The Darkly Stewart Mysteries: The Woman Who Tasted Death
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THE DARKLY
STEWART MYSTERIES
The Woman Who Tasted Death
D G Wood
Copyright © 2015 D G Wood
All rights reserved.
www.darklystewart.com
ISBN: 1517488265
ISBN 13: 9781517488260
“DG Wood has crafted an addictive heroine you can’t get enough of. Darkly Stewart lives in the shadows of our fears and haunts our senses.
She’s the most original character in years; an investigator who discovers her own past holds the key to the ultimate mystery.
Darkly shines a light on horror that we’ve never seen. Reader beware, you’ll never think about the woods the same way again.”
— Gary Grossman, Bestselling Author of the EXECUTIVE series and OLD EARTH.
“DG Wood has written a really strong, well-rounded FEMALE lead... which is brilliant. The novel took me on a journey I didn’t want to put down.
There’s enough intrigue for the well-read, and enough prediction for the DaVinci demon lovers out there. A happy mix to appeal to all.”
— Jamie MacLachlan, Actor on EASTENDERS, WAKING THE DEAD.
“As someone who grew up with the classic gothics, I resent the way my beloved horror legends are being reinterpreted to make them romantic for today’s teenage audiences, so I was drawn to DG Wood’s new, yet respectful, take on werewolves. He has set up a plot with characters who can populate a series and who have enough of a past to keep the present interesting. This is both a cinematic and literary work, revealing details as they are needed and supplying a mature richness of character. It’s also creepy as hell.”
— Nat Segaloff, Film Producer & Author of MR. HUSTON/MR. NORTH: LIFE, DEATH, AND MAKING JOHN HUSTON’S LAST FILM.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are a number of people who have been instrumental in helping me breathe life into Darkly. My wife, Wendy, has displayed great patience and confidence in the promises of tomorrow. My manager, Lorraine, encourages me to think big on every endeavour. Gary Grossman, the American novelist, has advised me as both mentor and friend that if I am to write a series of novels, I need to just write those novels. Don’t delay, get it done. I’m getting it done, Gary. I am grateful to Rufus and The Camera House for providing my artistic spirit with a tangible home. And how many people would an author touch without the right editor? Thank you, Felisha Baquera.
Most of all, I have my daughter, Audrey, to thank. Her impending arrival necessitated a flurry of creative work, laying the foundations for a new Darkly world to come. Parents often speak of giving their child a push to take chances. Before leaving the womb, my daughter inspired me to leave the collaborative comfort of the television writing room to begin a journey that is an invention purely of my own imagination. She’s the best thing I’ve ever done with my life, and I have no doubt that the courage RCMP Constable Darkly Stewart displays in desperate times foreshadows what my daughter is to become.
Finally, thank you to the following individuals, who gave their support at the time of Darkly’s inception: Jennifer Wood, Grahame Barry Wood, Kim Wood, Denise Wood, David & Jenny Flood, Graydon James, Jennie Grimes, KJ Miller, Michael Rawlins, Alexander Campbell, Luanne Fp, Francis Testa, Ione Butler, Todd Witham, Jamie Maclachlan, Kathleen Dimpfl and Julie Harter, Constance Boyd, Sandra Wilson, Ashley Buckwell, Christopher Bruton, Janet Pomerantz, Lindsey Zipkin, Jon Finck, Jason Chesworth and Tricia Wettlaufer.
This first Darkly Stewart novel is for you, Audrey. Like Darkly, you have entered a world teetering on a precipice. Do your best to save it.
“Every monster was a man first.” – Edward Albee
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
DARKLY STEWART: LIGHT AND DARKLY
THE AUTHOR
PROLOGUE
All parents share core traits in common. Each couple dives blindly into the spirit of the messy miracle that is childbirth and spends the next eighteen years praying that what they push out of the nest will become something better than their own humble hopes and dreams. Dreams that one day seemed grand in their own right, now pale next to the god-like power to recreate oneself in flesh and baby powder. Not just a new beginning, but a new soul.
Worldly-unaware jocks and small-town beauty queens can cook up a kinder, more generous, nobler copy of themselves, and cutting right to the chase, a more profitable version of mummy and daddy.
Darkly Stewart was greeted with the same affirmation every morning at the breakfast table: “You can become anything you want to be.” How would Darkly’s biological parents have reacted had they known then that she would grow up to become a cop?
Considering Darkly’s unfortunate birthright, they likely would have been grateful to see her survive to adulthood without incident.
With family road-trips, comes the expectation that a child will entertain herself while the adults keep their eyes on the road. So it was with Darkly during the long drive up the Pacific coast, across the Cascade Mountains and into British Columbia. She didn’t mind. She was only seven years old, but already an introspective, private human being. Fifty-four hours of driving and five completed crossword books later, she had the vocabulary of a child twice her age.
Not neglecting the coolness factor of personal growth, her CD collection was filled with the likes of the Beatles and Nirvana. She had endured her fair share of classical music, too, while still in the womb. As far back as she could remember, she would break into the spontaneous humming of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy, with no clue as to where she had heard it before. This affectation pleased Darkly’s mother greatly, who wanted her daughter to experience everything her own isolated childhood had denied her.
As Darkly now listened to Let It Be on her CD Walkman and searched her mind for a four-letter word beginning with ‘s’ that means desist, her mother, Catharine, yelled out, “Stop!” Such a simple word. One of the first we learn as a child. Rarely does it bring to a halt only what is intended.
Jack slammed on the brakes.
“What?!” he yelled, as a cola can went flying from the cup holder, spilling over the carpet. “Damn. Great. There goes the frigging discount.”
“Sorry. We passed it, Jack.”
Catharine scanned the map draped over the dash with her fingertip, as Jack mopped up the sugary soda with an entire pack of travel tissue.
“It’s the last dirt road on the right before the sign. You know, I could drive, and you could navigate. If you want.”
Jack ignored the suggestion.
“Darkly, honey, throw this away for Daddy.”
Jack passed the dripping clump of tissue over his shoulder.
Darkly left her perch on her swivel bucket-seat to grudgingly accept the dripping mess.
“Gross,” Darkly said as she held the clump
at arm’s length until releasing the tissue into a plastic grocery bag hanging off a cupboard in the RV’s kitchenette. She wiped her hands on her jeans.
Catharine removed a kerchief printed with the US flag from her head. Jack accepted it and softened as he dried his hands with it. He smiled and said, “I hope no one sees. They could get me for treason.”
There again was the light-hearted hippy Catharine had fallen in love with and the man who accepted her despite her one big flaw.
Darkly’s hair was the same color her mother’s used to be before the gray: jet black. It even had those silver sparkles in the right light. It suited her mother’s maiden name. When it came time to consider baby names, modern options of Brittany, Tabatha, and Holly were abandoned to combine her mother’s last name with her father’s. Besides the mop of coal on her head, Darkly was born with a light down of dark hair on her arms and legs. Thankfully, it fell out in the weeks after birth.
Outside the RV window, on the side of the road, a weather-worn, wooden sign proclaimed “Town of Wolf Woods, Population 284.” They were close.
“You don’t want to head into town first?” Jack asked his wife. “Burger and a local brew?”
“That’s not funny, Jack. I’m getting a migraine. I just want to take it easy tonight. Tomato soup, grilled cheese, and french fries, hun?” Catharine called out to Darkly.
“Mmmmm. My favorite.”
Truth is, Darkly ate nothing else. Catharine occasionally hid chunks of tuna under a quarter pound of melted cheddar, in an attempt to force her daughter to consume more of what was good for her. Like any good mother, the fries were always baked, never fried.
“You’re the boss.”
Jack resigned himself to family card night in the RV.
“You know I hate it when you say that.”
Catharine’s migraine was quickly getting worse.
“Sorry.”
Jack put the RV into reverse, and as the Wolf Woods sign grew smaller, Darkly squished it between her forefinger and thumb. Jack stopped, shifted the RV back into drive, and turned onto the missed dirt and gravel road leading off the highway.
“Everyone hold on. It’s gonna get bumpy.” Jack turned to his wife and asked, “How long?”
Catharine put her finger on the map’s distance key, then on the red line that marked the rural road on the map. She measured the distance to the symbol of a small car inside a mountain peak.
“Looks like the outlook’s maybe 5 miles.”
Catharine stared out the window, immediately transported a far greater distance.
Jack reached over and squeezed his wife’s hand.
“It’s going to be alright. You’ll see.”
Catharine’s return home would not be put off any longer. It would also be the greatest gift she could ever give her extended family, ending centuries of affliction. Darkly was the proof of cure she would show them.
The RV wound its way deep into the forest of birch, poplar, and maple, giving Darkly that giddy feeling of her stomach in free-fall as the road became a roller-coaster of steep inclines and sharp descents.
The woods here were so thick and close together, she could only focus on objects ten or so feet into the forest. A bear could be a few feet beyond that, tracking her, and she would never know. That was Darkly’s greatest hope for the family getaway: to see a bear. And no, zoos didn’t count.
On the outskirts of Seattle, the family had waited all night at a town dump. They sat there glued to the windshield, the headlights shining into piles of old tires, broken furniture and black garbage bags torn to shreds by, Darkly imagined, giant grizzlies. Banana skins, peanut butter jars, and empty baked bean tins were strewn across the site, but no bear was to blame. A gang of hunchbacked raccoons had claimed the spoils.
About fifteen minutes into the family trek, the road began a steady, gentle incline, with the hardwood trees giving way to conifers, until they reached a clearing on a bluff over-looking a valley.
Darkly could make out a narrow river flowing under two bridges in the center of the town of Wolf Woods hundreds of feet below. She recognized a church from its green copper steeple and a main street of red brick buildings surrounded by around thirty worn, white clapboard homes. No people or moving cars were in sight. Strange. A ghost town?
Jack brought the RV up alongside a waist-high decrepit, wooden railing. It was the only thing between them and a sheer drop down to the valley below. They now sat on the highest point overlooking the river and town.
“How’s that for a view?” asked Jack. “Much better than a crowded campsite.”
Catharine warily eyed the edge of the precipice.
“Do you think we’re a little close?”
Jack killed the engine.
“Honey, that railing looks like it’s been there a hundred years. Nothing’s broken through yet. We’re fine.”
“You know what I meant.”
“Don’t worry about it tonight. We’re a speck on the mountain.” Then he whispered, “I promise they’ll hear us out. You’re the answer to their prayers.”
Jack climbed out of the driver’s seat and made his way back to the side door to let in the fresh air.
After an entire day of air conditioning, Darkly also melted willingly into the blast of warm air.
“I want to help.”
While Catharine unlatched cupboards, Darkly and Jack began the RV’s nightly check-off. Jack opened a compartment on the outside of the RV and removed two wheel blocks and two telescoping, aluminum struts. He then reached back in to flick an electric switch.
“I want to do it,” Darkly complained.
She pushed her dad out of the way and held the switch down until a whining, electric motor ground to life. A yellow and green-striped canopy slowly unrolled from its hiding place under the roof.
“Okay, but let go the moment it stops or you’ll burn the motor out,” Jack said as he pet the top of Darkly’s head.
“I’m not a dog, Dad,” Darkly protested.
Jack just laughed and picked up the wheel blocks. He jammed one under the front driver’s wheel and the other under the back passenger wheel, kicking both with his boots until they wouldn’t budge. He jogged back to Darkly, grabbed one of the aluminum struts and twisted it into its full length. He popped it into place under one corner of the now fully-opened canopy.
Darkly let go of the switch and passed the second strut to her dad.
“You can stake them in,” he said as he propped up the other corner of the canopy, creating an expanse of shade that would accommodate the whole family.
Darkly grabbed four metal stakes and drove them into the dirt, hopping up and down on them until the struts were firmly pinned to the ground.
Jack shook the struts. They barely shifted.
“Good job.”
He opened another compartment on the side of the RV and pulled out three folding deck chairs.
Darkly plopped herself down in the smallest of the three and gazed out across the valley towards the western sky. The sun was beginning to set and illuminated the silver river with streaks of gold and red. The valley stretched about two miles wide and ten miles long. The narrow road they turned from followed the river through the town and rose into the hills at either end.
She scanned the slopes leading down to the river. On the other side of the valley, any trees had long since been cut down to make way for pastures. Cows and sheep shared the same grazing grounds above sleepy Wolf Woods. On Darkly’s side of the valley, the tree line reached to within a couple yards of the water.
It was while following this tree line that Darkly got her first look at a bear. About a mile to the west of the town, she saw the animal climb up the riverbank. She could barely make it out, but was instantly mesmerized.
“Dad!” Darkly screeched and hopped to her feet. “A bear!”
/> “I’ll grab the binoculars!”
Jack leapt into the RV, while Darkly continued to watch the animal scramble up the riverbank. It lumbered up to the tree cover and was gone.
Jack jumped out of the RV, not bothering with the two retractable steps, and vainly focused the binoculars on the river.
“You missed him. He went into the woods.”
Darkly sighed. It had been a brief encounter, but she’d finally seen one.
“Oh well. I’ve seen bears before. And other things.”
Jack turned the attention of his binoculars onto the town below.
Darkly held a set of threes and almost a full run of hearts. All she needed to lay down was a joker or an eight of clubs. Shanghai Rummy was the family ritual after most meals. It was preferable to bedtime stories, and it was something Darkly had become very good at. Jack and Catharine long ago gave up letting her win. When she beat them at cards, it was on the level.
Darkly picked at her plate of grilled cheese crusts she never fully enjoyed until they had grown cold.
It was Catharine’s turn to play, and she picked a card off the deck in the center of the table, then discarded the eight of clubs. It was when Darkly reached for that card, the exact card she had been waiting for, that it happened.
The whole RV shook. It felt like another vehicle had rammed into the front of the camper, causing the whole cabin to shudder.
“What the hell?!” Jack exclaimed.
He bolted up and ran to the driver’s seat. Out of instinct, Catharine climbed over Darkly and made quickly for the side door to lock it.
Darkly peered out the window next to the RV’s built-in table. The moon was a blood orange crescent that reminded Darkly of a carved jack-o’-lantern’s eye. She could see the trees blowing in the wind under the moonlight. She could also make out movement, but no shape. She sunk down into the couch, out of sight from whatever was out there.
“Jack?!” Catharine was in full panic mode.