"And what exactly is that? Are you going to kill them?"
The thought had crossed her mind, hence her internal battle about the gun, but the fact was she wasn't a murderer. The best thing she could do for Donovan, and to honor his memory at the same time, was to make sure his killer, and now those conspiring to hide that killer, were brought to justice.
"Are you some kind of medium or something?" Fiona asked. "I don't believe in that crap."
She'd been to see a medium once at a local circus. The Romanian woman had turned out to be from New Jersey and reading off a string of random facts from a piece of paper on her knee. It had only been a coincidence that some of those facts had been true.
"You're thinking about Madam Rosmilda," said Circe, chuckling. "She really was a charlatan, and quite a bad one at that."
Fiona tensed. "How do you know I met Madam Rosmilda?"
"Just let me help you."
This had to be a trap. Circe wouldn't just help her for no reason, and she certainly didn't believe any of that destiny and shaping world events stuff.
"You could tell me the truth," Fiona asked. "You could tell me everything right now."
"Would you believe me without definitive proof?" said Circe.
"I might."
"You need to witness this with your own eyes. You need proof for your own peace of mind. If you don't let me help you, you'll be caught before you learn a thing and you will die ignorant."
"Are you saying they'll kill me if they catch me spying on them?"
Circe didn't say anything, but she didn't need to.
"Fine," said Fiona. "If it helps me I'll take any help I can get."
The woman nodded and walked up to Fiona. She took her head, concentrating fiercely on Fiona's face. She felt something shift inside her, like a small jolt of static shock.
"Done," said Circe.
"What did you do?" Fiona asked, feeling all tingly.
"You are hidden from the more...unusual forms of detection," Circe explained.
"You're talking gibberish. You only touched my head! What good will that do? I thought you were going to give me the key to the town hall or something."
"Believe in me. Now be careful."
She nodded, feeling she'd been part of something wonderful but not sure exactly what. When Circe left, closing the door gently behind her, Fiona felt more confident than ever. Tonight was going to be a success.
The town was eerily quiet as Fiona walked down its lamp lit streets by night. Most of the businesses were closed. The roads had no cars, no traffic. She felt like the only person in town. It was like everyone had simply vanished.
A ghost town.
It wasn't until she got to the town hall that she saw someone. Several sheriff's deputies were stood on its steps, guarding the place like dogs. The lights were on in the large council building, illuminating the square and gardens out front. A dozen cars were parked on the grass haphazardly. Bicycles were propped up against the bus shelter. There was even a motorcycle and side car.
Half the village must be here.
Fiona pulled herself into a side alley, trying to control her breathing. She hadn't realized the conspiracy was this wide. Was this really a good idea, getting herself involved in this?
It had be some some sort of cult. A member of the cult had killed Donovan and they were giving him a trial away from the normal justice system. It was the only thing that made sense.
What else did this cult do? Did its members get away with murder and rape and other awful things?
She felt sick. If this was indeed a cult that half the town as its members then she was in serious danger if she interfered. They might even kill her to keep their secret. Circe had almost said as much.
"Is it worth it?" she whispered to herself.
She thought about her life. She could live to ninety. Another sixty years without Donovan, without giving birth to Donovan's kids and spoiling Donovan's grandchildren; another sixty years without joy and love and knowing she was living on the same planet as the people who had taken him away from her.
Fiona nodded her head, resolute in her mission. She had her cell phone ready to record everything. She even knew of a back entrance to the town hall. It was time.
The door closed quietly behind her. Fiona crept forward through the dark, past the small kitchen. A tank inside was heating hot water for tea. There was an elderly couple sat at a table playing cards. It was Mr. and Mrs. Garvey. They owned a local convenience store and had seemed such a normal, if a little eccentric, couple.
"How long do you think this meeting will last for?" Mrs. Garvey asked, bored.
Mr. Garvey yawned. "I hope they execute the murderous little ball sack."
"Amen."
Fiona couldn't help but smirk. Maybe this secret trial would go her way after all. If this man's actions had led to scrutiny being put on the town, and the secret cult, they may want to get rid of any evidence and show it as an example for anyone else who tried to out them.
They might kill my husband's murderer.
The thought of that made her feel conflicted. Did she want him dead, or rotting in prison?
She carried on, keeping to the wall, knowing the floorboards might creak under her feet. She pushed aside the door in front of her, finding herself backstage. The town hall was used for many things such as indoor markets, dinners, but they also had a small stage. Fiona had been in several shows put on over the years. That was why she'd known how to navigate inside so easily.
She smiled, thinking back to a production of Mary Poppins she'd starred in. That had been fun.
"Are we all here?" a voice announced.
She'd know Sheriff Gable Trent's voice anywhere. Fiona grinned and made her way up the stairs to the fly loft, the area above the stage where the lighting and scenery could be lowered down. It was dark up there, and dusty, but she felt at home. It reminded her of good times.
Better times.
She crawled across the catwalk, making herself comfortable behind one of the bigger light fixtures. She could see everything from up here, but her body was hidden from view by anyone looking up. It was the ideal hiding place.
The hall was packed. She recognized so many people, from former classmates and teachers to local business owners. Even her neighbors, the Petersons, were there. They looked bored, as they usually did as social gatherings. Terry Peterson was playing some game on his cell phone.
Her eyes caught on Donovan's parents and she put her hand to her mouth to stop herself from gasping. They were sat on the second row, next to the aisle. Herb was staring straight ahead, not showing any sign that he was there for the trial of his son's killer. Angie was different. She was wiping at her eyes, desperate to show she wasn't crying. Her husband turned to her and nudged her. She ignored him.
Fiona couldn't believe this. They knew everything. They knew who had murdered their own son and they didn't care. They were at the killer's so-called trial, but that didn't mean anything. They were part of a cult.
Did Donovan know about this? Was that the real reason why he didn't want anything to do with them?
Donovan was a bad liar. There was no way he knew. He was a sweet, kind person. He could never be a part of something like this, or know about it, and not do something. Was that why his parents were so cruel? Did they know their son could never be a part of their cult and had treated him accordingly?
She studied Angie again. The woman cared. She was trying hard not to show it, but she cared. Maybe her son's death had finally made her realize what she'd lost.
I will not feel sorry for her. She brought this on herself.
She looked down at the stage, her eyes drawn towards the undeniable presence of Sheriff Gable Trent. She knew without a doubt that he was the leader of this cult. He oozed authority and menace. The way people looked at him, with fear and respect, was palpable. He made her skin come out in goose bumps.
The stage was set up with a long row of tables. She recognized Rose Mctaggart
, the principal of the local high school. Her sour face regarded the whole event as if it made her nauseous. Adrian was sat next to her, tapping his fingers, impatient. Next to him was an Asian man she didn't recognize, though she thought she'd seen him walking around town. On his right was her old friend, Carla.
Carla had been a part of Fiona's life for a long time. The old woman had taught her to sing. They'd put on musicals together. They'd organized money raising dinners and gone to the theatre. She'd even thought about her as a potential godmother for a potential future child. Carla was the kindest, funniest woman she'd ever met and she'd been proud to call her a friend.
The bitch...
Fiona had never felt more betrayed. She didn't give a fuck about Donovan's parents. She'd always hated them. Carla was different. Carla's betrayal cut deep.
She ignored Carla for now. The front row of the audience included Chanda, Ronnie, and the mysterious woman, Circe, who looked up at Fiona's hiding place and gave her a secret smile. Fiona almost squealed in shock, wondering how she knew exactly where she was.
Sitting next to Circe was a tall, dark haired man with light, pale skin. He was very handsome in an emaciated, Eastern Europe sort of way. A young woman was sitting next to him, her legs crossed, looking even more impatient than Adrian. She had green hair and an interesting face, with facial features similar to the man sat next to her.
Father and daughter?
"Bring him in," the sheriff announced.
Fiona bit her lip, trying to restrain herself. This was the moment she'd been waiting for. She started the recording on her cell phone, waiting for what seemed like forever. The back doors swung open and two sheriff's deputies came in, dragging with them an unconscious man.
It was him.
It was the man who murdered Donovan.
SEVEN
THE UNCONSCIOUS MAN was dropped at the foot of the stage, directly below Sheriff Trent. He stared down at him and sighed audibly, as if all this was beneath him. Fiona used the camera on her phone to zoom in on the face of the murderer. He only looked like he was in his late teens, barely even an adult. He had black hair and a square jawed face, classically handsome apart from the dried blood stains around his mouth.
He hasn't washed off the blood from the attacks!
Did the blood all over his face belong to Donovan?
"I can't believe this rich little pretty boy has caused us all this trouble," said the sheriff. He stepped off the stage and kicked the accused in the stomach. He grinned. "That felt good."
"Kick him again and I will end you," the pale faced European man spat.
The sheriff smiled at him menacingly. "You want him for yourself, Dracula? He does seem your type."
Dracula? What the fuck?
Dracula eyed the sheriff darkly. "Let's just get on with this."
"Father will sleep with anything," the woman next to him said, laughing. "You know what a slut he is."
"Like father like daughter!" someone in the audience shouted.
Her words were ignored. She crossed her arms and stared sulkily towards the stage. Fiona disliked her immensely. She reminded her of one of those spoiled bitches on reality shows who thought the whole world revolved around them. She probably took selfies of herself pouting and posted them them online every five seconds.
"Why do I even have to be here?" she demanded loudly.
Dracula smiled. "You'll find out, Sutton."
Fiona noted down every name, every relationship. The woman seemed like your everyday spoiled child, daughter of a rich family. Dracula himself wasn't in charge of the actual trial or whatever this was, but he seemed to have some sort of authority over Sheriff Trent, even if the sheriff himself was always glaring at the man like he hated him. She considered that they were equals when it came to whatever power structure was going on here, though Dracula liked to have the last word.
I must have misheard them. Dracula isn't a common name.
"Speak the charges," Carla announced. "And let's not take too long about it. We're already causing suspicion among the humans."
Sheriff Trent nodded. "Jared Claiborne has risked us all by his barbaric, public killing spree. He needs to be punished."
"It wasn't his fault," said Adrian. His voice was loud, echoing across the hall. "The man who turned him is to blame. He should've been more careful."
"He's already in prison in England," said the Asian man. "He won't cause any more trouble."
Principal Rose Mctaggart shouted, "They both should be executed! They killed my son and they shouldn't be allowed to get away with it."
Fiona heard the raw fury and grief in the woman's voice. It was like a living, breathing thing. A grief like that could wreck the world.
"We know all this," said the sheriff, ignoring Rose. "And we sympathize, we truly do, but you can't let your personal feelings into this."
"Let me kill him now!" Rose screamed. "I can skin him alive. I can devise the grandest, sickest tortures for this vampire."
The prone man, Jared, started to float into the air. Rose was chanting something under breath, her eyes wild, her lips curled with hatred. Carla roared beside her, shattering the silence, and bit into the deputy's arm. Jared stopped levitating and fell back to the floor with a crash.
What the hell is going on?
Carla wiped the blood from her mouth. She looked just like Jared had on the night he murdered Donovan. Her teeth were sharpened and nasty and her face face was feral. She was a monster.
"Did you just bite me, vampire?" Rose screamed. "I will turn you into horse shit you bitch."
Vampire?
Carla smiled politely, her teeth seemingly morphing back into their regular shape. She stared hard at Rose and placed a hand on her arm.
"I know what you've been through," Carla consoled her. "But this is not the time."
"He murdered my son," Rose stated again. "He needs to be punished."
"And he will be, but we have to stick to the law. That's what this is all about tonight, remember?"
"I have a suspicion that tonight is not going to go the way I want."
The high school principal stood up, seeking out someone in the audience.
"Angela!" Rose shouted. "Bert! He killed your son too. You have to care!"
Donovan's parents ignored her. Fiona felt like slapping them into submission.
"I know he wasn't born with magic like you wanted but neither were my children and I loved them more than anything," said Rose. "Just because he's human it doesn't mean he's less your son."
"If my son had magic he wouldn't be dead now!" Bert shouted.
Angie cried as she said, "Yes. That's right. He brought it on himself."
"Our son was an abomination."
Fiona could hardly believe what they were saying. Donovan's parents could do magic, and the only reason they treated him with such contempt was because he was born human, without magic. It made sense, even in an insane way.
I can't believe Donovan never knew.
Is magic real?
Fiona had seen it with her own eyes. The proof was right there in front of her. Magic was real.
"How can you sit there and pretend that Donovan's death doesn't affect you?" Rose accused them. "He was your only child!"
"One child too many if you ask me," Bert snarled.
Fiona wanted to punch him she hated that man so much. Rose beat her to it.
Bert muttered. "What the..."
His hair burst into flames. As he muttered some kind of spell to cancel it out Fiona couldn't help but admire Rose, who was currently laughing. The rest of the people gathered there seemed to agree, judging by the giggles and smirks.
Even more proof of magic.
Shit!
"That's enough!" the sheriff screamed. "That is enough!"
Bert stood up, staring at the stage with fury. "You can't let her get away with this."
The sheriff stared him down. "My daughter is human. She's smart and precious and I love her. If someone so
much as harmed a head on their head, I would destroy the world. People like you make me sick. Get out, the both of you, before I show you how angry I really am."
Bert and Angie's eyes widened with terror. They scurried out so quick Fiona was surprised they didn't leave skid marks on the floor.
"I still haven't finished," Rose declared. "I will have my say."
"Shut the hell up," the sheriff told her.
Rose turned away, disgusted, her eyes moist with tears, her hands bunched into fists. She was trembling with rage Fiona knew that look. The woman was trying to be calm and rational but inside she was a raging ball of grief and vengeance.
"Have we calmed down now?" the sheriff asked condescendingly. Rose hissed at him and he laughed. "Good. Then let's get on with this." He took a deep breath and said, "I hate to agree with Rose, but she's right, though. He needs to die."
The gathered audience gasped. Jared stirred on the ground, still oblivious to everything that was going on around him. Carla spared him a pitying glance before turning back to the sheriff.
Don't pity him. He deserves none of your sympathy.
"He was newly turned," said the Asian man. Everyone turned to look at him. "You all know that he had no control over his actions."
"You're my best friend, Duck Young, but you're talking garbage," spat the sheriff. "He put this entire town under intense scrutiny when he went on his head ripping-off spree. He needs to be punished severely, and I vote we do just that."
About half of the audience nodded their heads or voiced quiet assent for the sheriff's words. Fiona watched Chanda, who seemed to be torn over what to do. She kept looking at her husband and shrugging her shoulders.
She doesn't know what to do.
Fiona respected that. Chanda was a good person. She didn't want to see anyone condemned to death, even if they did deserve it.
"He has to live with what he's done for eternity," said Duck Young. "Can you imagine what that will be like for him? That should be punishment enough."
Shadows and Stars Page 42