A Touch Of Evil - Shadowbrook
For those unfamiliar with 'A Touch Of Evil', this is a supernatural board game, based in the early 19th century and set in the New England colonies of the United States of America, not long after the American War of Independence / The American Revolutionary War.
Disclaimer: Jason C Hill & Jack Scott Hill / Flying Frog Productions owns the rights to the main characters, creatures, and game design/features. Any additional characters and ideas are of my creation! No money is being made from this story.
As this involves an American setting, I will try to stick
to American spellings and terms whenever possible.
Themes: drama, horror, action, and adventure – with lots of Mystery (cards).
There will be blood (and death)… You have been warned.
Prologue: Murder!
The Crossroads/The Olde Woods:
The sharp, cruel laughter of the gang of men filled the crisp fall evening air, as the peasant woman panicked and tried to reach her dropped basket.
After being tripped over, the berries she had spent the afternoon gathering from the olde woods had tumbled out – rolling across the road, with several ending up in a cowpat left behind from one of Farmer Hayes's cattle as they had been herded earlier in the day.
The gawky-limbed woman winced. She had taken too much time in the woods. Now it was past sunset, and she had the misfortune to be alone whilst the local ruffians, along with their leader, had decided to have their sport with her.
"Good sirs, let me pass! I need to provide for my sister's family!" the woman protested, in the local accent.
"Hear that, boys? Her sister's family. I did not think you had a family of your own." The ringleader of the thugs smirked, and nodded to his men. Two of them – Rick and Eli – immediately seized their victim's arms. Taking a woodland berry and munching on it with satisfaction, the leader then ran his thumb along the port stain on the trembling woman's face. "Nobody is willing to wed you, are they? Thanks to this…"
"Unhand me, sir!" Summoning what spirit she could, the woman spat at her tormentor – startling both him and his cronies.
Taking a few steps back, the man then froze rigid on the spot. The hooligans shot questioning glances at each other.
They knew that the game had just changed.
An immaculate, white handkerchief was used to wipe away the offending spit. Then it was slowly refolded and put back into the jacket pocket that it had emerged from.
"Oh… You really should not have done that, you wretch…" The words were delivered with a controlled whisper, straight into the ear of the terrified young woman. "We would have been content enough to take half of your berries – but now you will pay for your insolence…" The leader shot his brown-eyed gaze to the third, and last, man of his gang – the only one with his both of his hands still free. "Samuel – remove the skirts from this peasant. She needs to be taught a lesson by me!"
Samuel hesitated. Their games over the preceding summer had never gone as far as this before. Not against a girl, anyway…
"Do as I say, man!"
"Yes, sir," Samuel responded, licking his dry lips as he addressed Eli - and his own brother, Rick. "Alright, lads. Get her down on the grass besides the signpost. Cover up her mouth, whilst I get to work."
"Unable to scream, the wide-eyed woman squirmed and struggled to free herself from the restraining, firm hold of the louts. She tried to bite the hand covering her mouth – but failed to do so. Failed to achieve anything as she was pushed and held down upon the grass mound surrounding the crossroads marker. Then Samuel forcibly removed first her shoes, then her skirt and…
His hands froze as he gripped the sides of her underwear. The sound that had just startled him was that of some large wild animal. Turning, Samuel saw his employer turn rigid as he was about to drop his loosened pants. Hissing angrily, the ringleader quickly pulled up his garments and reapplied his belt. "My pistol. In my jacket, Samuel. Quickly!"
"Yessir!" Samuel obeyed the barked order and started to prod the dropped jacket for the pistol. It was at that same instant that the creature burst out from his cover amongst the foliage at the roadside, and raced towards them…
Everything seemed to happen at once. The men cried out their disbelief and horror. Their victim, now suddenly released from the vice-like grips of her captors, screamed. Samuel's younger brother Rick screamed too as the intruder jumped and landed upon him, its nearest target, like a fleeting shadow made all too real and alarmingly heavy – and instantly slashed his face with its claws. His heart pounding, Samuel turned round and took aim with the flintlock pistol, steadying it in both of his shaking hands. He fired. The boom temporarily deafened the others.
The creature jerked upon the impact, and howled its pain – but it did not fall. Then Rick whipped out from his pants pocket the knife that he had stolen from a man in Tidewater, some months ago. The blade met fur, then flesh…
This time the fiend actually screamed as it pulled back. Snarling, it flung itself at Rick once more – and unleashed its rage.
"Rick!" Samuel managed to cry out, in the second before his brother was torn apart before his disbelieving eyes. Falling backwards and scrambling on his hands and feet in shock, Samuel pushed himself further and further away as far as he could from his sibling's swift mutilation and piercing death cries. He still wasn't quick enough to avoid being splattered with the first outburst of Rick's gushing blood…
His fellows barely managed to overcome their own state of shock. Eli, the largest of their party, now had his own dagger in his hand – and he screamed blue murder as he prepared to drive the blade into the skull of Rick's killer. But the devil was too fast for him, Samuel saw to his horror. With moments, the fangs of the creature – dripping with blood and cartilage torn from Rick's throat – were directed at the big man as they clashed.
"Samuel! Stop her!" his master cried out. He was pulling himself up from the cowpat he had partially fallen into and was starting to sprint after the now-fleeing peasant woman. Instantly, the creature twisted away from Eli and bounded at the ringleader… Immediately, Eli lashed out with his dagger as he chased the fiend.
"I've got the devil, sir! Samuel – you get that girl!" Eli roared.
Samuel nodded in the fading light. Then he turned and bolted after the young woman, who was making her way into the olde woods. Snarls, cries and screams rang out behind him – but he did not look back. Eli would surely overcome the fiend that was attacking their master. Meanwhile, his present duty was plain – to stop his prey from reaching the town of Shadowbrook, where the girl had to be making for. But once amongst the countless trees spread before and around him as he entered the wood, Samuel stopped to regain his breath and gather his shaken wits. His heart was pounding madly from both the run and the horror of seeing Rick being…slaughtered…before him.
Wiping the sweat off his flushed forehead as he straightened up from the tree he had fallen against, Samuel swore under his breath. He could no longer see where his quarry was in the darkened wood, underneath the cloud-leaden skies. He strained his ears – listening for any footsteps upon the fallen yellow leaves that dotted the woods. But he could hear nothing…
"Aaaggghhh!"
Samuel jumped with fright. That was the woman all right – her scream coming from beyond the next thicket of trees ahead. Had her foot found a rabbit hole in the gloom, causing her to fall over? Or something worse? There…there wasn't another of those creatures, was there? The fight was still going on behind him.
There was a rustle of wings. An owl? A bat? It sounded as though it was larger. Heavier. And it was coming from where the wretch had screamed…
Get hold of her – and bring her back. Then you can aid Eli and his nibs! Samuel snapped at himself. Taking a deep breath, he hurriedly slipped on the knuckle duster from his coat pocket, to reassure himself. He had never been beaten in a fight whilst wearing it, after all. Then he ran onwards – passing the trees on either side of him, in order to enter the clearing where…
A hard lump formed in his throat as he spied the peasant woman sprawled on the ground in the middle of the clearing. She was not going to reach the safety of Shadowbrook. That was the only relieved thought that came to Samuel as he struggled to comprehend what he was seeing. The woman's skin was dry and…
A rasping hiss made his eyes glance to his right. Crouched upon a small boulder, was something even more terrifying than anything else Samuel had bore witness to in the last few minutes.
The final few minutes of his life, as it turned out.
Springing itself off from the boulder, the monster glided straight towards the screaming ruffian as he raised his arms before him, ready to slam his heavy fist into the...thing.
But this time, the knuckle duster was of no use to him at all…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Chapter One:
"I Say…"
"Madam? We are almost there!" the man declared as he gently tapped on the black lace sleeve of his traveling companion.
Isabella von Took stirred from her doze and stretched her long arms – just missing the swiftly-retreating head of the portly man who had disturbed her. She opened her eyes, and allowed her vision to adjust to the morning light that filled the interior of the stage coach from its rear window.
Isabella always sat in a coach so to face the direction she was headed. Traveling in reverse… No. That would never do, she considered – not for the first time. She was a forward-thinking woman, after all. Her servants, however – they were content either way. And as that rather boorish playwright had taken it upon himself to sit besides her, that meant that her handmaiden, Heidi, and her footman, Gustav, had to sit opposite them.
She glanced out of the window to her right, as the coach made a small turn in the road, rocking a little. They were now approaching a covered wooden bridge. At the bottom of the gulley that it spanned over was a medium-sized river.
"The River Shadow, Mr Danforth?" Isabella asked him in her cultured, accented voice as she straightened herself in her seat and steeped the fingers of her hands together.
"Quite so, Madam von Took. Hence the name of the town – Shadowbrook." Victor Danforth puffed his round cheeks out with a degree of satisfaction, as he reflected upon the fact that the lady had been listening to his account of the town he had once visited before, after all. "I will be alighting here."
Isabella nodded curtly. She turned her attention to her servants who both still had their eyes closed, even as the horses slowed to tread over the heavy boards of the covered bridge. Scowling, she loudly clapped her hands before Gustav, then Heidi – startling them.
"We have arrived at the town. I wish to stretch my legs – before we continue onwards to the manor. You may pay the coachman here."
"Uh… Of course, madam. Begging your pardon, my lady, for my tardiness." The gray-whiskered Gustav dipped his head differentially to his mistress. Heidi did so, as well.
A few minutes later, they pulled up in what Isabella supposed what passed for the main street of the town. There were several buildings along both side of the thoroughfare, and her sharp eyes took in the sights and sounds of the townsfolk after the white-bearded coachman helped her down to the thankfully-firm, dry ground.
As she left Mr Danforth and the driver to sort out his luggage from the roof of the carriage, Gustav stepped down also, and reached into his coat pocket for his mistress's purse. In the meantime, Isabella drew her traveling coat around her, to keep the damp of the morning chill away. Her narrowed eyes took in the center of Shadowbrook, as now and then she turned her head around – rather in the manner of a long-necked crane.
They had stopped near a 'T' junction, along the busier, widest street in the town, with a large brick and mortar building on the northern side, set apart from anything else, close to them. Several other buildings and warehouses lined up along both sides of the cobbled thoroughfare. A minute's observation of the locals, some of them of unkempt attire and questionable appearance, soon led the noblewoman to identify which of the buildings were shops – whilst a ramshackle two storey building further along was, she deduced, the tavern that Mr Danforth was headed for. He had told her that it was the only one in the town.
Close to them, on this side of the street was what passed for the coach station. Next to that was, according to the sign hanging above the front door, the mail office.
Glancing along the side street that led south from the T-junction, Isabella saw several of the workmen yards. But also a low, long, single-storey building set back from the street. The noise of children playing during what had to be their break time, led her to realize that it was the town's school.
There were several people passing by close to them, coming from both directions. They seemed to represent an overall cross-section of the different classes and local occupations. One man, judging by his uniform, seemed to be a soldier. Another pair of men, talking to each other outside the brick and mortar building seemed to be of some importance – judging by their fine clothes and lacy neck ruffs. Another man, dressed in the uniform of what had to be the local militia, was engaged in conversation with them. Whilst underneath a tree close to her, a man and a woman – both wearing tricorn hats and breeches – had just nodded to each other, before the woman started slowly walking along the side of the street and was about to pass the coach. Isabella's eyes narrowed in distaste – the young woman was wearing gray-colored pants and sturdy shoes. A man's clothing!
Seeing this, the woman stopped and stared straight back at Isabella. She idly wiped aside a lock of copper-colored hair that had decided to dangle in front of her eye. "Do we know each other, madam?" she challenged her in a bold tone.
"I very much doubt it," Isabella answered back, her lip curling with disdain. Still, a part of her was fascinated. This…woman…was a rare type indeed.
"Find someone else to stare at, then!" the tricorn-hatted woman announced curtly, glancing to a point over Isabella's shoulder.
"I say! That's no proper language for a lady!" Victor Danforth straightened himself up, as he put his suitcase down on the ground once more to admonish her.
"Watch o-!" Isabella didn't get to finish her warning. The tricorn-hatted man from underneath the tree sprung from behind Victor and slammed into him, knocking the startled, rotund playwright staggering forward as he tried to prevent himself from falling down. Instead, he crashed into Isabella, and they both collapsed.
An instant later, the man snatched Victor's purse from his belt. Then he bolted off, heading east. As Victor's cry of 'Thief!' rang out through the air, Isabella managed to glimpse the thief's female partner leap at Gustav. The old servant yelled as he was pushed into a nearby water trough. Then his mistress's purse was also snatched.
"Stop! In the name of the law!"
As Isabella and Victor managed to disentangle themselves from each other, they both saw the trio of men from across the street racing in-between the passing horses and carts.
The copper-haired woman hissed. Then she sprinted off in a different direction to her partner – heading south along the side street instead. The militia man blew his whistle.
"Hurry, Captain Townsend! Don't let that darned Shadow escape us again!" the bearded man with the lacy ruff yelled out, as he and his colleague ran after the male thief.
"I know! But the young woman…," the Captain of the Guard called back.
"Allow me to help."
Now it was bearded soldier who spoke. He had dashed over to Isabella and he now quickly helped her to her feet.
"Thank you, Mr…"
"Harrison. Karl Harrison. But excuse me, whilst I try to stop your lady thief." He promptly dashed after the disappearing figure of the woman Isabella was already thinking of as Copperhead.
The Captain looked at the departing female thief for a moment, considering. His whistle had alerted another of the militia further along the street, who had turned and was now barring the way with his musket. The fugitive skidded to a halt in alarm – and then she dashed towards the school.
"Are you not going after her…?" Isabella started to ask.
He shook his head. "The Scarlet Shadow carries the larger price on his head. Excuse me, my lady…" And with that, he raced eastwards – after his two colleagues and the…Scarlet Shadow.
"Heidi – help Gustav up!" Isabella snapped at her handmaiden.
"Yes, mistress." The chubby-faced, Germanic girl instantly came forward to assist the spluttering footman. "But where are you going, my la-?"
Having pulled up her long skirt away from her shoes, Isabella was already running south with her long legs – keen to get her money back. The theft was a shock, yes – but the thrill of the chase was too tempting to stay put…
"Why should MEN get to have all the fun?" she shouted back, with a hard smile on her lips.
Meanwhile, due to his girth, Victor was still having difficulty getting back upon his feet. "What about me!?" he cried out, in his indignation.
The old coachman sighed and stepped forward to grab the fat playwright's arms.
"Git hold of my hands, mister…," he demanded.
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Anne Marie sighed as she regarded the two ten-year old children sat before her in her classroom. Glancing away for a moment to gather her thoughts, her eyes ran over the wooden desks, the large wall atlas on one wall, a map of the established American colonies, and the various flower and plant pots lined up along the sunniest window sill.
Underneath a clock, a calendar that Anne Marie had got the children to collectively make was displaying 'Thursday, October 27th'.
When she had arrived in Shadowbrook and started her job as a schoolmistress in the spring, only a few months ago, she had encouraged her pupils to grow a flower or plant of their choice, and to take pride in looking after them – but now the cooler weather and muted colors of the fall had gradually smothered the happier moods of her young charges. But there was more to it, than just the change of the sessions, as she had just discovered from the boy and girl before her.
"Why did you 'ave to upset Gillian during the story-telling session, Ross? This story…of this Shadow Witch…it is not nice, non?"
"Sorry, Miss." The ginger-haired boy replied in what Anne Marie had learnt to be a faint Scottish accent, having copied his parents' manner of speaking. He bowed his head as he stared at his shoes. "But it's what the other boys and girls are whispering to each other. 'Tis nearly one year on from when that bad lady was hanged, just outside the town hall, Miss. My father was there, right? He heard her promise to return from the grave!"
"But that is stupid! How can a ghost kill my pet pig? That is what Ross was telling me," wailed Gillian, as she wiped at her tears. "And my parents would not let me even see her, after they found her dead last weekend! They didn't even bury her in our garden. Why would Captain Townsend and his men take her remains away in a box…?"
Anne Marie gave Gillian a quick squeeze. "Shush… There, there, petit cher. Animals, even pet animals… They do sometimes die suddenly. I am certain that a rational explanation exists…" She paused and gave a meaningful glance at Ross. "What do you have to say to Gillian, mon fil?"
Ross swallowed his pride and looked directly at the dark-haired girl. "I am sorry for scaring and upsetting you with that dumb story, Gillian."
She sniffed and managed a small smile.
"Friends again?" Ross held out his right hand. Gillian paused, and then shook it.
"All right."
Anne Marie smiled in relief. "Tres bon! Now you may play with the others in the courtyard." She patted their shoulders.
Nodding, the boy and girl left the classroom together. Seconds after they disappeared from her sight, the schoolmistress wiped the blackboard, before letting loose a breath of exasperation. Although she had not been in the town that long, Anne Marie could sense the mood amongst the locals changing. The cheer that the summer had brought with it had vanished. The last of the harvest crops and fruit were now in the process of being gathered – after that, the months of winter lay before them.
But there was more to it than that. The conversation with Gillian and Ross echoed nervous whispers that she had caught between the schoolmaster and the town elders, and of loose talk she had managed to filter out whilst walking the streets in the evening for exercise after being cooped up with her work. Talk of animals being killed. Mysterious shapes being seen in the darkness on the edge of town. Glowing eyes…
She was not sure what to make of it all. Anne Marie prided herself on being level-headed and pragmatic. Having no reason to venture forth in the countryside at night, she had not experienced anything strange herself – and she did not want to be too judgmental without knowing all of the facts. And yet, she was sure there was still much in the world that could be explained. Science and education were the keys. She, along with the other teachers, would play her role in preparing the children for their adult lives armed with reason – not blind faith and prejudice when it came to matters such as…witchcraft.
Anne Marie was startled from her brooding by the noise coming from the front door to the school. Someone was knocking – urgently.
Frowning, she brushed back a chocolate-brown strand of hair from her attractive face and hurried to the front door. Unbolting it, she then opened up…
In an instant, she was seized by the strange-looking young woman before her – who grabbed her by the stiff white collar of her gray dress. The cry on Anne Marie's lips died away before it could reach a scream as her wide eyes took in the pistol pointed at her.
"Morning, madam… Sorry to butt in! Need a place to hide," the copper-haired young woman declared. Immediately, the intruder pushed the schoolmistress back and slammed the door to. "Bolt it. Don't scream," she instructed, pointing at the door with her gun.
Heart pounding, Anne Marie swallowed nervously and obeyed the outlaw. But seconds later, they heard the pounding of someone running towards them. The door knob was twisted. Then the door was knocked on.
"I know you are in there! Surrender now – and you won't be harmed!" came a man's voice.
Moments later, another pair of feet could be heard approaching – this time a lighter tread. A woman, who was slightly out of breath, spoke to the man. "Well, then. What do you propose to do, Mr Harrison?" she asked.
"Hmm… Well, let us pull away from this door so that she cannot hear us. She may be armed, too," the man considered. The two voices soon fell silent, and the footsteps faded away.
"So much for hiding…" The female outlaw rolled her eyes. She grabbed hold of Anne Marie by the shoulder with her left hand, whilst her right held the pistol. "Got a back way I can use sharpish, madam?"
"Mademoiselle…" Anne Marie corrected her.
"A French Miss, eh? Never mind. Now I know this is a school, with children playing. I don't want to be any trouble for you. Just show me the back of the property, so that I can leave quickly…"
Anne Marie nodded briskly, feeling only slightly reassured. "Bon. Allon ze."
"Come again?"
The school mistress sighed. "I said 'follow me'. Please… Please do not harm or scare the children! Zey are becoming frightened enough… The attacks on the local animals…"
"I do not wish to scare the schoolchildren either. So this is what we will do…" The intruder forcibly turned Anne Marie around and slipped her left arm around the teacher's left shoulder. Underneath the cover of her travelling jacket, she pointed her pistol at Anne Marie – briefly jabbing her in the ribs to make the point.
"We are going to take a quick, friendly walk to the back of your school property, Miss. No need for anyone to be scared or get hurt. All right?"
Anne Marie gave a short, agitated nod. "D'accord."
"Stick to English, please."
"Pardon. When I get nervous – which ees often… I revert to my native language."
"I get you. Still, let's get this done with quickly. Then I won't have to frighten you anymore…"
And, so with Anne Marie guiding the way, the two ladies marched in close quick-step along the corridor to the back door. But as the school mistress opened it up to reveal the yard, where the children were playing – attended by another teacher – the outlaw yelped in alarm. The soldier called 'Mr Harrison' had just presented himself from around the corner of the building.
"How did you…?" the fugitive blurted out.
"Climbed over the locked gate to the yard." Karl Harrison's small grin vanished as he saw the outlaw produce the pistol, which was at first pointed towards him – and then quickly directed at the jaw of the frightened frog-marched teacher.
"Stay where you are, mister!" The thief turned herself and Anne Marie around quickly – still keeping the teacher close to her, as they swiftly headed back towards the front door. Only to confront the tall, dark-haired noble woman whose purse she had stolen.
"How did you…!?" the female outlaw spat once more.
"Skeleton key. Getting past doors is a useful little habit of mine, Miss Copperhead…" Isabella smirked as she dangled her key in the air, before slipping it up one of her dark lacy sleeves. Her expression hardened as she took a step forward. "My purse. Return it to me, thief. Now."
"Don't come any nearer!" the outlaw warned her, raising her pistol.
"You are Katarina Clark, are you not?" the soldier asked as he slowly approached from behind, palm held outwards.
"And what if I am?" Katarina snapped, spinning round – keeping her weapon trained firmly on whoever was drawing closer to her. She was visibly sweating now, the soldier noticed.
"Well, since you are, I suspect that you don't want to hurt anyone here," Harrison remarked. "So why not put down your weapon…"
"…or my purse," Isabella added tartly.
"Look! A girl's gotta eat. I need the money!" Katarina raised her voice. "Just keep back, before I shoot…"
"You will not shoot," Karl announced with certainty.
"How can you be sure, monsieur…?" Anne Marie gasped.
"Miss Clark's palm must be sweating by now – and yet she is handling the pistol very skillfully. I suspect that is because it is actually not loaded." Karl's eyes scrutinized Katarina's surprised expression. "I see that I am right. So…kindly surrender yourself, Miss – before I have to be tough on you."
Katarina sighed with a smirk. "All right…" Suddenly, she shoved a shrieking Anne Marie into Karl, catching them both off-guard. As they fell to the floor, Katarina leapt over them and then pelted for the rear door. Isabella sprang after her – and, catching up – tackled Katarina to the floor. She managed to pluck her purse from behind where it was tucked behind the outlaw's belt, before the butt of the pistol struck the side of her head with moderate impact.
As Katarina pushed the dazed noble woman off her and scrambled to her feet, she found herself confronted by Karl – who was now straightening himself up. Quickly, she swung her booted foot at his calf, and the solider yelled as he was swept back down to the stone floor.
As he glanced back up, Karl saw the thief wink mischievously at him.
Leaving her dropped pistol behind, Katarina then bolted for the door to the school yard once more. Bursting out into the open air, and startling the children and the monitoring lady teacher, the outlaw raced towards the back wall. Finding some handholds in the crumbling brick, she expertly climbed the two-meter high barrier, and slipped herself over to freedom…
Back inside the corridor of the school building, Anne Marie was brushing down her skirt as she got to her feet. Examining the wound on the groaning noblewoman's head, she hurried off towards the kitchen. "I will fetch a sponge and water!" she cried out.
Karl nodded and picked up the pistol Katarina Clark had left behind, testing its weight. Opening it confirmed his suspicions.
"No bullets. As I thought," he declared.
One of Isabella's hands was felt her throbbing head. Her free hand squeezed the purse that she had managed to regain. "This feels…light…as well," she grumbled.
Karl opened it up for her. "She has already emptied it! The crafty vixen." He turned to Isabella. "I am sorry, madam. I have failed you."
She regarded him with her scrutinizing eyes. "Nevertheless, Mr Harrison, I appreciate your efforts. Perhaps you will get another chance to track Miss Clark down…"
"Perhaps." Karl knelt down besides the noblewoman, and pulled out something from the satchel that hung from his shoulder. Isabella saw that it was a jar of white ointment, which the soldier opened up.
"This will help to treat the swelling of your injury, Madam…?"
"Isabella von Took. And I will treat the injury myself, Mr Harrison. Thank you." Her long, thin fingers dipped into the ointment, just as Anne Marie – now aided by the School Master himself – returned with the promised sponge and water…
Later on, as Karl left to fetch Isabella's servants, Anne Marie was left alone to treat Isabella, who was still on the floor in the corridor – though now with a cushion to support her treated head. The children had now been informed of the assault by Mr Birch, their schoolmaster – before being sent home.
"I am sorry that your arrival to this town has not been a happy one, Madam von Took," Anne Marie lamented, as she introduced herself by her forenames. "Were you staying here?"
"In a sense. I am destined for Hanbrook Manor – just three miles further on. I have traveled from the south… From Boston," Isabella answered.
"Then you arrived via the crossroads? I 'ave heard some tragedy has occurred there last night! Did you see…?"
"No." Isabella frowned. I was dozing until my coach reached the covered bridge. Mr Danforth was the only passenger awake at the time. He did not say anything to me of any…tragedy."
"Mr Danforth? Victor Danforth – the playwright? He is in town?" Anne Marie clapped her hands together and smiled. "I 'ave read a couple of his plays. They are good…witty. Would you agree?"
"I am unfamiliar with his work."
"Oh…" Anne Marie changed tack. "Pardon my curiosity, madam… But you have business at Hanbrook Manor? You have been there before?"
"This is my first visit. But Lady Hanbrook and I are old school friends. She has invited me over to her daughter's birthday party."
"Ahh… I see. Miss Lucy. From what little I 'ave seen of her, she is pretty and kind and courteous to the townsfolk."
" 'The townsfolk'… Not 'us townsfolk'?" Isabella gave a sly smile. You are new to Shadowbrook yourself?"
"Oui. I arrived last Easter. The last French teacher disappeared without warning, I understand. She has not been found – and so I have been allocated her house, upon acceptance of my new post. I previously taught in Vermont, and…"
Isabella raised a thin finger. "Tell me what you know about this tragedy that you mentioned, Anne Marie."
"I 'ave only heard from Monsieur Birch that there are bodies at the crossroads. Covered up by the militia, whilst an Inspector is awaited. He passed the scene on horse from his home at Brooksvane – the village you passed through on the Boston road, to arrive here."
"Interesting… Is this town previously known for such violence?"
Anne Marie paused, wondering how much she should tell the newcomer in her care. But she not made many friends since arriving in Shadowbrook, due to her shy, reticent nature. And her habits of burying herself in her work – and her books. Anne Marie simply loved to read. Teaching herself more English. Reading about local history and fantastical fiction… It provided escape for her from the harshness of daily life.
And so, deciding to trust the noblewoman, Anne Marie told her all that she had learnt about the deaths, in the last few months, of the occasional cow or sheep being killed – and how little Gillian's pig had suddenly died. "Ze people are gossiping," she admitted. "They are saying that the Shadow Witch is somehow responsible. That she threatened to return upon the first anniversary of her hanging."
"Indeed? And when is that?"
A flicker of fear crept into Anne Marie's expression. "Zis very week. In four days time. On All Hallows Eve."
"Oh, vhy lady! Is there anything I can do for you?" Heidi, Isabella's maid, suddenly ran over to them – accompanied by Gustav, Victor Danforth and a militia guard.
"Fear not, Heidi. I am feeling recovered. Help me up…" With Heidi's assistance, Isabella managed to get back upon her feet after only a brief dizziness. She nodded to the schoolmistress. "It has been good to meet you Anne Marie. But I do not know your surname…"
"Piaget, Madam von Took. Now that your servants are here, please excuse me."
"You may call me Isabella, Anne Marie. I think we will be seeing each other before long, if this…trouble…continues. For now, good day to you."
Nodding, Anne Marie took her leave. It was only later, that she reflected that Isabella had told her little about herself…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Isabella turned to Victor. "Mr Danforth… Did you see any bodies besides the roadside on the way into town, per chance?"
The playwright's chubby, goatee-bearded face turned pale and he nervously coughed. "I… I did, Madam von Took. A pair of covered bodies. But as all three of you were dozing… Well, it is not the correct form to awake and alert strangers to…"
Gustav gently pushed Victor aside as he stepped forward, his whiskered moustache twitching as if it had a life of its own. "The militia – along with their Inspector and sergeant – has caught the man who stole from Mr Danforth here. They have returned his money to him," he spoke up.
"How fortunate for you, Mr Danforth – compared to myself," Isabella remarked dryly. "And of the coachman? Is he still able to transport us to Hanbrook Manor? If so, we must carry on!"
"Yes… Er, I say… Considering your circumstances… I had to pay your fare as well as my own," Victor muttered. "If I could…"
Isabella arched a dark eyebrow at him. "…be reimbursed later?"
"Er… Yes," Victor admitted.
"I'll consider it."
"Thank you, my lady... I think."
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
The Crossroads/The Olde Woods:
With the Scarlet Shadow having been taken away to the town jail, after he and Sergeant Allardyce had successfully tackled the fugitive thief to the ground before he could reach the brook, Inspector Jonathan Cooke got back onto his horse and took the reins. With his mounted sergeant riding alongside, the two men followed Captain Townsend on his own gray charger.
The street turned into the road that passed through the covered bridge over the River Shadow. The morning sky was mainly cloudy, and Cooke's keen eyes swept the horizon before him. The coast was a few miles away in that direction, and there was the promise of rain – judging by the darker gray to the east. The weather, at the least, would be turning damper by the evening, he judged – maybe with mist or fog.
After about half an hour, having just past a large stretch of woodland on their right, the Captain of the Watch brought his horse to a stop – and Cooke and Allardyce pulled up alongside. They were at the crossroads now – where several of the militia was now at hand. Three of the uniformed men straightened themselves from their bored, slouched positions and came forward to attend to the three horses as their owners jumped down, each man being careful to avoid not only the scattered puddles and cowpats but also the ominous bloodstains that were still present to one side of the road.
Cooke took in the sight of the numerous other horses present at the edge of the woods. Some of them were of better pedigree than the ordinary work horses allocated to the militia, therefore…
"Who else is here, Captain?" he asked sharply.
"Several of the town elders, sir," Townsend replied. "They are currently gathered around the body of the woman that we found in what we call the olde woods. Do you wish to start your examination here, or there?"
Cooke considered this. "Here, I think. I will speak to your elders when we have seen and discovered all that we can."
"This way, then, sirs." Townsend led Cooke and Allardyce to the two forms presently covered from view by blankets that had been widely spread out.
As Cooke placed his bag of equipment on a clean stretch of grass close by, Townsend nodded and another, younger, militia soldier walked up to place a third blanket on the ground besides the first body.
"For your benefit, sir," the dark-haired soldier declared.
"Thank you! Now… If you will kindly pull back the covering blanket for me…"
"Prepare yourself, sir. Begging your pardon – but… some of the lads have already been sick," the soldier murmured. "Not besides the bodies of course – they managed to get to the other side of the road, before…"
"I see!" Cooke shot him a raised eyebrow.
"The doctor's made of sterner stuff. He hasn't moved anything out of place, but he's already made his examination," the man added.
"Without waiting for us… Very well. Let us see the damage, Mister…?"
"Summersby, sir. But most people call me Ben." And with that, Ben lifted the blanket from the first body – first the face, and then, carefully, from the rest of the corpse.
Dear Lord…
Cooke took a deep breath and fought to keep his breakfast down. He was not sure if he actually believed in a god, or in the son of God. As a general rule, he believed in a few certainties – that mankind was, at times, the cruelest race of beings upon the earth; and that logic and science were the foundation of his work. They were the key to solving any mystery if the investigators were careful and persistent enough in their work.
This case, however, was already starting to present itself as a challenge…
Apart from a deep slash mark, the face of the dead man was intact. Which was more than could be said for his body in general. Although things may well have been left in place, the deceased had been torn apart into three parts.
"Do you have any buckets, Ben?" Cooke asked him, as he took off his coat and handed it to the uncomfortable-looking Allardyce. "Yes? Good. I will need clean water in order to rinse my examination tools when I have finished here."
"I'll fetch the buckets that the doctor had, sir. The lads should have washed them out by now. Excuse me." Ben jogged over to a nearby thicket of tree that lay next to a pond. When he returned, along with another militia soldier, with the fresh water, the Inspector got to work with his gloves, magnifying glass, sharp scissors, and pliers…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Minutes later, having finished his gruesome examination, Cooke let loose his growing tension as he turned away from the re-covered bodies, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Quickly washing his tools and rinsing his leather gloves before putting everything away, he slipped his long coat back on – and then he studied the ground around the scene of the brutal deaths. Cooke stroked his pointed goatee chin, looking disturbed.
"Best not to keep the elders waiting sir," Ben advised him.
"Very well. Sergeant – I will leave you to examine that squashed cowpat for evidence," the Inspector instructed his second-in-command. "I will go and speak to the town elders who are present."
Allardyce grimaced, but sighed and nodded. Meanwhile, Cooke was following Ben as the dark-haired, younger man briskly walked into the olde woods, confidently carrying his musket with one hand. Now and then the Inspector paused to read the occasional visible footprint in the ground close by…
The four men were in a clearing where a thick tree had fallen over long ago. Their horses were some yards off to the side and attended by a militia soldier and two servants from the manor, or so Cooke determined, judging from their clothing. One servant was a thin-haired, sullen-looking fellow – whilst the other, a wiry, white-headed man with a moustache, scrutinized Cooke with sharp gray eyes.
"So, Inspector. You are here at last!"
Cooke's heart sank. The speaker was the portly, egg-faced man – the eldest of the four. Dressed in hunting clothes, sturdy shoes, and with lacy-trimmed shirt cuffs, there was no doubting who this was – despite this being their first meeting.
Make sure that you do not give him an excuse to jibe you again…, Cooke silently told himself.
"My apologies for keeping you all waiting, Lord Hanbrook. I wanted to examine the bodies before reporting to you." He swept his eyes across the other men. "Firstly, you may be unaware that my first duty to your town has been fulfilled. Earlier this morning, my sergeant and I helped Captain Townsend to capture the persistent thief that your council summoned me to Shadowbrook to apprehend."
"The Scarlet Shadow has been caught? Alive?" The lean, fair-haired man with a growling voice and a ruddy complexion looked startled. "He evaded my traps and men for months – and you have caught the scoundrel after being in the locality after only a day!?"
Cooke resisted the urge to snap back. He had already met this elder once before, and did not care for his blunt manner or for the faint whiff of perfume that clung to the landowner. Instead, the Inspector shrugged. "After making a quick study of the Scarlet Shadow's chosen places to rob people, my sergeant and I waited until this morning's coach from Boston arrived. We were lucky to see the man's latest audacious robbery as the travelers disembarked." Cooke paused, and then continued. "Unfortunately, his female compatriot evaded us. But the Scarlet Shadow is now behind bars in your town's jail, gentlemen!"
"We are pleased to hear it, Inspector. And so this villain will now face justice on earth, before Magistrate Kroft – before having to answer for his crimes before God." The latest speaker was a man in his fifties, who wore a white wig and dark clothing. He had a sour expression underneath his thick, dark eyebrows – and he looked, Cooke decided, as though he had swallowed something that had disagreed with him. Furthermore, that the offending item had permanently resided within him.
"Quite so, Elijah," Lord Hanbrook spoke up. He turned to Cooke – and this time his tone was more even. "But we digress from the matter at hand, Inspector. Now, I have only recently returned from business elsewhere, so introductions are in order. As you have rightly deduced, I am Lord Hanbrook. My friend here who you have beaten in capturing the Shadow is…"
"…Major Lucien Bruckner. We have already met your lordship. Yesterday," Cooke interjected as he and the Major nodded curtly to each other.
"I see. Well, let me introduce you to the Reverend Harding and Doctor Manning, instead," Lord Hanbrook concluded.
As they rose from their seats upon the fallen log, Cooke shook hands with the darkly-attired vicar and the bespectacled medical man, who wore a lace ruff similar to Cooke's, over his white-and-green patterned coat. Harding's handshake was stiff, as if unused to greeting people – whilst the doctor's was firm. He did not smile, though. Instead, his eyes were weighing their visitor up.
"So, Inspector… Before you see the final body, close by, what conclusions have you reached so far?" asked Doctor Manning. His tone was measured and no-nonsense. Clipped even.
"He wants to compare observations, you understand," Bruckner snorted, with a brief smirk.
"Very well. As far as I can read the footprints and other evidence present, something along the lines of the following happened, gentlemen. There was a gathering of men at the crossroads at some point during the night. Some wild animal attacked them, and ripped two men apart with a ferocity that I am struggling to accept. But there was one man, maybe two other men, also present. I could see signs of his footprints heading in this direction – and yet…"
"And yet, what?" Major Bruckner narrowed his eyes.
"I think he was fleeing away from the attack with a woman - or perhaps chasing after her. One of his footprints had imprinted upon hers." Cooke stroked his beard again, out of habit. "Have you been able to identify the bodies, doctor?"
"I…believe…one of the deceased is Richard Shaw. A cart maker who works in Shadowbrook. The other – the larger man…"
"…is one of my farm workers, Eli Bunt," the Major spoke up. "Whatever struck him down would have had to be ferocious indeed. Bunt was one of the strongest men I have ever met – even considering my experience of able-bodied men in the army."
"I see. But there is another body to see?"
"Indeed. But what we are about to show you must not be revealed to anyone else, other than your sergeant. It is…more horrible…than the slaughtered men you have already examined, Inspector. Do we have your discretion to count on?" Doctor Manning challenged him.
Cooke paused, and then nodded. "Of course, doctor."
"This way, then." Manning turned and led the Inspector out of the clearing. Cooke noticed that Bruckner strode alongside him – whilst the Reverend and his lordship remaining in the clearing.
Seconds later, the three men arrived in another clearing beyond a thicket of trees. There was another pair of sheet-shrouded forms present – both on the ground, feet away from each other. Doctor Manning walked briskly over to one and pulled back the sheet.
Cooke sharply drew in his breath.
"This…was…one of the local residents – Agnes Agnew," Doctor Manning remarked, his eyes glinting with… Well, Cooke could not tell what emotion it was. Instead, he knelt down by the young woman's corpse and felt the skin with his fingers, confirming what he was seeing.
Agnes's face-up body was now gray-skinned and shriveled. The soft tissues had dried up, and her still-open eyes and mouth were permanently frozen open in a ghastly expression of pure terror. Her clothes had not been affected – but her form was almost-skeletal. She had apparently tried to fend off her attacker with her arms, which were now slumped on the ground on either side of her head. Cooke carefully lifted one arm up with his hand – it felt limp, yet rose easily. The bone mass made somehow lighter, perhaps, he speculated.
His head swam in confusion. Up until this point, Cooke had considered that some wild animal had been the only culprit involved… But now. Was this…murder? Who could have desecrated this woman's body in such a hideous manner – and why?
He breathed in deeply to steady himself and glanced at the woods directly before him. Only the trees seemed endless, with too many shadows between them – even during the daytime. Suddenly the peaceful woods seemed to have become a forest that was too devoid of sound, of any life other than the men intruding upon it. It had become a forest of death…
"How were the bodies found?" Cooke sharply asked the elders who were with him. "And how did you learn of this?"
"One of our militia patrols came across the dead men, this morning – I understand," Bruckner declared. "The alert was raised upon them returning to town. I was then informed by Summersby. He rode out to my estate, where I was."
"I was with Lord Hanbrook and Reverend Harding at the Town Hall, when he and I were informed," Manning added. "When we got here, Captain Townsend was able to identify the dead two men. However, he knew that they and another man, Samuel Shaw – Richard Shaw's brother – were often together upon certain evenings, and we wondered if they had come to blows for some reason. They were known as…occasional troublemakers. So we searched the area."
"And with my tracking skills, his Lordship and I found footprints leading from the dead men to this site," Bruckner growled. "Now we need to learn what has happened! Who – or what – has killed these three people. And why someone has made…" He stopped. Cooke saw that the Major's fists were clenched in anger. "My apologies, gentlemen. As I have said, Eli Bunt was one of my best workers. To see him…like that… Torn apart! I want whatever killed him, to be put down!"
"I understand, Major." Cooke kept his voice calm. "But…what did you mean by 'someone has made'…?"
Bruckner visibly fought to regain his composure. Then he turned and sharply pulled away the blanket covering the other shape on the ground.
Cooke's eyes widened, seeing the statue of a crawling, screaming man before him. The detail was remarkable – the short-cropped hair, a rip in the pants around one knee, the raised arm frozen before the face, the detail of the drawn-back lips and exposed stone teeth.
"I mean, Inspector Cooke, why has someone made a life-sized statue of my missing man – Samuel Shaw!?" the Major snarled.