Five Days of Darkness

by Greg Hall

  “Hello?” Modeste called out.

  The sound of her voice made the hand twitch. Modeste took a deep breath and walked toward the victim. As she approached, the body came into view. Leonard was spread out on the ground. His throat was cut. There were more shallow cuts along each arm and both legs. He was alive, barely. His chest was rising and falling.

  “Help me…” he cried.

  Modeste knew he was beyond help. She could give him some comfort in her final moments. a few final moments. She came to the dying man and knelt at his side. The pain radiated down her knee. She bit her lip to stop from crying out in pain. She wanted to remain strong in front of Leonard.

  “It’s over now,” Modeste said.

  “He said something to me,” Leonard said in between gasps for air.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said you should have stopped. He said the trail of death is all your fault,” Leonard struggled with each word. Blood foamed in his throat, and bubbled in his throat.

  The words stung at first, but Modeste shook it off. She knew it wasn’t true. The bloodsucker was still toying with her. None of this was her fault, it was all the bloodsucker’s.

  Leonard’s didn’t have much time left. Modeste knew that life was cyclical. The Conjurer would reclaim Leonard’s energy, and use it to heal others. Leonard’s body would become one with the Earth, and his energy would be shifted to something good. These were all things that Modeste could have told Leonard to help ease his mind, but she let silence remain. She held him close.

  Finally, she took his hand and quietly said, “You will live on, Leonard. Do not worry about death. Your life is the first step into a much larger journey.”

  “Kill him,” Leonard pleaded. His breathing was even more labored.

  Modeste hadn’t stopped thinking about putting a stake through the bloodsucker’s heart. She had never killed anything before. She even lets insects live. But this monster wasn’t worthy of life. being, in her mind. She knew it could no longer remain in this world.

  “I will. I promise” Modeste said, squeezing Leonard’s hand.

  She held his hand in silence until Leonard took his final breath. Modeste stayed a few moments longer and said a prayer over his body.

  Ho Tianshe

  Ho Shiand

  Ho Jigth

  This was a simple prayer to call the Conjurer to allow him to take Leonard from this earth and transform his spirit into energy. It was the prayer that she wished she was able to give for Tiara. Modeste believed wholeheartedly that our spirits became energy. She never felt Tiara’s energy leave the earth. It gave her hope that Tiara was still alive, but also brought her worry. She didn’t yet know if the bloodsucker stole its victims energy while draining their blood. It scared her.

  Modeste crossed Leonard’s arms over his chest. She didn’t want to leave him, but there was nothing else she could do. Modeste carefully stood-up, took her cane, and continued on the trail of death.

  Modeste was thinking about all the people who had died at the hands of the bloodsucker. Leonard, Jack, the Boyd family, the families in Maringouin and Melville, and the countless unnamed individuals. She thought about her daughter, who was the only motivation Modeste ever needed.

  Modeste was going to kill the bloodsucker.

  41

  The floor creaked beneath the weight of his feet.

  Henri’s steps were gentle, but it was of no use in this old creaky house. Just the noise from his heavy breathing would have been enough to alert someone. He held the stake in his right hand, sharp side ready to stab whatever came at him. Stab. The thought was too much for him. On the off chance that Modeste’s beliefs were wrong, Henri might end up taking the life of a human. Human? The monster had killed so many and done it with such ease. The very fact that Henri was here now ready to pluck a dagger through its heart troubled him.

  It went against everything he believed in. Modeste had brought a change over him. He didn’t know why he was overcome with dread, even knowing taking the life of this monster would save people. He knew there was evil in this world, but part of him enjoyed the ignorance of life. The ability to not think about these things and the terrible people who caused the pain. It was why he left New Orleans in the first place. He didn’t like the idea of being around people who could cause harm so easily. And his brothers who could accept it so quickly. Sure, there were bad people in Morrow, people who sinned. But they came to him every Sunday and confessed their sins. They were flawed people who were generally trying to do better.

  Over time, he worried that he couldn’t actually absolve anyone from sin. The same people would come back with similar sins, and it seemed as though Henri had just been a sounding board.

  A couple years back, he received the confession of a farmer. He had accidentally killed a neighbor over a dispute of land. The argument had escalated to the point of the farmer hitting the neighbor with a shovel. The murder wasn’t intentionall, and in the confessional, the farmer seemed to be quite sorry for his actions. There was an investigation and a handful of witnesses ended up clearing the murderer’s name.

  The farmer was fine with his actions after the confession, and although Henri passed no judgement, he didn’t understand how someone could take a life so easily. It didn’t want to have the same feeling. He didn’t want to become so accepting of his actions.

  Henri’s thoughts shifted back to the Boyds. Why was the monster attacking black families? It was because nobody with power cared. Some townspeople feigned sympathy toward the missing family, but that was based solely on the belief that it wasn’t their family. White citizens didn’t care that it happened to a black family. There was no outcry, but it was the police who had refused to investigate. It was the reason the monster got away with it so quickly, and who knows how many other deaths were unreported.

  Henri’s heart broke for the lives that had been taken, and the loved ones left behind.

  Henri thought about his own biases towards the people of his parish. He knew he had opened the door to the black community but on reflection, he knew it was just the bare minimum. He largely ignored parishioners of color who would come in. His interactions with the Boyds was a bit better, thanks to Betsy’s determination to join the parish. But a big piece of his motivation to come on this hunt was rooted in jealousy. Why did God speak to Betsy and not him?

  He felt empathy for her and everything that had happened with her family, but he was really no better than the apathetic townsfolk. He had been selfish throughout the journey. He questioned his faith and why God would allow such things to happen to innocent people. But what was more important to him was reconciling God’s plan. He questioned his faith and how it impacted him. His priority was never the community and the impact the murders had on them. All Henri wanted was an answer from the Lord himself. He wanted an answer that would provide a semblance of hope, that the twenty five years he dedicated to the pulpit wasn’t for naught.

  The floor creaked louder than before. This time, it didn’t come from underneath his foot. The empty hallway created a hollow acoustic sound that spiralled down the corridor.

  The monster was here.

  “Aye, the man of God,” a voice said through the darkness. “Looks like your God saved you in Bunkie.”

  Henri wished his eyes would quickly adjust to the lack of light, but it was almost impossible to see. Not even moonlight passed through the closed shutters.

  “Something saved me. I’m not quite sure what to believe anymore.”

  “You’re questioning his faith? How come?”

  “Because of monsters like you,” Henri said, swallowing his small moment of courage

  “I am no monster,” the voice whispered into Henri’s ear.

  Henri swung his arm blindly, trying to use the stake’s pointed end to connect with the voice. His arm cut through the air, causing Henri to stumble off balance.

  A quick flash lit the room around him. Four lamps, one on each wall, ignited into balls of
flames. The light was so bright that Henri had to shut his eyes. His eyes burned as they adjusted to the level of brightness. He spun on his heels, trying to steady himself and look for the bloodsucker. It was nowhere in sight.

  “You are a monster. I’ve followed the trail of blood you’ve left behind. Sheriff Brady is outside. I saw what you did to him.”

  “I saved them. Everyone you saw, I saved. I removed them from this wretched place,” the bloodsucker said, as he appeared in the center of the room. .

  For the first time, Henri finally laid eyes on the monster. He was less intimidating than Henri thought he would be. His well-fitting suit, tinted glasses, and neatly trimmed auburn hair made him look almost affable. That thought was short lived, as images of the decapitated bodies flashed into his head.

  “You killed innocent people.”

  “Innocent? You of all people should know innocence has become almost a vestigial word. Tell me, you listen to everyone’s sins, who is still innocent?”

  It was an oddly timed question, since Henri had been thinking similarly only moments ago. Still, it didn’t mean any of the victims should have been murdered.

  “God is the only one who can judge the sins of man.”

  “And yet, here you are, with what purpose? I see that piece of wood in your hand. What do you plan on doing with it?”

  “You’re not innocent.”

  “Ah, so you too can think you can justify your actions.” the bloodsucker said, as he began to pace between two lamps. “Do you know the sins of the sheriff? Do you know about his history? Do you know his opinions on people like the one you travel with? These are questions you should ask yourself.”

  “And the Boyd’s? Huh? What did they do?”

  “I do need blood for sustenance.” the bloodsucker said bluntly.

  Henri instinctively tightened his grip on the stake. He was angry. He could feel the rage radiating through his body. The decision to drive the stake through the monster’s chest was becoming much easier.

  “You’re not going to use it, Father. You’re not the type.”

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “No? Father Henri Joffre, raised in the brotherhood of New Orleans after your mother died of consumption. You left for the town of Morrow after a young black boy came pleading for help, but instead found a closed door. Soon after, the boy was killed by the alleged congregation members.”

  “Alleged?”

  “I don’t work off assumptions, Henri. There was only one witness to Eli’s death,” the monster said, flashing a devilish grin.

  “You?” Henri said, as his hand began to shake. Anger boiled inside Henri. Never before had he felt this much rage. There was anger boiling over that Henri had never felt before. His vision blurred, He clenched the stake so tight that his knuckles were white. It took everything in his power not to charge and let the rage take over.

  “What are you going to do with that?” the monster asked. Again, his eyes on the stake in Henri’s hand. “Is that all you’ve got?”

  Henri felt incredibly vulnerable. He saw the fearless smile on the monster’s face. He then saw the sheriff’s gun gripped in the monster’s right hand. Henri was too far away. There was no way he could get close enough to use the stake. The bloodsucker had the gun, and could use it if he wanted.

  “I usually don’t use such destructive weapons, but the Sheriff was about something, this gun feels great in my hand.”

  Henri was uncomfortable when the Sheriff had the gun, but it was even worse now that it was in the bloodsucker’s hands..

  “Why did you let me live? You could have killed me numerous times by now.”

  “Because you’re not a threat. Neither of you are, really. You both were the only ones who even noticed me. If I had killed a white priest openly, there would have been many more people after me. Now that I’ve killed so many here, it will all get pinned on you. You went on a killing spree and ended your life with a bullet to the head.”

  “You’ve really thought this through. And Modeste?”

  “What about her? By the time this is all done, she’ll be hobbling down to the next town, thinking she can stop me.”

  “Henri?” Modeste called out from outside the house.

  The time was spectacular. Henri didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to call out to her, warn her about what was happening inside. Save yourself, Modeste. He wanted her to be safe.

  “Stay back, Modeste!” Henri finally called out.

  She didn’t listen. He could hear her cane on the wood floor. The sound of her steps were getting closer.

  “He’s got a gun!”

  “Hahaha, a gun shouldn’t scare you more than I do.. I could kill you both very easily without it. It’s just a nice addition to the scene. It would be my first kill with steel.” the bloodsucker taunted.

  Henri glanced toward the door. It was about three paces from the entrance. If he could at least make it there, he could ensure Modeste’s escape.

  The tap of her cane had stopped.

  Henri adjusted his grip on the cane. Now was the time to act. He was too far from making a strike toward the bloodsucker, so he would have to wait for it to come closer.

  “I want her to watch me kill you,” the bloodsucker whispered into Henri’s ear..

  Henri knew that in an instant, the bloodsucker could be in a different spot. He didn’t hesitate. He swung the stake as hard as he could into the bloodsucker’s chest. The monster cried out in surprise. Henri didn’t wait to see what was happening behind him. He ran toward the door. Modeste was stopped a few feet down the hall. Powered by the adrenaline pumping through Henri’s veins, he lifted Modeste and carried her toward the front door.

  They crossed the threshold onto the front deck. Henri placed Modeste down on her feet, and felt awkward carrying her. His body shook as the adrenaline wore off, and shock was taking over. It was silent behind them, but Henri knew better than to trust it. He knew they had to make a break for it. If it survived, it was going to come for them quickly.

  “We have to go. Now!” Henri yelled.

  Henri almost didn’t have time to finish his words before two shots broke the silence. Henri wobbled forward.

  Modeste screamed and reached out for him, but a force crumbled Henri’s body forward and his chest touched his knees. Henri let out a defeated whimper before he was ripped back through the open door.

  Modeste took a step toward it, but the door slammed shut behind him.

  42

  Modeste had watched as Henri was pulled back into the house.

  She tried the door, but it was sealed shut. It wouldn’t budge. Modeste was at a loss. She had no idea what to do next. It was her fault that Henri was taken. He rushed out to save her, she thought.

  Modeste took a breath and tried to clear her mind. A few deep breaths calmed her body. Her thoughts drifted to an easier time in her life. Back to when she followed Marie around the county. When you’re learning a new skill, time is your friend. You can practice all you want and prepare each movement, feeling, or emotion AS soon as you’re faced with a real scenario, you have to be able to act quickly and use what you learned efficiently. It’s so much easier when you have someone to guide you, correct you, and protect you.

  Those days were long gone, and there was no Marie to protect her. Modeste would give anything to ask Marie for guidance. Modeste excelled at everything Marie taught her. Spirit transference was one thing she had left to learn. It was the hardest conjuring for any hoodoo healer to master. The toll it took on the healer’s spirit was almost enough to kill them. Most hoodoo healers never survived their first transference. Even Marie was consumed by her transference.

  Marie made Modeste promise that she would do it. In Modeste’s mind, it was an easy promise. She could never imagine a scenario where she would have to use it, but here she was. Spirit transference would be the perfect way to sneak up on the bloodsucker. It would be the only way to save Henri, and give them a fighting cha
nce.

  The front door swung open, startling Modeste. She could feel the monster standing in the door frame. She had her back against the wall, waiting for the bloodsucker to step out. She listened for any sounds from the house. She prayed for some sound from Henri. A cry, whimper, anything that would tell her that he was still alive. She heard nothing, so she prepared herself.

  She began to whisper the three words Marie said so many years ago.

  Spirrio

  Avengio

  Gratios

  Modeste closed her eyes and continued to repeat the trio of words, even as she heard the bloodsucker taking steps onto the deck. She knew the monster was waiting to make the kill, playing with her. Over and over again, Modeste kept saying the words.

  The bloodsucker’s hand grabbed her by the throat. She could no longer say the words aloud as he squeezed her windpipe. She kept her eyes closed and repeated the incantation in her head, hoping they would work. As her oxygen depleted, she became weaker and weaker. She was running out of time.

  “You’re not even going to try to run?” the bloodsucker whispered with a chuckle. Modeste knew from the strength of his grip, he was no longer playing. She would die in his grasp unless she did something. “Don’t worry; I can do this quickly. Well, at least quicker than Tiara.”

  Modeste’s eyes opened. She gasped for one more breath and forced the words through his tightening grip. “Jesus, call you, go in de wilderness.”

  “What?”

  Modeste was gone. The bloodsucker’s empty hand closed suddenly.

  Before the bloodsucker could turn, he was impaled through his chest from behind. Modeste stood, shaking, with her hand on the stake, visibly weakened. Her grip trembled and shook, and sweat dripped down her forehead. It took all her strength to remain upright. She was slowly regaining the color in her eyes. The transference had bleached them white. Once life returned to her eyes, Modeste released the stake and stumbled to the ground. Her cane landed a few inches to her right.