Krewe of Hunters, Volume 1: Phantom Evil ; Heart of Evil ; Sacred Evil ; The Evil Inside

by Heather Graham

  “Stop it!” Samantha warned her. “We have to figure out exactly how to make this look like an accident.”

  “Like you did with Milton Sedge?” Jenna asked, running her tongue over her lips and tasting blood.

  “That was me,” Cindy said proudly. “Samantha did in Mr. Andres—with my compliments, of course—and I took care of the rest. They deserved to die! The Smiths deserved to die! They were horrible people. Don’t you understand? They were evil!”

  “Cindy!” Samantha pleaded.

  “Does it matter what we tell her now?” Cindy asked softly.

  “What about Earnest Covington? How the hell could you butcher him like that?”

  “I had to! Don’t you understand? I had to. They had to lock up Malachi!”

  “Cindy! Stop it, please. Come on, and move! I’ve got to get her head cracked in and then leave her at the foot of the stairs. You wanted to talk to her—to explain. You’ve done it. We’ve got to get rid of her now, Cindy. Come away!”

  Cindy started to rise. It might be Jenna’s last chance.

  Jenna knew that she couldn’t tear free from the bonds holding her, but she might be able to use her legs to help her get free. She jerked up with all her might, chair still strapped to her back and arms, desperately finding her balance in split seconds. She had no choice of weapon or flexibility: she head-bashed Cindy, causing her to cry out and fall back.

  “Oh, screw this!” Samantha cried, and she reached for the old lamp on the table and started to bring it down on Jenna’s head.

  Jenna threw herself down and managed to avoid the first crash by tumbling awkwardly away. Her head was still ringing; it felt like it was a thousand pounds itself, and the wood chair slats and rope hurt her skin.

  “Cindy, help!” Samantha raged.

  Cindy staggered to her feet.

  Samantha picked up one of the heavy candlesticks from the mantel.

  She raced toward Jenna; Jenna ducked the blow.

  Cindy came up behind her with the remnants of the lamp, striking her hard. She willed herself not to feel the pain. She still had no weapon but the force of her own body.

  She threw herself on Cindy, taking her down.

  Samantha reached for Jenna, grasping a handful of her hair and viciously pulling her up. She rammed Samantha, but Cindy rose.

  And Jenna realized that her strength was failing. She fell to her knees, hunched over, the chair covering her somewhat.

  But she didn’t want to die….

  “He’s here!” she exclaimed suddenly. “Abraham Smith is here…and all those who have died at the hands of others. They’re all here, watching you!”

  Jenna had wanted the exclamation to spook the women, but she found that she wasn’t actually lying—the ghosts of the deceased had gathered in the room to watch them.

  As if sensing something herself, Cindy stood still in fear, shaking. “Where, where?”

  “Nowhere!” Samantha cried. “Help me, Cindy.”

  She had retrieved the candlestick and went at Jenna again.

  “Abraham, no!” Jenna called, seeing that the ghost was going to do his best to trip Samantha. “Let the law punish them, and it will be years and years…”

  “Stop it!” Samantha shrieked. But coming forward, she tripped and landed inches from Jenna, who pivoted on her knees to hit the woman with the legs of her chair. “Cindy, help, she’ll kill me!”

  Cindy cried out herself, lifting the coffee table, ready to hurl it at Jenna.

  But, before she could, a whirlwind rushed into the room.

  It was Sam. He put his arms around Cindy and threw her to the ground, the table landing with a loud crash. At that moment, Jenna became aware of the sound of sirens coming closer. Samantha rose one more time to come after her.

  Jenna felt lightness in her head, and she knew she was going to faint, with darkness and stars bursting before her eyes.

  But Sam ran in her direction, and his arm snaked around Samantha before she could strike. He lifted her off her feet, swinging her around to crash land on top of Cindy.

  “I always knew you wanted to touch me, honey,” Samantha said, dazed.

  Then Jenna saw no more. The stars in front of her eyes burst, and then became blackness.

  * * *

  Waking up, Jenna felt a bit as if she were on display.

  There were so many people staring at her.

  A doctor in a white uniform and a stethoscope in his hand. A concerned nurse in a pert white hat. Uncle Jamie, Jackson, Angela, Will, John Alden—and Sam.

  Sam was seated by her side on the bed, holding her hand. His gray eyes were so misted with concern that it seemed her heart ached, rather than her head.

  “Ah, you’re back with us again,” the doctor said. “Well, that was a pretty good wallop you got on your head, and I know you’re an R.N., Miss Duffy, but you’re staying right here tonight, you understand. You should know that a good concussion is definitely something to watch.”

  “Don’t you be worrying!” Jamie said. “The lass will be staying right here, till you say that it’s fine for her to leave.”

  “Ditto,” Sam said sternly, squeezing her hand.

  “May we have just a minute?” John Alden asked.

  “A minute!” the doctor said sternly.

  “I’m not leaving at all,” Sam said. He looked at the doctor. “I’ll be good, I swear. I’m just going to sit here and make sure she doesn’t try to get up.”

  “All right, but not too much stimulation—the rest of you out of here in two minutes!” the doctor said firmly.

  When he was gone, John Alden said, “Jenna, I just want to say—well, I just want to say that the women are both locked up, and—” he paused, shaking his head with a smile and looking at Jamie “—and the prosecutor has already gone in to see that the charges against Malachi Smith are dropped. Of course, now he has to press charges against Samantha Yeager and Cindy Yates, and you will be called to testify in court, and God knows, Sam may be defending them—”

  “No,” Sam said. “Sam won’t be defending them.”

  “Who knew?” Jamie said quietly. “Who knew that a woman like Cindy could go quite so crazy over the perceived injury done a child?”

  “Well, we did think that maybe Andy Yates was that furious,” he reminded her. “We didn’t think that a mother would resort to that kind of violence. That’s still the way of the world—we don’t like to think that the female of our species can be so violent and diabolical. And I sure didn’t suspect that the affair was with Cindy Yates, not Andy,” Jackson said apologetically.

  “Oh, my God, Angela!” Jenna tried to sit up to address her friend.

  “No!” the word was a cacophony from the entire group, and Sam gently pushed her back down.

  “I’m fine—absolutely fine,” Angela told her. “I’m embarrassed, frankly. I was armed and everything. The rock came from the trees the minute I turned to watch the house. But, honestly, I was already getting up when Jackson came rushing over for me. So much for my intelligent stakeout.”

  “They would have just gotten us both inside,” Jenna said.

  “Maybe,” Angela said. “And maybe not.”

  “Listen,” Jackson said, “our two minutes are up. We can go through all of it later—when you’re up to it. Come on, everyone out. Jenna, you get your rest, and don’t you dare try to get up again.”

  “Wait!” Jenna said. She looked at her uncle. “How is Malachi?”

  Jamie smiled. “Malachi is just fine. We had a long talk on the phone, and I’ll go and pick him up when I leave here. I’m making arrangements for him to do his senior year at a boarding school in New Hampshire—one that has an extensive music department. He wants to pursue a career in music. He has the guitar now, and while I’m getting him situated, he’ll have the piano at my house. We’ll see his name in the newspapers again, I’ll warrant. In the entertainment section. He’s going to make it. He’ll have support now, and belief. Music, he told me, is his gift fr
om God. Who knows? Maybe he’ll become the singing priest! A nun made it that way, once!”

  Jenna nodded and leaned back, smiling.

  Jamie kissed her cheek, then Angela and Jackson. Apparently, John Alden would have felt left out if he hadn’t, so he did, as well.

  She caught his hand. “Thanks for being a good cop, John,” she said.

  “I didn’t want to believe any of you,” he said. “Me. The man who should have learned the most from the past.”

  “You’re an exceptionally good cop because you were willing to be honest and not blindly insist that you were right. You’re a good cop because you pursued justice, not ego,” she told him.

  He grinned, kissed her cheek again and left.

  And she was alone with Sam.

  “Wait until you’re well,” he told her, moving closer and holding her fingers tenderly. “Such a brat, still! You were supposed to be at the house.”

  “I never said I wouldn’t go to Lexington House,” she told him.

  “Brat. Omission is as good as a lie.”

  She smiled, not looking at him. “I’m just grateful that you came. I learned something, of course. Anyone can be taken by surprise. I’m pretty good, but… Cindy might have been the one to commit the most vicious murders, but Samantha is one mean opponent! How the hell did you find us?” she demanded.

  “I figured it out when David and Andy Yates were together,” he said. “I knew where they were—but I didn’t know where Samantha and Cindy were. I tried calling you. You didn’t answer.”

  “But—did you just figure I would have gone to Lexington House?” she asked.

  He lowered his head. “No,” he answered after a minute.

  “Oh?”

  “Someone showed me the way. I think she’s a friend of yours.”

  “Oh? Who?”

  “Rebecca Nurse.”

  She stared at him in astonishment. “I—I thought she was just an old woman in the way, but Jackson didn’t see her. He said that she was there for me…and to follow her. And I did.” He was thoughtful. “She knew how easy it was for even good, sane people to believe what others said, I believe. Maybe—maybe she stays, making sure that others don’t follow the same route—making sure that history matters.”

  Jenna could barely believe what he was saying—and that he meant the words, earnestly.

  “She kept telling me that children listened to their parents. And they did; David Yates knew that his mother loathed the Smiths. He knew, too, that his father wanted them out of the area. And I think he was terrified that his father was a murderer, and he had to keep saying what he did so that nothing happened to his family.”

  “That boy is going to need a lot of help,” Sam said thoughtfully.

  “And what about Malachi?”

  “I think your uncle is going to become his guardian. He was already saying that he wanted to get him down to New York or out West, maybe. He wants to put him in a good music school.”

  “Actually, he needs to meet Jake.”

  “Jake, Jake! I don’t want to hear about this Jake.”

  Jenna tried not to laugh; laughing did still hurt.

  “Jake has got a gorgeous fiancée, so not to worry. But he’s an incredible musician. I think he and Malachi really must meet.”

  “In Virginia?”

  “Yes, Jake is in Virginia now.”

  He raised the hand he was holding in both of his, and kissed her fingers.

  “I’ve actually been thinking that Virginia, the capital region, is really a phenomenal place for a truly renowned attorney to set up shop. Think of the graft! Think of the slimy politicians! Think of the masses, where crime just happens. I am considering looking into it. That is, if you think I should?”

  He could push her back down if he chose, but she had to rise for a minute. She held on to his shoulders and kissed his lips.

  “I don’t think that I could bear it if you didn’t,” she told him.

  Epilogue

  They let Jenna out on Halloween morning.

  She was delighted, but while the city was going crazy with talk and newspaper articles and the news on television, the last thing any of them wanted to do was join in the crowd.

  Still, Jenna wasn’t ready to leave Salem. She and Sam spent the night at Jamie’s house, dispensing candy during the early hours, and just enjoying each other’s company the night through.

  The next day, Sam was the one who wanted to get an appointment to see the Rebecca Nurse homestead.

  They arrived right at dusk, and he headed straight to the graveyard with Jenna at his side.

  At first they saw nothing.

  And then they saw her as the mist fell with the coming twilight. She said nothing; she smiled at them and vanished into the fog. Sam knelt by her memorial marker and placed a spray of daisies there.

  “Thank you,” he said softly.

  He rose then, and took Jenna’s hand.

  “Virginia, eh? So I get to meet Jake?”

  “And his fiancée, Ashley. And Whitney and her new husband. And—”

  “Adam Harrison?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “And I get to wake up every morning with you?” he asked softly.

  “Yes. Well, every morning unless we’re on a case. Sometimes—”

  “Sometimes, I’ll be on a case!” he reminded her.

  “Yes, but you know—”

  “Shut up while we’re both ahead. Kiss me,” he said. She did.

  And while she kissed him, she thought she saw a number of the ghosts of Salem and Salem Village swirling vaguely in the mist. Looking on.

  Smiling.

  In my quest for regional food and drink, I asked my Massachusetts friends and family what they considered to be the Massachusetts traditional choice for imbibing. They all looked at me strangely and said, “Well, Sam Adams beer, of course!”

  So…beer drinkers, there you have it. Sam Adams!

  But long ago, another drink was quite popular, and is becoming so again: a good rum punch. This was begun by the hearty seafarers who came to the New England shores, fishermen, whalers, pirates and more. There are many variations, of course, but rum was the drink of the New World, and it was allotted to seamen. To stretch it out, improve taste and perhaps keep from falling overboard, seamen began to add things to rum. Sugar, because sugar is sweet. Fruit, because fruit is sweet—and keeps those at sea clear of the dreaded scourge of scurvy!

  RUM PUNCH

  Single serving.

  Ingredients

  1 shot Captain Morgan rum (Arrrrgh. Get your pirate going.)

  1 shot light rum. (Bacardi, or even a flavored Bacardi.

  Your choice—there are so many out there!)

  2 oz orange juice

  2 oz grapefruit juice

  1 tsp sugar (Dieting? Sugar substitute works fine, and may help…a wee bit!)

  Splash of 7Up or other lemon/lime soft drink

  Directions

  (Variations include adding a touch of grenadine instead of sugar, adding orange or other fruit-flavored liqueur, or making your own mixture of rums, as in, say, Bacardi light, dark and flavored.)

  Mix ingredients with ice. Sugar-frost a cocktail glass and serve straight up, or serve on the rocks.

  For a crowd, use a large punch bowl, a half bottle of dark rum, a half bottle of light rum, a half gallon of orange juice, a half gallon of grapefruit juice, one bottle of 7Up (or other), ten tablespoons sugar, a touch of grenadine and add fruit slices to the bowl.

  Drink!

  Ah, New England winters! They’re brutal at best. Staying warm is a challenge, and throughout history, our hearty Yankee friends have learned the secrets of thawing themselves out. New England clam chowder is one of the delicious delicacies they have shared with the nation and is one of the tastiest and heartiest soups to be found. Great to make and enjoy before a roaring fire.

  NEW ENGLAND CLAM CHOWDER

  Serves 6.

  Ingredients

&nbs
p; 3 tbsp butter (or substitute, if you choose; salt-free is fine)

  1 medium onion, finely diced

  2 celery stalks, sliced into ¼-inch pieces

  3 tbsp all-purpose flour

  2 cups chicken stock (Are you an almost-vegetarian who eats fish? Use vegetable stock)

  2 cans chopped clams in juice

  1 cup heavy cream 1

  lb potatoes, cut into ½-inch cubes (Tip: buy potatoes that would taste delicious in baked form)

  1 bay leaf

  Salt and pepper to taste

  Directions

  Using a large pot, heat the butter without burning or scalding over a medium-high heat. Add the onions and celery and sauté. Carefully add in the flour and stir for consistency. Add the stock and the juice from the cans of chopped clams. When the mixture is thoroughly combined, add the potatoes and the bay leaves. Keep stirring while you bring the mixture to a simmer, and then heat on a lower temperature for about twenty minutes. Add the clams and salt and pepper to taste, and cook for another two to five minutes, keeping the clams firm. Add an extra touch with homemade croutons! Take an old baguette, French or Italian bread, and cube the pieces. Sauté in two tablespoons of butter, substitute or olive oil. Add seasoning to taste, such as garlic powder, pepper and salt. When they are crispy and dry, serve on the soup.

  Garnish with a sprig of fresh parsley, or…serve in a bread bowl!

  My personal favorite dish when I arrive in New England is baked scrod. Start out with fresh fish! Or purchase filets from a company known for expert freezing.

  BAKED SCROD

  Serves 4. (To serve 6 or 8, add a quarter or a half to all ingredients)

  Ingredients

  4 scrod fillets

  2 tbsp lemon juice

  1 ½ cups white wine

  Salt and pepper to taste

  ¾ cup melted butter (reserve half)