Gorgon

by Mary Ann Poll

  “I think this is everyone I called.”

  “I know those eyes, Katrina,” Josiah said.

  Kat narrowed her eyes. “How—you’re not just trying to humor me, are you?”

  “No. I saw them in the ravine. I saw hundreds, maybe thousands of them when Iconoclast met me for battle. They materialized, too.”

  “This is the first you talked about this part of your confrontation with Iconoclast,” Ken said.

  “It is a detail I didn’t remember until now. Funny, I forgot something so terrifying.”

  “I want to hear this one.” Wendy joined the small group at the foot of Kat’s bed.

  “When the mountainous rock rose from the earth and closed the ravine to the world, I saw them. First, only the eyes—glinting like ruby stars in the tar-black ravine. Then, Iconoclast materialized and so did they. All different shapes and sizes; yet the eyes were the same, glittering red. So mesmerizing in their color and so cold with hatred.” Josiah shivered like a frigid wind blasted into his very soul. “They lined the ravine walls, hovering on invisible bleachers. They shouted, ‘more, more,’ at the first wound I took. Just like those who enjoy watching a wild animal tear apart its prey. I fought until I had no more strength.”

  “So, why didn’t you die?”

  “I don’t know why, but God sent one of His angels to save me. So, yes, Katrina, I believe you.”

  “Ah, which reminds me of Psalm 91. One of my personal favorites. ‘If you make the Most High your dwelling—even the Lord, who is my refuge—then no harm will befall you, no disaster will come near your tent. For He will command His angels concerning you to guard you in all of your ways.’ My friend, you saw what we only hope to see when we leave this earth. You are blessed.” Paul smiled at Josiah.

  “And you a blessing,” Josiah quipped.

  “Do you have God radar or something?” Wendy looked at Paul Lucas. Paul chuckled. “Nothing so exciting. How do you think Alese and Josiah got here today?”

  “In all the hubbub, it just seemed natural.”

  “Excuse me,” Bart said. “Does anyone know what succubus means?”

  “It’s a mythical creature, a woman who sucks the life force or blood out of its victims.”

  “Seriously, Kat? You know about those things? You’ve got to get a life.”

  “I read a lot, Winsome. You should try it. Why are you asking?”

  Bart held the figurine base toward Kat. “It’s scratched into the bottom of the statue.”

  Wendy read aloud, “Lilith plus Succubus. What does it mean?”

  “Well, since this Lilith liked to suck the breath out of children and drain the men she killed of their blood, seems they could be one and the same.” Josiah turned to Ken. “Do you know Lilith was supposedly the first wife of Adam?”

  “Interesting. I just don’t see how this thing,” Ken pointed to the statue, “has any relevance to the dismembered body we found yesterday. Unless you’re telling me this Lilith is alive and well in the Cove and has changed her tastes to include women.”

  “Anything’s possible,” Josiah remarked.

  “It seems too coincidental for another supernatural being to have taken up residence here. Iconoclast went to the depths where he belongs after his last effort to take the Cove. As far as I’m concerned, case closed.”

  “I would agree except for this attack on Katrina,” Josiah said.

  “Let’s not forget about the hag tree,” Kat piped in.

  Ken threw his hands in the air. “Am I the only voice of reason here? Maybe the person who destroyed the tree didn’t stop there. Maybe the victim saw the perp and he panicked. Maybe, just maybe, we aren’t dealing with ghosts this time.”

  “Demons, Kenneth.”

  “Or those either! I am going to investigate this like the murder it is until I’m proved wrong.”

  Bart put a hand on Ken’s shoulder. “Okay. Where do you want to start?”

  “The statue is the only common denominator we have right now.” Ken turned to Kat. “So, the first thing is to find out how it ended up in your closet. Is there something you want to tell us?”

  Kat bolted upright. “Are you accusing me of lying, FBI?”

  “The thing was in your closet.”

  Kat threw back the covers and stood up. “You doubt me after all we’ve been through? Have I ever lied to you? Have I ever given you reason to think I’d steal?”

  Ken answered her tirade with a silent stare.

  “I’ll answer for you—NO!” Kat held the injured arm close and tugged her windbreaker on with the good hand.

  “What are you doing? You heard Doc Billings’ tell you to rest.” Gram walked after Kat who was already on the cabin’s deck.

  “I’m going to find out who set me up. While I’m gone you can ask Mr. Logic if he thinks I ripped my arm to the bone just to have an alibi,” she yelled as she walked to the road.

  “I don’t think it’s a self-inflicted wound,” Ken whispered.

  “You are still a major piece of work, Fibber. You do not deserve her.” Wendy shook her head in disgust and headed for the door. “Wait up, Kat, I’ll drive you.”

  “You could have handled that one better,” Josiah said.

  “The facts lead here—and to Kat.”

  “How do you know that the statue wasn’t put here by someone else?”

  “My job is to find the truth. I can’t overlook the facts just because I’m in love with her.”

  “She isn’t going to forgive you easily, Kenneth. Her integrity is her shield. More, it is what she lives by.” Grandma Bricken leaned on her cane and stared into Ken’s eyes.

  “I was being honest. How else did it get here?”

  “You’d better try and find out.”

  “Why do you think I’m still here?”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt but I told Tanya I’d be home by now. Let me get you two back to Gram’s.” Paul interjected.

  “We’re done here—for now.” Gram shook her head at Ken. “This is a very sad day.”

  The whispered scolding knifed Ken in the stomach. I’m doing my job! He thought.

  “Sometimes the job comes second.” Grandma answered.

  “I’m going back to work.” Ken stepped into the bedroom.

  “I’ve checked all the windows, and there is no evidence of forced entry,” Bart said.

  “There would be no forced entry if it was a demon,” Josiah remarked from the doorway.

  “I’ve told you my feelings about demons returning to the Cove. Why are you still here, anyway?”

  “I felt it important to say you had better tell that beautiful young woman you believe her before you lose her—again—Agent Melbourne.”

  Ken bristled. “I’ll take it under advisement. And would you stop calling me agent? I’m not here on FBI business.”

  Josiah gave him a quizzical look. “As you’d like, Mr. Melbourne.”

  “Enough,” Bart said. “Don’t take him too seriously, Josiah. You are looking at the walking definition of stress in Melbourne. By the way, he is now the acting police chief of our fair town.”

  “Oh, I see. Well then, chief, welcome to your new position.”

  “I am only a consultant.”

  “Temporarily on assignment as our new police chief.” Bart’s phone chimed. He glanced at his watch. “Already? I’ll be right there. Hold them off, Jenny.” He snapped the phone shut. “I’ve got a council meeting and completely forgot. You got this, Melbourne?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can.” Bart threw himself against the doorjamb right before Kat’s good elbow hit him in the stomach.

  “You still here?”she said as she passed by.

  “Why are you back?”

  “BC. Maybe a wild animal tore up the woman at the ravine. I don’t want to be worrying about him while I’m trying to prove my innocence. Did one of you let him out?”

  Ken leaned on the bedroom doorframe. “Not on purpose.” />
  “So you say. How do I know I can believe you?”

  “I’ve always told you the truth.”

  Kat raised her eyebrows. “Have you?”

  “Okay, I should believe you for the same reason. I get it.”

  “Do you?”

  Ken sighed. “I care about the black terror. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.”

  “Keep digging yourself that big hole. Jump in when it feels comfortable. He’ll come back, he always has—I’ll just have to TRUST him.” Kat glared at Ken.

  “I let my investigator take over. I should have let my love for you do the talking.”

  “You bet you should have. I accept your apology. I don’t know if I can… “

  “I will help you find out why the statue ended up here. Then maybe we can put this behind us and get on with our future.”

  “Don’t know, FBI. I was scared before. Now I’m terrified of a long-term commitment to you.”

  “Because I was doing my job? It’s who I am.”

  “Because you doubted my integrity. It’s who I am!”

  “What can I do? I want us to have a future.”

  “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

  The sadness in Ken’s eyes tugged at Kat. I love you so much, and you cut me so deep. “Right now, let’s just drop it. There are more important things to do.”

  Ken sighed. “Okay—for now.”

  “Later.” Kat headed out the front door.

  “Don’t suppose I can talk you into coming to the office and typing up a report?”

  Kat strolled back inside. “I’d be going against town policy.”

  “You’d be doing me a big favor—besides maybe Bart’ll have it through the council before they find out.”

  “I suppose I might see something in your notes to help me find the creep who set me up.”

  “It’s possible.”

  A mischievous grin lit Kat’s face. “I’ll take my chances with the council. See you at the station, FBI.”

  Chapter 9

  Where’s the Connection?

  Kat flipped the power switch. The fluorescent lights of the station hummed to life. Kat welcomed the usually annoying buzz. It quieted her jangled nerves. The off-key duet of the jangling phone and tinkling door chime shattered the calm. Kat jogged to the phone. “Ravens Cove Police.”

  “Mornin’ again, KittyKat,” Wendy’s cheerful tone greeted her.

  Kat waved to Ken and lowered herself into the desk chair. “How did you even know I was here?”

  “Where else would you be with a dead body showing up in the Cove? You, my friend, are a creature of habit.”

  “Thank you for the compliment—Ms. Free Spirit. Let me just head this conversation off by saying I have no information for you.”

  “I’m not calling for information. I’m calling with information.”

  “Which is?” Kat held the phone between her shoulder and chin, leaned down, and pushed the computer’s on button.

  “BC’s at the vet.”

  Kat gripped the receiver and leaned forward. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s just fine. Carl, I mean Doctor Douglas, says he yowled and scratched on the front door of the clinic until he was let in. Once inside, he ran for the kennels in back. He won’t budge.”

  “Wendy, when did you become the vet’s assistant? Where’s Nyna?”

  “I’m just helping out. He and Nyna are in emergency surgery.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “Not necessary. BC is happy as a clam lying in front of the stray’s cage. And Carl thinks he’s good for the dog. Seems your wildcat has a calming effect on it. Go figure.”

  “Well, I guess there’s no harm in him staying. I’ll come by and check on him after I’m done here.”

  “That works. Talk later.” The phone went dead.

  The door’s bell chimed again, breaking Kat’s concentration. She looked up at Bart. “What are you doing here?”

  “The question is why you are here. I don’t remember telling you the council okayed your return.” Bart crossed his arms and scowled.

  “Work calms my nerves. I couldn’t see any harm in helping out and…”

  Bart’s face broke into a wide grin. “They approved it. Go to work at full speed, O great police chief’s assistant.”

  “Oh, thank goodness. I didn’t want to train someone else—the only one I could think of being Wendy, and you know where that’d go.”

  “We all know where it would go,” Ken said from the doorway of the police chief’s office.

  “Thought you’d still be at the cabin.”

  “Just finished up,” Ken answered.

  “How’s the office feel? Like home?”

  “It feels like an office.”

  “Give it some time. It’ll grow on you.”

  “We’ll see. You here for a reason? You could have called with the okay for Kat to go back to work.”

  “I was thinking. The best place to find someone who doesn’t want to be found—if they are here—is someplace no one wants to go.”

  “Tell me you aren’t talking about Old Town.”

  “What better place to hide? It’s spooked everyone in town.” Bart referred to the happenings in Old Town where Iconoclast had taken a last stand to capture and murder as many as he could in Ravens Cove.

  “It is completely abandoned. The council even coughed up the money for a chain-link fence to keep out the curiosity seekers,” Kat added.

  Ken sighed. “I suppose it should be the next stop.”

  “Seems logical.” Bart smiled. “But it’s your decision.”

  Ken hefted himself off the door jam. “You coming or am I doing this one on my own?”

  “My calendar is clear. Jenny can handle the mayor’s office with her hands tied behind her back. She’ll call if anyone needs a face-to-face with me.”

  “And you’re going in those clothes?” Ken looked at the well-used houndstooth sports coat and charcoal gray dress pants.

  “I threw a change of clothes in the truck after our excursion into the woods yesterday.” Bart held out a black sports bag. He ducked into the back. He returned clad in jeans, a black T-shirt and his signature utility belt. The .357 Magnum sat on his right hip and an LED flashlight on the left.

  “All you’re missing is a hat.”

  Bart plopped a black baseball cap onto his head. A silver-threaded mountain range sat below the words Ravens Cove.

  “Sums it up nicely.” Kat swung around and started typing.

  “What? You’re not gonna beg to come along?”

  Kat whirled back around. “I’ve had enough of the heeby geebies for a while. I’ll finish this and get to Doctor Douglas’s office to retrieve BC.”

  “BC’s at the vet?”

  “He’s okay. He isn’t letting the stray out of his sight. Strangest behavior on Black Cat’s part I’ve ever seen.”

  “Has nothing on his owner,” Bart said.

  Kat stuck her tongue out.

  “How grown-up.” Bart and Ken got through the door before the box of tissues hit it.

  Bart stuck his head back in the door. “Missed.” He slammed the door shut and heard a loud thud at his back.

  “You do live dangerously, my friend.”

  Bart grinned. “She needed to get her spunk back, and I’m always happy to oblige.”

  The buildings of Old Town sagged as if invisible weights had been tied to their roofs. The windows swallowed the daylight into unfathomable darkness.

  “This place looks worse than after the siege.”

  “It sure does.” Bart singled out a small black-topped key and handed it to Ken. “You want to do the honors?”

  “Don’t think I’ll need it.” Ken gave the gate a gentle push. It glided open.

  Bart gloved a hand, picked up a heavy chain, and examined the rings. “Cut clean through.”

  “So, we can safely assume someone wanted into Old Town. If you were going to make this home, where w
ould you take up residence?”

  Bart pointed at the five-spired house on the right end. “The mansion.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  They walked over quartz and brick stones, giving the boulder in the center of the courtyard a wide berth.

  “It’s still here?”

  “You want to move it? I say let sleeping dogs lie.” Bart looked at the rock and shivered in spite of himself.

  Ken followed Bart’s line of sight. He took in the skull-like features. He remembered the glowing eyes and the menacing beak of a mouth devouring is victims like candy. “It can stay right there.”

  Bart tried the mansion door. “Locked up tight. Give me the key ring.”

  He flipped through several keys, found the one he was looking for, and aimed it at the lock. The door popped open.

  “What was that?”

  “Hoping it was the wind.” Dark wood floors glistened through a dull layer of dust. A trail of ghostly footprints led to the ornately carved mahogany staircase.

  Ken pulled his gun.

  Bart pushed the barrel of Ken’s gun to the floor. “Maybe it’s kids looking for a place to have a good time.” Bart’s words echoed in the tomb-like silence.

  Ken lifted a finger to his lips and tiptoed to the staircase. He heard a click. Blue light flooded the stairs. Bart directed the light to a barely perceptible splatter of rust-red liquid. Another drop lay on the cream-colored stair runner.

  “That doesn’t bode well.” Ken threw out Bart’s well-used phrase.

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  Ken rooted through his windbreaker pocket and pulled out a bag with a cotton swab and a jar.

  “Still the Eagle Scout, I see.”

  “Always be prepared—FBI training drove it home for me.” Ken swabbed and contained the evidence before they continued to the second floor. A balcony overlooking the entry served to connect the right and left wings of the house. A larger pool of chocolate-red greeted them. The trail of red led to the right wing.

  “Couldn’t it have gone the other way? I hate attics—especially this attic.”

  “Let’s get this over with.” Ken raised his gun and headed up the short flight of steps.

  Bart released the .357 from his belt. “I’ve got your back.”

  Ken poked his head into a small room with a dormered ceiling. “It’s clean.”