by C. J. Pinard
“He’ll calm down soon,” Elaine consoled. “He just doesn’t want to see you get hurt. There’s a lot of evil in the big cities, Sebastian.”
“Pascal. When are you going to start calling me by my new name?”
She grinned and sipped her tea. “Never.”
Pascal shook his head and went outside to get started on the farm’s chores. But his first order of business was to the back of the barn where the firewood was stored. He picked up a good-sized log and pulled his pocketknife from his back pocket and began fashioning stakes. He whittled away until he had three good-sized, very sharp stakes and then snuck around to the front of the house. Under the moonlight, he could see Elaine in the pasture, brushing one of the horses and Aiden was carrying a saddle into the barn. He ran as quickly as he could into the house and deposited the stakes under his bed. He then began to pack up his things into a satchel. When he was satisfied he could do no more at that point, he calmly walked out to the barn and began his chores, not leaving the farm for the night. He did not speak to Aiden, either.
As dawn began to break, the three vampyres went into the farmhouse for the day. Pascal sat down at the table and began removing his shoes. Aiden passed by him and completely ignored him. Anger was still pouring out of him. Elaine smiled apologetically at Pascal and they went into their room to sleep.
Pascal sat very quietly for one hour. When he was sure they were asleep, he retrieved the stakes from under his bed and crept quietly into Aiden’s bedroom where the couple was lying motionless on the bed, both on their backs. As quietly as he could, he walked to Aiden’s side of the bed, and with both hands gripped on the stake, he raised it above his head, took a deep breath, and plunged it as hard as he could into Aiden’s chest. A jet of blood showered Pascal’s clothes and face.
Aiden sat bolt upright and screeched like a wild animal. He looked at Pascal, then down at the stake but his screams were quickly quieted as he began to turn brown, then gray, then to ash. But Pascal saw none of that as he was already on Elaine’s side of the bed. She had awoken when she heard Aiden’s screams but Pascal was quicker. She screamed once when the stake went in but fell silent as it pierced her heart. As she was a fairly young vampyre, she did not, however, turn to ash. Her body turned into a shriveled corpse, like one you would find when you dug up a coffin after many years.
Pascal was huffing and puffing and looked down at the blood on his clothes. He wiped the mess off his face with his hand and smiled wickedly as he exited the room, dropping the stake in their bedroom. He went into his room, stripped off his clothes, and looked carefully out the window. Dawn was beginning to break but the sun was not yet over the horizon. He hurried outside to the pump, naked as the day he was born, and washed himself clean. He then went back inside, put on clothes, and slept until nightfall. When he awoke, he grabbed his satchel, loaded the remaining stakes in them, and grabbed a kerosene lamp from the dining room table. He broke it open and dumped kerosene all over the house, trailing it in a line out of the front door. Taking a match from his pocket, he lit the match and threw it on the drizzled line of kerosene, watching with an evil smile as the farmhouse went up in flames.
He calmly walked to the barn, grabbed a saddle and a small bag of feed and saddled up a horse, tromping off to Boston. He never once looked back.
∞∞∞
Portland, Oregon – Present Day
Jonathan, Kathryn, Thomas, and Tyler stepped through the portal and into the apartment. Malina had opened the portal but stayed behind on the island.
Tyler shook his head. “Those guys were just putting us on, right? Why would they say something so ludicrous?”
“I don’t know. But I’m definitely going to investigate this. We’ve got that stakeout tonight with Jason Swift. Let’s get him to dig up some old BSI records. I had a conversation with his great-grandfather back in the fifties about that Alcatraz escape. In fact, now that I think about it, if memory serves, he did actually say that some speculated the men who escaped were shifters. It was the only explanation for their bodies not being found,” Jonathan said.
Kathryn opened the fridge and pulled out a jug of orange juice. “Yeah, but sharks probably ate them. Or maybe they really did reach the mainland and lived out the rest of their lives under aliases? It’s not impossible, John.”
Thomas had his hand on his mouth and was staring at nothing. “It’s pretty far-fetched. The fact is, though, Cole and Roe’s bodies were never found. Not even their clothing.”
“Okay, let’s say Seth and Malachi really are these guys. What are we supposed to do? Call the U.S. Marshals? ‘Hey, guess what? We found your two convicts from 1937. You can come get them, but make sure you bring a couple of cages and some leashes. They’re on a magical island in the Gulf of Mexico. Sure, we’ll take you there, just step through this here portal…’” Tyler laughed.
Jonathan chuckled. “No, obviously we don’t tell the humans we have their inmates. They’re back in jail, we handle it from here. I don’t even know if it’s even relevant that these guys are indeed Cole and Roe. Does it really matter?”
“It really doesn’t,” Kathryn answered.
Jonathan was at his credenza, pouring a scotch. “I suppose you’re right. What’s done is done. It was too long ago.”
Tyler said, “Yeah, but shouldn’t they be punished for escape or something? That’s pretty serious. How would that even work?”
“They’re already being punished on the island. They evaded us and have been sentenced. I think it’s adequate,” Thomas said.
Jonathan poured another. “Yes, but I still think the BSI needs to know. Might as well put it in their records. Although I’m not even sure how we verify this.”
“The real question is, why would they lie about that?” Kathryn said. “Oh, wait…” She walked to the desk and shook the mouse to wake up the laptop. She sat down and typed “Alcatraz escape 1937” into a Google search, then clicked on “images.”
Lots of pictures of the island popped up, but inmate photos also appeared. She clicked on a black-and-white photo that had both Theodore Cole and Ralph Roe side by side holding signs indicating their name and inmate register number on a small card. When she enlarged the picture, the three gathered behind her gasped in unison. There were Seth and Malachi, much more clean-cut with different hairstyles, but it was them, no doubt about it.
“Holy freakin’ crap,” Thomas said.
“Well, I guess that answers that,” Kathryn breathed.
∞∞∞
“How in the holy hell do you propose we get Pascal into the sun?” Bryan asked.
Brandon smirked. “I’ve been thinking about this. If we could somehow get one of those fairies to open up a portal like she did to Joshua, we could shove him through and burn him up.”
“Oh, hell no. I am not messing with those sylphs. They are like witches, they can do shit to us.”
“No they can’t. The portals and that potion they make are pretty much their only tricks. I’ve been investigating this, trust me,” Brandon replied.
Bryan had his head resting on the palm of his hand as he tapped the fingers of his other hand on the table. “Why don’t we just tie him to the tree out back?” He paused for a minute, then continued. “But how would we get him out there?” Bryan asked.
“We could drug him. I have access to tons of drugs when I am in the hospital. As long as I’m in uniform, nobody ever questions me.”
“Can we be drugged like that?”
Brandon nodded. “I figure if alcohol gets us buzzed, then any other type of narcotic could have an effect. I’m gonna experiment on myself a little bit first. It’s gonna take enough to knock out an elephant to be adequate for an old vamp like Pascal, though.”
Bryan got up and went to the fridge and pulled out a blood bag. He chucked it in the microwave and hit the thirty second button. He folded his arms over his chest while he waited. “Why don’t we just stake his ass while he’s asleep?”
“Angel is a
lways in there,” Brandon replied.
“Not always. Sometimes she gets up early and does her workouts,” Bryan replied as he tipped the blood bag and began to drink.
Brandon smirked. “Oh yes, that’s true. Ever seen her do yoga? Oh, my God, dude. I’m getting a woody just thinking about it.”
Bryan tipped his head back down and began coughing. “Dude! I almost shot blood out of my nose!” He was now laughing.
“I’m serious, you should watch one day. Anyway, I’ll work on Angel. You get the rest of the group on board.”
CHAPTER 13
∞∞∞
Salem, Oregon – 1902
Pascal Theroux left Springfield and never looked back. Arriving in Boston, he found what he’d been looking for; a busy, bustling, fast-growing city with lots to offer. He stayed for many, many years watching Irish, German, Italian, and Russian immigrants arrive in droves and settle in the New World. He watched the beginnings of the country’s industrial revolution explode, starting in Boston. He had many jobs in the fifty years he spent there, but the greatest irony was that he had found himself a small farm on the outskirts of the city and settled down there, just as he had with Aiden. He felt a small twinge of guilt for killing Aiden and Elaine; after all, if he would have just convinced them to move to Boston, they could have all lived on the farm. But he didn’t think he would have been able to convince Aiden to move again. He was a stubborn, bull-headed Irishman who thought it was his way or the highway. He liked Elaine, but knew it would do no good to leave her alive and kill Aiden, so she had to go, too.
The years in Boston were good to Pascal, he amassed a wealth that kept him comfortable. He recorded all he had seen and done in journals that he kept hidden away. He also never managed to settle down with one woman for very long, and he could never figure out why. He had longed for a mate, but none seemed to want to stay long-term. He had turned three women into vampyres and got a few good years out of each of them, but then they, just like the ones before them, decided not to stay and left Pascal by himself once again.
As the turn of the century came, he felt, just as Jonathan had, that a new century was a good time to turn over a new leaf and he sold the farm, packed his belongings, and took a steam train to the west coast.
Pascal had heard that the northwest part of America was immersed in a splendid heavy cloud covering and rarely saw the sun for the better part of the year, and he thought that was where he would like to be.
The train ride to the west coast had been tricky, trying to avoid sunlight in his small cabin but he managed. Lucky for him, the train arrived in the small town of Salem, Oregon. The town’s name reminded him of witches, and he shuddered.
He hated witches.
Disembarking the train, he gathered his belongings and, dragging his large trunk behind him, he went to the office of the train station and inquired about a horse and carriage to charter. He was quickly directed to a man sitting alone on a bench outside the station.
Pascal made his way to the man, who was literally doing nothing but smoking a cigar.
“Pardon me, I was told to speak with you about a carriage?”
The stranger pulled the cigar away from his mouth and blew a stream of smoke out through the side of his mouth, eyeing the man curiously. He was short and seemed fairly young, with a mop of dirty blonde hair under his hat. “Yeah, where you wanna go?”
“I was actually wondering if you would be for sale? I’d like to purchase your horse and carriage for permanent use and I will, of course, need a driver.”
The man’s demeanor changed. “Well, looks like you have come to the right place. Henry Silver at your service.” The man removed his pageboy cap, placing it on his chest and bowing slightly.
Pascal smiled. “Very well, then, shall we? I need to find a hotel or house to stay in for a few days before we begin our journey.”
“Wait a minute, buddy. I think we need to discuss a payment and salary first, don’tcha think?”
“Of course. First off all, my name is Pascal Theroux.”
“Nice to meet ya.” Henry again bowed slightly.
Pascal opened up his satchel and pulled out several bills and handed them to Henry. “Will this do, Mr. Silver?”
Henry’s eyes got big. “Oh yes, that will do just fine,” he chuckled, shoving the bills into his pockets. “Come on, let’s find you a nice one. Ol’ Paul Nelson and his old lady got a nice hotel with a saloon in it just up the street here.”
Henry opened the carriage door and as he did, pointed to the horse and said, “That there is Macy. She’s been a good horse.”
Pascal smiled and dipped his head as he entered the carriage. He left his trunk on the ground for Henry to load.
Pascal sat back in the plush carriage and breathed a sigh of relief as he heard Henry yell, “Ho!” as the carriage lurched to a start over the bumpy cobblestone street. Within five minutes, they stopped and Pascal looked out the carriage window to see a sign for the Salem Hotel. Underneath was another sign that read Salem Saloon.
Original, Pascal thought to himself with a laugh.
Henry helped him out of the carriage and carried his belongings into the hotel lobby, where they were met by a friendly older man with glasses. He was holding a broom.
“Hey, Paul, this here is Pascal Thee-row, he’s new in town and needs a room. Ya got one?” Henry inquired.
Paul smiled. “Nice to meet you. What’cha lookin’ for? Just a single room?”
Pascal nodded. “Yes, that would be lovely, thank you.”
“Where ya from, Mr. Thee-row?”
“Please, call me Pascal. I’ve been living in Boston for a few years, but I’m originally from England.”
Pascal had lost his passion for pretending to be French, and since so much time had passed, he didn’t bother with the story any longer. He had no desire to try to sound American, and his English accent was still as strong as ever.
“Oh. Well, welcome to Salem. I’ll show you to your room.”
The trio walked up a flight of steps and Paul opened a door at the top of the stairs with an old brass key. He handed the key to Pascal and said, “Enjoy your stay. Breakfast is at seven sharp and ends at nine sharp. There’s a washroom down the hallway.” And with that, he turned and made his way back down the stairs to continue his chore.
Henry deposited Pascal’s things into his room.
“Thank you, Henry. I think I’m going to change then head down to the saloon and get a drink. You may go, if you’d like. In fact, I won’t be needing the carriage until tomorrow evening. And by the way, you should probably know that I don’t go out during the day. I have a dreadful sun sickness and prefer to take care of business in the evening hours. I can occasionally go out if it’s overcast or raining, but I will let you know on a day by day basis. Will this be a problem for you?”
Henry smiled. “No, no problem. I’ll let the missus know that I’ll be working at night from now on.”
“Thank you, Henry. Meet me back here at sundown tomorrow, all right?”
“Yes, sir.”
Pascal watched Henry descend the stairs and closed the door to his room. After he changed clothes and freshened up, he made his way down to the saloon.
It was a very popular place.
He went up to the bar and ordered a whiskey. If Aiden was good for anything, he had taught Pascal which Irish whiskey was the best. He grabbed the glass and downed the shot in one gulp and asked for another. He downed the second shot and asked for a beer. The barkeep eyed him speculatively and shook his head but handed him a beer. Pascal paid the man without a word and went to sit at a table in the back.
He was hungry. No, he was starving. Eight days on a train and he didn’t want to feed on any of the passengers. So he did what he did best; he went looking for a drunk, vulnerable woman.
As he eyed the bar, his sensitive ears couldn’t help but overhear the conversation of a group of old timers at the next table over. They thought they were speaking in hus
hed tones, but the alcohol consumption made them speak a lot louder than they realized.
“I’m telling you. There was some weird shit that went on,” the first old timer said.
“What do you mean, weird?” a younger man asked.
“Well, me ‘n Jimbo was diggin’ up there. That area hadn’t yet been mined for gold, and the hills were untouched. We were excited to start our dig. The area is very rocky and hilly, and there was lot’a trees, but I had a good feelin’ about the place.
“Once we got there, we found a clearing and set up camp. And I thought we’d be alone there, but we soon found out we ain’t gon’ be the only ones there.” He stopped and took a large swig of beer then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Another man asked, “Who else was there? More gold miners?”
The old man answered, “Nah. Not miners. Get this – women. I don’t know what these broads were doin’, but me ‘n Jimbo overheard ‘em talkin’ and they were doing some weird voodoo shit. Talkin’ about fairies and witchcraft and stuff.”
A look of horror cloaked faces of the other three men.
“Witches? You pullin’ my leg, man?” one asked.
“Nah. As God is my witness! Me ‘n Jimbo decided we was gonna go dig somewhere else. Not to mention, I suddenly got a bad feelin’ while I was up there. The whole place gave me the heebie-jeebies. I think it’s haunted or somethin’.”
The guys laughed. The younger one said, “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“Well, be my guest, go take the trip down there and find out for y’selves. It’s all the way down in Gold Hill, it’s a new town, but it’s just… weird.”
One man took a large gulp of beer and let out a huge belch. “No thanks, man. I’ll pass.”
Pascal rolled his eyes and muttered, “Neanderthals,” under his breath.
That was quite the interesting conversation, though. He pulled out his journal from his breast pocket and began writing the words “Gold Camp”, “Witches”, “Fairies”, and “Spirits.” After he found someone to eat tonight, his next stop would be to find a shop where he could buy a map of Oregon. He was definitely going to be taking a trip to this Gold Camp place to find out what sort of magic they had there. Maybe he could find something to solve his little sunlight problem.