Gorgon

by Mary Ann Poll

  Ken joined Bart. “No sign of anything happening down here.”

  “Well, maybe we aren’t looking for Iconoclast this time—which would be good news.” The memory of the last battle with the demon and his army, and the heartbreak over the loss of good citizens and friends flooded him for a second time in a day.

  “The best news I’ve had since we found the body,” Ken said. “Onward and upward, as they say.”

  Ken and Bart made their way up the dark pathway and back into daylight. Amos Thralling met them, fishing pole over his left shoulder, tackle box in his right hand, otherwise nothing to show for being to the mouth of the river.

  “Evenin’, sheriff,” he said to Bart. He nodded to Ken. “Evenin’, agent.”

  “I’m the mayor now, Amos.” He pointed a thumb at Ken. “He’s the new police chief.”

  “Not in an official capacity. I’m just helping out.” Ken sent a warning look to Bart.

  “He’s just being modest.”

  Amos raised his bushy eyebrows. “Well, ain’t that somethin’? Guess we’ll see if you have what it takes to take care of the Cove, now won’t we?”

  “Guess you will, Mr. Thralling.”

  “Amos, when did you go down to fish?” Bart asked.

  Amos looked up at the sky. “Three or four hours ago. Why?”

  “Did you come by here?”

  “Always do.”

  “Did you see anything?”

  “Like what?” Amos looked around the ravine hill. His eyes stopped on the remains of the hag tree. “The tree wasn’t cut to pieces when I walked by earlier.”

  “You sure?”

  “Don’t you think I’d have noticed? The ugly thing has been here since God made the earth, I’m sure, and I’ve walked by the eyesore every day for nigh on fifty years. I’d have noticed.”

  “Got it. Did you see anyone, anyone at all?”

  Amos furrowed his brow. “Well, there was a stranger on the path. Walking real slow, like he was looking for something.”

  “When?” Ken asked.

  Amos looked through Ken, then turned to Bart. “When I was on my way to the river.”

  “I asked the question, Mr.—“

  Bart threw up a hand. “Amos, did you get a good look at him?”

  “Looked like all the other out-of-towners around here. Except—” Amos directed his comment to Ken.

  Okay, this is going to be harder than I thought.

  “Except what?” Bart clinched his left fist and put his right hand over his nonexistent gun belt. His hand fell to his side.

  Ken smirked at the old habits of Police Chief Andersen. Bart had planted his feet slightly apart and his legs were straight as tree trunks. The only thing missing was the left hand on a flashlight.

  “He was dressed in a long trenchcoat, wide-brimmed hat, and sunglasses. I remember thinking it was a bit odd, even for an out-of-towner.” Amos stared into the distance. He snapped his fingers. There was an American flag on the brim of his hat.”

  “Anything else. Hair color? White, black, or Native?”

  “He was a white guy; hair was light brown, maybe blond. He was pretty tall. I felt like one of Snow White’s seven dwarfs when I walked past him.”

  “Did he have anything in his hands?” Chopping concrete with a table knife would be less frustrating and definitely less painful than this interview, Ken thought.

  “No. Could have had something under the coat, I suppose.”

  “You’re doing good, Amos. Can you remember anything else?” Bart asked.

  “Nope. We done here? I want to get home and get some shuteye before the midnight run.” Amos Thralling lived and breathed fishing. Nothing, not even almost being accused of murder twice in the past, stopped him.

  “We’re done.”

  Amos touched his forehead in a salute and headed toward Ravens Cove.

  “Are they all going to be like Amos?”

  “Oh, they’ll warm up—eventually. Just got to earn their trust.”

  “How?”

  “Don’t have any idea, but it’ll be fun to watch. Let’s check out the other side of the ravine. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  Two pairs of blood-red eyes followed Bart and Ken’s trek to the eastern ridge. “They’ll never know what’s going to kill them or when,” a misty, black figure said to its carbon copy.

  “No they won’t. I love the element of surprise. So much fear.” They dissolved into the earth beneath them.

  Chapter 6

  An Unexpected Alliance

  Grandma Bricken, Josiah, and Paul Lucas drove up to Kat’s house just as she ducked into a distant stand of spruce trees.

  “I’ll go after her.” Paul reached for the door handle.

  “No need.” Grandma pointed.

  “What are you doing here?” Kat yelled from the forest’s edge.

  “Brought you some company.”

  Gram and Josiah got out of the car and waved in unison.

  The terrific twosome. Kat chuckled and made her way back to the cabin.

  Alese Bricken wrapped her arms around Kat. “How are you?”

  “Guess blabber mouth Bart told you I had a little fainting spell.”

  “As well he should.”

  “I’d be a 100 percent if BC had come home.” Kat looked at her grandmother, worry clouding the normal shine of her eyes.

  Alese kissed the top of her head. The fear in Kat’s eyes reminded Grandma of the first day Kat came to live with her. She had spent much of her life helping Kat heal from the abandonment she felt. Now, the same little girl stood before her. “I won’t leave until we find him.”

  Kat wiped a small tear from her cheek and smiled. “How about you and Josiah go in and make yourselves comfortable, along with a strong pot of coffee for the caffeine monster.”

  “Guilty,” Josiah said. “Alese is right, though. Someone should help you look for your elusive creature.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “You shouldn’t be alone right now, and I want to help. I, for one, will look forward to a cup when we return,” Paul said.

  “Me, too. House is open.”Kat trotted to the woods. Paul followed close behind.

  “I do hope she finds BC—unharmed.”

  “I’m going to believe she will. Let’s get some coffee.”

  “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.” Paul yelled as he trudged through waist-high grass and Devil’s Club.

  Kat shivered. “The temperature must have dropped ten degrees in here.”

  “It is a bit cooler. Alaska is amazing in so many ways.”

  “Lord help us! We need to find BC—now.” Kat’s voice shook as she pointed to a rotting bridge. “Why would he have come this far in?”

  “What makes you so nervous here? Is it that old bridge?” Paul looked at, then past, the wood and rope structure. Arthritic black spruce pushed against the overpass. Their trunks stood inches apart, and their twisted limbs intertwined to form a ghoulish barrier to the forest behind. “It’s broad daylight. How can that part of the forest be black as night?”

  “Looks dangerous, huh? My great grandmother told us any who ventured into those woods never came out.” Kat laughed. “Silly. Yet a part of me doesn’t want to go in and find out.” Kat jumped when the bridge let out an ethereal groan. “Silly or not, something feels wrong, even dangerous here.”

  “Maybe it’s just nerves but I feel it, too.” Here kitty, kitty…”

  “BC ignores being called ‘kitty’ when he’s on a freedom run.” Kat pulled a Baggie of apricot-colored chips from her pocket. “If he’s here, this is the only thing to flush him out. He can smell it miles away.” Kat shook the bag, opened it, and placed two salmon flakes on the ground. She walked back toward the cabin, dropping miniature wafers along the trail. Her shoulders sagged, and Kat’s voice shook when she whispered, “guess he isn’t here.”

  “I’m not giving up hope just yet. How about we say a prayer?”

  “For an animal?”

 
“God loves them, too. He surely didn’t tell us to pray about certain things. ‘Come to Him with all requests’ is what Saint Paul said.”

  “I’m game.” Kat dropped her head. Tears streamed down her cheeks and ended in soft plops as they hit the grass and leaves below.

  Paul took her hands. “Heavenly Father, this cat, Your creature, is so important to young Katrina, also Your creature and, even more, Your daughter. Please bring him home to her. In Jesus’…”

  Kat’s eyes flew open when she heard a familiar meow then felt a hard thump to her calf. Grass-green eyes met hers before BC trotted into a small stand of alders, sat, and looked back at her.

  “Come here, you rat!” Kat ran after him.

  “Thank you, Jesus. You answer our requests before our prayers are finished. You are wonderful. Amen.” Paul took off after her.

  BC trotted a few feet ahead and sat again.

  Kat caught up to him. “You are making me so ma—.” BC took off.

  “Stop with the games!” Kat shouted and raced to keep up with the graceful feline. She sighted him—his tail anyway—right before he ducked under a low-lying bush.

  “Come out of there, now!” Kat reached through the hole and came up with a handful of needles and dirt. She peeked into the tiny leanto. “Now, BC!”

  BC head-butted Kat. “Ouch! Stop it.” She reached into the dark gap again. BC moved just out of reach.

  “How about I move some of those branches aside so you can get a better look?” Paul offered.

  “Good idea. I’ll block this opening.” She sat in front of the small opening and crossed her legs.

  Paul analyzed the leafy structure, looking for a weak spot. “This looks like the best place to start.” He yanked two alder branches to the side. “There’s some rust-colored fur back here.”

  Kat rounded the natural lean-to and looked down at the copper-colored hair. An emerald BC eye appeared.

  “What you got here, BC?” Kat touched the fur and jumped when she heard a yelp.

  “Sounds like a dog.”

  “Or a fox,” Kat said.

  “You got a saw or something at home? It could take hours to untangle the branches by hand.”

  “Yes, there’s an axe—a little too big for this purpose—by the front door. Beside it is a trunk. Inside is a small-toothed saw.”

  “Back in a jiff.”

  BC bumped Kat with his head and paced back and forth like a worried father-to-be.

  “You heard him—right back.”

  BC swatted at her hand and took to pacing again.

  “You’re right. We can’t wait, can we, Black Cat?” Kat relocated to the front of the small shelter. She pulled a penknife out of her pocket and stripped the smaller twigs from the thick branches. She sawed a cut into the stubborn wood. The limbs gave way after a few tugs.

  A narrow brown face with espresso-colored eyes studied Kat. “Well, there you are.” Kat cooed as she worked more branches free to widen the opening.

  BC nudged her leg with his head.

  “I’m going as fast as I can. Maybe you could gnaw on a few and help out.” Kat worked enough branches free to get a full view of the long-coated dog’s torso. Its leg was caught in a tight-knit clump of branches. A rivulet of blood stained the white of the back leg.

  “Oh, you poor thing.” She leaned in. The dog dug its paws into the soft earth, backed up, and shivered. “I’m not going to hurt you. Just need to take a look.”

  “You got quite a bit done while I was gone.”

  Kat threw an apologetic smile over her shoulder. “Sorry. BC wouldn’t calm down until I widened the opening. Can’t get this pup’s leg free, though.”

  “Let me try.” Paul pointed the saw toward the tangle of twigs and leaves. BC put himself between Paul and the gnarl of limbs.

  “I’m not going to hurt him, I promise.”

  BC zeroed in on Paul’s face. Satisfied by what he saw, he lay down, sphinx-style, in front of the dog’s body.

  “I think he understood me!”

  “He did. What’s more, he believed you. I’m impressed.”

  “You think he knows what I’m saying?”

  ‘Sure. Did you know that some dogs, and in my own opinion cats, have the passive vocabulary of a five-year old child?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Just ask Carl Douglas if you don’t believe me.” Kat referred to the one and only veterinarian for Ravens Cove.

  “By the looks of the animal’s leg, I’ll have the opportunity as soon as we free it.”

  “We’d better get to work.” Kat lifted the smaller branches up and away from the injured leg.

  “Perfect.” Paul pulled a pair of pruning shears from his pocket. “Brought these along, too. Just in case.” Paul snipped each tendril, then sawed off the main branch. He reached in and pulled the small dog free. “Sure is a nasty cut.”

  “Definitely needs to see Carl. Come on BC—Where’d he go? BC, come now!” Kat yelled.

  The miniature version of Lassie jumped and buried its muzzle in the crook of Paul’s arm.

  “Sorry.” Kat scratched the soft fur and walked down the path. BC was halfway up the trail eating salmon flakes.

  “Should have known.” Kat scooped him up and gave him a gentle squeeze. Then she held him out so they were eye-to-eye.

  “You hate dogs,” she said. “What makes this one so special?” Kat kissed the top of his head. “Guess we’ll find out, huh?” BC snuggled deeper into her arms and purred. She kissed his head again. Thanks, God. I owe You.

  “I see you found the wayfarer—again.”

  “Indeed. Now about the injured one.” Kat pointed her chin at the dog.

  “Is Douglas in? It’s after eight o’clock.”

  “That late? Took longer to get the pup free than I thought. I’ve got his home number—oh, man, I left Gram and Josiah all this time.” Kat rushed up the trail and burst through the cabin’s front door. The welcoming aroma of meat and onions filled the small house. “I’m sorry I left you so long.”

  “No need to apologize. I’m keeping busy, and Josiah is delightful company.”

  “It smells wonderful!”

  “Sit. Food’s ready.”

  “Right after I call Doc Douglas. BC disappeared because he was guarding a dog, of all things. It’s got a nasty cut.”

  “Where is Paul?”

  “Don’t know.” Kat stuck her head out the door.

  Paul waved from his car. “Get a hold of the doc?”

  “Give me a minute.” Kat ducked back inside—“Carl says he’ll meet you at the clinic. Sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

  “Not necessary. You visit with Alese and Josiah. I’ll call you when I know something.”

  Kat smiled. “Thanks so much. Next time you need something done at church or even at home, give me a call.” She joined Alese and Josiah at the claw-footed oak table.

  “That was a good meal if I say so myself.”

  “Every meal you cook is good. Thanks for taking care of me—again.”

  “Always a pleasure, child of my heart.” Grandma sat on Kat’s overstuffed sofa looking out at the lush trees in their full summer dress.

  “Never gets tiring, does it?”

  “No. Of course, we don’t see greened-up trees much of our year.”

  Kat giggled. “True—now, how am I supposed to get you guys back to town?”

  “I’m not ready to go home quite yet. You need to tell me why you fainted.”

  “Right now?” A vision of a pasty leg, muscle and tissue floating in the wind, hit Kat in the gut. Her legs trembled, then gave way.

  Josiah caught her before she collapsed, guided her to the sofa and released her. “I think you do, Katrina. Things held in secret make us weak—physically and spiritually.”

  Kat nodded, took a deep breath, and told Alese and Josiah what she’d seen.

  Lines of worry creased Josiah’s forehead, and concern whispered to his heart. “Do you think the smal
l dog has anything to do with this?”

  “I don’t know how—oh, I knew I’d seen it before.”

  “Where?”

  “At the antique store. Annie Scofland said it adopted her. She said it wouldn’t leave her side.” A different kind of sickness hit Kat’s stomach. She reached for the phone.

  Chapter 7

  Déjà Vu

  “This place is a dead end.” Bart shook his head in frustration more than disgust.” Let’s make our way to the bottom of the ravine.” Bart’s front pocket vibrated, then beeped. “What part of rest don’t you understand?” He growled into the phone.

  “I’m a little too wound up to rest. Do you want to know why I called?”

  “You’re gonna tell me anyway.”

  “True. So here goes. When I went looking for BC today, I found him and a dog.”

  “Okay… so call around and see if anyone’s missing a pet.”

  “I know the dog. Annie Scofland told me it had adopted her.”

  The hairs on Bart’s neck came to attention. “Did Ms. Scofland happen to say where it came from?”

  “No. She just said it was a stray and wouldn’t leave her side—doesn’t sound good, does it?”Sadness laced Kat’s voice.

  “Not on the surface. Where’s the dog now?”

  “Pastor Paul took her to Carl Douglas. She was cut pretty bad.”

  “Call and see if one of our summer visitors reported it missing, would you? Then REST!”

  “Bart, here!”

  “Gotta go. Keep me posted.” Bart climbed to the top of the ravine and joined Ken.

  “No way.” Elf-size cloven imprints in the soft dirt screamed, they’re back. “Kumrande.” Bart spat out the name for the half goat/half man dwarfs who served the demon Iconoclast and his army.

  “Could they be old?”

  “I’m hoping.” Bart slapped at the back of his neck. “We better keep moving or we’ll be a feast for the mosquitoes.”

  “Okay. The prints lead there.” Ken pointed to a tight-knit copse of spruce and birch. He pulled an LED flashlight from his belt. “I thought we were rid of those nasty creatures when we got rid of their master.”