by Howe, A. E.
Josephine could tell that Alice wanted to ask him to continue, but the sound of Mrs. MacDonnell’s sobbing kept her enthusiasm in check.
“I’ll get everyone another drink,” Alice said, getting up from the table.
“I’ll help,” Eileen said and followed her. Eva looked at the MacDonnells with eyes that reflected their sadness. She reached out and patted Mr. MacDonnell’s arm.
François had walked over to the window and was looking out into the dark. Josephine joined him.
“Your… gift holds great power. It must be a burden on your shoulders,” she said.
“Years ago I found it more difficult. Now I forget that others who join me around the table are novices. To them, all of these experiences are new and difficult to understand.” There was an edge to his voice that Josephine couldn’t quite interpret.
“I don’t know how I feel about the voice that spoke to me.”
François turned and looked at her. “You are different. Your soul is open to new experiences, which means your potential for growth is almost unlimited. You have been incubating in this small town.”
“I don’t know about ‘incubating,’” she said with a smile. “I like it here.”
An odd look passed over his eyes. “This place may be in the middle of the pine woods, but I think there is something special here.”
His words seemed to echo a discussion she’d had with Blasko after they’d confronted that strange cult at Mrs. Rosehill’s. The baron thought there might be a force drawing odd occurrences to Semmes County.
“What brought you here?” Josephine asked. Behind them, Mrs. MacDonnell’s sobs had turned to soft whimpers.
François smiled. For a moment, Josephine didn’t think he was going to answer. Finally, he said, “I have an old friend in town.”
He turned around and went to the MacDonnells, kneeling down beside them and putting his hand on top of theirs. “The Great War and the flu that followed left the dead stacked high in the churchyards. Far too many died without being with their loved ones as they crossed over, and their families were left without knowing what their last moments were like. You’ve been allowed contact with your lost son and have given him peace by listening to him one last time. He longed to reach out to you again as he did when he was a child. Accept this small token for what it is and don’t disparage it for what it cannot be.”
The MacDonnells looked at him and Josephine saw them both relax. François stood up and turned to the rest of the group. “I’m sorry we had to cut the night short. I’d be happy to meet with you all again anytime.”
Alice and Eva joined him at the front door, thanking him effusively. “Can I drive you back to the hotel?” Alice asked.
“No, I think a walk in the night air will do me good.” He shrugged into a coat that seemed to envelop him, then disappeared into the night.
Someone turned on the electric lights and the strange mood that had settled upon the house was lifted in an instant. Was it the light or did the mood come and go with François? Josephine wondered.
Chapter Three
Blasko and Bobby drove out to the Murphy farm in the deputy’s patrol car. During the first part of the drive, neither man spoke. Despite everything they had been through together, the two men still weren’t completely comfortable in each other’s presence. Bobby didn’t know Blasko’s past or his true nature and Josephine, who had been courted by Bobby for years until she had finally broken it off, had insisted that telling him would be a bad idea. It hadn’t been a hard argument for her to win. Blasko had never found that divulging his origins was a good idea.
Bobby eventually broke the ice. “Mrs. Rosehill’s is open for business again.”
“With the end of Prohibition, won’t her business suffer?” Blasko didn’t fully understand the vagaries of the American political system.
“Only the federal law changed. It’s going to be a while before Alabama gives up being dry.”
“And I’m sure the salacious story of the deaths at her house won’t stop people from taking advantage of her hospitality,” Blasko said. Human nature was human nature. Even in his superstitious homeland nestled in the Carpathian Mountains, people found death and scandal more attracting than repelling.
Bobby slowed the car as they approached the farmhouse. “We better tell Ol’ Man Murphy that we’re going onto his property. I imagine he’s pretty trigger-happy with whatever-the-hell-it-is on the prowl.”
Blasko got out of the car and watched as Bobby approached the front porch. He didn’t get far before Murphy stepped outside with a double-barrel shotgun cradled in his arms.
“That you, Bobby?” Murphy asked, looking around as though he expected to be jumped at any moment.
“Yes, and I brought another fellow with me. We’re just going down to look at the spot where it happened.”
“I don’t care what the sheriff says, that weren’t no bear or wolf,” Murphy said defiantly.
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Bobby told him. “That’s why I wanted a second opinion.”
“What is he, some kind of animal expert? Someone from the government?” Murphy asked, squinting in Blasko’s direction.
“He’s seen a few murders. I expect we’ll be done within the hour.”
“You stop by here and let me know when you leave, ’cause I ain’t takin’ no prisoners tonight,” Murphy said, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
“Don’t blame you. If we aren’t back in two hours, send for the cavalry,” Bobby said, trying to make it sound like a joke. He waved to the old man and went to the trunk of his patrol car.
“I’m not arguing with a good idea,” he said, pulling his Winchester ’97 shotgun from the trunk. He turned it on its side and ejected the shells that were in the gun before reaching for a box of ammo and pulling out seven new shells. “I think I’d rather have slugs than buckshot,” Bobby said, grabbing a flashlight for himself and handing a lantern to Blasko.
The baron didn’t bother to tell him that he didn’t really need the light. A full moon was rising and, to his eyes, the landscape was as clear as a summer’s day.
As they walked through a fallow field toward the creek, Blasko discreetly sniffed the air and detected a peculiar odor, something wild. It was a smell that was familiar to him.
“You say there aren’t any wolves around here?” Blasko asked, his eyes on the far tree line where the creek ran.
“Hasn’t been a wolf in southern Alabama in decades. There might still be some up in the hills in the northeast part of the state, but not down here. ’Sides, red wolves don’t get much bigger than a dog. There’d have to be a pack of them to do the damage I saw. And this didn’t look like the work of a pack. If it had been a bunch of critters, they would have dragged the parts all over and fought for them. But there was none of that. Seth was just ripped apart and left there.”
Bobby slowed as they neared the area where the body had been found. “We’re getting close now. That’s one of my markers.” He shined his light on a stick with a piece of cloth tied to the top.
Blasko quickly picked out three other sticks marking off an area about fifteen feet square. The creek was only about thirty feet from the closest marker. Blasko could still smell the blood and offal. The sheriff, Bobby and men from Connelly’s Funeral Home had tried to find all of the body, but there were too many small pieces. The birds had picked at the remains during the day and the worms had worked diligently to clean up the ground, but even these industrious efforts had failed to erase all traces of gore.
“We scoured this area looking for tracks. The ground is just too dry,” Bobby said, moving his light back and forth around the area.
“This way,” Blasko said and moved off toward the creek. He could smell the trail of blood left by the killer. “The creature moved parallel to the creek.”
“How the hell do you know that?” Bobby asked, but still fell into step behind him.
Blasko moved with the assurance born from centuries
of hunting prey. Even before he had become a creature of the night, he had been trained by his father’s men and had gone on dozens of hunts.
They walked for a few hundred yards along the edge of the trees that bordered the creek before Blasko veered into them.
“The beast went down there,” he said, putting his hand out to stop Bobby from going down the slope toward the water. “You wanted a print. If it left one, it would be in the mud at the edge of the creek.”
“Good thinking,” Bobby said. He used his light to search the bank as he carefully walked a path a yard away from the damp ground. “There!” The light illuminated a dark spot only a couple of inches from the slow-moving water. “Damn it. I should have brought some plaster,” he grumbled as he carefully stepped down closer to the print.
Blasko followed him. When he saw the elongated print with deep claw marks at the end of each digit, he immediately recognized it. Not the individual, but the species.
“That print looks like a cross between a bear and a wolf. Damnedest track I’ve ever seen. Could be a deformed or crippled animal… You have any ideas?” Bobby asked.
“Perhaps. But I believe I’ll keep my opinions to myself for the moment.”
“Come on, now. If we’ve got some killer animal roaming around here, I need to know what it is,” Bobby said, shining his light on Blasko.
“I’m not sure what it is. I just have a theory. As soon as I know for sure that I’m on the right path, I’ll tell you.” Of course he was lying. Blasko already knew what the creature was, but he also knew that even Bobby wouldn’t believe him. Plus, Bobby would want to know how he knew, and that wasn’t a conversation Blasko was ready to have.
“I hope no one else gets hurt while you’re making up your mind,” Bobby said. He took out his handkerchief and tied it to a tree branch so he could easily find the spot in the morning. “I’ll get some plaster and make a cast of it first thing tomorrow. You got any more ideas where this animal went? You tracked it this far.”
“I assume it went into the water to clean itself,” Blasko said. His nose told him that the blood trail ended here.
“I’ve never heard tell of any animal that cleans itself off after a kill. Most creatures love the smell of blood and meat,” Bobby said suspiciously.
“I agree,” Blasko said.
“What are you saying?” Bobby was beginning to have a suspicion. One he didn’t like.
“I’m not saying anything more. Except that, if I’m right, everyone needs to stay in at night. Or at the very least, go out in pairs and be well armed.”
“Now you listen here. You can’t give a warning like that and not tell me what you think this thing is,” Bobby said, moving closer to Blasko. He was taller and, now that he’d stepped up from the creek bed, he was looking down at the baron.
Blasko straightened his back and met his gaze. “When I’m ready. Or I should say, when you are ready.”
“What does that mean?” Bobby asked, his voice louder than before.
Blasko sighed. “It means that I don’t think you would believe me if I told you my suspicions.”
“Try me,” Bobby shot back.
“Bah! This is getting us nowhere. I’ve already told you my decision.” With that, Blasko wheeled around and strode off back toward the scene of the attack.
“You’re worse than arguing with a woman,” Bobby said to his back.
“You should thank me for finding the track for you,” Blasko responded without turning around.
“I guess you got me there.” Bobby looked at the sky. The wind was picking up and clouds drifted across the moon. “Front’s moving in.”
Before the words were out of his mouth, they heard an eerie howl in the distance.
“What the hell was that?” Bobby asked, startled.
“Exactly,” Blasko said. “It’s too far away for us to go after it.”
“You mean that’s what did this?” Bobby waved his arm at the area marked off by his stakes, his voice an octave higher.
“That is my theory.”
“When you said that it washed off the blood, you made it sound like it might be human.”
“I’ve told you all that I’m going to tell you,” Blasko said and turned back toward the farmhouse.
“I drove you out here. The least you can do is answer my questions,” Bobby muttered as he followed the baron.
When they got back to the house, all of the lights were on. Murphy came out from the barn, holding a lantern high in one hand and his shotgun in the other.
“Y’all hear that?” The old man’s voice held a slight tremor.
“You need to stay inside tonight,” Blasko told the man.
“Who in damnation are you?” Murphy asked, holding the lantern up to get a better look at Blasko.
“He’s Josephine Nicolson’s cousin from Europe,” Bobby said.
“Whatever that was has my animals spooked,” Murphy said, deciding to ignore Blasko.
“You best look after yourself and your family,” Blasko warned him again.
“Now see here. I don’t care whose cousin you are. Looking after my animals is part of looking after my family,” Murphy said defiantly.
Blasko stepped toward the man. “I understand you found the boy’s body.”
“Yep, that’s right.”
“Do you remember what you saw?”
“How… How… could I forget that? He was all tore up,” Murphy said softly.
“Stay inside with your family,” Blasko repeated.
Murphy shifted nervously, but didn’t answer.
“You got plenty of ammo for that shotgun?” Bobby asked.
“Buckshot,” the old man said.
“I got some slugs in the trunk of my car.” Bobby gave the man half a box of ammo and Murphy just stared at him in the lamplight, dumbfounded.
They drove back to Josephine’s house in silence. When Blasko got out of the car, he turned back to Bobby. “I’d tell you anything I thought might save lives.” He started to walk away, but stopped. “There is one thing you can do. Check if there are any strangers in town.”
“Now you sound like Sheriff Logan,” Bobby said under his breath.
Chapter Four
As Blasko walked up the driveway toward his basement entrance, he noticed Josephine’s car parked in front of the garage. Looking up, he saw that a light was still on in her bedroom window. He changed direction and headed for the door into the main house.
He assumed she’d be in her room, but as he came in through the kitchen and entered the dining room, he heard a noise from the other side of the house. He could see light coming from the library.
“I didn’t think you would be up,” he said, watching her from the doorway.
Josephine jumped at the sound of his voice. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to let your feet drop a little heavier when you walk,” she said, trying to cover her embarrassment at being caught unaware.
“Walking softly has served me well over the centuries,” Blasko said with a slight smile. He turned his head to read the title of the book she was holding and, perhaps, half hiding. “Poe. I approve. But his stories might make it a little harder to sleep.”
“Since meeting you, his stories don’t scare me,” she parried.
“Did you just get back from your ladies’ night out?” he asked. “Can I fix you a drink?”
“I’ve had enough to drink tonight.” She paused. “Or maybe I haven’t had enough. The man conducting the séance was rather unusual.”
“I told you, séances are nonsense.” Blasko waved his hand dismissively.
“I would have agreed. I would have…”
Blasko was ready to launch into a discourse on the foolishness of trying to summon the dead when he noticed her pensive attitude. “This… event affected you,” he said, moving closer to her.
Josephine held up the book and let it fall open to the start of “The Purloined Letter” where someone had placed a handwritten note.
�
��My Uncle Petey had a strange sense of humor,” she said.
“What does your uncle and this letter have to do with the séance?” Blasko asked with genuine interest.
Josephine described the evening’s events. As she spoke, she couldn’t help but notice Blasko’s expression become more distracted.
“Mediums. Bah, they are only charlatans. Don’t think any more about it. Let me tell you where I’ve been.” With that, he went on to explain his journey out to the scene of Seth Taylor’s murder.
“An animal killed him?” Josephine asked.
“Not a natural animal. I’ve seen something similar.” He started to pace back and forth and Josephine could see his green eyes take on a strange red glow. She had seldom seen him this angry since the night they’d met, when her trip to spread her grandfather’s ashes had ended with an unexpected detour to Blasko’s mountain fortress.
“Sit down,” he told her brusquely.
“I’m fine standing.” Josephine wasn’t about to let him order her about.
Blasko took a deep breath. When he had more control over his emotions, he tried again. “Please, have a seat. I have some information that might be of interest to you.”
Josephine detected a hint of sarcasm in his tone, but decided to go along anyway. Once she was seated, Blasko pulled a chair up close to hers.
“You have accused me of killing the peasants in your grandfather’s village. My village, if we’re being fair. It was on land that I controlled, and my family before me.”
“You’re picking at a scab,” Josephine said, feeling the blood rise in her cheeks.
“Hah! You want me to be the villain in your story, but I was not the killer. An animal was stalking the village. I tried to hunt it down. It was my duty to protect those people. My honor was at stake. I spent months trying to catch the creature. One time I was sure that I had mortally wounded the monster, but when it fell into the river, swollen by the spring rains, I never found the body.”
“But the killings stopped.”
“They stopped in the village. I found out later that they started up again a few months later, about two hundred miles away from where the wounded monster went into the river.”