by Jay Barnson
Jessabelle didn’t have to wait long. Before the temperature of the trailer could rise to uncomfortable levels, the latch on the back of the trailer clanked and the door opened. Only dim light came through the door, so Jessabelle assumed they’d driven inside a garage or warehouse.
A man stepped up and through the door, touching a light switch. The LED illumination came to life immediately, gleaming off of the man’s clean white suit, and the bald spot on his head wreathed by a crown of gray hair. A snapshot of him, revealing his slight paunch and his disarming smile, would convince almost anyone that he was nothing more than a kindly grandpa. Anyone who didn’t know who, and what, the man in the white suit really was.
Jessabelle knew, and she caught her breath in terror.
He strolled along the narrow isle between tables of electronic gear toward her cage, and flipped a recessed seat into position. He sat down and flashed his deadly grin. “Hello Jessie. May I call you Jessie? I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Thadeus.”
Jessabelle said nothing. She made her best effort to remain silent and motionless, but her body betrayed her by trembling all over. She’d seen this man snap a woman’s neck from ten feet away. She was sure the cage provided her no protection.
“I’ll take your silence to mean you don’t mind if I join you.” He leaned back and looked at her. “You’re a beautiful young lady. Lots of potential. I look forward to seeing how you blossom.”
She would have glared at him, but she was so terrified it was all she could do to keep herself from hyperventilating. He could kill her. He would probably kill her. Why not? She’d helped destroy his plans to seize control of the crossroads to Around the Bend, and stopped his servant, Evelyn, from bringing his equally dangerous daughter back across. She knew he wasn’t one for mercy.
Thadeus spoke quietly. “Tell me, who do you think I am?” She didn’t answer, and he continued. “Please, be honest. And don’t be afraid of insulting me. I promise you, nothing you could say right now would cause me to harm you.”
He was silent for an entire minute, waiting for her answer. He looked ready to wait the rest of the month. Finally, she muttered, “You sent Evelyn to kill us.” Her voice betrayed her, cracking as she spoke.
He shook his head. “I did no such thing. I told her I didn’t care what she did, so long as she obtained results. What else do you think you know about me?”
Again, he waited. She wasn’t about to answer that she’d seen him kill Evelyn. She’d rather keep that a secret. She answered again, “You killed Jenny’s parents.”
“Ah, I hoped you’d bring that up! What would you say if I told you I didn’t personally harm them? I was there, of course, as they died. I was sad to the see them go. But I didn’t kill them. I didn’t even specifically order them killed.”
“It don’t matter. You were responsible.”
He raised his eyebrows, and took on a surface expression of amusement. There was no humor in his flat eyes. “You know, I am relieved to hear you say that.”
Jessabelle tilted her head back. “Huh? Why?”
“I’d say you and I are in agreement. Yes, I didn’t personally kill them. But still, their deaths were my responsibility. It hurts me to say that, because Amy Rose, once upon a time, was a good friend of mine.”
“So you don’t deny it.”
“No. I’ll tell you the truth today, Jessie. Now, I’m known to tell a few fibs here and there. That manufactured body that lured you into a trap was a deception I taught my people to do. It gets harder every year to fake a death, you know. Not that I expect you to appreciate that. I’m rarely very honest with people, but I try and honor my deals. Did you know that?”
She stopped herself from shaking her head.
He nodded patronizingly. “I do. I try very hard to keep my promises...that way people always know where they stand with me. I don’t want anyone to have to guess as to whether I might follow through. I gave a promise to Hattie Rose that I’d leave you alone if she stayed out of my affairs. And I also promised her that if she did not, I’d take you. While she might not have directly interfered, I’d say she was still responsible and provided you with material support in your efforts against me. The reason you and I are here together is because we both believe in that responsibility.”
Jessabelle shook her head. “It wasn’t Hattie’s idea! It was ours!”
“Are you saying that after her injuries, she never once gave you advice or recommendations, access to training, or shelter during your activities?”
“None of that counts!”
“Doesn’t it? Are you changing your ideals simply because it puts you in an uncomfortable position?” He shook his head. “I just want you to know this isn’t any kind of revenge against you. Actually, it’s really lucky that this opportunity came up. There’s a vacancy you can fill almost immediately!”
Now Jessabelle gained enough courage to glare. “I ain’t interested in working for you. Ever!”
“I hope you’ll change your mind. But whether you do or do not, willingly or not, you will provide us with sorely needed aid. It’s ironic. If you hadn’t set Evelyn back like you did, we wouldn’t have pursued plan B and wouldn’t have needed you at all.” He stood up and re-folded the chair to its recessed location.
“The man promised my mama that she could come see me. When can I see her?”
“That depends on how well behaved you are. I certainly hope that she can come here before the end of the year. Would you like that?”
Jessabelle couldn’t help herself and sobbed. While it might make her look weak in front of Thadeus, she didn’t care. She was weak, he had won, and he terrified her.
Thadeus walked out the back door, and spoke just loud enough that she could hear it over her own sobbing breaths. “She’s all yours. Treat her gently, but remember what she’s capable of. I think she’ll be a fine addition, one way or the other.”
Three armed men escorted Jessabelle out of the truck into an underground parking area. One man used a security badge to open a reinforced steel door. They took her through the door into something that looked like a cross between an office building and a jail. They descended a ramp and entered a hallway. A reception kiosk protected by thick glass and two more guards stood across from them, next to yet another sturdy door. While one of her escorts filled out paperwork, a guard inside the kiosk spoke into a microphone. “Code 7. Receiving.”
Two minutes later, a young woman in her early twenties arrived, trailed by a statue of muscle on a six-and-a-half foot frame with close-cropped blond hair. Her beefy shadow carried a handgun on his hip in addition to a stun gun. “We’ll take it from here,” the girl said to the group surrounding Jessabelle.
The kiosk buzzed, and the door popped open. The woman held the door open for Jessabelle and motioned her inside. With one look back along the ramp to the parking garage, which seemed to raise the tensions of the guards, Jessabelle stepped inside the door. The woman and the big guard followed, and the door shut behind them.
The woman introduced herself as they walked. “I’m Susan. I’m your chief attendant during your stay here. Let’s take you to your new quarters.” She led the way, and the guard followed behind Jessabelle, herding her with one hand on his stun gun at all times. They turned twice through the halls, and came to a door that really did look like it belonged to a prison. A small window with thick metal threads crisscrossing on this side of the glass. A monitor on the wall with a keypad below it showed a distorted, wide-angle view of the room. Jessabelle noted that there was really no place to be private from that camera or the glass window.
Susan held her security badge up to a spot below the keypad, and then tapped a sequence on the buttons. The door opened with an audible buzz. Susan stepped in and held the door open. The assistant behind Jessabelle stepped closer, encouraging her to enter by his proximity.
Jessabelle followed Susan inside. The room was twice the size of her mother’s bedroom. A small two-person co
uch and a stuffed chair faced a wall-mounted wide-screen television, as if she would have visitors. An open accordion-style door led to a spacious bathroom. Paintings even adorned the walls.
“This will be your living quarters during your stay here,” Susan said. “Please don’t hesitate to ask me or one of your other attendants if you need anything.”
Jessabelle mumbled a response. Susan turned to her and asked, “What was that?”
“I said I need a ride home.”
Susan chuckled humorlessly. “Within reason, of course. The phone on the far wall is a direct line to the office down the hall. We’ll have meals brought in three times a day, as well as a snack. Do you have any special dietary concerns?”
Jessabelle shook her head, bewildered. “So this will be my cell?” It wasn’t anything like she’d pictured. While the walls were white-painted cinder-block, it was nicely carpeted and furnished. The wood of the bed, the writing desk, and a chest-of-drawers all matched.
Susan bobbed her head. “It’s a secure facility, for your protection and ours. Cooperation will earn additional privileges, including the opportunity to eat in the cafeteria with other people, or the chance to use the computer lab.”
“What would I do in a computer lab?”
Susan hesitated. “Um, if you wanted to browse the web or anything. Naturally, we will be disallowing any use of social media during your stay here, or any other direct contact with the outside world.” She waved toward the bathroom and the furniture. “There’s an assortment of toiletries in the bathroom, and some simple changes of clothing in your chest-of-drawers. Let us know if you have any favorite brands you’d prefer.”
“You bought me clothes? Like prison clothes?”
“No, normal clothing. This is not a prison.”
“But I’m a prisoner. You ain’t letting me leave.”
Susan sighed. “You could call it that, for the time being. But we want to make your stay pleasant. That covers the basics. Do you have any other questions?”
“Yes. Where are we, and who are you?”
“I’m not at liberty to tell you where we are. And I assume you aren’t just asking about me.”
“No. Who do you work for? Thadeus?”
“Indirectly. We’re the Coven, of course. As are you, now. Welcome!”
Vanya held up her hands. “Y’all stay here. I’ll go explain to Barnaby and the rest. It was all a misunderstanding.”
“I’ll go with you,” Jack said.
“You don’t have to do that, Jack. It ain’t your fault, and ain’t your problem. It might be better to let this all blow over.”
“Blow over? No, it ain’t your fault, either. I’ll go face up to it and see if there’s anything I can do to help.”
Jenny stood. “Me too. I admitted I’m a witch, and that maybe led to them thinking what they did. Besides, I’m not the witch that Grandma Annabelle is, but I can at least stand by in case there’s trouble.”
Vanya raised her hands in surrender. “Y’all got a lot of courage, I’ll give you that.” With that, they left her home and made their way back to the center of town. The July sun blazed, and Jack checked the time on his watch. It wasn’t yet 2:00 in the afternoon, so they had a lot of time before sundown. He didn’t know what he could do in a few hours to help, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask.
Most of the crowd had dispersed. Barnaby stood by the carts, with his board and quill pen, and a bottle of ink sitting precariously on the sideboard. Barnaby turned and smiled as they approached. “Welcome back! I thought you’d be resting up, or making preparations!”
Vanya shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid there’s been a terrible mistake. Oliver is dead. Annabelle never got the message. These two youth were sent here only to obtain supplies.”
Barnaby’s smile collapsed into open-mouthed horror. “You... you aren’t here to fight off the bandits?”
Jack shook his head. “We didn’t really understand what was going on until Vanya explained it to us, sir. I’m very sorry.”
“I am too, lad.” He looked at Vanya. “People have already started taking their contributions back. There’s no way we’ll fill the quota by sundown.”
“Can you fight them?” Jenny asked.
“With what? They took what few weapons we possessed on the first day and gave us three days to gather ‘tribute’. They threatened to take everything by force if we don’t meet their demands.”
Jack asked, “Is there anything I can do to help? I know it ain’t much.”
Barnaby sighed. “Can you contact Annabelle and get her here before sundown?”
Jack looked at Jenny. She looked down and shook her head.
A villager asked, “What do we do now, Barnaby?”
He shook his head. “We’ll do what we can and try to negotiate.” He looked at Jack and Jenny. “It would be best if the two of you went and hid in the woods until this is over. Come back in the morning. If we have anything left, we’ll spare what we can for Annabelle. Maybe she’ll be able to help us recover.”
The other villagers argued over options. While he couldn’t make out the details, Jack heard them talking about who might be able to spare more for the carts, or how they might pad out their tribute, or who could send their children to stay with relatives over the winter. Jenny muttered to Jack, “I feel terrible about this.”
“Me too. I wish there was something I could do. The only things I can think of would be stupid and dangerous.”
“But... you aren’t going to do anything like that, are you?” She asked it as an honest question. Jack considered. She’d have his back if he could come up with a decent plan. But, at the moment, he had none. He had a sword he barely knew how to swing. His natural resistance to magic was handy against witches, but not so useful against a bunch of bloodthirsty bandits. Annabelle’s amulet might help him survive a few blows, but it wouldn’t stop him from getting overpowered by numbers.
Maybe an opportunity would present itself. But for now, he had no good ideas. “No, I don’t think so,” he answered. “I reckon it’d be best to lie low and cause as little trouble for these folks as possible.”
She nodded. “We’ll get Grandma Annabelle. She’ll know what to do.”
Just then a man ran along the dirt road toward them. “They’re here!” he cried as he drew closer. “The bandits are here!” Before anyone could react, horses appeared over the rise behind him, ridden by bandits with drawn weapons.
“What do we do?” a woman cried.
“Nothing,” Barnaby said. “It ain’t sundown yet. We’re still gathering their tribute. Vanya, take our friends to your house.”
“They already saw us,” Jack said.
Jenny nodded in agreement. “We don’t want to attract their attention. Let’s stand with the others.”
Vanya whispered, “Y’all’s clothes might attract their attention.”
Jack removed his John Deere hat. He still stood out, especially surrounded by people in hats and bonnets, but he was at least slightly less noticeable. Someone behind him put a wide-brimmed hat on his head. He wanted to look back to see who it was, but the bandits had already overtaken the runner and were nearly to the carts. There wasn’t much he could do about the sword at his side. He stood in the middle of the crowd with Jenny, and avoided eye contact with the approaching bandits.
Jenny gave him a brief, reassuring smile, trying her hardest to blend in with the crowd as well. While much of her clothing came from Annabelle’s homemade wardrobe, she wore modern jeans and sneakers. That alone made her stand out among the skirted women.
Nine bandits fanned out as they approached. Six of them made a show of raising their crossbows, not aiming at anyone in particular, but making their threats clear. The other three wore leathers with buckles, and fine riding boots, but they didn’t take their swords from their sheaths. The obvious leader was a bizarre-looking figure, appearing to Jack’s eyes like a cartoon character made flesh. Out of his saddle, he couldn’t have stood five feet
tall on his tiptoes. His head was too big and his skin too smooth over his face. If Jack didn’t know better, he’d think the man was wearing an extremely well-painted rubber mask.
Barnaby nodded toward the leader. “We were not expecting you until sundown, Zainus.”
The strange-looking man raised his eyebrows. “Indeed. We did not expect you to send a man to get aid from that witch in the mountains. Yet you did, and we were forced to kill him.” The man’s speech patterns were strange, melodious, with precise diction but a somewhat uneven rhythm. It was an accent Jack had never heard before, and it grated on him. Zainus continued. “We also did not expect you to receive new visitors to town today, and yet you did. This week is just full of the unexpected, do you not think? Besides, we knew you would be anxious for us to depart, so we came to take our leave early. Is that okay with you?”
“We haven’t assembled the full tribute yet, Zainus.”
The bandit leader nodded. “A pity. Tell me, Barnaby, would a few hours make a difference?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do not know? Or do you not wish to admit it? Let us be honest with each other.”
Barnaby closed his eyes and lowered his head. “I don’t believe we can. It’s my fault.”
Zainus smiled in a way that seemed as artificial as the rest of his face as he leaned casually over the neck of his horse. “Come now, Barnaby. Let us not argue over who is to blame. We are not unreasonable bandits.” He looked up at the rest of the crowd and said, “Who is that girl? The one who wears britches like a man?”