Sienna Falls, Montana
Vigorous knocks came at his door. Much to Ulysses' annoyance, he stopped feeding on the woman laying next to him in his four-poster bed to answer it.
"This better be important," he snarled as he made his way to his bedroom door. He opened it to stare into the furious blue eyes of his only daughter.
"Isabella . . ."
"Hello, Father," she seethed as she entered the large bedroom.
"What are you doing here?" Ulysses asked, tightening his bloody robe.
Isabella eyed her father up and down and then the woman slowly dying in his bed and sighed in disgust.
"I see you're still the same vile creature I left behind sixty years ago," she said.
"Isabella. . . . It's so good to see you," he said, ignoring the contempt in his daughter's voice.
He reached for a hug but Isabella quickly withdrew.
"This is hardly a reunion." She made her way over to the dying woman. She was wearing a blood-drenched white silk dress, white linen veil and expensive jewelry. Her hair was tightly wrapped over her ears with white ribbons. Bite wounds littered the woman's arms and legs. Lit candles adorned the bedroom and rose pedals were scattered across the large bloodstained bed. The woman helplessly stared at Isabella, barely breathing as she made her way over. She was afraid, but even more so, desperate for help.
Desperate to be freed from her pain and torment.
She was suffering as she died a slow and painful death. Isabella leaned down, lifted the veil and caressed the woman, whispering words of comfort in her ear all the while. And then Isabella snapped the woman's neck. Killing her instantly. Painlessly. And decapitated her.
"Your barbarity knows no limits, does it?" Isabella said.
"Come now, Isabella. You know it's in our nature to feed."
"You know as well as I, that isn't true!" Isabella snapped. "You know we don't have to feed. Primitive Ones can live without feeding. I should know, I discovered that fact. You just enjoy being a monster. Admit it."
Ulysses smiled.
"I also enjoy feeding on prey with beating hearts." He looked at the decapitated corpse on his bed. "You just sealed another poor woman's fate tonight, love."
Isabella grimaced.
"You usually dress your victims up to resemble Mother?"
"Oh, how I wish it was your mother I was draining the life from instead of some random street whore with a pretty face?"
Isabella's smooth pale skin instantly shriveled and her deep blue eyes were clouded by the evils consuming her. It had been a long time since Ulysses seen his daughter in her awakened state.
"How dare you!" she hissed. "Don't you ever speak of Mother like that in front of me again! I swear, I'll kill you!"
Ulysses cackled.
"You mean the same woman who abandoned her family and wanted nothing to do with us? The same wretched woman who thought we'd be better off dead?" Ulysses gritted his teeth. "The filthy witch can continue burning in the afterlife."
Isabella lunged for Ulysses but he quickly grabbed her by the neck and slammed her into the wall.
"Ah, ah," he said. "I wouldn't."
"Go ahead," Isabella spat, returning to her dormant state. "Kill me. Kill me like you killed our family."
Ulysses placed a finger over Isabella's lips and kissed her forehead.
"What kind of father harms his own daughter?" He grinned and released her. "What brings my beloved back home?"
Isabella stood her ground before her father, staring at him with an infinite amount of contempt in her cold eyes.
"Emil. Where is he? He never returned to Strasbourg after coming back here to visit you. So where is he?"
The question caught Ulysses off guard.
"Why . . . why do you ask?"
"Just answer the question!" Isabella roared.
Ulysses grinned.
"You know the answer, don't you?"
"Ta gueule! You evil bastard!" Isabella sobbed. "How could you?"
"I caught Emil trying to steal the Demon's Spirit. It was a betrayal on his part. I do not pity the boy."
"He was your youngest son!" Isabella bellowed. "He was family!" she added in a breathless whisper.
"He was disloyal."
Isabella gasped as she fell to her knees.
"Emil was . . . all the family I had left," she squeaked. She looked up at him. "If you didn't have the only weapon capable of killing us, I'd kill you myself."
Seeing his only daughter on her knees, looking so pitiful and distraught, stirred a familiar kind of pain.
"The Demon's Spirit is the single, most powerful act of witchcraft in the world, Isabella," he said softly. "It was made to protect our family and in this family it shall remain. Anybody who threatens that will be killed. I warned you all, have I not?"
Isabella shook her head.
"Mother's elixir changed you."
"What do you mean?"
Isabella quickly climbed to her feet.
"You used to be a good man. A good father. But it's clear he died the night he drank the Demon's Spirit. All that's left is you. A monster in every sense of the word."
"The boy forced my hand, girl!" Ulysses growled.
"All Emil wanted was to make the love of his life truly immortal, just like us. He'd told me he begged you many times for just a sip of the elixir and you denied him each time. Emil risked his life for love, because that's the kind of person . . . the kind of brother he was."
"I forgave Emil the first time he did this," Ulysses said defiantly. "I warned him just like I warned all of my children what would happen--"
"I get it now," Isabella whispered. "How could I not have seen it before?"
"What are you on about?"
"I've always wondered why you were so livid the night Benjamin Crawford ran away from home. Enough to drive you mad with murderous rage. I thought it was because he wasn't your puppet. I remember how you tried to make him a monster. To make him like you. But he remained true to himself. I thought you couldn't stand that he got away from you. I thought that when he escaped your influence, your pride had been severed. But the true reason you were angry is something else entirely, isn't it?"
Ulysses said nothing.
"Take a good look around you, Father," Isabella cried. "Ulric's gone. Aster's gone. Mother's been gone for centuries. And Emil is dead! Your obsession with the Demon's Spirit--with murder and power--it cost you your family!" She gave him a strained stare. "Was it worth it?"
Again, Ulysses said nothing.
"This obsession--this darkness--is why Mother left us, you know that?"
Why are you so adamant about keeping Mother's elixir in the family? What is it that you're afraid of?"
Ulysses could only respond with a grunt.
"You don't have to answer," Isabella whispered. "I just pray, for your sake, that it was worth your family."
Isabella turned and made her way toward Ulysses' bedroom door.
Ulysses mercilessly said "If you know where the boy is, tell me now if you wish to live out the rest of your immortal life."
Isabella stopped, turned around and stepped toward her father, facing him directly in the eye.
"Vai a farti fottere!" she said before leaving the bedroom.
***
"You like your coffee black? You're either very brave or very hard-working."
The mother of Michelle Fuller sat a steaming mug of coffee on the table in front of Charles and took a seat on the sofa opposite him. They were in Mrs. Fuller's living room.
"Can't I be both?" Charles said.
"You can be what ever the hell you want, Sheriff, so long as you're searching for my daughter's murderer."
Charles grabbed the mug me took a sip of coffee.
"You have a name, ma'am?"
"Yvette."
"Yvette, again, I'm Charles. And I take my job very seriously. I don't know if you could tell, but these past few months, I've only gotten a few days' worth of sleep. The tragedy our town is facing right now--it stays with you. It doesn't allow you to eat. Barely allows you to sleep. And it sure as hell won't allow you to forget. These murders are with me when I'm taking a shit. . . . I'm taking every initiative to bring each of those victims justice--and that includes your daughter, Michelle."
Yvette sat back against her sofa and folded her hands.
"I guess late is better than never, right?"
"Yvette, you . . . have to be patient with us--"
"Patient?" she exclaimed. "Patient? . . . Cassie! . . . Cass, get in here!"
A few moments later, the woman's daughter entered the living room from a hallway.
"Yes, Momma?"
"Go bring me Michelle's envelope."
The little girl disappeared down the hall.
"You know, Charles . . . I was seventeen and pregnant when my mother convinced me that I wouldn't be shit in life. And when you hear that you'll be a failure over and over and over again, you start to believe it. Well, I believed it and it became my reality."
Cassandra returned with a large white folder, placed it on the table between them, and disappeared down the hall again.
"Go ahead," Yvette said. "Open it."
Charles set down the coffee mug and picked up the large envelope. On the front were the letters TIFYM.
"TIFYM?" said Charles, eyeing Yvette. "What's that mean?"
Yvette shook her head.
"Michelle never did get around to telling me."
Charles opened the envelope and pulled out three college acceptance letters.
"Wow," he said. "The big three."
"She worked hard. She earned it."
"Jesus . . . so much wasted potential," Charles said, shaking his head. He replaced the letters inside the envelope and placed it on the table. "Michelle . . . she was something special."
"I've invested everything in my daughter. Determined to give her a life far better than mine, I homeschooled her. I made sure she was active in extracurricular activities. But most important of all, I reminded her every single day that she will win. That she will succeed and be a better person than I ever could be." She pointed at the envelope on the table. "And she was well on her way. So when you tell me to be patient, all I could think about is my baby girl's infinite amount of potential. All I could think about is how she could have effected the world. All I could think about is . . . all I could think about is . . ."
Yvette began sobbing uncontrollably.
"Take your time, Mrs. Fuller," Charles said quietly. "I can imagine this isn't easy."
After a moment, Yvette regained composure.
"I . . . I see her. I see her in a way I don't want to remember her. Torn apart. Soaked in her own blood. Undignified. My baby girl deserved--deserves--so much better."
"She deserves justice," said Charles. "And I'm going to deliver just that."
Yvette grabbed some tissue from a box on the table and dried her eyes.
"I'm . . . sorry if I came off as unreasonable earlier."
"To be honest, Yvette, I'd probably have been the same, if not worse."
"I appreciate your efforts, Sheriff. "So . . . how may I help you?"
"Please, just Charles. And I need some questions answered. Michelle's body was found in Crown's Point. According to the information I read, she should have been in Sancova Hills. That's half an hour's drive away. You have any idea how she may have gotten over there?"
"No idea," Yvette said, shaking her head. "But she shouldn't have been in Crown's Point. She was attending a party in Sancova Hills."
"Anybody you know that could have taken her over there? An ex boyfriend or someone?"
"Michelle didn't have time for a boyfriend, Charles. Though I wouldn't be surprised if she had a few admirers. I'm sure her friend, Chris, was one of them."
"Chris? . . . Anything you could tell me about Chris?"
"Sure. He was . . . quiet. Never spoke more than a few words at a time. He walked Michelle home every day--which I appreciated."
"Do you think he could have been one of Michelle's admirers?"
"I wouldn't doubt it," Yvette said. "You should have seen the gifts he bought her for her birthday. Very expensive gifts. Michelle wouldn't accept most of them. It visibly upset him."
"Do you know if he had a vehicle or access to one?"
"I don't think so. He was always walking."
"Did he attend the party in Sancova Hills?"
Yvette nodded.
"He came to get Michelle."
"He live near here?"
"About fifteen minutes away. Forty-six Brooke Road. First door on the first floor."
"And Chris' full name?"
"Uh . . . Christopher Harris, I believe."
Charles sighed.
"Coming here was way more productive than I could have imagined. It's one lead, but it's a hell of a solid one."
"I just hope I was able to lead you in the right direction," Yvette said.
Charles took one last sip of coffee.
"I'm going to find whoever's responsible for this. That's a promise." He stood. "Thanks for the coffee."
"No, thank you for your determination to . . . deliver some justice for my baby girl. And some closure for her family. Be safe out there, Charles."
Yvette lead Charles to her front door.
"You take care of yourself, Yvette," he said, stepping outside the apartment.
"I will. And I hope y'all find the bastard who did this to Michelle before my husband does, because there won't be a trial or conviction--I promise you that."
Charles chuckled.
"I wouldn't blame him."
* * *
Light knocks came at Lainey's door. She rolled out of her bed and onto the floor.
"Ow," she said loudly.
She scrambled to her feet, holding onto her bed for support
"Who is it?" she demanded groggily.
"Fawn."
Lainey, immediately finding her strength, effortlessly climbed to her to her feet and opened her door.
"Hey!"
"Hey," Fawn said with what looked like a forced smile.
They hugged.
"Come in."
Fawn leaned against Lainey's vanity dresser like always and Lainey jumped back in bed.
"What happened to you yesterday?" Fawn said quietly. She appeared to be lost. "After you left with Rita. I was so worried. I called you so many times."
Lainey suddenly felt short of breath. How was she supposed to tell Fawn that Rita had died? Essentially twice? How was she supposed to tell her about unreal events of the day before?
Lainey sighed.
"Fawn, there's something I have to tell you. Something . . . scary. And unreal."
Fawn's eyes widened.
"I know what happened to all those people," Lainey continued. "The people who were killed in town . . ."
"You mean the victims of the Grisly Murders?" Fawn whispered.
Lainey nodded.
Fawn began tapping the edges of Lainey's vanity dresser. A sign that she was anxious.
"God, I don't even know where to begin," Lainey breathed, brushing her hair back with her hands. "I'm going to sound insane."
"Whatever you have to say, Lainey, I'm listening," Fawn said sincerely.
Lainey took a deep breath.
"Okay. . . . There are these . . . creatures. In town. Supernatural creatures. They're known as . . . dead walkers. Some call them demons."
Fawn gasped, but didn't say a word.
"All those people on the news . . . Nicki . . . they were all killed by one or more of these creatures. The dead walkers. I-I've met one. Two, actually." Lainey hesitated. "They're monsters, Fawn. I mean, they look human, but they . . . change . . . when they get angry, I-I guess. It's like their faces start to--" Lainey looked at Fawn. "I know I sound insane, Fawn but --"
"No, you're right," Fawn said. "And their eyes become an icy white . . . right?"
Lainey narrowed her eyes.
"Right . . . Fawn where were you today?"
She sat down at the end of Lainey's bed.
"I . . . think I've witnessed the undead creature you're talking about. Today actually." She stared out Lainey's window. "I met a guy online who's really into this stuff. He and his friends had one of the demons – a dead walker you call them? – locked away in a storage unit. He was about our age. Went to our school. His name is . . . was Daniel."
"He . . . died?"
Fawn nodded.
"I'm still not sure how. There was a flash of light, and . . . all that was left were his smoking ashes on the ground."
"That is so weird," Lainey whispered. "What the hell is going on? And how were they able to lock away a dead walker? The undead are crazy strong."
"Like I said, Eliezer's really into this stuff. He's studied the history of the undead. He knows their weaknesses."
"So there are others in town aware of the dead walkers . . . ," Lainey said to herself.
There were a few moments of silence before Fawn said "What about you? What was your experience like?"
Lainey told Fawn everything that had happened the previous day in Sancova Park. She told her about Rita. And about Benjamin Crawford.
"Whoa, wait! Rita was one of those . . . those things?"
"The dead walkers carry a plague," Lainey said. "Or a curse. You get bitten by one and die, you become one. Remember the guy called Joseph?"
"The guy who was supposedly trying to kill you?"
"Right. He was the one that turned Rita. To kill me, for whatever reason. Instead she . . . she saved my life. And it cost her hers."
"Oh my God! Rita's dead?"
Lainey nodded and Fawn shook her head.
"First Nicole and now Rita . . ." she said quietly. "What's even more tragic is that these . . . dead walkers used to be human beings like you and me. They could be victims, trapped in their own bodies."
Lainey thought about how Rita seemed to lose control of herself right before she began chasing Lainey.
"You could be right, Fawn," she quietly said.
"So, this Benjamin Crawford guy is also a dead walker? . . . Do you trust him?"
"He told me most of what I know about them. Why not?"
"And he says an ancient witchcraft birthed them?"
Lainey nodded.
"I - I don't even know what to say," Fawn said. "Magic can't be real, can it?"
"Honestly, I-I don't know, Fawn. Benjamin says the world is full of mysteries. Always has been and always will be."
"It's just funny you say that because . . . Eliezer also believes in magic. He says magic and witches are real. That they're guardians of nature and that they've been here since the beginning of time."
"After everything I've witnessed in the last twenty-four hours, not so hard to believe," Lainey said.
"Tell me about it."
Another moment of silence passed.
"This Benjamin dude is a little suspect," Fawn said. "He's been stalking you for who knows how long?"
Lainey shrugged.
"To be honest I don't think he means any harm. He thinks I'm the decendant of some woman he used to love decades ago. Insane, huh?"
"As if it couldn't get any creepier, am I right?"
The girl's smiled at each other. There was another, even longer silence between them. And before both of them knew it, they were laying down next to each other, lost in their own thoughts about the scary realities of their new world.
* * *
Charles entered the building of Forty-Six Brooke Lane. If Yvette's words about this Chris Harris person were true, he was a pretty solid lead.
He found the first door on the first floor. Apartment 1A. He knocked. Nothing. He knocked again. Nothing, still. After a few minutes, he knocked again. This time, he heard a disturbance behind the door.
"Hi, I'm Detective Charles Anderson. I'm here to speak to a Chris Harris."
Silence.
He knocked again.
"Might a find a Chris Harris at this address?"
Nobody answered.
Charles milled about for another twenty minutes before his lack of sleep began catching up to him again. He exited the building, got in his car and drove home.
* * *
Later that evening, seven figures roamed the dark streets of Sancova. They moved swiftly from one neighborhood to the next as they made their way to their destination. The woman leading the group suddenly stopped and raised her hand to halt the rest of the group.
"What's wrong, Jules?" whispered one of the five other girls in the group.
"There's one near," Jules said, scanning the area. Be on guard."
"Damn, this town really is infested," said another of the girls in the group.
"Follow me," Jules whispered, turning onto another lonely block. "It's definitely a dead walker."
The group stayed close as they made their way down the dead end street. And then they saw the wicked creature. The walking abomination. It was feeding on a stray cat near garbage bags on the sidewalk. The creature immediately turned its attention to the group. The undead could sense their presence. The dead walker was no doubt a fiend, recently plagued by the terrible curse. What used to be a human middle-aged man charged at the group.
"Ashleigh!" Jules shouted to one of the girls. "Take this one. You can do it!"
But the girl called Ashleigh was frozen in place, terror in her eyes.
"Ashe!"
"Oh my God! Get out the way!" another of the girls exclaimed, pushing Ashleigh to the side and stepping toward the charging creature.
She shouted an incantation, raising a palm to the hostile creature, and paralyzed it.
"Such a showoff," whispered one of the other girls.
"Good work, Vivienne," Jules praised.
Vivienne acknowledged her compliment with a small curtsy.
"Want to silence it, Noxford?" Jules said.
The only male in the group stepped forward, pulling an ancient ivory dagger from his pocket made from human bone. The newly-turned dead walker moaned and hissed at Nox as he moved toward it. It was all he could do. But Nox was unwavering. When he reached the monster, he swiftly plunged the bone dagger into its skull, causing it to instantly disintegrate into a pile of dust.
"That's more than you deserve," Nox whispered, staring at the pile. "If it were up to me, you'd be burning for eternity--"
"Enough, Noxford!" Jules scolded. "You must regulate your emotions if you want to be a part of this." She turned toward the rest of the group. "Let's keep moving."
They departed the lonely block and continued to their destination.
---
To be continued in Chapter 23...