Chapter 7

Olaudah glanced at his son. Broteer returned the look. Both now believed they were on a fool's errand. There was no sign of any Algonquian presence near the plantation. But still Gabriell pressed them onward. Olaudah had great respect for Captain Berkeley, having served onboard his vessel years before, but on this occasion Olaudah believed him to be in error. He cast a look of resignation toward his son and motioned for him to follow as they fell in line behind Gabriell Berkeley and the other men whom had regrouped at the appointed meeting spot earlier. The look of determination on Captain Berkeley's face was one Olaudah had seen before. He knew the futility of suggesting reason at this time.

There was something in the air that disturbed Olaudah. He gripped his rifle firmly with his large hands and kept his senses ready. Another glance at Broteer sent the unspoken message for him to emulate his father's caution.

l'Olonoise stood over the slumped form of Nathaniel holding a moaning Hannah in his arms and laughed. He wiped the splotches of blood from his face as he felt his rapidly healing jaw with his fingers.

"Not so noble as you think, are you?" l'Olonoise jeered. "You now can make a choice for her. Allow her to become one of us or snap her neck to give her eternal peace...your choice!"

l'Olonoise paused to listen and turned his head toward the woods.

"There is another member of your former family approaching...I will leave you to wallow in your deed...but you should know they will no doubt be eager to dispense righteous vengeance upon seeing what has transpired here..."

He leaned closer to Nathaniel.

"You can take the opportunity to deal with your brother, allow him to deal with you...or perhaps flee into the woods once more in a futile attempt to escape your fate. Matters not to me...there are others of your kin that interest me more."

Without another word, l'Olonoise rose into the air and was gone. Nathaniel was too overcome with grief and self-loathing to pay any mind to the pirate and did not even glance away from Hannah. The hunger had faded completely away now and Nathaniel felt a great strength growing in him. Lucidity was returning and new waves of despair washed over him as he recognized what he had done. At the same time he felt great relief as he realized Hannah was alive in his arms. Her breathing was slow but she lived! He gently stroked her hair from her forehead and cradled her in his arms as she weakly moaned in a semi-conscious state.

It was then that the words of l'Olonoise began to bubble to the surface of Nathaniel's mind. Concern for Hannah...was she now accursed as well? He looked down at her and knew...somehow. Then his senses picked up sounds of approaching people. Now he recalled that l'Olonoise had just warned of their approach...and that his brother Gabriell was among them.

Rage built in Nathaniel's heart as he heard his brother drawing near. A fearsome hate rose within him and he felt his new strength in a terrible way. He shook his head violently. An inner strength that perhaps Nathaniel never knew existed calmed him. He rose to his feet holding Hannah and stood waiting.

"None bring the feeling of life to my heart in quite the manner as the younglings...pity they offer such a meager ration." l'Olonoise thought to himself as he landed in the grass in front of the Berkeley house. He walked smoothly up to the door and entered without a sound. In an instant he was at the doorway to the children's bedroom.

The room was empty.

"Putain! C'est des conneries...ça me fait chier!" The vampyre spun in his tracks in a great rage and ripped the front door from its hinges as he leapt out onto the front lawn of the house. He paused for a moment to listen and bolted instantly to the front door of a smaller house near the woods. Yes...the little ones were inside this dwelling. He growled under his breath. "Merde..."

Pausing to gather his composure, l'Olonoise raised his hand and confidently knocked on the door. He waited impatiently, clenching and unclenching his fists as he listened to the woman stirring inside and finally approaching the door. He forced a pleasant look onto his face.

Tituba paused to look toward Abigail and Thomas, who were peeking out the doorway of the back room. She motioned for them to hide and was very firm about it. As soon as the children were out of sight, she turned and approached the door with caution. The children had arrived on her doorstep not long ago with a tale of a late visitor who had made off with their mother...she was not about to fall victim to a similar ruse. She was determined to make anyone with malicious intent regret their decision to knock on her door.

She held a long rifle in her hand as she released the lock and let the door swing open. Outside the doorway stood a tall distinguished looking man in fancy clothing. He appeared to be of wiry build, had a prominent nose, and many rings upon his fingers. Tituba instantly did not like the man and pointed her rifle directly at his chest.

"What business do you have with us at this late hour? Be quick with your explanation!"

He smiled at her with a slight bow and a twinkle in his eye. Despite her threat, he appeared to be in no hurry.

"Pardon the lateness of my visit Mademoiselle...I bring news." He spread his palms out in a gesture of innocence as he spoke.

Tituba was not convinced in any way. She narrowed her eyes.
"Perhaps you bring news...and perhaps you bring ill intentions. I have heard other recent news...of an abductor who made off with Lady Berkeley not one hour ago! Perhaps you know of this abductor? Perhaps you know a great deal about him!"

The man paused.

"I do indeed fair lady! If you would merely invite me in, I can relate all I know of the matter...feel free to keep your firearm trained upon me if you wish. I will not take offense."

Tituba snorted.

"Your sense of propriety means nothing to me one way or another. I shall feel no remorse should you burst into tears where you stand."

The man seemed slightly taken aback. But quickly continued with a confident air.

"I cannot place blame upon you, good lady...for it is..."

Tituba stamped her foot on the floor and pointed the rifle directly at the man's face.
"Enough from you sir! My immediate suggestion is that you find a more suitable place to dawdle. You risk a mortal wound from this rifle in your current location!"

The man's demeanor changed. He growled at Tituba and pointed a long finger at her.

"You would do well to attend to your words woman! I am not accustomed to enduring such ill-mannered behavior from anyone...even more rarely from a mere servant-woman!"

That was enough for Tituba.

She pulled the trigger and unloaded the gun into the chest of the stranger on her porch. She stood with a fearless glare and watched him stagger backward howling in rage and pain. She quickly picked up a second rifle propped beside the door.

"As you can see, I do not issue idle threats! You have however peaked my curiosity...have you still news of Lady Berkeley? Or would you rather I loose another lead ball into your entrails?"

The man spun around and faced her. Tituba was amazed to see that he appeared to be much less wounded than he had at first appeared. He stepped toward her.

She did not hesitate. The bang of the second rifle sounded as she fired it at him. ...She missed.

Among her other traits, those who got to know Tituba found out that she never missed when she shot at something. An almost comical look of disbelief came over her own face since she was justifiably proud of her marksmanship.

It really wasn't that Tituba missed the man...it was that the man was no longer standing there. For the first time, Tituba was taken aback. She glanced out the door and for an instant intended to step out into the porch, but quickly thought better of it. For reasons she could not explain, it seemed important to stay inside the house.

She instead grasped the door and quickly began to close it to reload her rifles. As the door was closing, the man appeared with both of his palms pressed against either side of the doorframe. His face was twisted in rage and his shirt bore the result of the gunshot Tituba had fired at him. He was shouting French words at her in a guttural growl that sounded like no human sound she had ever heard. Tituba stepped back instinctively as he stood there glowering at her. He looked at the doorframe itself and uttered a loud curse. He then looked directly at Tituba and pointed a long bony finger in her direction.

"You! I will make you suffer the agony of a thousand deaths! You will beg for the bliss of death...but I shall not grant your wish!"

He stepped back from the doorway, clenched his fists as he glared at Tituba, howled in rage...then...he was gone. Tituba had to wonder at her own eyesight. Had he gone...upward?

Tituba stood in one spot for a few moments letting it all sink in. She then quickly moved to the door, shut it, and latched it tightly. As she backed away from the door she glanced down at her hand. It was trembling. She wasn't sure what she had just witnessed, but felt a chill in her bones from the burning hatred emanating from the eyes of the man who had shrugged off a gunshot in front of her eyes.

She shook her head. This was no time for fear and superstition. She reloaded the rifles while listening intently for activity outside the house. No sound was heard.