Seasons of Wither (The Great North Woods Pack Book 3)

by Shawn Underhill

  “Do you recognize this place?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “You’ve told me that you enjoy a good mystery. This one is older than I am.”

  “It’s not Oak Island, is it?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Then you—” Lars began to say, his head suddenly filling with ideas and new questions.

  “No,” Joseph cut him off. “I do not know what, or who, is buried there; nor did my father. All I do know is that he was paid handsomely to employ the pack’s protection for a set time frame. By the way the job came about—secretly, of course, by currier rather than face-to-face meetings—my father had no interest in meddling. It was a protection job, just as our kind had taken for centuries; one that would keep us safely on the move. He accepted it, and with it, the grand opportunity of America.”

  “This is a lot of information,” Lars said. “My mind is going in ten directions at once.”

  “Nothing need be solved today,” Joseph said. “We’ll end with a final batch of speculations to add to your confusion.”

  Lars looked up from the photo. What else could possibly be involved?

  “Over the years, I’ve noticed a definite rise in activity that seems to go hand in hand with world power shifts. We eliminated our foes before the First World War. Absolutely nothing happened in the area for years after. We were able to direct our full attention to logging and building ourselves a small economy that has served us all well. But …”

  “Don’t tell me,” Lars said. “Then came the second war.”

  “The Third Reich delved deeply into mysticisms and the occult. It is well documented that the Nazi party spent a lot of money and effort in searching for the world’s lost and legendary relics. Anything that even hinted of special powers or prominence was highly sought after.”

  “But you don’t know what’s buried on the island,” Lars said. “Who’s to say it is a relic at all?”

  “I’m no longer concerned with the island. We ourselves are relics, to those seeking power. No one in recent history has lusted for power more than the Nazis. And, wisely, they spared no expense in surrounding themselves with the best minds they could find to help them achieve their goals. In those Post Enlightenment times, a species such as ourselves might no longer be viewed as monsters to eradicate, but as keys to a higher level of existence.”

  “I see,” Lars muttered.

  “I have survived many, many bullet wounds in my lifetime, Mr. Olsen. At a glance, would you ever guess?”

  “No, sir.”

  “We live longer, more vibrantly than any human could hope to. Our bones will break under extreme stress, but they will heal again in short hours rather than weeks. We can even regenerate severed limbs, given the proper time. So tell me, what power hungry regime would not want our secrets, if even a fraction of the rumors regarding us were true?”

  Lars bit his lip. His mind had gone around the globe and then come back to him in a daze. He enjoyed a good challenge and a good mystery, but this mountain the old one was asking him to climb was shaping up to be nothing shy of Everest.

  “Only one person who came to the Americas ever laid eyes on us and lived to tell of it,” Joseph said. “For that, I accept all blame.”

  “Who?” Lars asked.

  “The Grand Master’s wife. She was a German, the daughter of a devout minister who supported the cause.”

  “I assume she returned to her family after his death.”

  “In great haste she left New England. Even the fine furnishings remained in their beautiful home, the clothing in the drawers, supplies in the cupboards. I warned her in no uncertain terms. Clearly she took that warning to heart. I was satisfied at the time. To kill her for her unfortunate ties seemed too brutal. I could not envision a day and age where genetics and DNA would be so well understood, let alone household terms.”

  “You considered it? Killing her, I mean?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Maybe you scared her into holding her tongue.”

  “Possibly,” Joseph said. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful? But deep down, I can’t help but fearing the repercussions of sparing her life. Whether she loved her husband or not is beyond my knowledge. The fact remains, she witnessed his execution from less than ten yards. The largest part of him remaining was his head, which my brother carried home as a token to set our own families at ease. I doubt she could ever purge such a sight from her memory.”

  Lars could not make even momentary eye contact with the old man. The vision in his mind of such a brutal execution carried out by such an otherwise civilized being was difficult to fathom, and a little unnerving. The brother—whom he’d had only a glimpse of—was another matter; he made no attempts at civil conduct. All of his old fears began rising up in his mind’s eye. You’re on dangerous grounds here, old boy, he reminded himself. Keep sharp. Keep on their good side. Or your head might be on display.

  “From here on I am speculating,” Joseph continued. “But in my long years I’ve learned to trust my instincts. That young woman returned to Germany and her prominent family. As we know, that was a very turbulent place for decades. Many such families were later forced to support the Nazi party, whether they agreed with it or not. In some cases, compliance was their only means of survival.”

  “Yes,” Lars said, thinking, I wonder if I’m in a similarly inescapable predicament myself.

  “So,” Joseph said, “she took with her the knowledge of our existence and our remarkable capabilities. Perhaps she carried a grudge and perhaps she did not; I surely can’t say. What haunts me most is that she took with her also the Grand Master’s legacy. His only child. A son.”

  ~6~

  Amy took the damp washcloth from her eyes. The bathroom seemed blindingly bright, but after a minute she realized how much the swelling had gone down from such a simple tactic. As the bath was beginning to cool, and her stomach grumbling madly, she climbed from the big tub and dried off.

  In her fluffy robe, which was much too long for her, of course, Amy felt like a pampered guest at a quiet bed and breakfast. Padding softly down the hall, she turned into the bedroom feeling so relaxed that she temporarily forgot about Jess—like she’d taken a vacation of the mind which ended way too quickly. Jess was still in her robe, after all that time, and wore a very guilty expression as Amy opened the door and stepped in.

  “How was it?” she asked. “Nice, right?”

  “What are doing?” Amy said, realizing that she could see her friend clearer than she had in days.

  “Nothing,” Jess said with a dramatic, insulted expression. “And here I thought you’d be in a better mood when you came back. Guess I was way off.”

  Amy said nothing. At Jessie’s back she could see something on the bed. Jess rocked from side to side, shifting her weight from one hip to the other. A first grader could’ve seen through her casual-seeming attempt to disguise the fact that she was up to something.

  “I am so hungry,” Jess whined. “Aren’t you?”

  “What’s on the bed?” Amy asked.

  “The bed? Nothing. Just little old me.”

  Jess … I can see something.”

  “Can you?” Jess said, turning nervously. She picked something up and spun around again quickly. “Fine,” she exhaled. “I’ll show you if you promise not to tattle on me.”

  Amy stepped over closer. Jess held a small stack of photos.

  “Is that?” Amy began.

  “Yup. Evie’s dad. I’m positive it’s the same guy from that one picture Evie kept at home. Look, there’s dozens of them here. Miss Janie is in half of them too.”

  Amy turned away, intent on finding clean clothes. “You shouldn’t be nosing through Evie’s stuff. Obviously her dad is a sore subject to her and her mother.”

  “You think I’m just being nosey?” Jess said indignantly.

  “Yes,” Amy replied, digging through her duffle bag.

  “You’re supposed to be smart. Don’t you get what’s goi
ng on here?”

  Amy made no response. She wanted to be dressed and downstairs eating five minutes ago. Jessie could sit in her robe and spin Soap Opera plots all day for all that she cared.

  “He’s still alive,” Jess whispered. “That’s why Evie disappeared up here and Miss Janie is down home ditching everything. They must be getting back together or something.”

  “Her father is dead, Jess.”

  “So she thought. But maybe, secretly, he’s been up here this whole time. Look, these pictures aren’t that old. Miss Janie looks about the same as she does now.”

  “Are there any with Evie in the shot?” Amy asked. She was dressing as fast as humanly possible, unconcerned if her outfit matched or not.

  “Well, no,” Jess admitted. “But that tells me that it’s all been kept secret from her. Until now, that is. Why else would she disappear and call it ‘family issues?’ Hmm?”

  “Are you coming down?” Amy asked after pulling on a sweatshirt and running her fingers through her damp hair.

  “Are you crazy?”

  “No, just starving.”

  “Wa-wa-wait,” Jess said though her teeth as she hurried to block Amy from the door. “After you’re done working, can you smuggle something up for me to eat?”

  “Just come down. She won’t make us work.”

  “Oh, no,” Jess said, crossing her arms. “Not after all I’ve been through. No way. Not till Evie gets here.”

  “Okay, suit yourself.”

  “Don’t say a word about my suspicions.”

  “Jess,” Amy exhaled with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not going to say a thing about your crazy idea. They seem like nice people and I would like them to like me.”

  ***

  Evelyn was still hard at work when Amy came down the stairs. She looked up, smiled, and asked where the other one was.

  “Oh, she’s sort of high maintenance,” Amy replied. “You know the type.”

  “I do,” the old woman said. “But I’m sure not one of them.”

  “Thank goodness,” Amy smiled.

  Evelyn introduced herself properly, stopping short of a handshake with her purple hands. Amy did the same and then glanced around at the house. Her eyes weren’t perfect by a long shot, but they had improved enough so that she could appreciate her surroundings.

  “You look to be feeling better than when you arrived.”

  “Much better,” Amy said, turning back to the older woman. “Thank you.”

  “Well, what will you have?”

  Amy hesitated. “I … Are you saying there are options?”

  “Of course,” Evelyn said. She began listing various lunch options. “Or,” she added, “I suppose you could start with pie, if you’ve got a sweet tooth. It doesn’t get any fresher than this.”

  “You’re sure I can’t do anything to help?” Amy offered, though even she would have admitted that the offer was not wholeheartedly delivered.

  “Nonsense,” the old woman said. “Sit down.”

  Amy hopped up onto the stool at the island counter. Evelyn cut a thick slice of pie and placed it before her. She retrieved a fork from a drawer and handed it to the girl. Almost salivating, Amy cut the first bite, raised the fork, and then paused. The sound of the big door opening and closing behind her drew her attention.

  “It’s amazing, right?” Evie said.

  At last she got the first bite in. She mumbled yes, her head half turned, as she scooped up the second bite, then went for the third.

  “Celia sent me home early,” Evie said to her grandmother. “Said I was useless today anyway.” Then, standing at Amy’s side she asked, “Where’s Jess?”

  “Hiding upstairs,” her grandmother answered for the starving girl. “I made a crack about putting them to work. I guess she took me literally.”

  Amy paused chewing for a moment. Looking at Evelyn, she was wondering if she actually had heard the whole thing.

  “You know that binder I have,” Evie said, making a face to her grandmother.

  “It’s in your grandfather’s study. He’s gone out for some fresh air after his meeting.”

  “Well,” Evie said looking at Amy, “I’d say you’re feeling better.”

  “Just getting out of that car,” Amy mumbled with a full mouth. “I can’t tell you how bad it was.”

  “Do your parents know where you are?”

  “Sort of,” Amy shrugged. “They knew I was supposed to be with Jess for the long weekend.”

  Evelyn slid the plate away from Amy. Amy stared longingly at the last few bites of pie.

  “There’s a phone right here,” Evelyn said pointing to the far kitchen wall. “Call your parents at once. Until then the kitchen is closed.”

  Evie watched Amy move sluggishly to the phone. She lifted it from the cradle and looked back. She appeared on the verge of tears.

  “Go down the hall if you want some privacy,” Evelyn said.

  “I did it for a good reason,” Amy said. “You know I never miss school. I never flake. I never do anything exciting. I …”

  “I know,” Evie said. “Just take care of it before they report you missing.”

  “There could be search parties out looking for us,” Amy muttered under her breath. Her hands began to shake as she looked at the phone. “What if—”

  “Call,” Evie said. “Get it over with. And don’t worry, I’ll be way harder on Jess than I’m being on you.”

  ***

  On tiptoes Evie crept up the stairs and down the hall to her bedroom door. Holding absolutely still, she listened with all her concentration. All she could hear from within the room was an occasional rustling sound mingled with shallow breathing. If she’s not sleeping or primping, she thought, she must be snooping.

  In one quick motion she turned the knob, threw open the door, and lunged into the room with a shout, “Ah-ha!” Jess, still robed, rose up off the bed as if she was suspended by cables for a Broadway show. Her feet danced as they returned to the floor, and the pictures she’d been holding fluttered off in every direction. She went ghostly white, screaming as if The Boogie Man had just burst into the room, not her laughing friend.

  At once Evie regretted the prank—or rather, her ears regretted enduring that terrible sound. “Hush, hush,” she said, waving her arms. “My lord, I didn’t think you’d react that badly.”

  By now Jess had fallen back onto the bed. She lay clutching her chest, breathing as if she’d gone into labor. For the first few seconds she made attempts at speaking but could piece together nothing coherent.

  “What are you doing?” Evie asked, surveying the scene and taking note of the all the scattered pictures.

  “N-nothing. Oh that was so not cool.”

  Evie began taking up her family pictures one at a time. “Seriously, is nothing sacred with you?”

  “Well,” Jess began slowly, trying to gather her thoughts as she sat up straight. “If you hadn’t been hiding your secret life from us, I wouldn’t have had to investigate. You left me no options.”

  “You’re snooping,” Evie said. “Call it what it is.”

  “Don’t try to confuse me and throw me off the trail. I see exactly what’s going on here.”

  “Do you?” Evie said, without the slightest fear that Jess could be on the right trail.

  Jess stood up, flipping her hair. “What’s going on? Where is he?”

  “Who? You mean my father?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “He’s dead, Jess.”

  With a stomp of her foot Jess crossed her arms. “Don’t! I know something is going on up here.”

  “Look,” Evie said in her calmest tone. “I know it seems weird, but it’s nothing as dramatic as you’re imagining. Yes, I’ve been thinking about him a lot more lately. Now that I’m not a kid anymore, the family is speaking more openly about him.” She shrugged. “It’s still not easy for my mom to discuss, but up here, with everyone else, it’s a little different.”

  Jess slowly deflat
ed as she listened to her friend and watched her face. She sat down on the bed, her arms still folded tightly. “Your mom didn’t seem too upset to me when I talked to her. She was acting like moving away was the greatest idea ever.”

  “I don’t expect it all to make sense,” Evie said, taking a seat next to her friend. “But the fact is that for a long time, it was easier on her to be away from home and memories. I don’t exactly like it myself, but it’s been almost twenty years; she’s ready to come home. This move has been a long time coming. I just didn’t realize it until a few weeks ago.”

  “So suddenly,” Jess sulked. “No warning.”

  “I didn’t get much warning either,” Evie admitted. It felt good to speak freely, unguardedly, without having to obscure the full truth of the situation. “I didn’t choose to leave. Things just … happened. And now, I have to do what’s best for my family. You know how weird things can get with families.”

  Jess said nothing to that. Things had been complicated for her as well, years back when her parents split. She sighed. “I knew we would all be going our own ways next year. I …”

  “I know,” Evie said.

  Jessie’s face brightened with a thought. “This still doesn’t explain your house. I saw your room. It looked like a tornado hit that place.”

  “In a way, one did,” Evie said truthfully. “I just … lost control for a while. You know I have a temper. Well, it kicked in. My mom needed help. So my Papa came and got me and brought me here to calm me down. After that … things started happening up here, and I couldn’t leave.”

  “Who died?”

  “A girl around our age. That guy from the store, David; she was his sister.”

  “Sorry,” Jess said softly. “That’s sad.” After a long silence she said, “You know we honestly didn’t come up here to make trouble.”

  “I know that,” Evie said. “I should have handled things better. I’m just … stuck in the middle here, getting pulled from two sides. I’m sorry.”

  “You can say that again.”

  “I’m sorry,” Evie repeated, her tone completely sincere.