“They consume it and from it, they gain life,” the shaman said with a bleak tone. “They leave no sign behind. No one can tell that the heart has been taken unless an autopsy is done.”
“But luckily, the Cherokee know to look for abnormal signs of distress in their sick and elderly,” Justin prompted the shaman.
“Yes,” the shaman nodded. “And then they call me.”
“And how do you catch the raven mocker?” The host prompted.
“There is an old ritual,” he sighed. “It's basically a trap for the raven mockers. After the trap is sprung, the mocker usually dies seven days later. That's how we find the witch; when someone in the community dies on the seventh day, we know who the mocker was.”
“Now let me reiterate here that I was very skeptical over Mr. Chepaney's claims,” Justin spoke to the camera. “But he seemed so genuine and so sane, that I started to wonder if there could be some truth to his words. So we agreed to investigate the next incident and Shaman Chepaney promised to call us as soon as he was alerted to some suspicious activity.” The camera drew in closer to Justin's face. “And he did. I must warn you that the following footage is disturbing and violent. It clearly shows that the actions taken by Mr. Chepaney were in defense of the victim and we hope that no legal action will be taken against him but that is the risk he is willing to take to expose these evil beings and save his community. Please, remove any children from the room before watching further.”
I glanced at Tiernan and saw his jaw clench as the scene changed to a bedroom. There was an elderly man lying in the bed, obviously not long for this world, and a group of people huddled around him whom I could only assume to be his family. TheParanormal Parameterscrew was there, including the host, three camera men, and two more researchers manning all sorts of equipment.
“This is Mr. Hayecha,” the host stood beside the bed, looking significantly less solemn than he had earlier, and indicated the man lying within it. “Thank you so much, Sir, for letting us into your home and allowing us to film this.”
“Yeah,” the old man nodded, closing his eyes and nodding off immediately.
“And thank you all for being here to support your loved one,” Justin nodded to the man's family and they nodded back solemnly. “Now we're going to quietly make our way outside where Shaman Chepaney is preparing to defend Mr. Hayecha from supernatural forces.” You could hear the almost derisive note underlying Justin's words but he kept the dramatic look on his face like any good actor.
The camera followed him out of the house and into the front yard, where the shaman was standing before a deer hide laid on the ground. On the hide were four sticks with sharpened tips, a bowl of tobacco leaves, a piece of black cloth, and a long pipe adorned with feathers. The shaman picked up the sticks with a determined look and started towards the house. The camera followed along with him as he drove a stick into the ground at each corner of the house, sharpened tips pointing upward. Then the shaman came back to the deer hide and sat upon it cross-legged.
He started to chant as he picked up the bowl of tobacco and filled the pipe with it. Sure fingers tamped the tobacco tight and then took the black piece of cloth and wrapped the pipe in it completely. Without even looking at the camera, the shaman got to his feet and walked off into the woods that bordered the backyard. The camera followed his progress for a minute and then panned back to the host.
“Shaman Chepaney has told us that he must spend the day preparing for the confrontation that will come tonight,” Justin glanced down at the empty deer hide and then back at the camera. “Will this truly be a battle between good and evil? Will this night take us further than any paranormal parameter we've established so far? Or will this be yet another performance that falls short?”
The screen went black for about two seconds before showing the same house at night. The host was standing outside, staring into the camera intensely. Behind him, the house lights were on but the surrounding area was dark. Still, you could easily see the shaman approaching.
“Night has fallen and Shaman Chepaney has returned,” Justin nodded towards the shaman, who walked up to them. “Are you prepared to face the raven mockers, Shaman?”
“I'm prepared,” the shaman said gravely. “Please, whatever you do, do not run. Stay calm and I will do my best to save Mr. Hayecha. If you panic and disturb my focus, the mocker may escape.”
“Believe me, Shaman Chepaney, we are all professionals and will not disturb your focus,” Justin said with just the barest hint of disdain.
“Your beliefs will be questioned before this night is through,” Shaman Chepaney said in such a sober, assured way, that it was chilling. Even the host blinked and gave the camera an unsteady look. “Now, follow me.”
The shaman walked calmly up the porch steps and into the house. The host gave the camera one last baffled look before they all followed the shaman in. Through narrow hallways they went, past empty rooms, until they came to the bedroom. Shaman Chepaney motioned them over to a corner, where the rest of the crew was already set up.
“Stay there and stay quiet,” Chepaney said with authority and theParanormal Parameterscrew did as they were told.
“Should we expect-” Justin started to ask but the shaman shot him a hostile look and he shut up.
The family was gathered in another corner and the shaman went to them, telling them gently to be calm and to please not interfere or try to help the old man in any way, no matter what they saw. They all nodded their acceptance and the shaman went to turn off the overhead light. The room fell into darkness and the cameras shifted into night vision.
Then the screen split into two, showing the room in both night vision and infrared camera views. Justin's voice came as an obvious added in voice-over to the scene.
“In order for you to clearly see what happened next, we had to split the screen into two. Please note how the entity shows clearly in infrared but not in the night vision footage. They are being played simultaneously for you. Again, I urge you to remove any young children from the room.”
As his voice stopped, the cry of a raven came from somewhere outside the house. Then the old man sat up on the bed and several people gasped. Someone whispered,What the (beep) is that?but was immediately hushed as cameras focused on the bed. The night vision view showed only the chartreuse tinted glow of the old man, sitting up and gasping for air, his eyes bright in that creepy way all eyes under night vision appeared. But the infrared view showed a massive shape which had a cherry red center radiating out into tangerine and neon yellow blotches. It had a distinctly human shaped lime border around those core colors but it didn't stop there. The lime turned to teal and then darkened to cobalt clouds which shifted around the human shape like it was a separate entity.
The shaman stood up and shouted something in a Native American language, which I assumed to be Cherokee. The shape on the infrared screen flinched, its head turning abruptly to look over its shoulder at the shaman. Its brightly colored hands released the old man and poor Mr. Hayecha fell to the bed, gasping for air. The shaman spoke again and the shape rose into the air; the cobalt clouds pulling in close to the teal and seeming to lift the human core up.
It launched itself at the shaman and Kevin Chepaney was thrown back into a wall. I couldn't help gasping and leaning forward to watch as the shaman struck out at the raven mocker. Chepaney shouted as he threw something into the mocker's face. A horrible screech pierced the night and several people screamed. Ruby light shot through the cobalt haze surrounding the raven mocker and fire sparked, briefly illuminating the rictus of a man's face on the night vision side of the screen. Then the mocker flew out of the doorway and the shaman chased after it. A bumpy camera shot shifted to just infrared, following the bright form of the Cherokee shaman out of the house and into the night.
The shaman motioned violently and another screech was heard. A sound like rushing wind began to grow in strength as the screen split once more. This time, one side showed a normal perspective and one was infrared. The normal view focused on a corner of the house, where one of the sticks had lifted out of the ground and was hovering in the air. The cameraman and several others from the ghost hunting team were making horrified but excited comments. I was impressed that no one ran. They just kept filming; the infrared focused on the hovering, screeching glow of the raven mocker while the normal view showed the stick shooting upwards. It hit the crimson center of the mocker, right where the heart should be. The mocker gave another screech as his invisibility glamour failed him.
People screamed as the entire screen went back to normal vision. A huge shape lifted up and hovered above the group of shocked people. Shadows shifted around it, oily black like the smoke from a crematorium. A face shot out of the morphing murk, its mouth stretching open grotesquely on one last screech before the thing sped away, sparks trailing from the boiling black concealing it. The camera tried to follow but lost the trail in seconds.
“I think that's all you need to see,” Councilman Teagan got up and turned off the DVD. “I'm sure you understand why we had to acquire this footage.”
