“Why are you here?”
“We need to talk. Where’s Josiah?”
“He’s at Grandma’s.” Kat wished she had insisted Josiah stay with her.
Ken mounted the porch steps and walked to Kat. “Give me a minute.”
His face was chapped and red.
“How long you been here?” she asked, concern creeping into her voice.
“About an hour.”
“You’re a fool, Ken Melbourne. You could have frozen to death in this cold.”
“You’re worth it.”
“Right.” Kat unlocked the door. “The clock’s ticking.”
BC pounced from his hiding place behind the door.
Kat took a well-practiced leap to her left. “Missed,” she said as she walked in and threw her coat over the arm of the chair.
Ken swung his leg behind him before it became a scratching post. He bent down and in a swift motion captured the cat and picked him up. BC growled and raised a paw. He caught Ken’s scent, placed the paw gently on Ken’s chest and nudged his chin.
“Never have to worry about you. This is the best watch cat anyone could ask for.”
Kat motioned to the couch and sat in the chair facing him. BC cuddled into Ken’s lap.
“I love you, Kat.”
Anger flooded her. “How dare you say that!”
She came out of the chair, walked to the door and opened it. “You love yourself, Ken. We’ve been through this. Please leave.”
“I have thought about you every day I’ve been away.”
“Nice. Actions speak a lot louder or haven’t you heard? Besides, we came to an understanding before you left. I do not want to live with a man. I want a husband. Old-fashioned but true.”
“I still say we need to get to know each other. Living together assures that.”
“Living together assures that two people are together and separate. It’s really easy to leave, no messy divorce, no fuss. I don’t want that. It’s easy enough to abandon those you love when that big commitment is made—you know the M word.” Kat thought back on her childhood—her mother walked out on Kat and her father when Kat was young. The pain was still fresh in her heart.
“I’ll think about it. I am just concerned we’d be making a big mistake.”
“A mistake?” She shot a wounded look at Ken.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Too late. You already took care of that when you walked away before.”
“I left with the understanding we would take some time to cool off and think about us—rationally. We did have some very intense, very quick feelings. You know as well as I that it was probably due to facing death. Same as shipwreck victims or guys going off to war.”
“Really? Then why are you here? You already have your answer.”
Ken cringed. That had not come out right.
“I’m trying to say, I thought my feelings would change once I left. But they haven’t. I still love you. But, marriage … ? We haven’t even spent a full month with each other.”
“You were ready for me to uproot everything and live with you—and we didn’t know each other a full month. I think your libido’s running your brain. I didn’t say we had to get married today. We can get to know each other and not live together.”
Her phone rang. She looked at the number and didn’t recognize it.
“Hello.”
“Hey, Kat, this is Brandon.” Kat’s heart sank.
“Oh, hello. I’m so sorry I missed our meeting today. Something came up. It was a little crazy.”
“I wondered. How about tomorrow?” Kat looked at Ken.
“Don’t think I can. But I will be coming by the library tomorrow afternoon, how about I bring you an espresso from Jo’s?”
Ken had figured out who was on the other end. His jaw flexed. He scooped up BC, placed him on the couch and walked out the door.
“Got to go, Brandon. See you tomorrow.”
Kat ran to the door but stopped short of screaming, “Come back!” She pulled back the living room curtain instead. A familiar heartache overcame her as she watched Ken walk across the road and toward the path to town. She grabbed BC, buried her head in his rich black fur and wept.
Ken power-walked down Kat’s drive and to the road. He entertained the idea of turning back, thought better of it and continued up the path to town. He had to walk off the rage that filled his mind the instant he realized that librarian was on the other end of the phone. How could you be so nice to that guy? The urge to punch McGill until his face was bloody almost seemed logical. Calm down, cowboy. He told himself. He’s not your battle—you are. Get honest here.
“I’m not giving up. I don’t give up.” He climbed the narrow path. A strong shot of bourbon was the one thing he wanted above anything else right now. He plowed past the ravine and into town.
He walked up and down Main but had no luck locating a bar. He stopped in front of the Ravens Cove Inn and walked into the reception area. He looked at his watch. Too late to call Andersen. He looked at the sign on the counter which read, “Ring bell for twenty-four service.” He rang the bell. A sleepy-eyed attendant appeared out of the back room.
Rubbing his eyes, the fifty-something man looked up and focused on Ken. He was in striped maroon, grey and white bottoms and a white t-shirt. His silver hair rimmed a large bald spot and glinted in the lobby light.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Melbourne?”
“Is there a place a man can get a drink in this town?”
The astonished look from the still sleepy owner told Ken that the sign had not been meant for this type of information in the middle of the night. “Our only bar is around the corner. Take Main toward the police station and turn left at the first street you come to. Take a right on Poplar. Keep walking and you’ll find it. Good night, sir.” The man stalked back through the doorway.
Ken followed the directions to the bar. He was going to drown his troubles tonight. Not his normal MO but tonight he wasn’t his normal self. Limbo and the craziness of the town were taking their toll. He wasn’t really an FBI agent right now, and he was in love with someone who was being courted by a librarian of all things. At least he has a job, Ken thought. That brought his spirits even lower and the drink called more loudly.
Poplar Street was black. The buildings that lined the small road were deserted and in a bad state of disrepair. His senses came to alert as he made his way toward the only light on the street. A small neon sign blinked, “The Watering Hole” and “Open” alternately. He walked to the lights and through the flimsy blackened glass door. The place was dead.
“What can I get you?” a tall, dark blond man asked.
“Bourbon, straight. Make it a double.”
“Well, you are looking to get away from it all, now aren’t you?” The bartender pulled a bottle off the back shelf.
Ken stared into the dark gold liquid before picking it up and taking a hesitant sip. The bourbon burned his throat. Not the highest quality but palatable.
This evening had turned mighty ugly in every way. He muscles still ached from the battle in Old Town. Their bullets were useless against those horrid creatures.
“Gnomes.” He said into the brown liquid.
“Pardon?”
Ken looked up at the bartender. “Nothing.”
“Want another?”
“Sure.”
Those yellow eyes filled his mind. Large, intelligent ones. He and Bart had circled, back to back. That’s when something happened. The little monsters were coming in for the kill. Gun chamber empty, Ken swung the firearm and missed. Small hands grabbed his calf and he fell to one knee, face to face with the stinking beak nose of the creature. He could have believed he was imagining all of this except the hot and strong breath issuing from its mouth made it clear he was in a fight for his life. He swung again and caught the creature in the neck. It shrieked, fell backward and flew back at him. The gun was ripped from his hand. Somehow, he managed to grab the
flashlight from his belt. He flipped it around to use it as a club and hit the on button in the process. When he raised his right arm the light hit one of the creature’s eyes. It screamed and covered its face.
“You see that?”
“You bet I did.” Bart threw down the gun and grabbed his flashlight. He turned it on and swung the flashlight so the beam caught the other two square in the eyes. They shrieked and ran for the darkness of the trees. The remaining four came at Ken. They followed their comrades when the blue light struck.
Bart and Ken stayed back to back, circling the area with the flashlights. They kept them up as they separated and backed out of the clearing and out of the courtyard toward the street. Once there, they both turned, jogged to the truck, slammed the doors and locked them in unison.
“Okay, we’re fighting a myth again.” Bart turned to Ken.
“I’m darn tired of fighting things that don’t exist but do exist.”
“Made no sense just then, pal. But, I get what you’re saying. Ditto.”
Ken’s breath was still ragged from the adrenaline pulsing through him. He felt his heart rate begin to drop as he concentrated on slow, easy breaths.
“I saw them watching us just now.”
“Yeah, they moved to the edge of the clearing. I was sure they were going to come after us.”
“Why didn’t they?”
“Light is not their friend?”
“Not true. They didn’t have any problem with the spots in the courtyard.”
“It’s the LEDs in the flashlights. What’s different about them?”
“They last longer is all I know. But they are more intense light.”
“Who cares—they worked.”
“So, why didn’t they follow us out?”
“I really don’t know and I don’t care. But maybe for some reason they can’t leave the houses?”
“Maybe. Or maybe something has to tell them to.”
“I just thank God they didn’t. And why did they come after us anyway? Iconoclast wouldn’t show his hand unless he thinks he can win.”
“What demon thinks it’s going to lose?”
Bart and Ken sat in silence. Defeat and fear came close. Visions of a night not so long ago flew into Bart’s vision. The helplessness returned.
Ken couldn’t stop thinking about how he had lost his credibility when he couldn’t explain the serial killings in logical terms. And now it was happening again. He grew angry, then sullen. Self-pity raised its ugly voice whispering to him about how everything was unfair, and he didn’t deserve to be treated this way. His heart sank.
Bart ventured in a shaky, almost indiscernible, voice. “In the name of Jesus, be gone.” Ken shot a disgusted glance in his direction. “Not you, too.”
Bart felt rather sheepish but noticed he felt lighter. “Got a better idea?”
“No.” The reality of a spirit world, a world he had been grateful not to know about, smacked him right between the eyes. He had believed at the ravine but buried that belief when he returned to work. It didn’t fit in his world and with his goals.
“I feel like a real idiot. Be gone, in Jesus’ name,” he said halfheartedly. The self-pity, weariness, and regret left as fast as they had come.
Bart could see the attitude change with the glint that had reappeared in Ken’s eyes.
“Looking better, brother.”
Bart dropped Ken at the hotel. He’d felt so good he couldn’t sleep. So somehow he’d gotten the bright idea to walk to Kat’s and have that conversation he’d long meant to have. And the rest was history.
“So, here I am, staring at an empty glass.” He plinked the glass onto the bar.
“Want another?”
“Yeah, why not.” A third glass appeared. As sometimes happened when he had a couple of drinks in him, Ken became a little more talkative.
“Hey.”
“Drink okay?”
“Drink—yeah, its fine. I just have a question.”
“Don’t know as I have an answer, but shoot.”
“Have you ever run into anything, well, anything you can’t explain?”
“Like what?” The bartender’s wary look told Ken a lot. He didn’t care; just wanted to know.
“Well, like strange, small, and nasty animals that walk on two feet.”
The barkeep stared in unbelief at the question.
“Is this some weird joke or trick?”
“Not meant to be.”
“Did Larry send you in to give me a hard time?”
“I don’t know a Larry—not in Ravens Cove, anyway.” He looked at the name sewn into the man’s shirt, “Kal.”
“How’d you know my name?” Ken pointed at the shirt.
Kal relaxed. “Oh.”
“These are real questions. Not a joke.”
Kal looked around the bar. No one had come in and the place was empty except for him and Ken. He came around the bar and sat down on the stool.
“Why you asking?”
“Because I saw something like that tonight. In fact, several somethings and they tried to kill me and my friend, that’s why.”
“Where’d you see them?”
“At Old Town.”
Kal became thoughtful. “I thought I saw something. It was a few days back, though. It was at Old Town.”
“Do you know what it is?”
“Yeah, it’s a Kumrande.”
“What’s that?”
“You aren’t from this area of the world, huh?”
“Not hardly.”
“Well anyone who is can tell you there are many creatures that man has not seen and that exist. The Kumrande is one. There’s other things, too—they have names for them all over the world like nymphs or fairies or goblins or …”
“Goblins?”
“That’s what it looked like to you?”
“If anything matched a goblin description that would be it.” Ken couldn’t believe he was carrying on this conversation in the same routine way he would discuss the most recent baseball statistics.
“They can look like several different things, but that’s their true shape. If you saw one in its true form, you should be dead.”
“I almost was but they seem to have an aversion to LED lights.”
Kal raised his eyebrows. Ken pulled his flashlight out of his belt and clicked it on. “LED lights.” He clicked it back off.
“Well, isn’t that something.” Kal looked at Ken again.
“Listen, friend, they aren’t done with you. When you see them, it’s because they have come to take you to their underground world—for a Kumrande picnic. They like humans. So you better not travel at night. You’re safe during the day but then again, we are in a dark time for Alaska.”
“That’s not too comforting.”
“If they are here right now, someone or something has bidden them here. They are kinda like the spirit world’s zombies— no souls. Suppose to obey the evil ones.”
“Can you kill them?”
“Don’t know. When I saw one the other day, I only saw a dark shadow but the shape could only be a Kumrande–itsy man with cloven feet. That’s the way my mom described it.”
Ken was still trying to deny this could be happening—again. But he wasn’t going to alienate this man who had given him more information in ten minutes than it took to get out of Bart in days.
Ken laid his money on the bar. “Thanks, Kal. You be careful, too.”
“Thanks, man. Come back anytime.”
Ken left the bar and walked just a little faster than normal until he reached the inn. He sneaked up the stairs so he didn’t disturb the manager for the second time that evening, undressed and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.
Kat cried for an hour after Ken left. Once the tears subsided, she got up, walked into her small bathroom and washed her face. She threw cold water over closed eyelids to reduce the swelling that was an inevitable side effect of her tears. By tomorrow morning, she’d probably look like m
arshmallows had been stuffed under her eyes.
Kat sought comfort under her old tattered quilt. She stared at the wall across from her bed. Her body screamed for sleep but her brain yelled to be heard. BC jumped up and curled into the middle of her back. The body heat, coupled with BC’S deep, rhythmic purr sent Kat into the previously elusive slumber. A periodic scratching brought Kat up from the sleepy depths. The sound seemed to be in her room.
BC sat statue-straight at the end of the bed, tail swishing, staring intently at the window. She pushed back the covers and was greeted by the chill of a house she loved to keep at sixty-two degrees. She grabbed a throw from the bottom of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. A bare cotoneaster bush screeched against the glass as it moved in the night wind.
“I knew I should have cut that thing back last fall.” She plopped back on her pillow, snuggled under the quilt and tried to go back to sleep. The scratching started again. BC leaped to the floor and focused on the braided rug between the bed and window. Kat concentrated on the same spot and—for a moment—was sure she saw something, too. BC growled and pounced on nothing.
“You having bad dreams, cat?” She flicked on the light and walked around to where BC was sitting, although his attention was now on the wall beside the window. Something caught her eye and Kat bent over and scrutinized the old braided rug. A small, wet patch was evident.
“BC, really, can’t you get to the box?” Kat walked off in disgust and grabbed the roll of paper towels from the kitchen. She sopped up the liquid. It was clear. She gave it a tentative sniff. It had no smell. She touched it. It was cold and a small piece of ice melted under the warmth of her finger. A shiver started up her spine and traveled at lightning speed to the base of her neck. She grabbed her phone.
“Someone’s been in my house.” Her voice shook. She held the phone in a two-handed death grip to keep it steady.
Bart didn’t question her. “Stay on the phone. I have to put mine down to grab my coat. But if something happens you yell at the top of your lungs, hear me?”
Kat nodded.
“You hear me?”
“Yes, yes, sorry.”
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