by Mae Clair
“I’ve heard it whispered Blum is an excellent tracker.”
“Let there be truth in that.” Jasper rubbed the ginger scruff of beard on his chin.
Of the men in the village, Gabriel considered Jasper the most diplomatic. Certainly, the most devout. The small chapel tucked in a grove of hickory trees had only heard one sermon thus far. A sad occurrence to think it would stand empty so soon after the last nail had been struck.
“There is no one to preach in your absence.” Gabriel drained his glass and stretched, setting off a rickety creak in his chair. His cabin did not have the grand scale or fine furnishings of Atticus Crowe’s home, but was serviceable. He was too embarrassed to ask if Dinah would find the rough-hewn furniture beneath her station, so kept his thoughts on the chapel. He’d helped build the church. Driven nails and set boards, along with most every man in the village.
“My father has agreed to stand in and read a passage from scripture.” Jasper stared down at his cup. For a moment, the crackle and hiss of flames was the only sound in the cabin. A shadow passed over his face, drawing his lips into a grimace. “You and the others think I am the best choice to stand behind the pulpit until we find an ordained man of God, but I am not sure. There is a great deal of weight in shepherding a flock.”
A vexing thought niggled at Gabriel’s mind. “Is that why you chose to accompany me on the hunt? To avoid your responsibility here?”
“Of course not.” Jasper’s tone soured, a tincture of anger darkening his eyes. “I have already told you that as your friend, I will not allow you to face this danger alone. Or even with Hiram Blum.” He added the admonition when Gabriel moved to object. “But I cannot help feel a momentary relief to know I will be absent from the chapel.”
“That makes no sense.” Gabriel wandered to the hearth. He retrieved the poker from its resting place then prodded the logs. “I know you, my friend. Left to your own devices, you would spend hours ruminating on God’s word. Your face radiated joy when you shared last Sunday’s sermon.”
“But I have no joy in tending graves.”
The flames danced higher. Clumps of ash tumbled from the wood, steeping the air with the odor of char and burning hickory. Gabriel propped the poker against the stone and dusted his hands. “There are no graves. We have Heaven to thank our village has yet to suffer a death.”
“But someone will die eventually. Someone must.” Planting his palms on the table, Jasper stood. He strode to the rear of the cabin, restless movements betraying his agitation.
Gabriel studied the clenched line of his jaw, the taut edge of his features. “Death will come to all of us in time.”
“You don’t understand.” Jasper rubbed the back of his neck, his shoulders hunched with unseen weight. “Do you know what my father would have me do?”
Gabriel shook his head.
“There is an old belief that the soul of the first body set in a graveyard remains tethered to the grounds for eternity. It is the responsibility of that doomed soul to protect those laid to rest in the days and years that follow.”
“Protect them from what?”
“Night demons. Wights and phantoms. Predators from the Netherworld.”
“Jasper, surely you do not believe—”
“No, but my father does. As do most of the people of this village. You joined us after we had already established a community, but the people who reside here—even among the outlying farms—hail from similar regions in the Old Country. Places of standing stones and funerary paths. Hollows and fells. Their beliefs have been ingrained through tradition and folklore.” He lowered his voice. “However enlightened they imagine themselves to be.”
“But if that is truly their belief…” God forbid Dinah shared her father’s archaic superstitions. “…how could they condemn one of their own to such a horrible fate?”
“There is another way.” Jasper returned to the table. Sinking into his chair, he glanced up at Gabriel. “A sacrifice may be substituted. Normally, a dog is killed and buried in a plot isolated from the other graves. When churches were made of stone, the animal was often sealed alive inside a wall to die of thirst and starvation.”
Gabriel grunted with disgust. “That’s a barbaric practice.”
“I did not say I condone the custom. Only that it is a communal belief of those who dwell here. Now that the chapel is complete, they await a sacrifice. My father made a point of reminding me after last Sunday’s service. Since I have assumed the mantle of clergy, he expects me to carry out the deed.”
Gabriel’s stomach churned. How had he lived among the villagers for two years and never heard so much as a whisper about the vile ritual?
Because there was no chapel or ground allotted for burial until recently.
He joined Jasper at the table. “Your father is only one elder of this village. Does Vernon Hode share the same belief?” Hode carried as much respect as Atticus among the villagers and farmers, if not more. Rumor said Hode came from icy lands farther north than any other. Likely, his beliefs were different. If anyone could stop the butcher and sacrifice of an innocent animal, it was Hode.
“I don’t know.” Jasper shrugged. “He hasn’t been visible for days.”
“In mourning.” Gabriel remembered the rumor. “Reason enough to delay such a critical ritual.”
Jasper looked surprised. “What?”
“Think about it. If this sacrifice is truly for the people of the village—or should I say, their souls when laid to rest—Vernon Hode should be present. No doubt your father and others will be there.”
Jasper nodded, appearing to listen intently.
“Then you have every reason to delay the deed, especially if you are the one forced to carry it through. As the one to offer the sacrifice, is it not your right to set a time of your choosing?” Gabriel poured another cup of Madeira, then did the same for his friend.
This time Jasper did not refuse. He licked his lips. “We will be gone hunting the beast. When we return, Hode will have passed his period of mourning and should be focused enough to attend.”
“He will surely be attentive enough to listen to reason.” Leaning back in his chair, Gabriel sipped his wine. “More so, you will be a hero when we bag the beast. What better creature to set in the ground to protect against night demons?”
“Hang it, you’re right.” Smacking his hand against the table, Jasper lurched to his feet. “It is a fell beast that terrorizes us, and a fell beast that will fare best against the denizens of the Netherworld. No phantom or wight will stand a chance against such a creature. Why didn’t I think of that? Gabriel, you are a genius!” He downed his wine in a single gulp.
Gabriel laughed. “How charitable of you to recognize my brilliance.”
“A subject we will debate again when I hold the upper hand. For now, I freely concede to the better man.” Sweeping an imaginary hat from his head, Jasper mimed a bow. He dropped into his chair with a grin. “Enough of my difficulties. Let us speak of something other than fell beasts and problems.”
“Such as?”
“My sister.”
Caught off guard by the abrupt change of topic, Gabriel tensed. “What of her?” Jasper was aware of his feelings for Dinah, but they rarely spoke of her in that regard.
“Nothing so troublesome as you think. Dinah told me she gave you a gem that once belonged to our great-grandmother. I wondered if you understood the significance.”
Gabriel hedged, thinking of the emerald tucked in the pocket of his breeches. Dinah had entrusted him to keep it safe, and he took that vow seriously.
“Is this another tradition from your folklore?”
“Scoff if you will.” Jasper helped himself to more Madeira, the pledge of a clear-headed morrow apparently forgotten. “The women among my ancestors have always commanded such stones. There are few left in the world. My great-grandmoth
er claimed to have one of the last.”
“Why only women?”
“The power the gem possesses is believed too tempting for a man to resist. A path to certain ruin.”
Dinah would not have given him anything dark in nature. He shifted, disturbed that more and more the emerald reeked of witchery.
“But I have the gem. A man.”
“Aye.” Jasper acknowledged by draining the last of his wine. “Bestowed upon you by a woman as her pledge of protection and love—an entirely different circumstance. My ancestors considered it a great honor to receive such a blessing. Dinah might have imparted her pledge of protection to me, but she chose you instead.”
“Jasper.” Gabriel swallowed. “I hope you do not resent your sister for—”
“Nothing could be further from the truth.” Jasper cut him off with a wide grin. “Her choice speaks volumes. She knows you will bear my safety in mind as I bear yours, but her pledge goes to the man who holds her heart. I expect you will do the honorable thing and approach my father for her hand.”
Gabriel relaxed. Of course, his friend would know. “When we return. With the beast.” He raised his cup, then drained it dry. “You are not the only one who needs that creature to change his future. Pray for both our sakes the monster dies swiftly.”
* * * *
Present Day
David tossed the keys to the Mustang on the table inside the door, then shrugged out of his overcoat. Hands in the pockets of his hoodie, Finn brushed past and made a beeline for the hallway.
“Not so fast.”
“What?” Heaving an exaggerated exhale, Finn turned, his mouth screwed into the frown of the century.
Great. Overall, the kid wasn’t bad, but lately his attitude had been working on David’s nerves. Probably the influence of Rodney Townsend.
“So now you’re speaking.”
Finn shrugged.
He hadn’t said a word on the drive from the cemetery, though David hadn’t talked much either, busy stewing over Finn’s latest exploits. He didn’t doubt the story Finn fed Desmond was a load of hogwash. Already this week the kid had missed curfew twice and neglected three homework assignments. David had gotten a call from the principal requesting a parent/teacher conference. Too bad he wasn’t actually a parent. He needed to come up with a better way of controlling Finn’s routine. His own was often unstable, the scattershot hours of a detective sergeant.
He pointed to the couch. “Sit.”
Without a word, Finn dragged his feet across the carpet, then slumped into the cushions, arms folded over his chest.
David didn’t say anything for a time, letting Finn fidget on the sofa while he flipped on the gas fireplace, then set the stereo system for something low and soothing. Another day, he might have pumped it full of classic rock, but the scream of electric guitars and bass drums wouldn’t help his headache.
He wandered to the bathroom, located the economy-sized bottle of Excedrin, then tumbled a few into his palm. After swallowing them with a mouthful of water, he braced his hands on the vanity and stared into the mirror. Originally, when he’d leased the two-bedroom apartment off River Road, he’d planned to use the spare bedroom as an office. He’d had a sleek, contemporary desk, bookcase, and filing cabinet set up for three months before his sister ended up in prison—again—and he’d had to dump everything in storage to make room for Finn’s bedroom set. He couldn’t really blame the kid for having an attitude, given his parents.
David washed his hands then walked back into the living room, toweling them dry. Finn hadn’t moved, still wedged into the sofa, gaze turned out the sliding doors to the balcony. If he slouched any farther, he’d fold into the cushions.
“So.” David dropped into the chair across from him. “Let’s talk about what happened this afternoon.”
Finn’s gaze slewed from the balcony, settling on David’s face. He had his father’s piercing blue eyes, his mother’s curly black hair. When he wasn’t sulking, his features could be open, even congenial. Right now, he looked like someone who’d swallowed a frog.
“Is this interrogation time?”
Little shit. The kid could play cool when he wanted.
David breathed deeply and counted to five. Ten gave too much leeway, and Finn knew exactly why he was in trouble.
“How do you know Elliott Camden?”
“School.”
Brilliant. Who didn’t love a one-word answer?
“Try again. He doesn’t fit your circle of friends.”
Finn shrugged. “He’s a new kid. You can check the records.”
A little too confident. This wasn’t the avenue to take.
“What were you doing in the cemetery? You should have caught the bus home.”
Finn took sudden interest in a thread on his jeans. He picked the edge. “We stayed after…a few other kids and me.”
“What other kids?”
“Just some guys. You don’t know them.” Pick. Pick.
“How were you going to get home?”
Shrug. “One of the kids has an older brother. He was gonna come get us.”
David wondered how long it had taken him to stitch the story together. Whatever had happened in the cemetery—he was sure it involved Rodney and Troy and equally certain the Camden kid was not a friend, probably the target—he was grateful Finn had done the right thing. He could have bailed like the others but had stayed and called for help. He’d put his neck on the chopping block, but it was clear he had no intention of ratting out his friends.
How did parents deal with crap like this on a regular basis?
David rubbed his eyes. “Since when do you decide to stay after school and not tell me? We’ve been through this. It’s important that—”
“Yeah, I know. I need to stay out of trouble.” Finn mimicked the lecture with venom. “Otherwise they might not let me go home when Mom’s done doing time for her latest screw-up. Did you ever think maybe I don’t want to go back? That maybe I’m sick of her promises to stay clean?”
He couldn’t fault Finn the acid, not with Mandy as a mother. David’s younger sister wasn’t cut out for kids, a reality Finn had grown wise to years ago. The first time she’d fallen off the opioid wagon, Finn’s father had stepped up to the plate, despite being equally ill-equipped to handle parenthood.
At least the prick had tried. Not so anymore.
A struggling paper products salesman, Reece Carrigan had fallen into the lap of luxury fourteen months ago when he’d hooked up with a greeting card heiress at a convention. Since then he’d been off the grid in Seattle, living with his soon-to-be bride. A woman who’d made it plain her affection didn’t extend to the adolescent son from a previous marriage. “I don’t care where he goes, but not here, thank you very much.”
Never a stand-up guy to begin with, Reece’s involvement with Finn had dwindled to an occasional phone call and a monthly support check, the latter of which Mandy used for pills. This time her fumble came with a two-year prison term, a sentence David prayed would be shortened over time for good behavior. If he hadn’t agreed to become Finn’s guardian, his nephew would have ended up in foster care. After four months, there were still gaping holes and hurdles in their relationship, with him undertaking the responsibility of meeting halfway.
“Look, I know you got a raw deal.”
Finn snorted. “I don’t need another reminder about people being only human”—air quotes—“or how parents aren’t perfect and can make mistakes.”
“Fine.” Compassion wasn’t going to work. The kid had a stick up his butt and had made up his mind to be bullheaded. “This isn’t about your mother, anyway. It’s about you and what you did. Or failed to do. You should have called me.”
Finn drew back, the surprise on his face indicating he’d expected the prison card to get him off the hook. At the very least, l
ighten the fallout.
“Okay, I should have called.” His gaze shifted sideways, the sign of someone thinking rapid-fire. “But we decided kind of quick. This afternoon. I…I thought I’d be back before you got home and didn’t want to bug you. You’re always on cases”—playing for truth, but using it as a lie—“and I…I was thinking of joining the science club.”—faltering, trying to find a foothold—“You know how I like reading about aliens and stuff.”
David made a noncommittal sound and tossed the towel aside. His nephew watched him as if trying to gauge whether his story had been bought.
Fat chance.
Reclining in his chair, David hooked his ankle over his knee. It was getting on in the evening, a reminder he’d have to start dinner soon. Something quick but healthy. He did a mental inventory of the refrigerator and came up with chicken he could throw in the oven. Maybe roast a few vegetables, toss with noodles or rice. As a bachelor, he usually nuked a pre-packaged slab or dumped something processed in a pot. Everything had changed since he’d taken custody of Finn.
Time to meddle. “So, you joined the science club?”
Finn shook his head. “It was lame. I decided not to.”
“Too bad.”
“How come?”
“Because you’re going to join now.”
Finn lurched forward on the couch. “Huh?”
“I think it will be good for you.” Keep you away from Rodney and Troy. David tried not to smile. “I’ll call on Monday and sign you up.”
“But—”
David stood. “I also think you need someone to look after you on nights I work late.”
“You don’t mean—” Clearly horrified, Finn shot to his feet. “A babysitter?”
The smile fought to emerge, but he tamped it down. “If that’s what you want to call it.” He headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to start dinner. If I were you, I’d break out the books. I know it’s Friday night, but you have three homework assignments to catch up on.”
* * * *
Muttering under his breath, Eli Yancy paced in the basement of his life-coaching building. The business was still new, and he hadn’t gotten much past outfitting the upstairs with an office and waiting room. A stainless-steel sink, exam table, utility cabinets, and a glaring retractable light reminiscent of an operating theater completed the lower level—much as they had when he’d worked for Leland Hode. Yancy had barely left the place since last night.