Ravens Cove

by Mary Ann Poll

  She had worked with care, ensuring the potion had boiled to the right point, and had enough hours to reach full potency. She first considered soaking the cigar in the concoction, but thought better of it. It would darken the tobacco leaves and he might become suspicious.

  She rifled through her medicine cabinet and uncovered an ancient syringe. She injected the concoction into the cigar. She watched with deep satisfaction as the potion disappeared into the cigar, hidden just as it should be.

  “Reverend, this is a present I have kept for you for such a special occasion as this.”

  Plotno took his eyes off the gorgeous orange glow and the black smoke billowing up as the water put out the fire. He looked at the offering from Anita.

  A broader smile crossed his face as he thought of the anger this would cause his wife. She was such a controlling thing. She had not embraced his ideology of what feels good is good. She worried about his health! What an imbecile! But Anita understood the need for pleasure.

  He took the cigar, searching his pants pocket for a lighter. “Here you go.” Anita produced one. She was ensuring nothing could stop her moment.

  The lighter glinted gold and black in his hand. His initials were carved into it, the black absorbing light.

  “You thought of everything,” he said as he flicked the lighter open, puffed the cigar until the tip glowed red and took a deep inhale. He exhaled and smiled down at Anita.

  “What a wonderful end to a wonderful day.”

  Profligacy went to work, whispering to his mind. “She is the loveliest thing you have ever seen, Plotno. Forget your wife. This one knows what you love and she loves what you do. Feel the craving for her growing in your gut. She is your obsession! You must have her.”

  Venenose stood beside Profligacy, watching him work. All that had to be done now was find the wife and Plotno would never be the same. He called to the Demon Parlous, stationed at Plotno's residence.

  Plotno grabbed Anita around the waist. “I want you and you know that. I can't wait any longer.”

  Anita smiled, took Plotno's hand and led him into the Congregational Alliance. “I know just the place. It will be delicious!” The door closed and Atramentous settled in to watch.

  Mrs. Plotno did not know why she had such an urgency to go to the Congregational Alliance. She tried to stay as far away from the place as she could. Not that she didn't love what her husband was doing. She was so proud. But she had better things to do with her time than sit there and listen to him expound on feeling good and watching those Congregational Alliance groupies fall all over him. She heard enough of this at home. The urgency grew stronger.

  She grabbed her purse and threw on a coat.

  “Grab a knife. Something is wrong. Martin's in danger!” said the voice of Parlous in her head. Ransom Plotno ran to the kitchen, yanked open the knife drawer and bolted out the door. She dashed up the street, butcher knife in hand, toward the church to save her Martin.

  Plotno and Anita were entwined in front of the Congregational Alliance's shiny, forbidding altar.

  “Now isn't this the best place to make our love commitment?” Anita whispered in his ear, feeling his heart racing against hers.

  “Mmm.”

  Plotno and Anita were so engrossed in each other that they didn't hear the back door of the church open. In his haste, the Right Reverend had forgotten to lock it.

  Ransom Plotno stopped midstride, grabbing the church door before it slammed. It took her a minute to believe what she was seeing. Then she did. Rage filled her heart and mind and propelled her forward. The butcher knife flashed when she pointed it at her target. She did not see people as she ran toward the objects of her rage, but the horror of being duped and humiliated for so long.

  The first blow felt great; blood spurted from Martin's neck. She had hit home. He fell atop Anita. She screamed as she watched Martin's blood fly backward from that knife. Ransom raised the blade over the helpless Anita. The last thing she saw was that knife, coming down to her right eye. Anita stopped screaming. Martin fought a little longer. But in the end, he too lost the battle against the assailant that had been a devoted wife just minutes before.

  Ransom Plotno stared down at the bloody heap on the floor. Looks like a bad load of laundry.

  “And that's what you are, Martin Plotno, a bad load of laundry! Farewell and good riddance.”

  She turned and walked calmly down the aisle and to the door.

  “That felt good, Martin, just like you always preached. Sorry I didn't listen to you sooner!” She broke out in wild laughter at her own joke as she burst through the doors of the Congregational Alliance church, free at last!

  Miggie stood blocking the staircase to the street.

  Oblivious to the ghastly site of what had once been Miggie Salisto, she smiled at him. He smiled back, vacant sockets squishing the purple and black mixture from his eyes.

  “Well done, Ransom Plotno. It was about time, that guy was a no-good!”

  “You're sure right!” she agreed, having dropped the knife to her side when she realized Miggie was no threat.

  “There are more that should meet the same fate tonight, don't you think?”

  Ransom nodded. She could come up with several members of this pack she would like to see bleeding to death and hear screaming in terror.

  “Yes, there are several women I want to talk to,” she mumbled, running her finger along the knife blade.

  “Many of them need to meet my new friend.” She smiled, unaware that the blade had cut so deep into her thumb that the flesh lay open and blood was running in rivulets around it.

  “First, you need to meet my friend. He is most anxious to meet you.” Ransom tensed and turned her dead eyes to Miggie's vacant ones.

  “It's okay. He's your pal, too. In fact, he's the one who sent one of his soldiers to tell you about this tryst so you could set things right once and for all.”

  Ransom stood torn between finishing her blood bath and going to see this supposed ally.

  “He is powerful. He can help you destroy the others. You don't have to do everything alone anymore.”

  She liked the sound of that. She had been alone for so long. “Take me to him!”

  Jo, returning from the tragic fire at the small church that she had grown to love, saw a sight that horrified her beyond words.

  “God, help us.” She ducked beside the church's wall, and peeked around the corner.

  Ransom Plotno stood under a streetlight in front of the church. She was covered in red—on the front of her clothes, in her hair and a large spray on her arms and the front of her legs. A large butcher knife, dulled by the same liquid, lay at her side.

  Ransom was carrying on an animated, one-sided conversation. She sauntered out from under the light, still talking to her unseen companion. When Jo could see her no longer, she came out of hiding and made her way to the bottom of the church stairs.

  “It's blood, sure as life.” She lifted her eyes and saw footprints of scarlet that led from the church to the streetlight. She darted for the sheriff's office.

  Atramentous smiled as he watched Jo skittering like a rat toward her destination.

  “That'll do you no good.”

  The plan was coming more and more together. He could taste the feast being prepared for him and all of Iconoclast's soldiers. Atramentous pulled away from the church door, no longer needing to guard it, and slithered down the sidewalk toward the ravine.

  He slid up beside Ransom and flanked her on the left, Miggie still on her right. This woman had become the pivotal player in Iconoclast's plan and he was going to make sure she got to the ravine.

  Chapter 11

  The Battle

  Jo had no luck at the sheriff's office. It was empty and dark. She ran to his home. No luck there, either. She ran back to his office.

  Caroline was just coming out of Cassie's salon. She had returned to pick up the day's receipts.

  “Have you seen the sheriff, Caroline?”
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br />   “No, maybe he's at home.”

  Jo was having trouble catching her breath.

  “Sit down, Jo, you look terrible.” Caroline motioned to the bench in front of the shop. Jo plopped down.

  “Murder.” Jo wheezed out while gasping for air.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Ransom Plotno's murdered someone.”

  “You must be mistaken, Jo.” Ransom Plotno was a mild, almost mousy woman. Caroline could never understand how she had caught such a wonderful, handsome man as the Reverend. And Ransom was scared of her own shadow. Caroline knew her well because Cassie had done the woman's hair every week for years.

  “I saw her, Caroline, standing in front of the church. Pretty as you please, covered in blood, butcher knife hanging by her side. I need to find the sheriff!”

  “Well, I can't believe it was Ransom, Jo, she's way too mild. But, I think you might have seen the killer!”

  Caroline unlocked the door to her salon, Jo trailing behind. She took a card from her purse and punched in the number.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Kat Tovslosky. If anyone knows where Bart is, she does.” The phone rang and rang.

  Caroline hung up and thought. She punched in another number.

  Grandma Bricken was successful in ignoring the phone the first time it rang. When it finally stopped she relaxed. Seconds later, it started again.

  “Oh, for heaven's sake.” She pushed herself back from the table and walked from the room.

  The rest of the team didn't seem to notice her leaving.

  “We have no clue who this fifth victim is to be. And, I don't want another death on my hands,” Bart was saying. He had seen enough death to last him a lifetime. Starting a hardware business, a long-ago dream, was sounding better and better all the time.

  “Bart. BART!” That got his attention.

  “Caroline's on the phone. Sounds urgent.”

  “Tell her I'll call her back. Nothing could be more urgent than this.”

  “He'll call you back. We have a situation here, as they say.”

  “I need to talk to him, Grandma. Jo's here with me and says there's been another murder. This time at the Congregational Alliance.”

  Grandma's pallor said everything. Bart had been watching the doorway, waiting for his great-aunt to return to the conversation.

  “Bart, you need to take that call,” was all Grandma said before she sat back down at the table and explained to the rest who had called and why.

  “Iconoclast seems to have claimed his last victim,” Bart poked his head in the door to the kitchen. “I need to get to the Congregational Alliance.”

  He grabbed his hat from the peg at grandma's door.

  “Not the one, Bart. Otherwise, we wouldn't be sitting at this table right now. We'd be fighting for our lives.”

  “No matter if it is the fifth or not, Auntie, there's another body and I gotta go.”

  Grandma rose. So did the rest of the group.

  “We're all coming with you.”

  “No, you're not.”

  “Listen, Cousin. You ended up in a puddle on the floor tonight and almost blew your brains out. Mom always said, ‘safety in numbers’ … we're going with you.”

  “Suit yourself.” Bart headed toward the door and took the steps in a single stride.

  They arrived at Cassie's shop and listened to Jo's strange story. Jo was one of the most, if not the most down-to-earth resident of Ravens Cove. She pooh-poohed anything that could not be seen, felt, touched, smelled, or tasted. The supernatural nonsense was just that—nonsense. Tonight Jo's concrete world had been shaken its foundation.

  Bart listened patiently, taking notes. Ken and Kat had gone to the sheriff's office to retrieve the yellow crime scene tape and a camera.

  They reappeared as Bart was snapping his small notebook closed and thanking Jo and Caroline. The sheriff and his impromptu deputies, looking like a tour group to an unknowledgeable observer, walked toward the Congregational Alliance. No one said a word, not looking forward to arriving at their destination.

  At the foot of the stairs, Bart motioned for all to stop. “Stay. Except you, Melbourne.”

  Ken and Bart walked to the top of the stairs. Ken was appointed photographer and snapped pictures of the evidence on his way up. There was plenty. Bloody footsteps became more distinct as he came closer to the top. He swabbed and jarred each dark stain as he went. Toward the middle of the stairs, he saw large blood drops alongside the fading footprints. He swabbed those too.

  “Looks like we're in luck, Bart. Whoever belongs to the bloody shoes is cut.”

  “That's the best news I've heard since this whole crazy thing started.” He kept dusting for fingerprints on the door.

  Once Ken reached the top, they walked inside together. They stood in silence and surveyed the blood-soaked scene. Dark red shoe treads led in a straight path from the front to the back of the church.

  “The saints preserve us,” Ken muttered as his ole’ Irish aunt had done in a horrific situation.

  The scantily dressed bodies of Martin Plotno and Anita Conner lay exposed for all to see. Bart checked for a pulse on both. It was long gone and the corpses were beginning to cool. Bart pulled his phone from its case and called Doc Billings.

  “On my way.”

  “Whoever is responsible for this atrocity, sure hated the reverend, not to mention the librarian.”

  “Oh, yeah.” The carnage was overkill. Anita's eyes had been gouged out and the late Reverend's back and neck looked like hamburger.

  To make sure they didn't disturb anything, Kat, Grandma Bricken, Pastor Lucas, and Josiah took up position across the street from the church. They watched Doc Billings’ unmistakable Audi drive up to the curb.

  “Evening,” he said as he grabbed his bag from the passenger's seat and jogged up the stairs and into the church.

  The group stared at each other.

  “Lord, show us what to do.” Paul began. “You, O God, are sovereign, even when the world or the situation shouts to us that You are not. Please help us to know what we are to do, O God. We cannot stop or defeat what is happening in our beloved town but, God, You can. Please grant us strength.”

  When Grandma and Josiah bowed their heads in agreement, Kat followed suit. There was no hope unless this God of theirs did intervene.

  “In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

  The funeral home's black hearse pulled up fifteen minutes later. This was going to be a long night. But the loyal crew waited.

  At 4 a.m. Bart and Kenneth emerged from the church.

  “A horrible scene,” Bart said. “The Reverend and Anita have been murdered. By a sharp instrument from what we can ascertain.”

  The gravity of this news was not lost on the group.

  “Why?” Grandma asked.

  Josiah, who had been silent for several hours said, “lust and jealousy are involved.” He turned and looked down the street toward the small church that stood no longer. He longed to go there. To get away from the horror he felt building, a palpable evil working up for the kill, so close he could almost touch it.

  Jo was walking toward them.

  “Glad I caught you, Sheriff. I forgot to tell you where I thought Mrs. Plotno was going.”

  “Mrs. Plotno did this?” Kat didn't believe it.

  “Caroline thinks I'm crazy, too. But I know who and what I saw.”

  “Where was she going?” Bart wanted to focus on the lead, not a debate about Ransom Plotno's personality.

  “She headed up Main and into the dark. She was in a hurry, like on a mission. If I were a swearing woman, I'd swear she was headed to Ravens Ravine.”

  “I'll check it out, Jo. You go home and get some rest. Thanks.”

  “Well, we know where to go next.”

  “Yep.”

  Kenneth and Bart started up Main, the group falling in a few steps behind him.

  Bart turned. “Not you. This is way too dangerous.�
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  “This is too dangerous for us not to come,” Josiah answered.

  The group turned eyes on Bart and Ken.

  “Legend or not, in good conscience, I cannot let you come along. How am I going to know I'm doing my job, when the two most beloved women in my life,” Bart looked from Kat to Grandma Bricken, “would be heading right into the path of certain and possible life-ending danger?”

  “And, how, Bartholomew, could I live with myself if I allowed my most beloved great-nephew to walk into definite spiritual death?”

  The scream came out of the darkness, from the direction of the ravine. It was a death scream and underscored the seriousness of Grandma's concerns.

  Ransom Plotno had been sitting, cross-legged, back to the ravine path, just as she had been told.

  “Wait here,” Atramentous had said. “My commander will meet you in due time. First, though, you are to guard the path for me and Miggie.”

  “Okay.”

  “There are enemies coming and they mean you harm. When you see the first, be prepared to fight. It is the only way you will survive.”

  Ransom held the knife with both hands on its handle, pointing skyward, resting her arms on her legs.

  Miggie and Atramentous left to consult with Iconoclast.

  “This is our chance,” Martin said to Anita.

  “Are you crazy, Martin? We will be tortured.”

  “They lied to us, don't you see that? They promised we'd take part in their banquet of destruction and instead they destroyed us. That horrible woman,” he pointed at his former wife with the stub of the finger he'd lost in the vain attempt to defend himself, “was allowed to destroy us. It's our turn.” As in life, Anita agreed and they materialized.

  “Ransom!” A macabre duet commanded her to look up.

  There stood her recently deceased husband and his latest tryst. The latter of which was covered with blood, focusing on her through empty holes where the eyes had once been. Ransom began to shake.

  “I am here to take you to hell where you belong.” What was left of Reverend Plotno and Anita reached for Ransom and she screamed.