip's beloved and reticent pastimes was to disappear into the depths of the maze for hours at a time -- sometimes days -- to repent and religiously meditate in absolute solitude.  Catherine learned quickly that under no circumstances should he be disturbed while he was on one of these spiritual retreats, regardless of how long he was gone.  Philip would release the roving Rottweilers on these occasions to assure his isolation was without interruption.

With Philip's ardent righteous ways and powerful mystifying allure, Philip soon became recognized and respected as the valley's absolute clergyman, swiftly earning the title of "preacher" Orloff.  His smooth and fervent sermonizing attracted many neighbors from the nearby ranches to join him at his chapel on Sundays, and any other religious occasions that Philip would solemnly select, which were rarely objected to, if ever.

But it was only a few years after Philip and Catherine had become comfortably settled in their pious lifestyle when Jessalyn abruptly arrived in Sedona to join her parents, propelling their peaceful lives into grave disarray.  In tearful desperation, she confessed that her disgusted grandfather had unconditionally dismissed her from his London control.  He had discovered that after graduating from finishing school and entering a convent that he had prearranged for her in Liverpool, she had impulsively and covertly renounced her celebrant promise after meeting an English seaman she was romantically attracted to in a public churchyard where she had been gardening.

Falling hopelessly in love, they had spent only a short time together before he was ordered to battle on the high seas. Unfortunately, she discovered she was pregnant with his baby soon after he had gone. With fear and loneliness in her eyes, she further explained that before they had found time to marry, her lover was killed during one of Admiral Nelson's dreadful sea battles against the French, leaving her with neither material support, nor loving affection for her or her newly born son, Michael.

With no means of support or worthy labor skills she had little choice but to take on toil in East London as a bawdy pub wench to make ends meet; often having to offer her ample beauty and charm to win favors from the working class men.  Therefore, upon learning of these actions, her grandfather considered her behavior outrageous and immoral; furthermore, he was convinced that it was far too late for her to fulfill any religious lifestyle that her father had intended.  Consequently, he felt that the only alternative was to simply disown her and leave her on the streets to fend for herself-cutting her off from any further access to his wealth.

Jessalyn tearfully acknowledged to her shocked parents that perhaps she had gone terribly wrong after they had left London by secretly wanting to escape the harsh, virtuous plans her family had sternly prescribed for her. Hanging her head in deep remorse, Jessalyn admitted that while traveling along her new avenue of religious confusion and after experiencing this personal tragedy of losing her lover, she had felt persecuted, causing her to totally abandon her belief and trust in God, leaving her totally without hope or guidance.

Yet out of fear and desperation for both her and her son's welfare, she finally gathered the courage to act, knowing she had only her parents to turn to for support, but would have to guiltily give Michael up for adoption in London because she knew well that Philip would never accept any child born out of wedlock-even one of his own flesh and blood.  And while slumped on her knees in front of a silent, glaring father, and a sad and sympathetic mother, Jessalyn fiercely begged for their understanding, vowing that she would now try to reunite herself with God's sacred direction, and hopefully earn her parent's warmth and respect again.

As the time passed and the healing slowly progressed, Catherine, with her maternal perseverance, convinced Philip that allowing a repenting Jessalyn back into their home and hearts had been the righteous and God-fearing move to make, even though she had carried out devastating and thoughtless mistakes.

Although Philip had become painfully withdrawn over the next year, he seemed to endure the family's disgrace brought on by his daughter's past behavior, which he considered illicit and blasphemous. He would spend most of his time in the center of the maze with his next building project, while his faithful Rottweilers lay close, watching his every move.  He meticulously converted the back part of his prized garden into a family burial site-a marbled block mausoleum being the focal point of the grand creation.  Often he would ask Jessalyn to accompany him during the construction, and she would willingly accept, brimming with happiness; as she again felt secure with his expression of fatherly love.  She also believed he was in demonstrative need of her companionship.  Gaining confidence with the belief that her father had forgiven her, Jessalyn even convinced him that the elaborate vault should be large enough to inter the remains of four, with the remote chance that Michael might someday turn up to live with them.  Showing little emotion, Philip agreed and crafted the burial chamber to house four crypts.

But how the Orloff Bloodthick legend had ended so ghastly, Ethan thought, keeping his stare fixed on the maze while recalling the grisly events of that misty Saturday night, soon after the mausoleum had been completed…when family life at the Orloff ranch had seemingly returned to normal…

When the neighbors hadn't heard Orloff's Sunday morning clanging of the chapel "calling bells," they knew something was unusual and a couple of men went to the ranch to investigate.  They were met by the fierce Rottweilers steadfastly guarding the veranda, where the coagulated blood had seeped out from under the front door.  The shocked neighbors nervously retreated and immediately notified the authorities. Swiftly responding to the worried call, the sheriff soon arrived and dispatched the canines with a single rifle shot to each snapping and snarling muzzle, before rushing inside.

From the evidence uncovered inside the ranch house, the authorities determined that the Orloffs had apparently been all sitting around the fireplace reciting scriptures, when Philip must have suddenly gone berserk with the short-handled wood-chopping ax and murdered the two women-Catherine first.  Jessalyn appeared to have  made it to the front door, no doubt desperately trying to escape her intended fate, but to no avail.  Then Philip stepped aroundthe mutilated bodies and set a blood-scrawled note on the mantle,  before reaching up and savagely piercing his own jugular with a fish-skinning knife.

The county coroner promptly ruled the crime a murder-suicide and the sheriff publicly released the confessional note Philip had left.  His message explained that the fiendish carnage of his family was a result impelled by Satan having inflicted his defiling seal upon his daughter, which by the thickness of family blood had consequently desecrated the entire family.  And there was no way for cleansing, unless God would mercifully choose to do so during their time in His judgment -- a time that had arrived, warranting no further delay.

Directly after the crime, Philip's father came to America with the grim purpose of having the bodies interred in the mausoleum Philip had built.  Thereafter, he promptly paid off the remaining mortgage on the ranch because he knew this is where Philip wanted him and his family to forever rest.   He also set up an ongoing trust to pay for the upkeep of the ranch, but that eventually ran out after he died years later and no one else had any real interest to bother with it.  However, the deed to the ranch still remained within the Orloff holdings in London -- out of reach of the Sedona residents.

Ethan stirred restlessly in the saddle, having learned  the Sedona valley historians had another version of why Philip had committed his hideous brutality so many years ago.  Although they had assumed that Philip had believed he was demonically branded by Jessalyn's illicit behavior through bloodline links, the historians also believed Satan had taken command of Philip's eternal destiny long before the fallen Jessalyn's untimely and unfortunate arrival in Sedona.

They theorized that Satan had long before handpicked Philip to be one of his staunch minions to carry out his demented work at the vortex. And surely from the instant Philip died, he was damned-on-earth: A Satan-appointed caretaker to forever skulk his ranch, ensuring that intruders remain distant and never unearth the ominous secrets of the evilly fated vortex that lay beneath the maze.

With Ethan's eyes widely fixed on the ranch house, he knew that  regardless of the eerie folklore, he had no choice to now follow through on his deliverance at the mauseleum.  His eyes slowly shifted from the house to the maze, and then down at the bulging saddlebag.  He sensed a sharp tingle racing up his spine when he lifted the flap, moving the small metal container away from the bag of various amulets. He opened the bag, realizing that a crucifix and bottle of holy water didn't amount to much and might not ward off any potential fiend.  He reached into the bag and pulled out the golden ring that had belonged to his father, gripping it firrmly while thinking he had no idea of who or what to expect or what he might be facing-if anything.  But it was time to move forward.......

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