“Stop gawking,” Bart whispered.
Maureen Orthell reappeared.
“He’ll be right up. How about something to drink—wine or a beer?”
“Still working.”
“A cup of coffee or tea then. It’s a cold one again.”
“Coffee sounds great, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“None; already have a pot made for Tom. How about you, Mr… .?”
“Ken Melbourne.” He held his hand out. Maureen Orthell took his fingers in hers and gave them a lukewarm squeeze.
“I don’t need a thing.”
“Go on into the living room.” She pointed to a door that stood to the left of the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”
The walls of the large living/dining combination were white. An oversized fireplace flanked the outside wall. Jet-black granite framed the decorative expanse of peach-colored stone that surrounded it. A cream background on the furniture was dotted with burgundy and pink roses. A dark cherry coffee table stood between the couch and two wing-back chairs. The dining room table, hutch, and chairs were in the same rich wood.
Maureen returned and set a tray with a coffeepot, three cups, sugar and fresh cream on the table.
“Thought you might change your mind, Mr. Melbourne, so if you do, help yourself.”
“Got the key, Andersen?” A gruff Tommy Orthell came through the living room door, wiping his freshly washed hands on a kitchen towel. He handed the towel to his wife.
Bart dug in his pocket, located the key, and dropped it into Orthell’s outstretched hand.
“Thanks.” Orthell turned to leave the living room.
“Just a couple of questions.”
Orthell hesitated for a moment, then turned.
“What questions?”
“Did you lock up Old Town this evening?”
“Of course. I’m the only one with a key.”
“What time?”
“Actually it was early in the day—around two. Why?”
“Just routine questions.”
Orthell narrowed his eyes. “They don’t sound routine.”
Bart ignored the statement. “Did you see anyone around before you went into the buildings?”
“No.” The mayor thought. “The only people I saw today were John Campo and that new librarian.”
“What time was that?”
“Don’t know but Jenny would. I went right back to the office for a phone conference. I didn’t think I’d need to account for my every move.”
“I’ll call her tomorrow.”
“You aren’t seriously considering me as a suspect, are you?”
“Until this is solved, everyone’s a suspect. So don’t leave town for a while, okay, Tommy?”
“Wasn’t planning on it. Are we done here?”
“For now.”
Orthell turned and headed out the door and to the basement.
“You tired of being the town sheriff?”
“Maybe I am. I’m sure tired of being the town football and Orthell is the prime kicker and works hard to make sure I don’t forget it.”
“Well, maybe you’d better start thinking about new career choices. If he’s innocent, you’re gonna be mud.”
“Orthell has had a chip on his shoulder since that whole thing happened last October. He was a member in good standing with Martin Plotno and that Congregational Alliance bunch.”
“He blames you for their deaths?”
“That’s the only explanation that makes sense. We got along fine until then. Ever since, though, my job has been on the line. He just hasn’t been able to find a way to cross me up and get me fired.”
“Take it from me, you don’t want to give him a reason. This life is in the blood. I miss being in the field. You would, too.”
They had gotten to the truck when a silver glint caught Bart’s eye. He squinted to get a better look. At the edge of the woods between the cannery and the old house was an orb of light. It flickered and disappeared. Bart started moving.
“Hey!” Ken broke into a jog, slipped on some ice, then resumed jogging.
“Looks like a flashlight beam.” Bart pointed toward the area where he had seen the light. He released his gun from the holster and walked toward the artificial light of the courtyard.
Ken grabbed his arm. “We’ll be sitting ducks out there. This way.”
Bart nodded and they headed toward the woods beside the cabin. The crunching snow beneath their feet rang out like shotgun blasts.
Bart stopped and listened, then moved forward. They reached the area where Bart had seen the light.
“Something’s been here. Looks more like an animal than a person, though.” There were cloven hoof prints about two inches in diameter. Bart could make out four separate tracks.
“There are only two prints each. For that animal there should be four. Whatever made these tracks was walking on two legs.”
“There’s nothing like that here; in fact, I’m not sure there is anything in this world that matches the description you just gave.”
“It is what it is. You have a different explanation?”
Bart thought, shook his head then looked at his watch. Just past nine. “I’ll call Douglas and get him out here. If anyone knows, he will.” He grabbed his cell phone and dialed, still eyeing the unmistakable marks in the snow and ice. He had not told Ken but he had been told of such creatures by his mother—he laughed at her then and told her they couldn’t exist. Please let there be another explanation.
Doctor Douglas arrived a short time later. An amateur zoologist, he was always on the lookout for an undiscovered species. He crouched on the balls of his feet, flashlight in hand.
“I’d say it’s a small goat …”
“The way the path moves, Doc, it looks like a two-legged creature,” Bart pointed to the tracks.
Doc gave him an impatient stare. “As I was saying, it looks like a small goat but I have never seen any goat walk on its hind legs. And I don’t know of any other animal that has this track and can walk two-legged for any extended period.”
“It could have jumped. That’d make it appear two-legged, right?” Ken stooped over the tracks and followed them into the woods.
“No, no, I don’t think so.” Doc Douglas was shaking his head while scrutinizing the tracks in a new light.
“An animal in a jump would use both hind legs to push off. This one walks with a human gait, first one foot and then the other. No. This one was on two feet.”
“Maybe it was trained to do this?”
“Maybe. I sure haven’t run into anyone that’s been training a miniature goat. Since I’m the only vet in town, odds are I would have.” He smiled up at Ken.
“I’ll get some pictures and the cast of the print to some friends of mine. You’ll be the first to know if I find out anything.”
“Soon, right?”
“As soon as I can.” Doc grabbed his tools.
“Hey, do you know any more about that wolf?”
“First, I’m not sure it’s a full wolf. Second, it seems the antibiotics are doing their work. He’s still sedated. But he is eating and drinking. Looks like he’s going to pull through. I’ll know more tomorrow afternoon. Talk to you then.”
Ken turned to Bart. “You recognized those prints.”
“No. Just shocked by them, that’s all.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
Bart dropped his eyes back to the footprints. “Another legend that our people and this town are so famous for, that’s all.”
“And … ?”
“My mother warned me about these creatures. Said they have been seen throughout time by different people. They aren’t animal but they aren’t human either. They serve the fallen angels, demons.”
“That sounds crazy.”
“Yep. But you know what’s crazier?”
“No.”
“I have a drawing by my great-grandfather. It matches those prints.”
“How’
s that possible if they don’t exist?”
“Thought it was an artist’s interpretation of the story. I’m rethinking that assumption. The rest of the legend portends the same thing we went through in October but in a more devastating manner—if that’s possible.”
“Still crazy.”
“So was the confrontation with Iconoclast. Impossible and crazy. But it happened just the same.”
Bart thought about the body they had just seen. “After what we saw tonight, I’m losing hope that this is a copycat. I think Iconoclast’s found a way to work his way back and he’s doing it at a fevered pace.”
A branch snapped. Ken and Bart spun to face four silver-haired beings. They backed away, each drawing his gun. A guttural threat came from behind. Bart flipped to Ken’s back and they stood together, looking at three more of the creatures. They started firing at the same time.
Chapter 9
The Forgotten Place
Kat, Paul, Josiah, and Grandma gathered in a semicircle around Mrs. Tellamoot’s front door. The planked wood entry of the tidy older cabin obscured any view of Bernice Tellamoot making her way to the door. Kat knocked a second time.
“Hold your horses. What does it take for an elderly woman to get you people to leave her alone?” A tall, thin woman with thick, grey, shoulder-length hair opened the door.
“Oh, the wellness check now needs a committee, I see.” She honed in on Kat. “You left here a couple of hours ago. I still don’t want to talk about that dog.” She pointed at the others. “Just ’cause I’m old doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself. Tell that to all those other busybodies who believe I can’t live alone.” She shut the door.
“Bernice, we’re here about the Forgotten Place.”
Bernice Tellamoot opened the door a crack. One chocolate brown eye peeked at Alese Bricken. “Why?”
“Your mother hails from there, Bernice. Bad things are happening in those buildings Orthell brought in. Any information you could give could help us.”
“Who are they?” She lifted her chin toward Paul, then Josiah.
“Friends of Ravens Cove.”
Bernice snorted. “Doesn’t make them friends of my people.”
“They are here to help. God brought them to Ravens Cove last October to stop the Iconoclast siege. And God has reunited us now.”
The door flew open. “How dare you mention God. He has abandoned me now—and He abandoned my people then.”
God help her. Her hurt is so deep. Her pain so strong. Paul prayed in silence.
“Where was your mother that day?” Josiah asked.
“She took me to visit her cousin at the next village. She had a new baby and wanted me to see him. Why?” She broke eye contact with Grandma and focused on Josiah.
“Your mother was accused of being part of the destruction, wasn’t she?”
“Yes. And she was a believer in God. She had encouraged all that would listen to turn back to Christ. And, how did God repay her? He abandoned her, that’s how! My father was murdered. My mother and I were left alone and penniless. I have no time for this God of yours.” She started to close the door.
“How did you and your mother survive?” Josiah asked.
“We moved in with that cousin I just told you about.”
“Would you entertain another idea about God?” Paul asked. Her eyes searched his. “What?”
“I do not pretend to be an expert on God’s mind. But it seems to me that He honored your mother’s faith. He protected her from the carnage of that day. That sounds more like a loving Father than a harsh God that abandoned you and your mother.”
“How did your mother die?” Josiah had no idea why he asked this question.
“In the arms of my stepfather. Later in her life, she developed heart trouble.”
“Was your stepfather a good man?”
“He was good to my mother … and to me.” Hard, brown eyes softened. “He treated me as his own.”
“Mrs. Tellamoot, please hear us out. We wouldn’t have bothered you if we could find answers somewhere else.”
“I told that stubborn mayor and his cronies not to bring them here. They don’t listen.”
“They don’t respect our traditions. But these people do.”
“People are dying. If this legend has anything to do with it, we need to know.” Paul pleaded.
Bernice Tellamoot stood in the doorway, scrutinizing each member of the small party. She nodded, stood aside, and let them enter.
Josiah held out the two grocery bags. “We know you can take care of yourself. But Alese seemed to think you’d like these for your pantry.”
Bernice smiled and took the bags from Josiah. “Sit down. I’ll get something to drink. This will take a while.” Grandma Bricken followed her to the kitchen.
The tan fabric of the Early American couch was worn but clean. A matching rocker and footstool was positioned across from the couch. Above a small fireplace, a grey and white canine with gold eyes stared at them. A gold plaque, engraved with “Benny” named the portrait.
Mrs. Tellamoot reappeared from the kitchen with a well-used teapot. Alese followed her with a tray holding matching cups and blueberry muffins. Bernice Tellamoot sat in the rocker and leaned forward.
“This is the legend of the clan. Those of the clan—she nodded to Grandma Bricken—were not involved in the story of the Forgotten Place. It is a story of shame and evil. It has been passed down in our clan as a reminder and warning against greed.
“In the early years of the nineteenth century, my people were settled in a small village. They were a hardworking people and lived unto themselves. They did not welcome strangers. Those who were thought to be a danger to the clan were killed.”
“That’s horrible,” Paul said.
Bernice shrugged. “That was the way of my ancestors. This is what my ancestors were instructed to do by the Great Wolf.”
She shot a sad smile to the dog’s picture. “The wolf and the dog were great companions to my people. And, up until this time, we enjoyed their protection and loyalty. They warned us against danger and alerted us in the hunt. But even these great creatures could not protect the doomed ones from the deceit that befell our village.”
Bernice told the rest of the story. Of a good shaman and two bad people who came together and made a complete evil. Who succeeded in destroying the village because they tricked and murdered the good shaman. Bernice sighed and hung her head.
“As I said, this is a story of shame and evil. Because of this evil, the Great Wolf left us. It is rumored that one day he will return and fight the demons that took my people.”
“If the demons are still on the loose, why haven’t they been seen?”
Bernice shrugged. “Nothing to feed on and make it strong. Until now.”
“There is another part of the story that was handed down by word of mouth. It is said that one of the hunters was chosen to return to the village by my mother’s cousin’s clan. They were afraid the demons would travel to them and they would die, too.
“That hunter returned to the village two days later. He swore he sneaked up to the edge of the village as he had been told to do. At first, he thought he saw the Great Wolf among the dead. Then, it stood on its back legs and the fur became a white robe that was on fire. A mighty warrior with a blazing gold sword stood in its place. He fought the demons and won. Then he sealed all the portals the demons had used to enter our world and buried the bodies of the dead. He said the being began to glow, like the blue of lightning during a summer storm. Then, it shot into the air.”
“A mighty warrior?”
Bernice shrugged again. “This is the story; this is the truth of my people.”
Kat looked at Alese Bricken, then Paul and Josiah. The story had been just a story until she heard the description of the warrior. By the look on the others’ faces, they felt the same.
“Did your people know the name of this white settler?”
“I do not have the name but
it would be listed among those that died in the Forgotten Place. He and his wife did not realize they, too, would die. As with all greedy and evil people, they think they are immune from the very destruction they unleash.”
“No wiser words have I heard,” Josiah remarked.
“That list is at the newspaper archives.”
“Umm, Johnny Campo is not there right now and I wouldn’t have the slightest idea of how to begin a search in those boxes of his.”
“Well, there should be a copy at the library. I donated it myself less than a year ago.”
“Thanks, Bernice. I know this was hard for you.”
“I was rude to you, Alese. You didn’t deserve that. I’m just a tired and cranky old woman.” She gave Alese a weak smile.
“You’re singing to the choir,” Alese quipped.
“I don’t understand why an angel of God would appear as a wolf,” Josiah whispered under his breath.
“Why wouldn’t he? A wolf to that clan would have been far easier to believe than a streaking blue blazing light of a man.”
“Still don’t fathom it. But, then, it is rare that I understand the workings of God.”
Kat didn’t enjoy where this conversation was going. It was giving her the heeby geebies. “On another note, I’ll go to the library and look for that list tomorrow. I need to make an apology for a missed coffee meeting to the new librarian.”
“Do they have a copier?”
“Think so.”
“Then bring a copy to the house and we can have a look at it. Maybe we’ll see something that sheds light on our current predicament.”
Josiah got out of the car at Alese’s house.
Alese leaned in the car window. “Josiah and I discussed it and he is welcome to stay with me. I have more than enough room and I could use the company.”
Kat felt a bit of relief. Her tiny cabin felt crowded sometimes with just her and BC. She knew Grandma was safe with Josiah and felt good knowing she would not be alone.
Paul dropped Kat close to her front steps. She waved as she watched him pull out of the driveway. A dark shadow caught her attention. She reached to her left and grabbed the wood axe and slowly turned to face the intruder. She lowered the axe as Ken stepped out of the shadows.
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