Blood in the Marsh

by Ciana Stone

  At length she calmed him enough to get him to untie her. Then, taking him in her arms, she listened as he sobbed out his tale of horror and death. Screaming, she ordered her son to return home for his father, and then she ran into the woods in search of Suzanna.

  Hamilton, Jr. returned with his father and four of his hired men. They found Mrs. Baxter in the forest, cradling the body of her beloved daughter. The girl’s throat looked as if it had been ripped out by a wild animal and her body was white from loss of blood. On the ground not far from her lay the body of the Spanish soldier who had attacked them, dead, apparently from a blow to the head from a stout limb.

  Hamilton Baxter, Sr. took his wife and the body of his daughter home, thanking God that his son had been spared, that he had found the strength and courage to fight off his attacker and kill him. When they arrived home the younger Baxter seemed as though he was dazed and not himself. His parents were sure it was due to the trauma of seeing his sister murdered and having to fight for his own life. Ordering the house slaves to see to his needs, they began preparations to bury Suzanna.

  The slaves were not as easily fooled as the Baxters. They immediately recognized the changes in the son, seeing the darkness in his eyes and the new arrogance in his demeanor. But there was no one they could go to with this information. Not even when their own people began disappearing one by one.

  Years passed and rumors began to circulate that there was a devil on the plantation. Baxter, Sr. scoffed at the notion, chalking it up to the slaves’ superstitious nature. But his son knew something had to be done. One night a terrible storm hit the island. Thunder rolled across the sky and lightning slashed the darkness. The rain came down in sheets, driving the tender plants into the mud. That night the main house of the Baxter plantation burned to the ground. The only person to survive the fire was the son, Hamilton, Jr.

  Two months later, Hamilton left the island, appointing a foreman to take care of the running of the plantation for him. He was never seen or heard from again. But the slaves remembered what had happened there and the stories were passed down from one generation to the next.

  In 1789, a new owner appeared to take over the old Baxter plantation. The man’s name was Gilyard L. Cannon. He was young, only about twenty-five, but strong and handsome and very charismatic. He quickly became ensconced in the social affairs of the island. Many a father tried in vain to interest Cannon in his daughter. But Gilyard was interested in other things.

  By 1800, Gilyard had amassed not only a fortune, but also a thriving following. Many slaves became the unwilling sacrifices for his inhuman hunger. Many tried to flee and some even managed to escape. Those who did quickly spread the word among the black population about what was going on at the Cannon plantation.

  One evening, just before twilight in May of 1803 a boat moved down Dunbar Creek. It was bound for Ebo Landing. On it was a group of Igbo tribesmen from West Africa. They had been taken from their homes and were destined to be slaves at the rich plantations on the island. One of the crew on that boat was an older black man. He had been brought along to communicate with the Igbo. Speaking in his native tongue, he told the chieftain of what was happening at the Cannon plantation. The chieftain told his tribesmen that they could not submit to the demon that ran the plantation. He asked them to pray to their god and when the boat landed, he walked into the dark cold waters. One by one, his people followed him.

  The boat captain and his men tried to pull the Igbo from the water, knowing that Gilyard would be infuriated if his slaves were not delivered. But the Igbo resisted, preferring death to a life of slavery under a demon owner. Their souls meant more than their lives and so many of them drowned. A few were saved and were sent to the plantation.

  And so the atrocities continued. Just a few years after the Civil War ended, Gilyard disappeared and the land was left in trust. Over the years, the land changed ownership many times until its original owner was virtually forgotten. No written records were ever found but there are those who still remember the stories that have been passed down through time.

  Those who remember are not easily persuaded to talk about it. But, I repeat, the stories were remembered—some in remarkable detail. It is said that there are those who have learned the secrets of Adoul’s power and know how to go about destroying him.

  I myself have attempted to speak with such a person but at the time of this writing have been unsuccessful. Unfortunately, our Adversary has discovered my efforts and I feel sure he will take measures to ensure that I do not succeed.

  My eyes grow weary and my hand is tired. There is yet more to come. I pray I am granted the time to record it.

  Lyra as she dropped the diary in her lap and closed her eyes. Not only had the Adversary been here before but someone remembers what happened the last time he was here. And that meant that if she could find whoever it is Lucius was referring to they might be about to can find a way to stop him.

  A knock at her door had her eyes flying open. “Just a second!” She returned the diary to its hiding place and opened the door.

  “Well?” Nick asked.

  “Let’s go downstairs to the kitchen and I’ll tell you.”

  Lyra grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and took a seat at the table. She gave Nick a summary of what she’d read, ending with “and if we can find who Lucius was referring to maybe we can find a way to stop this—Adversary.”

  “And just how do you propose we find this mystery person? Question every person who lives on the island?”

  Lyra turned to him excitedly. “No! It was right here in the diary. Lucius said that there were slaves who remembered what had happened and had passed the story down. Nick, there are people still living on this island who are direct descendants of those slaves. If we can check the old records then we can find out who they are and talk to them.”

  Nick thought about it for a second. “It’s a good idea, but you’re forgetting one thing.”

  “What?”

  “The little matter of someone being after you. You can’t very well go running around the island. And not only that, if this Adversary does have some kind of following, we have no way of knowing who belongs to his little group, which means we can’t trust anyone. Not only that, if we did find this person then there’s a good chance we’d be leading the Adversary straight to them.”

  Lyra frowned and flopped back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “There has to be a way!”

  He ran his hands through his hair and stood up. “Well, let’s give it some time and think about it. Maybe Michael will have an idea.”

  “That’s it!” Lyra jumped up. “Michael! He can move around all over the island and the mainland without arousing suspicion. We can tell him what to look for and he can find the person we need to talk to!”

  Nick smiled as he took her hand. “All right.”

  “Great.”

  She checked on Chelsey and found her sleeping soundly, so went back down to the kitchen and started dinner. She and Nick were just setting the table when Michael walked in. He tossed his jacket across one of the chairs at the table and sat down with a sigh. “Another missing girl was reported today. This one was grabbed at the mall off highway 17. There were two reported over the weekend from just across the line in Florida. The count’s growing and no one has any idea where to look.

  He looked up and nodded as Nick pulled a beer from the refrigerator. “Oh! We found that boat, the one that ran into you and Chelsey.”

  Lyra stopped in place, staring at him expectantly. “And?”

  “And it’s weird as hell! The damn thing was titled to a corporation in Brunswick, an import business that turned out to be nothing more than an empty rented office with an answering service. So we checked that out and found the import business was owned by another corporation. After spending the whole day on the phone it turns out there’s a damn chain of dummy corporations that end up at one holding company called ASM Odeus, Unlimited, which is not an American business at all.
We traced ownership to Spain. That’s as far as we got. We’re trying to run that down now.”

  The plates slipped from Lyra’s hands and crashed to the floor. She grabbed the chair for support and gaped at Michael in wide-eyed shock. Nick grabbed her and helped her to sit. “Lyra? What is it?”

  “You said ASM Odeus?”

  “Yeah.” Michael gave her a curious look. “So?”

  “So…” she looked from him to Nick. “In Qabbalistic mythology one of the names of Satan is Asmodeus. Get it? ASM Odeus?”

  Michael frowned and cut Nick a strange look. “I’ll admit that’s pretty strange but it’s not enough to make you look like you’re going to faint.”

  “But you said you traced it to Spain.”

  “And?”

  Lyra looked at Nick for a moment. “And in what we read in Lucius’ diary that was the last country the Adversary was in before he came here. I’ll bet if you keep looking you’ll trace that company from Spain to Italy to Yugoslavia to Romania to Bulgaria to Turkey to Lebanon and then…”

  Nick nodded and sat down. “And then where? Lucius only told us as far back as Lebanon. No, wait—Syria.”

  “That’s right! And he said something about suspecting the Adoul had originally come from Egypt.”

  Michael held up his hands. “You two want to fill me in on what you’re babbling about? And by the way, where’s Chelsey?”

  Lyra was so worked up about what they were onto that she had completely put the incident that had happened earlier out of her mind. But Michael’s question brought it all back. Not only had that, but the way Michael been looking at her since he returned had her wanting to throw herself at him. She had to be careful. What if Nick noticed? Now was not the time to start trouble between him and Michael. They had too much trouble as it was.

  Chapter Nine

  Tuesday—Sea Island

  Both Michael and Nick left the house early. Lyra stood at the picture window in the living room and watched them drive off, then she went upstairs to wake Chelsey.

  Nick had installed additional deadbolts to all the doors and added heavy slide locks that could only be opened from the inside. Michael had drilled holes in all the windows and inserted thick screws so the windows could only be opened if the screws were removed. It had taken them well past midnight to finish and by then they were all tired.

  Lyra knew that Chelsey would not be awake for hours unless she was forced to get up. She hated to wake her, but she didn’t want to sit around all morning alone, jumping at every little noise. Setting herself for the grumbling and fussing that was sure to come she knocked on Chelsey’s door.

  Brunswick

  Michael walked into the front office of the security company and flashed his badge at the receptionist. “Detective Michael Santera. I’d like to speak with your manager, please.”

  The girl’s eyes widened in surprise but she quickly controlled it and asked Michael to have a seat while she told the manager, Mr. John Booker, he was there.

  Michael sat down and looked around the reception office. He was reaching for a magazine on the small coffee table when the manager walked in. “Detective Santera! Good morning. What can I do for you?”

  “Is there somewhere more private we can talk?”

  “Yes, of course. Let’s go into my office.”

  Michael followed Booker into his office and sat down as Booker took the chair behind the desk. “Now, what brings you here, Detective Santera?”

  “Your company provides the security for the old Corelli estate, does it not?”

  “Why, yes. We have for a great many years. Why do you ask?”

  “Were you aware that there was a breach in your security yesterday morning?”

  “That’s impossible! Any type of unauthorized entry through the electronic gate or the fence would have shown up on our boards from the perimeter detectors. And the house itself is equipped with the most sophisticated, state-of-the-art equipment available. As a matter of fact it was just recently updated and put through extensive and thorough diagnostics.”

  “Well, then perhaps you can explain how two men could enter the house without setting off any alarms and without tampering with the security on the premises?”

  Mr. Booker gaped at him from behind his wire-rimmed glasses. Michael sat calmly waiting for a reply as the man’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Finally, Michael leaned forward and pinned Booker with a hard stare.

  “Why don’t I answer that for you, Mr. Booker? There is only one answer. If the security system on the premises wasn’t tampered with then the system would have to have been deactivated from the main office—right here. Now, can you tell me how and why that would have happened?”

  “I have no idea!” Booker protested, sweat starting to bead on his forehead. “I assure you, Detective Santera, we have never had anything like this happen, and I will find out how it could have occurred. But it will take me a little time. I will need to check our systems here and speak with my personnel. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow and maybe then I’ll have an answer for you.”

  Michael had no doubt that Booker was lying but he had no evidence to back up his theory. He stood and walked to the door. “I’ll stop by. Thanks for your time.”

  As soon as he got in his car, he called the station. “Captain Williams, please…Captain, Santera here. Listen, I need a favor. Can you authorize a phone tap for me?… Yeah, it’s a company—Island Security Agency… Well, I’d rather not go into detail right now but I can tell you that one of the places they service was broken into yesterday and the security system never registered it. It hadn’t been tampered with on the premises and I suspect it was deactivated from Island Security so the perps could get in… Sir?… Yes, sir. I will have the owner sign a statement, but I really need to move on this now… Yes, I understand. Thank you anyway, sir.”

  He hung up the phone and frowned.

  Inside the security office, Mr. Booker had already completed his call. He was still shaking like a leaf. Reporting that their men had been detected and that the police were aware of it was not something he wanted to do. Just like all the other members of the Outer Circle, he was afraid of the Seneschal.

  Booker had only spoken with their Master once and he had not had the courage to look him in the eye then. He knew what happened to people who failed in their service to the Dark Lord and had no desire to join their ranks. Now all he could do was wait to see who would come after him first, the police, or his own fellow members.

  Sea Island

  Lyra and Chelsey spent a long, boring day, watching old movies and wandering around the big house. Nick called several times to check on them and Michael called a couple of times. Lyra’s roommate from North Carolina called to say her stuff had been shipped and should get there the next day. Around six, the phone rang again. They both listened to the message and heard Nick’s voice. “Lyra? It’s me, Nick.”

  Lyra snatched up the phone. “Nick! Hi! Are you coming back soon?… Are you sure?… But you said we shouldn’t leave… Well, okay…yes, we’ll see you soon.”

  She hung up the phone and turned to Chelsey. “Nick wants us to meet him at the restaurant. He said we’d fine there since it’s a public place and he’ll be there to watch out for us. And he said it’d do us good to get out of the house. We’re supposed to meet him in forty-five minutes.”

  “I have to change!” Chelsey started up the stairs, excited at the opportunity to do anything but sit around.

  Lyra went up to her room and changed into a pair of white shorts and a pale blue tank top. She brushed out her hair and put on a little makeup then grabbed her sandals and took them downstairs. After a few minutes, Chelsey walked down the stairs. She was dressed to the nines, in a tight, aqua blue halter dress and high, spiked heels.

  They got in Chelsey’s car and drove to the restaurant. Lyra didn’t see Nick’s Jeep, but she figured he had just been held up at the studio so she and Chelsey went on in. They ordered drinks and sat
in the bar, enjoying just the simple pleasure of being out of the house for a little while.

  What they had no way of knowing was that about the same time they were pulling into the restaurant parking lot, Nick was parking his Jeep in the garage at Lucius’ house. When he got inside, he found Michael standing in the kitchen. Michael looked up and handed him a small sheet of paper. “I found this on the refrigerator.”

  Nick looked at the message. “Nick—we found something very important. Meet us at the old fort and we’ll show you. Hurry! Lyra.”

  “Is that her handwriting?” Michael asked.

  Nick shrugged. “I don’t know. Did you check the house?”

  “No sign of trouble. From the looks of things they just left.”

  “Then we better get to the fort and find out what’s going on.”

  They headed for the garage and jumped in Nick’s Jeep. Just as they were pulling down the driveway, the phone rang. At the restaurant, Lyra listened as she got a busy signal. She hung up and looked at Chelsey.

  “Maybe it’s Michael.” Chelsey said. “ive it a few minutes and try again. I don’t know about you but I’m starved. Let’s get a table and get something to eat.”

  Lyra followed Chelsey to the restaurant. They were seated and the waiter came over to take their order, and for the next few minutes Lyra forgot about calling again.

  Frederica National Monument

  Nick and Michael pulled up at the Ft. Frederica National Monument. There were only three other cars in the parking area. They didn’t see Chelsey’s red Mercedes and so they decided to sit in the Jeep and wait. Almost an hour passed and the other cars left and tourists had finished snapping their pictures. Nick got out and walked around what was left of the fort. After a few minutes, Michael followed him. They sat down on the edge of one of the crumbling foundations and looked around.