Mooncusser Cove

by Darragha Foster

  1769 Master A. D. Smithe, FAITHFUL PALADIN.

  Jerrod turned his eyes to the next jar.

  1793 Goodwife Smithe.

  The other jars read similarly. A Paladin's year of death, he presumed, followed by the year his wife died. Six men in all, each followed in death by his “good wife."

  "Graveyard of the Paladins,” Jerrod whispered. He backed away slowly, again hoping to leave the settled dust in place, and turned to open the courtyard door. As he had suspected, it led to the family boneyard.

  There was only one grave marker. Jerrod walked into the walled yard and knelt. “Wrestling Ezra Highgate-Adaire. Beloved father. He did not live to see the changes, and for that we thank our Merciful Lord,” Jerrod read. “Wrestling?"

  Vesper stepped through a cloud of dust and into the courtyard. “Wrestling was my father. He died in eighteen seventy-seven. I was thirteen years old. That's just a marker. He was cremated at sea."

  "I'm sorry,” Jerrod replied, not knowing what else to say. “The name is interesting."

  "Wrestling, Truthful, Temperance, Verity, Silence, Iron Will—all family names. This sorry place is the family chapel. I'm going to gut this room. I hate it,” Vesper said.

  "Why?” Jerrod asked.

  "Because God turned his back on us a long time ago."

  "Tell me more."

  Vesper laughed. “You are such a cad, Jerrod Castaneda. Here I state that I am going to smite God's presence from my house, and you want me to climb onto my soapbox and tell you more."

  "I am a writer, dearest."

  Vesper shot Jerrod a seductive look. “Want to defile holy ground? Make my father roll over in his grave?"

  "After you tell me why you are so angry with God. Besides, you said yourself he's not in there."

  Vesper took a deep breath. “Perhaps I shouldn't say that I want to smite God's presence from my house. It wasn't God that shunned us—it was his Church. And a church is overseen by humans. Before the curse we were welcome in God's House. We tithed. We made confession. We were baptized, participated in the sacraments and died shriven. After the cursing—when Uncle Hez revealed the truth during confession, we were shunned. Shut out. The priest said we were unclean and could not enter a state of forgiveness and grace. Apparently our earthly crimes were forgivable, but not our supernatural ones. If anyone needed the comfort and salvation of the Church, it was the kin."

  "The priest was likely afraid, Vesper. You're talking nineteenth-century mindsets here,” Jerrod replied. “Instead of gutting this place, why not fix it up and contract with the local Justice of the Peace to do weddings here? Get married in the Mooncusser Chapel. Something to go with your premium honeymoon package."

  "You are a true Paladin, Jerrod Castaneda. Profit before emotion. Here you are protecting me from my own poor choices just as a Paladin would have once hidden evidence of foul play on my behalf."

  Jerrod smiled. “Glad to be of assistance. There's only one headstone here. No deaths in the family since?"

  "Since the curse? Suicides only. Some starved themselves to death rather than ... well, you know. They could not be buried on hallowed ground. My father was killed before we were cursed. He died the night we wrecked the Sea Shadow. The bottom dropped out of my world as I watched my father die. Little did I know I was about to lose my own life shortly thereafter."

  "You miss your family terribly,” Jerrod commented. “It's obvious."

  "I'm beyond missing them. It's been fifty-five years since they packed up and moved on. They must have forgotten the beachling ways by now."

  "And you've kept a figurative candle lit in the window for them all these years. How could they not return to you?"

  "Because I live here. This place is a painful reminder of what we are. It is here we were cursed. It is here we learned to feed. It is here we longed for dark nights. It is this place that stinks of our kind. They don't want to remember the kin. Or me."

  Jerrod lifted himself into an upright position. “I think you're looking at this way too emotionally. You said that Shadow Lovers need to keep moving to survive. You refused to leave the beach. Maybe they all left so that you'd have a chance to stay here, safely, for many years. Maybe they love you so much, that they wanted to help keep you hidden."

  Vesper sighed, casting a glow of realization. “You're probably right."

  Jerrod interjected. “Vesper, turn around."

  "Why?"

  "Just do it,” Jerrod continued. Vesper turned. “Honey, did you cut yourself shaving or something? You're bleeding. The back of your legs."

  Vesper twisted around. She then sat and ran her fingertips up and down her bare calves. “Christ,” she sighed.

  "What happened?” Jerrod asked.

  "I am in deep shit,” Vesper replied. She stood and brushed off her cotton dress. “One of them has turned. My worst nightmare, literally, in my flesh.” The emphasis Vesper placed on the word spoke volumes.

  "Odd Job?” Jerrod asked. “He assaulted you?"

  "I smelled it on him. He's ... learning to use his new abilities. He's a..."

  "A monster?” Jerrod asked.

  "Of my creation, yes. But I can't control him. Just like Viktor couldn't control his monster."

  Jerrod righted a chair and sat. “All these Frankenstein references, Ves. Come on. How many books do you expect me to write about this place?” Jerrod paused, seeing that Vesper wasn't smiling or finding any humor in his teasing. “What do you need me to do to help you?

  "As always, protect a Mooncusser from his or her own mistakes. And hide whatever I leave in my wake.” Vesper paused, closing her eyes. “I can smell them on the wind, Jerrod. They're coming. Let's go to the lighthouse. I want to see them when they come."

  "To wait? To wait for them to storm the castle?” Jerrod asked. “There must be a better way, Vesper."

  "I'm not going to run. I'm going to wait this out. See it through. Pay the piper. Face the inevitable consequences of my actions. I'm sorry, Jerrod. Maybe you should leave while you still can."

  Jerrod reached out and pulled a nail from the wall. He unbuttoned his shirt and scratched the nail across his chest, above his heart. “My place is here."

  Vesper went ashen. “You don't have to take the oath, Jerrod. And don't use a nail. Jesus. You'll get tetanus."

  He scratched again, wincing as pressure against the nail's tip to his chest broke the skin. Blood beaded to the surface. He dropped the nail. It clanged to the floor, stirring dust. “I pledge, in my own blood, before the ashes of my fathers, to protect the kin. To protect you. To protect you from yourself, your powerlessness over your appetites."

  Vesper leaned forward and placed her lips against the slow trickle of blood forming on Jerrod's chest. She lapped up the flow, leaving only the reddening, stinging scratch. “Welcome to the kin,” she said softly.

  Jerrod gently pushed her chin up and kissed her lightly. “This is going to end well, Ves. For them, and for you. For us."

  "I'm fine with things how they are,” Vesper replied.

  "Ah, but therein lies your biggest mistake. Darwin said it is the most responsive to change that survive. I want you to survive. Even if it means we move on from this place. For their sake, Vesper."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jin awoke with a pounding headache. “Where am I?” he asked, sitting up.

  "What did you take, son?” a calm voice asked. There was a sense of relief in the tone.

  "Take? What do you mean?” Jin asked. He sat up, disbelieving his eyes. Not sure what to make of the bars enclosing his bed, or the loosened straps at his wrists. “I'm in jail?"

  A white-coat and a sheriff came into focus. “Hospital lock-up in Cumberland. Doesn't surprise me in the least that you don't recall the last couple of days. What did you take? The doctor here said your blood tests showed venom. We're waiting for the state toxicologist's report.” The sheriff moved closer to the bars separating them. “Jin Park. Did you take some new drug? Something you picked up on y
our route or in the city?"

  The doctor spoke up. “Jin, you are toxic. You've pulled through the worst of it, and you're damned lucky your internal organs didn't shut down. What did you take? It almost looks like snake venom, but even that's not right."

  "I'm at Cumberland? The mental hospital?” Jin asked.

  "Only place we could get you medical care in a secure environment. You tore apart my office after you were found crawling along the stretch of road between the Coomb and the old lighthouse,” the sheriff replied.

  "I was with Maria. Where's Maria?” Jin asked.

  He watched the doctor and sheriff exchange a nervous glance. The sheriff shook his head. “She's gone, son."

  Jin tried to sit up. His pounding head prevented him from getting very far. “What? Maria is dead?"

  "Her body was found in the cooler at Lucky Panda. The most God-awful sight I ever have seen. A blood trail led away from the kitchen. It led to you. How you made it so far without being seen is beyond me. You were ranting and raving, and crawling without your damned pants on, along that last stretch of paved road outside the Coomb. Took your time with her, far as I can tell. The Panda was closed yesterday due a broken water pipe. The plumber found the mess. Called me. I followed the trail—that's when I found you."

  Jin shook his head. “I don't remember.” He twitched as he realized he had stitches up and down both arms. “What happened to me?"

  "We're not sure. Can you tell us?” the doctor asked.

  "What happened to Maria?” Jin replied.

  "Exsanguination. Stabbed a dozens times. Probably sexually assaulted. She was laid out across a couple of crates of mangoes like some gruesome homage to the Pieta."

  "What do you recall?” the doctor began. He turned to the sheriff. “I'd like him moved to a hospital up north for more tests. He's acting like he took PCP, but that's not at all what the tests showed."

  "I don't...” Jin began. “It's all a blur."

  Sheriff Galen Abidjan shifted his stance. His latex undergarments were making him itch. That's what I get for wearing them to work. He stiffened his lower lip. “Did you do it, son? Did you kill her?"

  Jin took a breath and looked up, directly into the eyes of the sheriff. Electrical connectivity sparked between them. A current of deception. They'd poked their fingers in the same light socket at some point. It bonded them in an unbelievable, hysterical, tabloid-version of the facts so clever they could be printed as Gospel truth.

  The sheriff nodded his chin slightly. He needed the boy to say what he already knew. He had the scent on him. The scent of the town's indigenous apparition. He'd always believed the legends. “Don't be afraid to tell me who it was, Jin. That monster can't hurt you now."

  "I...” Jin began. “I'm beginning..."

  "Go on,” the sheriff replied. He knew the answer. He saw it in the reflection of Jin's eyes. In Jin's hollow eyes he saw the same ghost he saw in the mirror every now and then. The same one his wife said crept up and bit him in the middle of the night when he awakened stiff and loving. He knew the specter he saw in the boy's eyes was that same damned spook that had been haunting the men of Marshes Coomb all their lives.

  "It was the beachling woman."

  The doctor scoffed at Jin's statement. “What? Don't be ridiculous. A costal ghost story can't brutalize a young woman like that."

  The sheriff put his hand up to silence the doctor. “She's real. Always known about her. Never did anything about it because she casts a wicked smoke screen. We couldn't find her like finding the forest for the trees. She's always been there. Tempting our men folk and stealing away our young ones when they wandered too far from home. I've never disbelieved the tales out of the cove. Tell me what happened, Jin."

  "Is this off the record?” Jin asked.

  "It's between you and me and what's right for the Coomb,” the sheriff replied.

  The doctor's pager went off. “Look, I've got to take this,” he said checking the number on the LED screen. “I'm going to make arrangements to have Mr. Park taken up north. You brought him to me. He's my patient."

  The sheriff shrugged. “Do as you see fit, Doc."

  Jin waited until the doctor left. He could smell Vesper on the sheriff. She was one of his. Excellent. “She's following the old ways, sheriff. Only instead of wrecking ships, she's going to wreck our lives. The legends are true. Their kind of have been living like parasites off the residents of Marshes Coomb for centuries. She isn't human.” Jin bowed his head and wept. Quite convincingly, he thought. “She made me do things.” He looked up, his eyes wet. “She forced herself on me."

  "My family helped found Marshes Coomb back in seventeen ninety-six. Before that it wasn't so much as a wayside inn on the road south. The stories about the Mooncusser Clan and what they did on dark nights is a part of my blood. My grandfather used to tell me that if I didn't stay in bed at night that a wrecker would come pull me into a dark abyss. I've seen her. Seen her devil's ways act on me. I know more than most folks do about the Mooncusser. But until today, I didn't admit they really still existed except in my nightmares and gin-induced hallucinations. God help us—they didn't die out. They went into hiding right under our damned noses."

  Jin withheld a sly grin. “We need to do something to stop her."

  "Why Maria? Why kill her?” Abidjan asked.

  "She was a virgin,” Jin replied. “So was I until she..."

  The sheriff nodded in agreement. The answer made sense to him. Because she was a virgin. Of course. The evil undead love virgins. “So the Lady of the Beach made you defile Maria and kill her. Take her purity and innocence along with her life."

  "I know her name,” Jin whispered. “It's Vesper."

  The sheriff wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He knew the name. “Highgate-Adaire. Big name round these parts long ago. I thought they were all dead and buried. What kind of power does that woman have to make an entire town forget about her as it suits her purpose?"

  "They were cursed. They became vampires. Sex vampires. She drank Maria's blood, sheriff. She would have finished me off had I not been able to get away,” Jin explained.

  "Was she there? When Maria was killed? When you killed Maria?"

  Jin spoke through sobs, “Yes. She forced me to take Maria. Not with physical strength, but with the power of her will. She handed me the knife. When it was ... over ... she pushed me down onto the floor and...” He choked on his words. “She took me. I didn't want to. I don't know how she made me—you know—ready. She's evil, sheriff."

  "Then what?"

  "She forced me to slice open my arms—to make it look like a murder/suicide. Then she left. I crawled out, hoping to stop her and put an end to her diabolic plans."

  Perhaps a little too dramatic. Jin reined in his exuberance. He didn't want to come across as cartoonish. He needed to appear authentic. An authentic victim. Their poster child for a lynching out at the cove.

  Abidjan's heart throbbed in his ribcage like a big base drum, and he swore he felt like he could lose his bowels right there in the lock-up. Jin's piercing black eyes frightened him. They frightened him because he saw his own reflection in them. And he didn't like what he saw. He felt a sudden tightening of his groin, like on a Saturday night when the wife was going to give him a little. A mental image of a modern-day gypsy woman in one of those gauzy skirts and a tank top that barely hid her nipples came to mind. Her wild, curly hair framed her face like a smoky halo. She was so beautiful. He'd wanted her. Every damned time he'd seen her on the street, he'd needed to take a moment alone in the men's room to get a grip on things. Why didn't he remember her, fantasize about her when doing the wife? Why didn't he just drive out to the cove and...

  "She's going to subjugate the village,” Jin said. “Line us up and feed off us and steal all our souls like so much pie on a window.” Damn. Too cliché, again. I should just shut up and look pathetic. Let the idiots go on parade of their own accord.

  "Not if we get to her, first,” Ab
idjan replied. He reached for his keys.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hysteria is contagious. In a small town like the Coomb it could spread like the pneumonic plague. Maybe faster.

  The drive from the hospital to the Coomb had been fraught with dangerous silence. Jin, afraid to say too much lest his story become unbelievable. Abidjan, afraid reconsidering his plan to take on a legend would fail and that dark abyss his grandfather had warned him about would fill with the souls of Marshes Coomb. Course, maybe they were already in Hell. Why else would a vampire still cling to the town using it as her own personal buffet line? Abidjan's stomach churned. Not just a vampire. A sex vampire. A woman who took men sexually and stole the blood of women. How many wet dreams had he had over the years? How many of those had been because of her?

  * * * *

  Obsessed, fearful, single-mindedly wanting only to both possess and do away with Vesper Highgate-Adaire, Sheriff Abidjan unlocked the cooler where Maria's body rested in the hospital morgue.

  Cold and pale, Maria still retained some of her youthful beauty. Jin took the sheet-draped body into his arms.

  "It's time to call out the troops,” Abidjan said. “Rally the town behind us before she takes us all down."

  The sheriff turned to close the slab cooler. Jin lifted Maria's lifeless head to his and kissed her cold lips. He caught his reflection in a polished glass room divider. He liked what he saw. Powerful. Chaotic. Potent.

  He'd become the Grinch. Regan after possession by Pazuzu. Jim Carey wearing The Mask. Only he saw his true reflection. And he now understood how Vesper had hid in plain sight all those years. The smokescreen wasn't on the town—it was on the person. Him.

  The sheriff flanking him like a color guard, Jin carried the torn and lifeless body of Maria into the streets. Abidjan raised his service revolver and fired three shots into the air. Three shots harkened back to the days when the sound would rally townspeople together to fight a common foe. The community's softball team was named Three Shots.

  Everyone knew the meaning, and everyone would come to the call.