by Greg Hall
Henri sat in his own head. He was consumed with fear at the conversations of monsters and worried of what would happen if Sarah Jane’s father came to Melville. .
Henri racked his brain for any reason Sarah Jane might be so ill. With her uncoordinated movements and extreme fatigue, Henri guessed consumption. The only part he couldn’t explain was the puncture wounds on her neck. Sarah Jane claimed it was from that night, but Henri thought she was just confusing the timeline. Henri thought that maybe Sarah Jane had an accident at home that same day and, with all the stress of the night, forgot all about it.
As they walked down the main road of Melville, it would be next to impossible to hide the trio. Henri felt eyes burning into him as he let Modeste and Sarah Jane. The farther they walked, the more people came out from their homes to view the threesome.
“This isn’t very welcoming,” Modeste muttered.
“Did you happen to kill any pets here?” Henri whispered back.
“Never been here before.”
Henri scanned the streets, hoping to find a place where they could take Sarah Jane. Henri hoped he could find a doctor, but they were usually in short supply in the small towns.
“We need to get Sarah somewhere. I can only imagine what people are thinking right now,” Henri said, trying to avoid eye contact with any of the townspeople.
“What about the church?” Modeste asked. “Can we go there?”
Henri thought about it for a moment. This might be their only option. Henri knew Michael well, but he was worried that they wouldn’t be welcomed into Michael’s parish. With what happened so many years ago, the pair didn’t see eye to eye. Of everyone in Henri’s brotherhood, Michael was the most prejudiced. Michael was always the first to voice his opinion on matters outside of the church.
He was the one Henri blamed for Eli’s death.
Henri worried Sarah Jane didn’t have much time left, and the church might be their only option.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Modeste finally said to break the silence.
“The priest and I don’t necessarily see eye to eye,” Henri said, thinking about his old ‘friend’ Michael.
“Neither do you and I, and yet, here we are traveling across Louisiana together,” Modeste said, then she turned to Sarah Jane. “We need to get her somewhere safe. Now.”
Henri was still hesitant. He wanted to help Sarah Jane, but he still doubted that Modeste could actually help. For all he knew, she would make matters worse. But at the moment, they had no other option.
Henri motioned to a bench placed along the side of the road. He helped Sarah Jane sit down. Sarah Jane flopped onto her side. Modeste took refuge beside her.
The parish was across the street from the bench so that Henri wouldn’t be leaving them alone for long. A passerby would most likely think that a sickly girl and black woman huddled together on a bench together was quite suspicious.
“Hurry,” Modeste called out as Henri ran across the street.
Michael looked like he was waiting for him as Henri crossed the threshold into the church. He stood in the middle of the aisle with his arms stretched out in hopes of an embrace. It was a phony gesture, one of the many things Michael did to appear to be a good man. Henri knew better and approached with hesitation.
“To what do I owe this pleasure, Henri?” Michael asked through clenched teeth.
“Unfortunately, I need your help,” Henri said, motioning toward the door.
The statement brought a smug grin to Michael’s face. As if he had been waiting for Henri to need something.
“With what?”
Henri motioned for Michael to follow as he walked back to the door. He opened it enough so Michael could see Modeste and Sarah Jane resting on the bench. Sarah Jane appeared unconscious, but Henri hoped it was only his poor vision just getting the best of him.
“What’s going on here, Henri?”
“That girl needs our help.”
“What is wrong with her?”
“I can’t go into great details, but she doesn’t have long. Modeste—”
“The witch doctor,” Michael said, cutting Henri off.
“She’s a healer,” Henri said, surprised that he said the words aloud. He didn’t believe it, and he knew that Michael wouldn’t believe it either, but the words just slipped out.
“I don’t know how things work in Morrow, Henri, but that woman will not be crossing the threshold of this church.”
It was no more than Henri had expected, but he’d hoped Michael had changed in the intervening years since New Orleans.“She’s just a child, Michael. She could die outside of your church.”
“And she has been tainted by that thing you’re traveling with, Henri. I can’t bring them in here and allow whatever that disease is to spread.”
Henri slumped down on a pew across the aisle from Michael. He had nothing left to persuade Michael.
“We’ve been searching for a killer,”
“Is that right? You two?”
“Yes,” Henri said. He didn’t want to tell Michael too much. He didn’t really want to talk to Michael at all. But maybe if Michael knew a killer was traveling Louisiana, he might be more sympathetic to their request. “He murdered three people in Morrow. Two in Maringouin.”
Henri’s words didn’t seem to bother Michael at all. In fact, his facial expression didn’t even change.
After a few silent moments, Michael finally began to open his mouth, “You’re traveling around with her because of a few dead negroes?”
Henri was speechless. As soon as he could gather himself, he turned to Michael, “How’d you know the victims were black?”
“Melville is between Maringouin and Morrow. Did you not think the same thing would happen here?”
“There were murders here too? Why wasn’t anything reported?”
“I didn’t catch wind of anything being reported Maringouin? Did you report it in Morrow?”
“I sent word to the Sheriff.”
“Why?”
Henri was dumbfounded and realized that this line of questioning wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
“Why do you care about this? You’re a priest. You’re doing God’s work. You have no business tracking a killer.”
“Bloodsucker,” a voice said from behind Henri.
He closed his eyes, knowing Modeste had not just opened the door, but also muddied any chance they might have had.
“Excuse me?” Michael said. He glared at the one he called a witch doctor as she stood in the doorway with the half-conscious girl.
“He left out the bloodsucker,” Modeste said, as she stumbled forward a step. She gripped her cane tighter and took another step.
“I didn’t leave it out. I chose not to say it,” Henri said as he shot her a glare. The fact that she had entered the church showed courage, but Henri didn’t think this was the right moment for it.
Michael let out a crazed laugh. His eyes bounced back and forth between the odd group in front of him. His face was red, and it was almost as if the laugh was the only thing he could think to do.
“The great Henri Joffre. The man of integrity and heart, traveling the land with … this. This is what you have become. ” Michael made sure to use extra emphasis on his last word as he scowled at Modeste.
Modeste wasn’t phased.
“Easy,” Henri muttered.
“She stands in the house of the Lord spewing lies and black magic. This is blasphemy!”
“It’s not magic,” Modeste cut in. “It’s vampirism.”
“Vampirism? You speak of wicked, deplorable things. Your heart needs God,” Michael said, narrowing his eyes on Modeste.
“I agree. Which is why my heart is given to Him.”
Modeste’s response caught both of them off guard, but Henri, in particular, was stunned by the revelation. He had never actually asked her what she believed. He had made assumptions based on rumors and her career as a non-traditional healer. He assumed she worshiped dar
k spirits, perhaps, even the Devil. This new revelation made their travel plans much more tolerable, he thought. Before today, he could have never fathomed a witch doctor who also believed in God.
“All three of you need to leave,” Michael said, rising from the pew.
“At least tell us where the murders happened,” Henri pleaded.
Michael turned back to face Henriand demanded. “Then you leave right after.”
“Once you tell us where their house is, we will leave your town,” Henri responded.
“Look at you. Groveling at my feet. Begging me for help.” A cocky grin spread across Michael’s face. “Why should I help you?”
“Because we can stop more people from dying,” Modeste said.
“I want to hear it from Henri,” Michael said, keeping his arrogant stare on him. “I want him to tell me why I should allow him to stay in my town.”.
“Just point us in the right direction, Michael.”
“Their graves are on the left. Behind their house.”
“Which house?” Henri asked.
Michael leaned forward, as his smile had transformed into a hateful grimace, “I’ll let you figure that out on your own.”
“Thank you,” Modeste said, nodding toward the man. He didn’t acknowledge her gratitude.
“You look around the house. That’s it. Next train, you’re out of here. Do you understand?”
Henri glared at Michael long and hard. Michael had no authority to dictate who came and left Melville. He was Henri’s equal in the church, but in Melville, Henri was out of his element. Now that they also had Sarah Jane’s life in their hands, he couldn’t waste anymore time arguing with his old colleague.
As they wandered with purpose down the road, Henri kept his eyes on Sarah Jane. She had taken a turn for the worst. They all walked together, but Sarah Jane’s steps were sloppy and miscalculated. She leaned into both Henri and Modeste for support. They still needed a place to take her. Henri needed to find a real doctor who could help her.
It didn’t take much longer until they found the house. It had been haphazardly boarded up with just a few pieces of wood. No one wanted to be in the derelict house, and who could blame them. Henri’s thoughts went to Betsy. He wondered what she would do. The images of her family's desecrated remains would be forever ingrained into her memory. Henri assumed this house would just rot away on the edge of town.
“You thinking about headin’ in there?” a voice called out from behind them.
As they spun around to see who spoke to them, Henri could feel the relief spill from Modeste the moment she saw a black man staring back at them.
“We need to get her help,” Modeste said, motioning to Sarah Jane.
“Yeah, she looks like she needs help.”
“Is this the house where the family was murdered?” Henri asked.
The man looked around as if Henri’s question was something that shouldn’t have been asked. “Where y’all from?”
“Morrow. Look, the same thing happened in our town. This girl was in contact with the killer, and we need to get her help,” Henri said.
“The same thing happened in Morrow?”
“And we’re trying to stop it from happening again.”
“Yes, this is the house. It’s terrible; what happened.” the man said. “My name is Tim.”
“You can call me Henri. This is Modeste and Sarah Jane.”
Tim led the threesome toward the house. His strides were much larger than Henri’s, and with him struggling to help Sarah Jane, he found it difficult to keep up.
As they passed between two homes, Henri peeked behind the house and noticed a pathway leading right out into a forest patch. When he squinted, he could see shacks leftover from workers on the rail line. The rail itself mustn’t be too far beyond that point. The Boyd house was the last house on the edge of town. Although Henri didn’t get a chance to see the house in Maringouin, he guessed it would have been the same.
Henri wasn’t a detective and didn’t know the first thing police work, but his first clue, or at least that’s what he called it, brought a modest smile to his face.
“We should use this house to heal Sarah Jane,” Modeste said, breaking Henri’s thought process.
It was a good idea. So far, they had nowhere to put Sarah Jane, and from the looks of her, neither Henri nor Modeste knew how much longer the poor girl was going to make it. Henri was out of options, so he gave the green light to Modeste to use her skills to help Sarah Jane. The last thing Henri wanted was more blood on his hands.
“May as well. I doubt anyone is going to be coming by.”
As Henri approached the back door, he recognized the same splintered wood around the hinges as he’d seen at the Boyd house. He ran his fingers across it, just to be sure.
“What does the girl need?” Tim called out.
“I need to let her rest while I collect a few roots and herbs. I think I can heal her.”
“You’re the Modeste Barre.”
Tim’s statement caught Henri’s attention. He was intrigued by the fact that Modeste’s reputation was so well-known.
“Yes.”
“I heard the stories. You and Marie. The people you helped.”
“Those days are behind me.”
“It doesn’t look like it,” Tim said, motioning to Sarah Jane.
“I can still try.”
No one noticed the frantic dog pacing around the area.. It sporadically searched the surrounding house as if there was food hidden somewhere.
Henri reached for the handle and pulled the door open. He turned back to Modeste and took a deep breath. He knew the bodies would be long gone, but the memories of the Boyds were still freshly stamped in his head. Those images still plagued his daily thoughts and dreams—empty sockets staring back at him. Their mouth’s agape as if they were screaming out for help.
Henri reefed the door open and was instantly blasted with cold air—an uncommon feeling at that time of year. He was wary of entering. He hadn’t even noticed Modeste approach from behind. She was already making her way, guiding Sarah Jane into the house.
The house had already been completely cleaned out. The walls and floors had been scrubbed clean, and no furniture remained. It was as if no one had ever lived there. Henri stopped in what he thought was the living room. He blinked away images of the Boyds body parts spread out across the floor. He had to remind himself that this was a different house, a different family, although the outcome remained the same.
“I can feel death in this room,” Modeste whispered into his ear.
She was right, he thought. It was cold and damp. It felt nothing like an average Louisiana household. Most houses felt like you were meant to be inside. They were warm and inviting. This place felt like there was something left behind.
Henri nor Modeste knew exactly what they were looking for, but they scoured every inch of the house in hopes of a clue, a sign, that would lead them in the right direction.
“It wasn’t random,” Modeste said. “He wanted this house.”
“How can you tell?”
“I saw the shacks in the back. That’s where he kept them, while he takes their life.”
“And that’s why he chooses houses on the edge of town. It was the same in Morrow. Probably the same in Maringouin. But why? Why not do it right here? I mean, so far, we think he takes the people back to a secret place. Why? How does he move the bodies? I mean, Betsy was still in the house both times. She was there when her family went missing, and she was there when they came back. How did she not hear him?”
“I don’t have any answers, Henri.”
“We need them. We need the answers. It’s the only way we can stop him.”
“When did this happen?” Modeste asked, turning to Tim.
“The murders?”
“When the bodies were discovered.”
“About two weeks.”
“So then we know one thing. He waits nearby until he finds the right people. He
must have been in Morrow for at least five days without anyone noticing,” Modeste said, turning back to Henri.
“Or he could have still been there for days after we found the bodies,” Henri said. Nausea and intense panic caused Henri to stumble forward. His chest felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was get some air.
As soon as he opened the door, sprang over the threshold. He was blasted with hot air as he stumbled down the steps. All he could do was dry heave, mostly because his stomach was empty. All that came to his lips was bile. He spat it onto the ground then collapsed. He took concentrated deep breaths and rolled over onto his back.
When he was younger, he questioned how insignificant he was in the world. He used to stare up at the beauty above and wonder why he was so lucky to be living in such a beautiful time. That same beauty led him to God. Someone glorious must have created something so lovely.
It was so simple, but he held onto that imagery all through his childhood.
This time, the feeling of ease that usually came from staring at the blue sky above never came. The nausea and uncertainty remained, and that was all Henri could feel. That, and the sound of something digging behind him.
Tilting his head back, Henri could see an upside-down golden lab viciously terrorizing the ground below.
Success! The pup finally found what it was trying so hard to find.
Henri couldn’t make out what was in the animal’s mouth, but the young pup was proud of what he found. The dog dropped it onto Henri’s chest, and it landed with a thud. Henri looked down at the treasure and couldn’t make out what it was at first.
He lifted the piece off his chest and realized he was holding a bloodless severed arm.
11
“What were you thinking?” Henri said, as the door he stormed through collided with the wall. It sent out a loud bang that echoed through the church and dissipated into the vaulted ceiling.
The bang caused Michael to jump to his feet. He grabbed the edge of the pew to steady himself.