by Chanel Smith
‘Will you tell me more about this weapon, Madame Moliniere?”
The witch nodded at her again and replied, “That and more.”
She produced a bag from behind the shop counter and handed it to Veronica. It felt extremely light.
“Is this it?” Veronica asked, astounded.
Méredithe laughed.
“Discipline, child. Come, let’s go. Help me close the shop. Pull down those blinds for me.”
Veronica put the handles of the bag over her right shoulder and closed the shop blinds just as the witch had asked her to. Meanwhile, Méredithe turned the open/closed sign over on the door and locked it securely.
“I wouldn’t have thought a witch like you would worry about intruders,” Veronica quipped.
“It's not intruders of the human kind I’m worried about; you must have noticed how many of the preternatural roam these streets, Veronica. There are many secrets and dangerous things within these walls and many out there who have the power to enter and take them, despite my protective hexes and such.”
“This sounds like a bunch of witchcraft hocus pocus to me. I don’t believe in witchcraft.”
“I would advise that you change your opinion on that soon, for it is all around you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Contemporary witchcraft is largely a subset of greater modern paganism. Its practice involves varying degrees of magic, shamanism, folk medicine, spiritual healing, calling on elementals and spirits, veneration of ancient deities and archetypes, and attunement with the forces of nature. You believe in nature, don’t you?”
“Of course. That’s a silly question.”
“Then if you believe in one, you must believe in the other.”
Méredithe paused for a moment and picked up a small dried twig from the ground at the bottom of the steps that led up to her shop. She brought the palm of her right hand, which held the tiny stick to her lips and blew on it gently. Right before Veronica’s eyes, a tiny ball of fire began to swirl.
“What did I use to invoke the flame, vampire?” she asked candidly.
“I don’t know,” Veronica snapped. “It looked like you blew on it.”
“To produce the element of fire, I invoked the element of wood and earth in the twig and of the air through my breath. Witchcraft is real, Veronica. I should know, I’ve been practicing my craft for over three-quarters of a century, and the women of my family have done the same for centuries before that.”
They walked in silence across the four blocks of buildings to Dauphine Street, where Méredithe stopped in front of a white, two-story house with black, wrought-iron banisters and pretty white fretwork. The double front doors were thrown open to the steps which reached up right from the street. It was clear that she did not fear for her home as she did for her shop.
When she crossed the threshold she paused preventing Veronica from stepping past her, and took a deep breath. She repeated this two more times, then turned and said,
“Come in, Huntress. All is well here.”
After taking a few steps into the foyer, she turned to Veronica again and pointed to the tiny concealed stoup just inside the door.
“Make the sign of the Pentagram on your body with that water or you will not be allowed much further into my house.”
“Allowed? By whom? You?”
“You should not ask by whom, child, but by what.”
***
The cambion was speeding down Interstate 10; he was just outside of Lafayette and heading steadily toward Baton Rouge. Set was smiling to himself contentedly. He had picked up another girl just outside the last small town. A one horse, broken-down place called Arianna. He was finding it hard waiting for the right opportunity to feed on her. The only thing that was missing from his perfect equation was in finding that right secluded spot to do it in. As he scanned the road ahead of him eagerly, there was a sad lack of off-ramps or even lay-bys along the lonely stretch of highway, but he was hopeful that the right place would turn up soon enough. In the meantime, he would continue to charm the girl. Enchant her with his silken voice and mesmerize her with the glances he stole to look deep into her eyes. Once he was done consuming her essence, Set hoped that he would be full enough to reach the city without needing to feed again.
It had become obvious that in recent times he had needed to feed more and more often. He had heard of this happening to others of his kind before. He had also heard of what happened to those that failed to remain in control of their widening appetite.
He yawned and stretched both hands over the wheel as he drove. The girl beside him instinctively yawned too. He looked over at her and a wave of intolerance suddenly washed over him. For reasons he could not explain, he no longer wanted the girl in his car. She was taking up space that he for some reason needed. Her presence was a bother and he couldn’t stand her. He pulled onto the shoulder.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked in a dull, slow tone that his victims usually got after he’d seduced them.
“Get out of the car,” he said quietly.
“Okay,” she said without question.
As soon as the door was closed, he turned back onto the highway and sped off. There would be no stopping whatsoever until he reached New Orleans.
***
Safely ensconced in her study, the witch took a box from a high shelf and placed it on the ancient mahogany desk that stood between her and her vampire guest. Casually, Méredithe pushed the box across the surface toward Veronica, never taking her eyes off her. Cautiously, Veronica lifted the lid of the box and looked inside. There was nothing inside but some vials containing a black powder. Veronica removed one and held it up to the light, turning it around and watching the powder spin around in the bottle.
“What is this?”
“That’s your ammunition,” Moliniere said, as if it were plainly obvious. “You must have noticed that it is not a normal gun.”
Veronica shrugged.
“Fair enough.”
“There’s only one thing you need to know about your new weapon, Veronica,” the witch continued, seeing the perplexed look on her face. “Pour one vial into the magazine and load the gun just as you would a normal Beretta. Whatever entity you do battle with will succumb to whatever is released from the barrel when you pull the trigger.”
“Whatever entity? No matter what or who it is?”
“Yes… as long as you know what it is that you fight.”
Veronica nodded her understanding of the caveat clause. Méredithe moved gracefully from behind the desk to the far side of the room and reached for a book on the wall. She held it tenderly in her hands and flipped through the delicate pages. The booked looked to Veronica to be very many centuries old. The witch brought it to the table open to a page with a rendering of a dark creature on one side and a passage written in old calligraphy on the other. She pointed to the page indicating for Veronica to read.
“Agrippina, the eldest Watcher has asked me to enlighten you about one being in particular. A killer, and a demonic one, no less,” she continued.
Veronica nodded. “Yes. The cambion. Set?”
“I know,” Moliniere said. “He’s been a thorn in our side for a very long time.”
“How long?”
Méredithe chuckled at the loaded question.
“Set has been living on this plane of earth since the time of Rameses the Great, pharaoh of Egypt. In fact, he is the demon-spawned child of the king’s third Great Royal wife. Her marriage to Rameses was the culmination of a thirteen-year peace negotiation between the two nations of Egypt and Hattia; a powerful thing for a woman in that time. According to the records, the Hittite princess left Hattusa, the Hittite capital, in late 1246 BCE, accompanied by her mother and a huge contingent laden with gold, silver, bronze, cattle and sheep, and slaves. At the Egyptian frontier, a message was dispatched to the Pharaoh: They have traversed the mountains and treacherous passes to reach Your Majesty's border. Rameses sen
t a welcoming party to escort the princess through Canaan and into Egypt. She arrived in February 1245 BCE at Pi-Ramesse.
“In some accounts, it is said that for Rameses, the marriage was valuable more for the large dowry he acquired rather than his new bride, who was immediately sent to his harem palace at Mer-wer, today's Gurob. But according to another version of the story, Maathor-neferure is said to have borne Rameses a baby and died shortly thereafter. This is the report which we who are privy to it know to be true.
“Shortly after their wedding, Rameses was possessed by the demon Agiel, and when he lay with his new wife, she conceived Set. Of course, she did not survive the birth and the child was removed to the harem to be raised by the women there.”
“I’ve never encountered anything like him, Méredithe. I also never back down from a challenge, but this is nothing like what I’m used to handling.”
“It is known, child,” the witch replied, using an ancient phrase of agreement. “But there isn’t time to doubt yourself. The Watchers had the golden gun made for you so it is clear that they have immense confidence in you. Either in your ability to destroy him or your ability to figure it out.”
Veronica beamed at the witch’s reassuring comment.
“So then, what now?”
“Well, he is on his way here. Steadily working his way south through Louisiana to New Orleans. Though how many times he’s stopped and killed or when he will do so next is unknown to me.”
“Do you know where he is?” Veronica asked excitedly.
This was her chance!
“No,” Moliniere said. Veronica’s heart dropped. “But I might be able to bring him to you.”
Veronica raised an eyebrow again.
“You have a choice, Veronica,” Moliniere said. “You can either ride out to try and stop him before he gets here, and possibly kill more people, or I can attempt a spell in hopes of bringing him here without any more loss of life.”
The choice was easy.
“Work your spell, Madame Moliniere. If I go to confront him, I will be at a distinct disadvantage,” Veronica said. “I may miss him on the way and I will be alone and undefended. If I meet him in battle here, I will have the element of surprise. And maybe even a little backup?” she added questioningly.
Méredithe Moliniere took a moment to ponder the vampire’s question. She put a finger to her chin in thought then looked Veronica in the eye and nodded her consent. Veronica breathed an audible sigh of relief.
“Where will you bring him?”
“To the Circle.” The witch took a sheet of paper from her desk drawer and wrote something down on it. “This is the address.”
Veronica took the paper and stuffed it in her pocket.
“How long will it take?”
Méredithe shrugged her shoulders.
“There’s no way to tell. He’ll get here in his own time. It depends on how driven he is at the time of the casting. There’s also no guarantee it will work. But I will try my best.”
Veronica nodded. At least this way there was a chance that she could refine her plans and possibly come up with a way to trap the creature. Then she could eliminate him once and for all.
“Let me know once it’s complete. I’ll be keeping an eye on the location until he arrives,” Veronica said.
“Very well. Best of luck to you, child,” Madame Moliniere said.
Veronica bowed her head, picked up her supplies from the huge desk and left the pretty house on Dauphine Street.
Chapter Eight
Rand sat at a rattan-topped table on a stretch of the whitest beach he had ever seen in his life. He was sipping on a cold bottle of beer and watching the few early morning tourists pass him by to get settled on the beach for the day or mill around the bar, as he was doing.
It had become somewhat of a haunt of his during his time on the big island of Hawaii. He had made his way there from where the ship had docked in Honolulu, hopping from island to island and enjoying the sites over the last three weeks. The Brotherhood had been very understanding about his confrontation with Samantha Moon and rather apologetic about his exile from L.A.
They had sent a small team to retrieve his belongings from his apartment in Pasadena and ensured that his credit cards were kept current so he could fund his little vacation. His instructions had been to take all the time he needed while they reassigned him. East, they had advised, or possibly the south; supernatural activity was becoming increasingly rampant in the southern United States. Ever since Katrina, countless supernaturals had been displaced from the south of Mississippi and Louisiana. Some had left and relocated to other towns and cities in relative anonymity, but others had been a lot more rambunctious about it. And they were beginning to stir up all kinds of trouble.
At the moment, the Brotherhood had reduced Sam Moon’s status to ‘Non Threat’ but Rand knew that was only temporary. They would watch her, assess her and, if necessary, send another hunter after her. Somehow, Rand was convinced that she would soon become of little interest to them. She was a classy lady. A vampire with mortal incentives, she had two beautiful and wonderfully talented children. However, it wasn’t long before news came about Veronica Melbourne.
Rand was shocked at her progress. She really was something special… well, she was something, at least. He was still smiling when he picked up a copy of the morning paper. It was a local and that was why he had been even more taken aback by the news article on the front page of the Honolulu Star Advertiser.
It read:
Hunt for a serial killer spans the mainland from east to west.
When investigators paid a return visit to Ocean Parkway in Suffolk Parish recently, to the stretch of road linking Gilgo Beach and Oak Beach, we recalled the three, different waves of “body searches” here, starting in December 2010.
When a 24-year-old prostitute by the name of Shannon Gilbert went missing in 2010, her family pressured police to look for the prostitute who once lived in Jersey City. She used to advertise on Craigslist, and her last call was in May 2010 out in Oak Beach, Long Island.
In December 2010, a police cadaver dog found the first of four missing prostitutes who, like Shannon, advertised on craigslist. The four were wrapped in burlap and had been dumped in open brush along Ocean Parkway within 500 feet of each other.
Four months later, the heads of three other young women were discovered near Oak and Tobay Beaches. The remains of a toddler, linked to one of the women, were also found. The skeleton of an adult male, wearing women’s clothing and thought to be Asian in ethnicity, was also there in the brush. In all, there were ten victims in one section of Long Island’s South Shore.
It wasn’t until December 2011 that Shannon Gilbert’s body was found in a mucky marsh in Oak Beach. Investigators think she accidentally drowned, after frantically calling 911 on May 1, 2010, running from house to house in a gated community, screaming “they are trying to kill me.” At least one veteran homicide investigator who studies serial killer cases thinks Gilbert was a target of the elusive Long Island murderer.
“There’s no doubt in my mind that Shannon Gilbert is linked to those other victims in Gilgo Beach,” said retired NYPD Lt. Commander Vernon Geberth. Geberth has written multiple books, including one called “Sex Related Homicide and Death Investigations.”
One of the intriguing developments in the Gilgo Beach case involved the discovery of two female heads, linked to nude torsos found in Manorville, Long Island years before. In 2000, the torso of an unknown woman had turned up not far from Halsey Manor Road in Manorville, just north of the Long Island Expressway. In the spring of 2011, the woman’s head, hands, and legs were found in the brush of Ocean Parkway, nearly 40 miles away.
In 2003, the torso of Jessica Taylor, a 20-year-old sex worker active in Manhattan, was discovered near the LIE and Halsey Manor Road, also in Manorville. Taylor was only identified because a police officer in Washington, D.C., where Taylor was raised, recognized a tattoo that the killer apparently tried
to gouge out on Taylor’s body.
Even though the Suffolk Parish District Attorney’s office has theorized more than one serial killer could be working on Long Island, Vernon Geberth doesn’t think so. Referring to the torsos found in Manorville, and the intact bodies wrapped in burlap in Gilgo Beach, Geberth told investigators, “I do say those four bodies and those heads and hands are related to the same killer.”
Geberth told us it would be unusual for more than one serial killer to be using the same dumping ground.
“If you want my opinion, it’s the same person,” Geberth said. “He just got more proficient.”
Our investigators decided to take another look at several unsolved killings, which have occurred in isolated areas in the last two years. The results were reports of multiple unexplained and unsolved disappearances and murders of female hitchhikers spread out along the Pacific Coast highway over a period of three months.
Closely concentrated discoveries of the bodies of young women from different ethnicities and backgrounds have also been noted along the Arizona Nevada belt, running from Phoenix to Reno to Las Vegas. The bodies were bled and disemboweled, then dumped in a variety of places, mainly city Dumpsters.
More recently, reports of young women and children discovered dead have come out of Georgia and Louisiana. But police and federal agencies have been quick to deny any connection being established between the occurrences.
“This has not been established as the work of one killer,” Detective Remirez of the Reno Parish Sheriff’s office reiterated in a recent press conference. “Despite rumors of similarities, law enforcement officials are still comparing the evidence in order to establish any links between the occurrences in the various areas.
“We will follow the evidence very carefully. Only the evidence can tell us what we are dealing with.”
Rand refolded the paper and put it down on the table in front of him. He buried his face in his hands.
“Godspeed, Veronica Melbourne,” was all he could say.