Chelsea nodded, sweating. She closed her mouth, and quickly watched her world change for the worse.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE UNINVITED
Back at the cabin now, a week after the boy Lucas Pratt’s slaughter, and the child Ryan’s rescue from sacrifice; more than six years since they’d killed Nikolai, and Svetlana had joined the Brotherhood; the nine of them sat in silence. Dusk had arrived a moment ago, most of them only just woken, waiting for full dark to hunt. Svetlana was not one of them, so she had been up since noon, had even gone to town for a bit- something that angered the others (and also made them a bit envious, though they would never say).
“When do we try the ritual again?” Svetlana asked.
“The next full moon; the last full moon of summer. If we fail again, we may have to wait another year before attempting it again,” Kristoff said.
The thing she did not want to say, the thing that made her uncomfortable was “the sacrifice.” That it had to be a newborn. She was evil and had killed with the vampires, but adults, always adults, with all their neuroses and disgusting character traits and flaws. But a baby, a newborn, was the most innocent of innocents. It was no wonder that they let her hold the baby, and protect it before the sacrifice. She was the only human among them, and the only one the boy would recognize as one of its own.
When the vampires held it, it squirmed and cried. If they knew Svetlana’s true feelings they would never let her hold it at all. Perhaps it had been some unconscious maternal instinct, but she had wanted to run with it then. But she knew she wouldn’t have gotten far. With all her powers, they were eight, and she was only one. As fate, or whatever it had been was, the baby was saved, but what other family would be killed, what other baby stolen to fulfill their mad quest for power? They somehow believed that this “ultimate sacrifice” would secure them the power they craved- mastery of the black arts, untold riches, and who knew what else? They were insane, and she had come along for the ride with them. Svetlana wondered what that made her.
“So the child you found, you found him in Jeremiah’s Woods?” Blake said.
“Ryan,” Mary nodded, “His aunt called him Ryan.”
“The aunt has him now?” Blake asked.
“Yes.”
“Were you followed?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure!” Mary said.
“All right, there are still two issues. They can track him by scent, but they would have to be within range. The other issue is if they knew the parent’s full names, they could track him back to the aunt.”
“What are you saying?” Julia questioned, “That they want the baby back? Why not just get another one, if it’s a baby they want?” She seemed disturbed by the implications.
“These aren’t ordinary vampires, are they?” Pete supposed.
“No,” Blake said, “These vampires are a splinter group; a sect that believes in power- black magic, witchcraft. They perform bizarre sacrifices and pagan rituals; blood rites to satiate the Great One.”
“And by Great One I’m guessing you don’t mean God?” Pete said.
“No, they worship Satan. This misguided group
calls itself The Black Hand- The Brotherhood of the Black Hand, to be more precise- although they’re really nothing more than a cult. The only difference is they have real power already. They’re vampires. Whether or not they have any powers beyond that I have yet to see.”
“Were they always here?” Carl wondered.
“No,” Blake said, “From what I can tell they came to Mercy Falls roughly five years ago. Possibly from other parts of Massachusetts. They have Russian lineage, so I would guess some were not even born stateside. There’s a long history of Russian gypsies and ties to witchcraft. You can add vampirism to that list.”
“Great, we don’t have enough dealing with vampires, now we’re dealing with witches too?” Carl exclaimed.
“Allegedly. Vampires, werewolves, poltergeists, witches... There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
“Wait! Hold the phone!” Julia said, “Are you saying we’ve got all these creatures living here?! For real?”
“Not at all. As far as I know we’re not a werewolf haven. This cult, The Black Hand, was attracted here for the high vampire population. And technically poltergeists aren’t living, although neither are zombies, and some vampires.”
“Zombies are real too?” Pete thumped his head, and then said, “Ow,” as he struck it with his still injured hand.
“I believe so,” Blake said, “Though it has nothing to do with nuclear fallout. I haven’t heard of any reports here in the states, but it happens with more frequency in countries where they practice voodoo. There have been cases of shamans actually bringing the dead back to life, or some semblance of life.”
“I’m so glad I sat down,” Mary said.
“But we’re getting off topic here,” Blake said. “Our
main concern is the child, Ryan. We don’t know for certain
that they’ll go after him again. As Julia suggested, they may simply go for another child to complete whatever mad ritual it is. But if I know vampires, they don’t forget easily, and they don’t like being slighted. They would go after the child and kill it outright, forgetting the sacrifice, out of spite!”
Mary gasped. She knew this to be true, but it was awful to hear, in reference to the baby she had come to care so much about.
“These are hateful, vengeful creatures,” Blake continued, “with no love in their hearts. The only bonds they feel are to each other, and only because they share the mutual thrill for the kill. Even sex, when they engage in it, is animalistic, only there to curb their most base desires. Now that I come to think of it, the Black Hand is more in line with the thinking of The Others. They relish more in chaos, than control or domination. I believe they were aligned in the attack at the Mayor’s town hall.”
“Sounds plausible,” Pete agreed.
“There were reports of some of them looking human, wearing some sort of pentagrams,” Julia offered, “Before they quashed everything and silenced the reports. They started calling it mass hysteria, some sort of shared hallucinations.”
“Yes,” Blake said, “What the town fails to acknowledge will be Mercy Falls demise.”
“Cheerful aren’t we?” Julia grinned.
“Quite,” Blake said dryly.
“So what do we do?” Mary said.
“You have the aunt’s address?” Blake asked.
“No. But I have her number. She said I could come over and visit when I wanted.”
“Excellent,” Blake said. “Call her tomorrow, find out her address. We’ll do a stake out. Visit a few times, Mary, and gain her confidence.”
She agreed, but shook her head. “This somehow
feels wrong, like I’m lying to her.”
“You’re not,” Blake countered, “She doesn’t know what’s out there. We’re protecting her, and the baby.”
“Okay,” Pete said, “we don’t want anything happening to the baby. We’ve been protecting this town for some time now.”
“It’s the right thing to do,” Carl said. The group nodded.
Blake seemed satisfied. “All right. I’ll stop by tomorrow morning. Make the call, and we’ll make plans from there.”
He knew they could attack at any time, perhaps even tonight. He was betting against it. They would probably bide their time until the news died down and the family felt safe again. Blake had done research into the Hunter family. Donald and Annabelle Hunter, the couple who were killed, were survived not only by Clara Lynd (Annabelle’s sister), but by Annabelle and Donald’s grandparents, with whom they would share custody of the child. Aunt Clara was going to be the main provider, as she lived alone, was close in age to her deceased sister, and had the means to support and care for baby Ryan, more so than either set of grandparents. Blake
didn’t believe the grandparents were in any immediate danger, but he wasn’t ruling anything out.
“Do you have any weapons?” Blake asked.
“Oh yes,” Pete said.
“Good. We’ll need all of them.”
Mary came to visit Ryan three times. Blake and her teammates staked the outside of the place the first day, to see where there were any potential entrances; then stood watch outside in their vehicles just after nightfall, weapons piled on the carpets below the backseats.
After about a week in which nothing happened and two more visits to Aunt Clara’s by Mary, they were almost convinced nothing would happen. And then it did. And it wasn’t on a day that Mary was visiting, but was on the stakeout with them.
Clara Lynd had just got done changing the baby’s diaper. “Oooh,” she said, holding the tips of the dirty diapers with two fingers, and her nose with two from her other hand, as she walked it over to the trash. “You have smelly poopies.”
This seemed to delight the baby, who hadn’t quite mastered giggling, but was very good at the subtle smile and jubilant coo.
Outside the group watched as nine strangers approached the Lynd household on foot from a block away.
“Guys,” Pete whispered loudly, “Something’s up!” He was in his car with Mary and Carl. Julia sat in the driver’s seat of her car with Blake in the passenger seat.
“Blake!” Julia said.
He nodded. “I see it. Let’s move!”
They got their weapons out of the backseat. There were more in the trunks of both cars, if needed. They stood, and then crouched down behind the vehicles, watching through the passenger windows from the outside to across the street. The strangers were dressed in long coats and boots. The man at the head of the posse walked up to the door of the house in question, the others staying just behind him, and knocked.
“Don’t invite him in, don’t invite him in,” Carl was whispering.
“Shhh,” Pete said. If they couldn’t smell them from here, the vampires might still be able to hear them.
Clara answered the door, not really expecting
anyone, but never having acquired the habit of asking who it was before she opened it. This was, after all, a safe neighborhood that she lived in.
The man at the door was slightly odd looking in his hat and trench coat. He had a foreign appearance. There wasn’t anything particularly threatening about him, and she was more concerned with the large group of people behind him. Even Jehovah’s witnesses didn’t come in packs like these, and normally not at this hour.
“Hello?” Clara said, “Can I help you sir?”
“I’m so sorry,” the man said, in a thick Russian accent, “Our van, uh, broke down about a block from here. I was wondering if we could use your phone.”
Clara looked him up and down. The man smiled nervously, his eyes pleading. She would realize too late, that these were not the eyes of a victim, but of a predator.
“Of course,” she said, “Come on in.”
“And my friends? May they come in as well?”
She looked doubtfully at them. “I don’t know. Perhaps just the young fellow and that girl there. They can come in. If the rest of your friends can wait outside.”
“Very well,” Kristoff said. “Thank you. Teresa, Stefan, come in!” he called to them. They crossed the threshold.
“They’re going in!” Blake said. “Go, go!!”
They circled around the cars. The vampires waiting outside turned. Inside Kristoff heard the ruckus and grabbed Clara by the throat.
“Where is the child?!” he demanded.
Her eyes opened wide as she realized why they were really here.
“I- don’t - know-what - you’re- talking- about,” she stammered through her constricted throat.
“Liar!” He threw her across the room. She stumbled over the coffee table, landing on the rug in front of the sofa. “I’ll sniff the beast out and find it myself!”
“No!” she screamed, “Don’t hurt him!”
Outside, Blake moved in, holding a revolver in each hand, the others following closely behind him. He knew the primary goal was not to fight and kill them. He had to get through them, save the child. He fired both guns, loaded with paralyzing silver rounds. Two vampires fell. Pete fired a crossbow, hitting another vamp, though not fatally. Carl had a spear, and lanced one of them through the neck. Julia had a harpoon gun with a silver tipped end on the spear, and fired it at the last vamp, spearing him through the torso. With the rope end she yanked and swung the vampire from side to side, knocking over those still standing and stumbling about with their wounds, toppling them over like bowling pins. The element of surprise firmly in their favor, the five of them plowed through the incapacitated bodies, and through the open doorway.
The vampire Teresa was closest to the door. Blake blasted her in the face with both guns, reducing it to mush, knocking her aside. Ammo depleted, he holstered both weapons, and retrieved his stake. The others circled around him and spread out.
“Where’s the baby?!” Blake shouted.
“Mary?” Aunt Clara said, looking up at her from where she was on the floor. “What are you doing here?”
“No time!” Mary shouted back. “Next room!” she answered Blake.
There was another vampire in their path. Carl, who had long ago become a great runner (only now he was running to something, rather than away from something), got around him. So did Mary.
Pete wasn’t so lucky. He was broadsided with the back of Stefan’s fist and forearm. Blake came in low, bringing his stake arm up, slamming the wooden shaft into the vampire’s chest. Stefan gasped, clutching at it, blood pouring from his mouth. It wasn’t quite deep enough, so Julia rammed the butt of her harpoon gun against the end of the stake and drove it home.
At the same moment, Carl entered the room where Kristoff had grabbed the child, Ryan, with Mary at his heels. He’d just taken the baby out of its crib, and Kristoff held it now, arms outstretched, over his head, in the beginnings of a throw. It wailed with an all too adult understanding.
Mary moved quickly around Carl, a stake and a cross in hand.
Kristoff laughed. “You’re too late!” Just before he threw Ryan, Carl thrust the spear forward. The spear went through Kristoff’s right eye with a sickening squelch, shooting out the back of his head and painting the nursery wall with blood and brain matter. Rather than being thrown, Ryan rolled out of the vampire’s hands. Mary swooped in and caught him.
“Late?” Carl said, to the vampire at the other end of his spear, “I don’t think so.” He pulled the shaft out, and Kristoff fell over like a heap of wet rags to the floor. Mary looked at him, breathing heavily, beads of sweat on her forehead, cradling the distraught baby in her arms.
Carl grinned. “We did good?” he said.
She knew how important that was to him. Mary nodded, smiling back. “We did good.”
They walked out into the living room to greet the others.
Blake was helping Clara up. Both the male and the female vampire were down. Pete was a bit shaken, but he was lifting himself up. Julia was grinning from ear to ear; especially when she saw Carl and Mary come out of the other room with the baby. She lived for action.
“I don’t understand,” Clara was saying, “Who were those people?”
“Not people,” Blake said, “Vampires.”
“Vam...” Clara began. She looked at Mary.
Mary nodded.
“Pete?” Blake said. Pete looked at him. “Sword please.”
Pete had a sword in a scabbard by his side. He set down his crossbow, drew the sword out without question and handed it over to Blake.
Blake stood over the body of the vampire Teresa, she of the pulverized face, and swinging the sword down, lopped off her head. Clara gasped.
“Just in case,” Blake winked.
She looked over at Mary again, and at the baby in her arms. “Yo
u came here to save Ryan?”
“Yes,” Mary said. Already the vampires outside were stirring, getting up, moving about normally. Blake slammed the door shut.
“So those things out there?” Clara said. “Those are...”
“Vampires,” Blake finished for her.
“And they were here to kill Ryan?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Blake explained. She shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“No,” Blake agreed, “Not to us.”
“What now?” she said.
“We wait.”
“Wait?”
“For daylight,” Julia said. “They’ll be gone before then, or else they’ll fry.”
“I meant about Ryan. How will I ever know he’s safe?”
“You won’t,” Blake said. “Not until every one of them is dead. At least the cult that abducted him in the first place, which is probably what’s left of them out there.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?!” Let’s finish them!” Clara said.
Blake looked at her warily. He understood her frame of mind. She was not quite crazy, but her eyes were crazed. Still he had to say no.
“We can’t. We caught them off guard. We’re not quite sure what we’re up against. One or more of them could have powers we don’t understand.”
“Powers?”
“The witchcraft we talked about?” Pete said.
“Riiiiggghht, witch... you know, I’m still having trouble getting my head around all of this,” Clara said.
“I know,” Blake said, and that was all he would say on that matter.
“I need to use the restroom,” Aunt Clara said.
“Of course,” Blake said. “It’s your home.”
They sat on the couch and love chairs while she was away.
“Let us in,” the whispers came, “We want to talk with you.”
“Don’t pay them any mind,” Blake said. “They’ll try to wear us down. Turn on the TV, distract yourselves.”
“Well, they can’t come in unless they’re invited,” Julia said.
The Depths of the Hollow (Mercy Falls Mythos Book 2) Page 16