by Howe, A. E.
Josephine decided to take her own advice. I’ll lie down for just half an hour or so, she told herself, heading upstairs to her bedroom.
Chapter Twelve
Three hours later, she opened her eyes. She’d dressed and started back down the stairs when she heard someone at the front door. Squinting against the afternoon sun streaming through the front windows, Josephine answered the slow, steady knock that came from the other side of the oak door.
“Have boxes for Baron,” said a short, grey-haired man when she opened the door. He had a full beard and was grasping his cap to his chest with both hands. Josephine could see two wooden crates behind him. One was about three feet long and two feet high and just as wide, while the other was the size of a hatbox. Both looked overbuilt and had strong iron straps.
“Who are they from?” Josephine asked.
The man looked puzzled by the question. He spoke with a strong accent and Josephine suspected he had come with the boxes.
“I have boxes for Baron,” he said again, turning and pointing at them.
Josephine thought the man looked like a garden gnome with his beard and cap. “I understood the part about the boxes. Who are you?”
Apparently this was a question he understood because he smiled and said, “Anton Lacob.”
“Okay, bring in your boxes, Anton Lacob.”
It was late afternoon, so Blasko would be up in a couple of hours. The man had no trouble bringing the longer box into the house, but when he went to lift the other one, he bent at the knees and there was a lot of huffing and puffing as he struggled to raise it off the porch and carry it into the house.
Once the boxes were in the hallway, Josephine fetched a five-dollar bill and handed it to the man. He looked at it oddly.
“Thank you. I’ll see that the baron gets them,” she said, holding the door open.
The man suddenly seemed to understand what she was saying. He handed her back the five dollars and sat down on the larger box.
“No, no. Give them to the baron,” he said.
“No. I’ll give them to the baron,” Josephine told him in her most commanding voice.
But the man just shook his head slowly back and forth, defying her.
“What’s in the boxes?” Josephine decided to try a different tack.
“For the baron.”
“I know who they’re for. This is my house and I want to know what’s inside them.” Josephine had already figured out that they’d most likely been sent in response to Blasko’s telegram, but she was not going to have this man drag them in and then plunk himself down like it wasn’t her house he was squatting in.
“Baron.” The man was becoming more monosyllabic.
“I think you know English better than you’re letting on,” she said, staring at him with her hands on her hips. “You know that I could call the police and have you thrown out?”
“Baron.”
“You sure know how to get on my nerves.” She looked up at the grandfather clock. “You’ve got a couple of hours to wait for the baron.” He just stared straight ahead as though he hadn’t heard her. “Fine, you stupid oaf, have it your way,” she told him and stomped off to the kitchen.
“We have a… I wouldn’t call him a guest since I just tried to kick him out. Let’s call him a squatter, sitting in the front hall on some boxes that he’s delivering to the baron. Take him a sandwich and a glass of milk,” Josephine told Anna. “And tell him I hope he chokes on it.”
She need to make a phone call, but the phone was in the hallway and she wasn’t sure if she wanted make the call if there was going to be a life-size garden gnome listening in. Finally, she decided she’d have to ignore him. Blasko would be up once the sun went down, then he could take possession of his boxes and get rid of the rude deliveryman. She walked back into the hall where the man was calmly eating his sandwich and taking gulps of milk.
“Hope you’re comfortable,” she mumbled, picking up the phone and turning the crank. In a few minutes, Dolly the operator had connected her with Dr. McGuire. She told him about their visit to the Chester farm and Molly’s condition.
“They should have called me in sooner,” he grumbled. “I’ll go out there this evening.”
“Have you heard anything more about Sheriff Logan?”
“He’s had a very severe stroke. It’s going to take a long time to recover. If he recovers,” the doctor said with the grim but matter-of-fact way of a person used to delivering bad news.
Josephine hung up the phone and looked at her unwanted houseguest. He’d finished his snack and appeared to be taking a nap with his chin resting on his chest. She shook her head and went to find Grace, who didn’t deal well with surprises. Finding a strange old man sitting on boxes in the hallway would certainly qualify as a surprise.
Josephine was waiting at the baron’s door when he came out shortly after sunset.
“You have a visitor,” she said in a tone designed to let him know she wasn’t happy about it.
“I see,” Blasko said. “And they are?”
“A gnome named Anton Lacob,” she told him with a narrow-eyed stare.
“Excellent!” he said, edging past her and taking the steps two at a time. “I hope he has brought the things I asked for.”
“He’s got some suspicious-looking boxes with him,” she shouted at Blasko’s back.
“Anton, I am pleased to see you,” Blasko said when he reached the entry hall. He stopped in front of the man, who bowed his head.
“It is good to see you too, Baron,” Anton said in Rusyn, the language of the Carpathian villages.
“Have you brought me what I asked for?” the baron responded in the same language.
“Yes, Baron.” The man stepped back, indicating the boxes. “As you ordered.”
“English, please,” Josephine said as she walked up to them.
“Anton’s English is not very good.”
“You can speak Romanian or whatever you like in private. But when you’re in other’s company, I’d prefer that you speak English.”
“Of course.” In Rusyn, he said to Anton, “Bah! She insists that we stumble along in English.”
“I saw you roll your eyes,” Josephine said, understanding his tone if not the words.
Blasko bowed slightly toward her. He wanted to avoid an argument so he could get the boxes into his apartment and open them up.
He reached down and picked up the smaller box. “I’ll come back and help you with the other one.”
“No. I bring,” Anton said and hefted the box up on his back.
Josephine scowled at the two of them as they made their way down to the basement. She would’ve liked to know what was in the boxes, yet even she had to admit she didn’t have the right to demand that packages coming for Blasko had to be opened in her presence. Even those delivered by strange little foreign men, she thought.
Back in his apartment, Blasko looked at the two boxes while Anton stood back with his eyes cast down at the floor.
“It must have been a long journey for you,” Blasko said, kneeling down next to the smaller box, which he assumed held the gold he’d requested.
“The world is much bigger than I ever imagined,” Anton said. “And so strange.”
“You didn’t go to the Great War?”
“No. I was already too old and someone other than the women needed to stay home and tend the fields.”
“How did you come to be the courier for my boxes?” Blasko asked as he pried the lid off of the box of gold. The coins, ranging across hundreds of years and many countries, had been covered in wax to keep them from rattling and shifting while they were being transported. From the weight, Blasko was sure they had sent the full amount he’d asked for.
“The bandit leader came to me. He said he didn’t have a single man he could spare or that he trusted for such a responsibility. I have no family left, but I am not too old and still quite strong from working the fields.” The man shrugged.
�
��He chose wisely.” Blasko set the box of gold to the side. He’d have to melt the wax off, but that could wait. He turned his attention to the larger box.
“I thought I wanted to see the world. Now… I’m not so sure. So much to take in.” Anton shook his head.
“New experiences are what life is about,” Blasko advised him as he began to pull the lid off the box. The nails screeched as they came free of the wood. Inside, wrapped in red velvet, was his sword. He’d had it made over four hundred years earlier by a man reputed to have been the best sword-maker in Europe. The broadsword was a fair testament to his skill. Blasko had never found another blade that was as well balanced or held a better edge. He’d sliced through lesser swords as though they were made of wood.
He lifted it out of the box, wondering how he could have left his fortress in the Carpathians without it. Pulling it out of the tooled leather sheath, he held it fondly in his hands. The room was not wide enough for him to swing it, but the heft alone was enough to convey a renewed sense of strength.
Beneath the sword were three leather-bound books. He lifted the one he’d been most anxious to get his hands on and gently thumbed through the pages. It was Captain Jean Baptiste Duhamel’s privately published book on his campaign against the Beast of Gévaudan. Blasko set the book on the end table between two wingback chairs. He’d start studying it tonight. The other two were more common books on werewolves, one written by a German and the other by an Englishman.
Finished unpacking, he turned to Anton. “Sit.” He pointed to one of the chairs.
The old man looked uncomfortable perched on the edge of the chair. “Relax,” Blasko told him, taking the chair across from him. “Most of the villagers fear me. Why not you?”
“Many blamed you for the attacks on the village that occurred when I was just a baby. But not my family. My cousin saw the beast when he attacked the third girl. When he told my grandfather, he defended you. You see, his father, Stefan Lacob, was captain of your guard back when the little Frenchman was marching across Europe.”
“Stefan Lacob. I remember him. A small man who combined strength with speed. One of the best swordsmen I ever met. He was wounded during an attack on the castle,” Blasko mused. So many memories. They were organized more by how vivid they were than by their chronology. Memories of battles always seemed the most intense and therefore the most lasting.
“After that, you granted my family our land. Why would we turn on you, my lord?”
“We are in America now. You don’t need to call me lord. Baron will do,” Blasko said with what he assumed was grace, but the uncharitable would have labeled as bombast.
“Yes, Baron.”
“I assume you don’t have a place to stay.”
“No, Baron. But it is no matter. The weather is mild. I can find a place to rest. I left my luggage at the depot.”
“We will go get it,” Blasko told him. What he really wanted was to begin reading through Duhamel’s book, but the old man had traveled thousands of miles. The least Blasko could do was to see that he was comfortable for the night. “There is a small storage area down here. You may fix it up for your use while you’re here.”
Blasko showed him the spot next to the door that led from the basement directly outside, then they headed for the depot. As they walked, he pointed out a few highlights of the town and explained some of the more peculiar American customs to Anton.
“As in our land, these are a proud people. I’ve been impressed with their resolve,” Blasko told him. “And like our people, most are farmers. Even though their people have only been here a few generations, they have a strong affinity for the land.”
“If it is not too impertinent to ask, Baron, why did you call for your sword?”
“The beast that once besieged our village, or something very similar, has staked out this county as its hunting ground,” Blasko told him and Anton crossed himself.
After retrieving his satchel from the depot, Blasko took Anton to meet Matthew, who was relaxing on the porch of the boarding house, glad to be relieved of his spiritualist stalker duty at least for a while.
“You all may work together,” Blasko told them. Neither of the men looked comfortable with the concept. After the introductions, Matthew pulled Blasko aside.
“I’m not really looking for a partner. I don’t even really like working with you,” he said with a grunt.
“With the work ahead, you may be glad of two extra hands,” Blasko told him.
“How old is that guy?”
“Don’t underestimate a mountain peasant. He had no trouble getting here with the items I sent for.” Blasko took a gold coin out of his pocket. He would have to clean and sort the coins at home, but with the addition to his account, he didn’t mind paying Matthew some back wages. “For your trouble,” he said, pressing the coin into Matthew’s hand.
Matthew looked at it, nodded and placed it carefully in his coat pocket. “I’ve found a few people who claim to have heard the creature last night, before and after the attack. Some of them are the usual suspects. Blowhards and the look-at-me crowd. But there were a couple in the mix I’d call reliable.”
“Did anyone see anything?”
“One guy said he saw an enormous dog. Not sure if he’s credible. Wears glasses and has a tendency to tell tall tales. On the other hand, he looked… I’d call it cowed.”
“Where was this?”
“About a block from the Handlin house. The guy went out to the alley to put some garbage in his burn can. Saw this thing coming down the alley. Maybe half an hour before the murder. Said it would go from standing upright to walking on all fours. He thought it looked… confused. What I find confusing is that the guy saw this monster and then just turned and went back in his house.”
“What was his explanation for his actions?”
“Lack of action, you mean. He said he didn’t really believe he saw it. He claims he’s never had a hallucination in his life, but he figured that’s what it must have been, so he ignored it and went back inside to listen to the Grand Ole Opry on the radio.”
“Which way was it traveling?”
“Toward the Handlins’ house. At least in that general direction. It would’ve had to turn at the end of the alley and go two blocks north before turning back east. It’s also in line with the garage where you said the monster cleaned up.”
Blasko thanked him. When he turned to look for Anton, he saw him sitting on a bench, slightly slouched with his head down and snoring. The man did have a long day, Blasko told himself before going over and nudging him. Matthew watched with a frown, shaking his head.
Back at the house, Blasko saw that Anton got settled, then pointed at the ceiling. “Breakfast will be served upstairs.”
Blasko went searching for Josephine, but didn’t find her in the parlor, library or kitchen. He wanted to talk to her about the sheriff and what had transpired during the day, so he went up to her bedroom to see if she’d retired already, though it was still hours before her usual bedtime.
For some reason, he found himself walking more softly than usual up the stairs. At her door he hesitated, listening. With his enhanced senses, he could hear as she turned the pages of a book. She also had a habit of occasionally mumbling words aloud as she read, and she was doing it now. He felt ashamed for eavesdropping on her and stepped forward to knock on the door.
“Are you alone or is your gnome with you?” she called through the door.
“Quite alone,” he answered and opened the door without waiting for a reply.
She was sitting on her chaise lounge by the window with a gothic novel in her hands. She closed the book, and her fingers slipping over the pages made a distinct sound that was quite different from the one he’d heard through the door. The book she was holding was not the one she’d been reading before he knocked.
“Did you get everything you requested?” she asked.
“I did, actually,” he said, moving over to where she was sitting. “Did you m
eet with the Taylor boy’s girlfriend?”
She proceeded to tell him about the visit to the Chester farm.
“When the beast was stalking my village, there were several people who witnessed attacks. I don’t believe that any of them were ever completely whole again,” Blasko said, edging closer to the chaise lounge. It was near the wall and Blasko could just make out the edge of a leather-bound book stuck between it and the wall.
“I should probably get ready for bed,” Josephine said, standing up. When she did, he swept in and pulled out the book. After one look at the cover, he dropped it like it was on fire.
“That book! Where did you get that thing?” he said in disgust. “Don’t tell me. Franklin Carter sent you this abomination.”
Josephine stood her ground. “And what if he did?” Josephine and Blasko didn’t see eye to eye on her cousin, though she had to admit the baron had good reason since Carter had attempted to kill him during his last visit.
“The Reverend Thaddeus Moriah was an evil man who relished torture. What could you hope to learn from him?”
“Maybe a way to break this… bond that ties us together, but that also… keeps us apart.” She was angry that he would question her, angry that he’d found the book and angry that it hadn’t held any simple answers.
Ever since she’d bitten him in self-defense when Blasko had attacked her during their first meeting, they had shared a blood bond. It made it impossible for them to be separated for long distances and, according to Blasko, also impossible for them to pursue a more intimate relationship. Josephine found the situation both frustrating and confusing.
“Did you read the chapter where he explained how to break the bond? It’s so simple.” Blasko’s voice was furious and his accent became stronger as he spoke. “All you need to do is strap me down where the sunlight can burn my body and soul into ashes. He goes on to explain that you will feel great pain, but as the vampire is… Let me get this correct… ‘Rendered unto ash with soul scorched and sent to the hinterlands to burn amongst the damned until the trumpets of Gabriel sound from the heavens.’ At that point the victim—that would be you—will be free, your soul unchained from the vermin of the night. Vermin—that would be me.”