Blood Creek Beast

by Jay Barnson

  “Yes. It does, doesn’t it? Sucks. That’s a useful expression.”

  “When do you find out?”

  “I was only told ‘very soon.’ My father cares for me, and he wouldn’t turn me over to some horrible creature. I should trust his judgment, but...”

  She sniffed. Jack looked up. Her moist cheeks glistened in the light of the lamp. “I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t intend to tell you this. I know it’s none of your business, and my troubles shouldn’t be yours. You just killed a giant, and you are seeking a place for Rumela, and I’m only the girl who got you in trouble in the first place.”

  “You also saved my life and got me back out of trouble again. I don’t know the ways and laws around here, but let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. And if by some chance you are engaged to someone awful, I’ll help you escape.”

  “Jack, that would be treason. Don’t even speak of such a thing.”

  “Look, I done risked a giant and a lot more. If you’re engaged to Zainus the Anus, I’d help you escape just to see the expression on his smug little butt-face.”

  She smiled and wiped her cheeks. Rumela approached, and they both stood. The giant had to duck to bring her eyes below the level of the gazebo’s roof. “Hey,” Rumela said. “Y’all should know there be folks looking for you, Delcina.”

  She nodded. “Thank you, Rumela. You are a true friend. You both are. I must go. Quickly. Goodbye!”

  Delcina descended the steps and hurried along the path. Jack saw her wipe her eyes one more time, and then walk along the path until she was hidden by a hedge.

  Jessabelle had never been in a motel room before, so she didn’t know what to expect. Except for the cigarette burn-holes in the sheets, the room seemed relatively clean. They ate burgers and fries from the Burger Shack around a tiny table. Leon took some time to explore the room, finding a Gideon’s Bible and a phone book in one drawer, then scribbling with a pen on a thin notepad. “I’ve never been in a four-star hotel before. Something tells me this isn’t one of them.”

  “I have,” Min said, munching on a fry. “Mint on the pillow and everything.”

  “But did they have a Bible?” Leon asked.

  “I don’t remember.”

  Jessabelle frowned. “Why are we here? Why ain’t we out on the road getting as far away as possible?”

  Leon walked to the window and parted the curtain to stare out at the golden late-afternoon day outside. “Have you seen our ride? We’re crazy conspicuous and likely to get pulled over if we push our luck. We need time to make new arrangements.”

  “But what if they find it here? And then what?”

  “It’s a calculated risk. And after that...” He glanced at her and then looked away. Something seemed off. “We’ll have to decide what we do after that. Min and I are going to the bar for a couple of hours. We’ve got stuff to talk about.”

  “What? Don’t trust her!”

  “I don’t. But right now, she’s our only bit of leverage. I’ll be fine. Eat up. You need to keep your strength up even if it is just fast food. If you see or hear anything unusual, be ready to run. Keep your jacket on, just in case. It’s going to be a long night for all of us. If you get bored, well, read the Bible or something.”

  Min kept her face neutral during this exchange, pretending to study the single piece of artwork, a landscape of the mountains, adorning the room. Leon looked about to say something more, but then turned to the door. He and Min left, leaving Jessabelle alone.

  Jessabelle paced. Did Min have Leon under her control? He didn’t sound right. Was his admonition to eat a coded message? Did he expect her to change form? Jessabelle returned to the table and finished the last bits of her dinner, but the food was cold and didn’t taste good anymore. Something weird was going on with Min. The witch had even told her that the office, Bowman Holdings, might have information about the Morgantown crossroad. Did Min expect her to go there and get captured? What was her plan? Some kind of reverse psychology?

  Jessabelle went to the drawer where Leon had pulled out the Bible and lifted out the phone book. She found Bowman Holdings and grabbed the pad of paper and pen to write down the address. After she’d copied the address, she realized that there’d been no writing on the pad. Hadn’t Leon scribbled something down several minutes earlier?

  She swept her eyes around the room. The Bible sat on the bed, with a slip of paper from the pad and a pair of twenty-dollar bills poking out from between the pages. Jessabelle read sloppy handwriting of the note. “J - Run. Coven coming.”

  Everything since the gas station began to make sense. Min must have offered him the same deal she offered Jessabelle. It explained Min’s urgency to trade Leon’s freedom for Jessabelle’s. It also explained why she let Leon give her the not-so-overt warning. His subtlety wasn’t to hide his actions from Min, but to prevent Jessabelle from trying to stop him.

  Jessabelle threw on her jacket and shoved the money into an inside pocket. Before opening the door, she peeked out through the curtains. The summer evening sunlight cast shadows sideways that could conceal someone. Her imagination placed snipers with poisonous dart guns behind each obstruction. She wished she still had one of Jenny’s protective amulets. She stepped through the door, alert for any sign of an enemy, but nothing appeared out of place.

  The bar was not far from the motel, but she didn’t want to be caught strolling along the side of the road when the Coven arrived. She attempted to find another route, but as far as she could tell, there was no back road leading around to the bar. The direct path took her through fenced-in property. After finding a spot where she was unlikely to be seen, she became the cat. She hesitated to verify that the jacket, now weighted down with a gun, had vanished, and then she took off towards the bar. With her small size, she cut through the back lots and fields easily, earning only a startled reaction from some chickens and bored looks from a pair of cows. After several minutes, she arrived at the back parking lot of “Sally’s Place” according to the neon sign advertising Budweiser. Below it, another sign boldly proclaimed, “Open Sundays.” Was today Sunday? So much had happened in the last forty-eight hours that Jessabelle wasn’t sure. It could be.

  The damaged SUV sat parked behind the bar, invisible from the main road. She considered jumping inside and changing back into her human form when two cars pulled into the bar’s parking lot, blocking the exit from the rear. Several large men and one woman exited the cars. Two guards walked around the corner to the front entrance, and the other two came in the rear. Another man stayed with the cars, holding a large handgun at his side.

  Jessabelle hid near a dumpster that smelled of booze, garbage, and vomit. She was too late. A minute later, the Coven agents came out the door, along with Leon and Min. Leon allowed himself to be seated in the back of a car by two of the men while the woman chatted briefly with Min. Min looked around and spotted Jessabelle. A thin smile came to her lips, and she looked away, pointing toward the motel and nodding emphatically. She entered the car next to Leon. In moments, the Coven agents started the cars and drove off toward the motel.

  Jessabelle was alone and hunted.

  Jack’s mood was foul the next morning when Bachan visited him in his room, accompanied by the tailors. “Do you got some kind of fascination with my clothes, Bachan?” Jack asked.

  “Let’s pretend I do for the time being,” the Captain said.

  The tailors examined the suit, which was something more akin to a tuxedo in Jack’s estimation. It felt weird. They took more measurements, marked edges with chalk, and seemed satisfied. One of the tailors bowed to him and said, “We shall add the final touches and have it ready for you in a few hours. I am sure it will meet with your satisfaction.”

  Jack shrugged. “Whatever.” He stripped out of the clothes as if they were causing him pain by their touch. The tailors retrieved the clothing, disappointment written large on their faces, and they left the room.

  Bachan spoke again. “Even if you hate the
clothes, you could have at least pretended for their sakes.”

  Jack pulled his newly repaired jeans on. “I don’t hate the clothes. I just want to get through this night, find a place for Rumela, and get the hell out of here.”

  Bachan nodded tentatively. “Making sure you don’t overstay your welcome. That’s generally a wise course of action. Ordinarily, I’d approve.”

  “Ordinarily?”

  “You are the King’s man of the hour, which makes you a useful asset to me. But, I also question your motivation. Did you hear anything last night?”

  “Me? No. Just stuff that confused me. This whole kingdom confuses me.”

  “Did your secret meeting with the princess contribute to that?”

  Jack rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Yes.” He considered lying. Telling the truth kept getting him in trouble, and the lies and deceptions led to victory. That was not what how the preacher said it was supposed to work. “She told me she was bet... engaged. But she didn’t know who she’s supposed to be getting hitched to.”

  “That is what I have heard as well. Officially, the marriage of all the princes and princesses are always arranged by the crown. In practice, that hasn’t been the way of things for generations, even for the heir.”

  “Heir?”

  “Yes, Delcina is the heir. She is next in line for the crown.”

  “Oh? Girls can be the rulers, too? Queens?”

  Bachan nodded. “That has been the case many times.”

  “Just tell me she isn’t going to be married off to Zainus the Anus.”

  Bachan sighed. “I haven’t been told. In fact, I was very nearly relieved of my position last night when I demanded that information in the interest of the security of the crown.”

  “Oh. I reckon that makes sense. For you to know, I mean, not for them to threaten to fire you.”

  “Everything about this is unusual. That is why I need to know exactly what the princess told you.”

  “Pretty much the same thing. She doesn’t know, either. She was told yesterday morning.”

  “What else?”

  “Nothing else important.”

  “Oh? And I suppose you are in a black mood today because you are concerned about news of trouble along the northern border.”

  “What trouble? No, I’m... I reckon it’s because I like the princess. I admitted as much to her last night before she told me about her engagement.”

  “If you are asked, give the answer I just gave you.”

  “I ain’t going to lie.”

  “The truth could get you in a great deal of trouble.”

  Jack fussed over his shirt buttons as he stared out through the shutters of his window. “More trouble than being sent to my death at the hands of Korak the giant?”

  “No, probably not.”

  “Then I reckon things are getting better.”

  Bachan waved his hand. “Just avoid answering that question then.”

  “I’ll avoid all the questions. I reckon it’d be a bad thing for me to hang around here if I have a thing for a girl who is about to be married off to some jackass. Married! How old is the princess, anyway?”

  “She will be nineteen in the fall.”

  “That’s crazy. I would have guessed she was sixteen.”

  Bachan said nothing. Jack changed the subject. “Do you know how I can find a place for Rumela? Some place where she could work and make a living around here?”

  Bachan shrugged. “Perhaps she might take my job if the king carries out his threat. Otherwise, no, but I’ll make inquiries.”

  “Thanks Bachan. You are a stand-up guy.”

  “I assume that is a compliment.”

  The castle hall bore a few more decorations this time. The staff had hung red banners bearing the icon of the royal family, a unicorn on its hind legs on a field of red and gold. A servant directed Jack to the head table, which he assumed was a highly sought honor by the way the man acted about it. Jack was far more excited by the fact that he was seated next to Delcina.

  As the meal began, he glanced at Delcina for cues as to how to behave. He’d barely learned any etiquette back home, so dining in a foreign country with the royal court was an alien experience. Jack never thought of eating as stressful until that moment. Delcina gave him gentle nudges with her feet to get his attention, and he’d imitate what she was doing. Eating the chicken drumstick with fingers, he discovered from a less-gentle prod from her heel, was not done at the King’s table.

  To add to the stress, everyone on his end of the table had questions. Lord Culpepper, a thirtyish man with a waxed mustache seated opposite Delcina, asked the most probing questions. “Jack, I pride myself on being a man familiar with many languages and dialects, yet your accent is quite strange to me. Where did you say you were from?”

  “Umm...” Jack tried to formulate a response and felt another prod from Delcina. He looked to the side, and she was staring at another young man at the table to her right, gently shaking her head as if in response to something the other young man had said. Jack glanced back at Culpepper and shrugged. “It’s a place called Maple Bend, outside of Branton,” he said, stabbing a miniature potato with his fork.

  “Branton?” Culpepper repeated. “That isn’t the port city in southern Calonia, is it?”

  Jack shoved the potato into his mouth as a stalling tactic. He shook his head and chewed slowly. When he swallowed, he followed up with a simple, “No, sir. It ain’t... um, isn’t a port city.” As Culpepper looked ready to ask a follow-up question, Jack jumped in with a question of his own. “Where are you from, Lord Culpepper?”

  Culpepper smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Oh, my family has been the custodian of the Featherstone District in Tirney for six generations. There is excellent farming there, and it’s a wealthy district. We are truly blessed. Some of this meal grew in Featherstone, as a matter of fact.”

  Jack wanted to say something polite, like “That’s very interesting.” But it wasn’t. Not even close. All he could say was, “Sounds like you are pretty happy there.”

  “We are. Except for the occasional raid by giants. Which once again raises the question to which we’ve all wanted to hear the answer this evening. How did you defeat Korak? He is legendary for his ability to defeat dozens of well-trained and organized soldiers, yet I heard you defeated him without even the help of the guards that accompanied you.”

  Jack really didn’t want to explain the dishonorable way Korak had died, and he really didn’t like thinking about it. He spoke slowly. “I reckon I got lucky. I mean, after all, Korak was plenty old. So maybe he wasn’t as fast as he used to be. Plus, I think he was getting a little nearsighted. He couldn’t see me from far away.”

  “I heard you dispatched him with a knife, at close range.”

  The princess froze, staring at Culpepper. Jack didn’t know what to say. Delcina recovered first and turned to Jack. “That’s amazing. You must be quite skilled.” She turned to Culpepper. “I haven’t been lucky enough to hear the full story yet. Where did you hear it?”

  Culpepper shrugged. “Rumors. He was seen riding to battle with a fancy dagger at his side. It was noteworthy for its apparent value compared to the rest of his equipment. Perhaps it was a gift from a wealthy benefactor.”

  “Perhaps,” the princess said. “Speaking of wealth, how is Lord Renwald these days? Are the silver mines you bought producing yet?”

  Culpepper paled. He circled the air with an index finger as he regained his composure. “Oh, he’s doing quite well. He’s, uh, just an investor.” Culpepper stuffed more food in his mouth. While Jack had no idea what sort of situation Delcina had alluded to, he was grateful for the respite.

  Before anyone could ask anything more, King Ferik stood. Everyone in the hall put their utensils down and silenced their discussions to give him their full attention. King Ferik swept his gaze across the room, seeming to make eye contact with everyone in seconds, and spoke. “Honored guests, this feast tonight is to
honor a young man who has done our country a great service. As you know, the giant Korak has been a great threat to our kingdom. For decades, he has stolen entire herds, destroyed crops and property, and murdered our citizens by the score. Previous attempts to bring him to justice have failed at a cost of some of the bravest blood in the kingdom. Earlier this week a young man, a foreigner to our land, bravely agreed to undertake the quest to rid us of this persistent enemy.” He turned and motioned toward Jack.

  Jack bit his tongue as every head in the hall turned to look at him. Agreed was hardly how he’d put it. He forced a smile and the faintest of shrugs, and focused his attention on the king.

  The king continued. “When he accepted this charge, I promised Jack that in addition to appropriate honors, he would receive the bounty on the head of Korak. This has been a long-standing offer that predates my father and has only grown with time. Many have attempted to claim this bounty, and it seemed that only time itself might do so.”

  He motioned to his wife. “It was our lovely Queen who reminded me of that which I should have already known from boyhood... that my great-grandfather, Lars Adento, once specified that whoever should slay Korak would gain the honor of being declared Hero of the Kingdom, an honor I have already bestowed upon Jack. In my view, he was already our hero, and I believe this young man has many great deeds before him.” He paused and clapped his hands together.

  The rest of the room joined him in boisterous applause. Jack felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He smiled and offered his little shrug again, then looked at his plate. Beside him, Delcina applauded. In the corner of his eye, he caught her smile. It made him feel as tall as a giant.

  King Ferik said, “The title only makes it official. It grants rights as a citizen and as a nobleman, though of course it offers no land or assignment of station. But Jack, this is our way of welcoming you here, and we hope that you will choose to stay with us. We can always use more heroes, can we not?”