Riverwatch

by Joseph Nassise

• ISBN13: 9780743470964
• ISBN10: 0743470966
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2003-09-30
• Publisher: Pocket

Summary

IT HAS WAITED....IT HAS HUNGERED.... When Jake Caruso and his construction team find a hidden tunnel in the cellar of the old Blake mansion in the sleepy hamlet of Harrington Falls, Jake can't wait to explore its depths. There, he finds an even greater mystery: a stone chamber that's been covered up for hundreds of years -- sealed shut by some long-forgotten warden. IT HAS BEEN UNLEASHED. When the ancient seal is broken, a reign of terror and death consumes the town's residents. Something is stalking them -- something that strikes in the darkness without warning or mercy, leaving a trail of innocent blood in its wake -- and Jake comes to realize the nightmarish truth of what he has set free. It is an evil born of ages past. A creature of eternal bloodlust. And it has risen to continue its endless slaughter....

Author Biography

Joseph Nassise lives in Arizona with his wife and four children. He is the current president of the Horror Writers Association and a member of the Arizona Authors Association. Riverwatch is his first novel, and was nominated for both the 2001 Bram Stoker Award for Superior Achievement in a First Novel and for the International Horror Guild Award for Outstanding Achievement in a First Novel in 2001. His next novel, Heretic, is forthcoming from Pocket Books.

Visit him on the web at http://www.josephnassise.com or E-mail him at [e-mail].

Excerpts

Chapter 1: AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY It's a tombstone.The notion came out of nowhere; seeping into his consciousness the way fog sweeps off the sea on a cool summer evening, insidiously sliding into the center of his thoughts. Once there, it stuck hard and fast. The stone did, indeed, resemble a gravestone. The outer edges had been beveled at a slight angle, giving it a simple yet unmistakable sense of dignity. It had also been sealed to the dirt floor with mortar.If it was a tombstone, then whose was it?Why put it here, hidden beneath a river?It just didn't make sense. Staring at it, Jake decided it had been a difficult afternoon. This latest addition to his troubles had started fifteen minutes ago, with Rick's arrival in his trailer."We need you in the cellar, boss.""What the hell for, Rick?" Jake Caruso replied without turning. "You know Blake wants these estimates finished before two o'clock. I don't have time to look at every little thing that goes wrong. That's why I appointed you foreman, remember?" Jake was tired; the work had been going well, but Blake was on his back about even the tiniest details. It was starting to get to him. Why can't the man just back off and let me do my job? Jake wondered, not for the first time.Rick's reply surprised him. "I know, boss, but I think you'd better come on down. It's important."His solemn tone was what caught Jake's attention. Turning away from the work before him, Jake looked at Rick and started in surprise. His friend's lips were pressed tightly together. The tension in his jaw was easy to see despite the man's effort to hide it. His usually ruddy face had gone sickly gray, and the cheerful light in his eyes had dulled to a lusterless sheen.Jake's aggravation with the interruption vanished. Rick was the perpetual optimist. For him to look this bad could only mean that something major had gone wrong. Images of bloodied flesh raced through Jake's mind, with visions of men crushed by powerful tools."What happened? Somebody hurt? Should I call an ambulance?" Jake asked, reaching for the phone.Rick held up his hands in a placating gesture. "No need for that. Nobody's been hurt. The crew in the basement found something I think you should look at, that's all."That was it. When pressed for more details, Rick refused to say anything more.Tossing his pen aside and running a hand through his already disheveled hair, Jake agreed to go look.The two men left the trailer and crossed the lawn to the wide veranda that encircled the house. Climbing the steps, they entered through the front door. Moving along the foyer, they passed through the dining room, the butler's pantry, then down the flight of servants' stairs that led into the basement, where Jake's crew had been working for several days.The home's original owner had made use of the land's natural features, routing a nearby stream directly through the cellar. The stream's steady flow turned a large waterwheel, which in turn generated electricity for the estate. Ultimately, the owner's eccentricity had caused more harm than good, for over the years the stream had backed up and pooled in the building's basement. Now it was nothing more than a deep stagnant pool.Blake, the present owner, had decided that the cellar was to become a wine-storing area. Jake's men had dammed what was left of the stream out on the east side of the property earlier in the week and spent the last two days pumping the last of the water out of the cellar. The streambed would be filled with concrete and a foundation laid for the hardwood floors, as Blake had requested.As they descended the flight of rickety old steps, the smell of mildew and rot wafted up toward them. It reminded Jake of childhood days spent hunting crayfish in swampy creek beds. The stench was the same. At the base of the stairs he paused and surveyed the job his men had done. Bright lights had b