Chapter Eight:

Agents Of Evil

The Fields:

Isabella von Took had made herself comfortable in the coach, with her seat facing forwards – and was enjoying a rest. Her grey hooded eyes shot open, however, as the coach began shaking over rough ground. Moments later, it halted next to a large tree.

Annoyed, she opened the window next to her and leaned her head out.

"Driver! Why have we stopped?"

The white-bearded old coachman got down from his seat to better address his client. He gestured at the track they were on, and the farmland surrounding them.

"The road ain't good enough for the wheels, Miss!" he gruffly announced. "You'll have to disembark here."

Isabella peered down at the uneven track below here, with its countless stones, mud, and what looked like the droppings of cattle…

With a sniff of disdain, she slammed the window to and opened the door at the opposite side of the coach, to look down.

Better…

Gathering her belongings, she stepped down from the coach – aided by the coachman who had hurried round. She was followed out by Anne Marie, who was looking at the gathering clouds in the gray sky with anxiety, as she adjusted the starched white collar of her blouse.

Unnoticed by the others, she spied something metallic by the base of the tree. Stepping over to it, Anne Marie bent down and picked up a key.

Acting on an intuitive hunch, she pocketed it.

Close by, Inspector Cooke had halted his black horse. He swept out his arm, to point at the farm closest to them.

"That's our destination, ladies. I estimate a ten to fifteen minute walk."

"I'm staying here, with me coach," the coachman grunted.

Isabella and Anne Marie looked at the trail that led pass the entrance to the farm. If they hitched up their skirts, and stepped gingerly, they would avoid the cowpats – the schoolmistress considered. Then there was the need to avoid the rain that threatened to break out…

"You will allow us ladies to ride your horse, surely, Inspector?" Isabella faced him unflinchingly. "I am an experienced rider – and it is only for a few minutes, after all…"

Cooke raised his eyebrow. Sighing, he assented to her request, as he climbed down from his horse – and got ready to help the women onto his steed. Isabella went up first to take the reins. Naturally…

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

A little later, the three of them had arrived at Major Bruckner's farmhouse, named Hob House Farm. Isabella and Anne Marie had pulled up their skirts to knee height whilst crossing the yard, to avoid the muck present. And the trio had carefully wiped their shoes upon entering the building. There was still too much mud left, for Isabella's liking – but she turned her attention to the conversation between the Inspector and Mrs Bruckner as they sipped at their hot tea and sat in what passed for the living room, which was mainly composed of wooden furniture, oil paintings of landscapes and the war with Britain, and the best feature of all – a roaring coal fire, near to which Isabella stood, warming her hands, as she listened.

"My husband is not at home, Inspector. He has gone, with several of the farmhands, to the olde woods to hunt game…"

"I see, Mrs Bruckner. Perhaps I can speak to someone else? Is Mr Barnes present on the farm?"

"Barnes? Why would you…?"

"Is he here?" Cooke pressed her.

"He'll be in the stables. I'll fetch him." Mrs Bruckner turned and left the farmhouse. A couple of minutes later, she returned with a nervous-looking young man – who eyed the new arrivals with suspicion, as his fingers clutched at the hat that he had taken off upon entry.

"I am Inspector Cooke," Cooke explained. "I am investigating the attacks around this township."

At that, Barnes seemed to relax a little – though Isabella noticed that he flicked his eyes towards Mrs Bruckner. Cooke picked up on this too, and he cleared his throat.

"Thank you, Madam."

"Oh… I will feed the pigs then," Mrs Bruckner sniffed and left again.

"You sent that message for me. What exactly happened, the night before last?" the Inspector asked Barnes.

The farmhand glanced at Isabella and Anne Marie. " 'Tis not for the ears of ladies, sir."

"We will be the judge of that, Mr Barnes. Miss Piaget and I are here to assist the good Inspector – whilst his sergeant is chasing the Scarlet Shadow and his gang."

"Sit down and tell us the story, man," Cooke prompted him.

Barnes sat down on the wooden-framed sofa, next to Anne Marie. "Very well…" He proceeded to tell them about the attack by the huge animal which had killed one of the sheep in their field, before mauling the farm's dog.

"And you say that this…animal…had charged towards the Major – only to stop suddenly?" Anne Marie asked him. "The Major was wearing some amulet…"

"…and that seemed to make the thing halt its attack, yes." Barnes muttered. "The animal knocked me down – but didn't even scratch me. It was like…it didn't want me. It wanted the Major!"

"A wild animal with a directed intelligence. And a creature that survived the bullets fired at it," Isabella observed. "And how is the dog faring now?"

"Sophie's told me that he's healing well. Remarkably well," Barnes answered. "In fact, she's back for her second visit now. First was yesterday."

"Sophie? Sophie O'Hare, the midwife of Shadowbrook?" Cooke lowered his teacup and leaned forward in his seat.

"That's right, sir. She's more than a midwife. She's tending to the dog, in the outhouse."

"Really?" Cooke stood up. "Take us there, if you please…"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

The outhouse was a low brick structure next to the other farm buildings, with grimy-looking windows. Entering, Cooke, Isabella and Anne Marie saw old farming tools and rusty-looking ploughs stored away.

On the far side of the room, underneath an old blanket, was an unmoving shape. Anne Marie gasped as she took in the trail of dried blood on the stone floor which led to it.

"The…sheep?"

"Yes, Miss." Barnes took off his hat again. "If you not be needing me any longer, sir. I need to return to my jobs."

Inspector Cooke took in the other person present in the room, and nodded. "You may go, Barnes."

As the groom departed, Anne Marie saw the blonde-haired lady move. Sophie O'Hare had been on her knees, removing dressings and examining the skin and fur of the farm dog, which was being held in an upturned stone trough to contain it. Upon catching the scent of the three strangers, the dog growled.

"Quiet, Brutus!" Sophie snapped, pointing her forefinger at the dog. He promptly fell silent. Then the elder turned her attention to the arrivals as she stood up. Anne Marie noticed that Sophie's smile broadened upon seeing the Inspector…

"Good day to you all! I'm afraid I only know you, Inspector Cooke…"

"Miss O'Hare. Please meet Schoolmistress Anne Marie Piaget, who has settled into your township in recent months. And this here is Isabella von Took… What are you doing, Mademoiselle Piaget?"

Anne Marie had noticed the book on the ground, besides the trough containing the injured dog. She looked over the dog, seeing that there were only faint scars remaining – then she knelt down to read the open tomb before her. "A book of medicine? And one that 'as been well written. Clear enough for anyone to understand…" She paused and glanced around at the others present. "Pardon. Books are my passion…"

Sophie gave a slow smile. She quickly washed her tools in a bucket of water and cleaned them – before wiping her own hands on a nearby rag. "So what do I have here with me? Inspector Cooke, Madam von Took…, and Mademoiselle Book?" she gave a small giggle, which made Cooke smirk. He was also finding her Irish accent to be rather engaging.

"Mr Barnes says you are more than a midwife, Miss O'Hare," he declared, stepping forward. He nodded at Brutus the dog. "You are trained in animal husbandry?"

"Self-trained, yes, Inspector. I was raised on a farm myself. I hate to see animals mistreated or in pain." Sophie's tone turned sober.

"And this dog was savaged – non? You 'ave done well in treating 'im!" Anne Marie beamed.

Sophie frowned. "I have played my part, yes. But Brutus's injuries have largely healed by themselves. When I first saw him, yesterday morning, it was touch and go as to if he would survive. And now…" She shrugged her shoulders. "…there are hardly any marks on him. I cannot explain it."

"Really?" the Inspector approached the dog, who was eying him warily. "From the marks done to the dog…, do you have any idea what attacked…Brutus?"

"A large animal certainly. I would say something like a huge dog or wolf."

Cooke pulled at the tip of his beard. "Could such an animal have been responsible for attacking the other animals that were attacked - or the men torn apart at the olde woods, Miss O'Hare?"

She bit her lip. "I have not seen the bodies of those men. As for the animals that were killed… Yes, I saw some of them. And yes, I do think the same hunting animal was responsible."

"It is curious, is it not?" Isabella spoke up – and the Inspector and Sophie turned to face her, whilst Anne Marie watched on. "From what you have told me at the manor, Inspector, two of the men connected to this farm were brutally killed at those woods. A third man is missing – with only a screaming statue in his likeness left in his place…"

"…and the next night, there is an attack 'ere at ze farm – leaving a slaughtered sheep and an injured dog. A dog zat has since miraculously recovered," Anne Marie concluded. She looked worried. "And ze Major was charged at by ze animal responsible… Where was the Major during the night his men were attacked?"

"He was not at the farm that evening. I have already learnt this from his wife," Sophie informed them. She told me that she went to bed alone – and did not see him until the next day."

"So Shadowbrook is being plagued by more than one type of menace, it seems," Isabella pointed out. "The first we have seen for ourselves, Inspector. The second type seems to be a large canine."

"But it must be a natural predator of some sort, despite its strange behavior," Cooke objected.

Anne Marie watched the three of them as they continued their reasoning. The Inspector continuing to search for rational explanations, despite all that he had experienced so far – or so Isabella had told her. Isabella herself being determined to get whatever she set her mind to – whether that was answers, or slyly persuading men to cater for her. As for Sophie O'Hare… Anne Marie tried to learn from people by observing them – how they talked and acted. And what made them unique. Sophie seemed friendly. But the schoolteacher felt that there was a lot more to her…

Then she heard the laughter.

Anne Marie jerked her head round towards the sound. But there was nobody else present. And yet, faint as it had been, it had definitely been a woman's laughter – and within the room.

"Did anyone hear zat?" she asked aloud.

"Hear what?" Cooke looked baffled.

Isabella frowned. "I heard nothing unusual."

"A woman's laughter." Anne Marie spun to face Sophie. "Did you…?"

"I-I heard nothing. Nothing at…," the midwife stammered. Then she trailed off, looking beyond Anne Marie – who turned quickly to see a cat on the outside ledge of the nearest window. There was a green glow emanating from it – or so it seemed, for the strange light disappeared a moment later. Then the cat leapt off the ledge, and went out of everyone's sight.

Anne Marie spun back round. She was quick enough to see the look of recognition on Isabella's face – and another expression on the face of the midwife. It was one of…

Then she was distracted by the reappearance of the green light again, as it materialized above Brutus – before sinking into him and vanishing.

"What the devil wa-?" Cooke cried out.

The dog howled, before collapsing in his trough. Then his body convulsed and began to change – rapidly.

Sophie screamed and backed away – until she was pressed against the nearest wall. Meanwhile, Inspector Cooke, Isabella, and Anne Marie were all glued to where they stood, spellbound, until the dog snarled and broke down the side of the stone trough with its forepaws.

Only he wasn't a dog any longer – not as such. His fur had grown thicker and wilder. The claws had lengthened. The exposed fangs were longer. And the face was not so much canine, as lupine. The expression was twisted with rage.

Brutus now resembled a creature that was three-quarters wolf. And his eyes were glowing green as they swept the room and settled on Sophie.

Then he bounded towards her.

Yelling again, the midwife launched herself from where she leaned against the wall and ran towards the others. Instinctively, Inspector Cooke grabbed hold of her, and raised his pistol to fire at the mutated dog as he paused to change direction.

The 'bang' resounded loudly through the outhouse. Anne Marie gasped as the dog yelped and fell to the floor. In the silence that fell they all gathered their breath.

Then the wolf-dog rose to his feet again – the wound in his neck closing before their very eyes. The lead shot was pushed out of the flesh, and dropped to the floor. Brutus's eyes now blazed hatred – and he snarled again. The fangs gleamed with saliva in the moment before he pounced, leaping for Cooke and Sophie, even as the Inspector tried to push the midwife aside…

Isabella finished loading the gun she had taken from its fittings on the wall, and took quick aim before firing.

The blast shattered the mutated dog's head. Brutus's body struck the floor where Cooke and Sophie had just rolled aside from. Blood splattered the flagstones.

The remains of the dog twitched briefly – and then ceased moving.

As Anne Marie got up from where she had fallen in her panic, she thought she heard a yell of fury that swiftly faded away in the air…

Everyone looked up across to Isabella, who was still clutching the hunting rifle in her hands. She was drawing in a deep breath to steady herself. Then she smiled at her handiwork.

"I only need one shot…with this type of gun," she declared.

"Th-thank you," Sophie spoke up as Cooke helped her to her feet.

"But my gun… It failed to stop… The wound healed itself…!" Cooke's words tripped over themselves as they poured from his mouth. "How come your g…?"

Isabella smirked, as she opened up the barrel of the rifle. "I loaded the only silver shot I had in my pouch," she explained.

"Silver? Mais oui… Of course…," Anne Marie breathed as she pressed a hand against her heart. Feeling herself once more, she turned to address Sophie – only to see the midwife running for the door.

"Non! Mademoiselle O'Hare – I wish to…"

"Please excuse me! I must get back to town," Sophie cried out, looking over her shoulder only briefly as she sprinted along the path back to the stables.

"She must have arrived here on a horse…," Cooke deduced, as he stared at the retreating figure of the attractive blonde midwife. Then he shut the door of the outhouse to, and turned round to address the women still with him inside, as he stared at the remains of the dog. He shook his head. "I do not understand this…," he admitted.

"It is simple enough, Inspector," Isabella told him as she sat down on the only stool present. "That dog was infected…"

"…by the curse of the loup-garou," Anne Marie finished the noblewoman's line of thought. She shuddered with fear. "I have heard my father speak much of the homeland that I have never seen with my own eyes. One of the many things he had told me was of the loup-garou. In the English tongue, the werewolf."

"A werewolf...!?" Cooke whispered incuriously. "A werewolf came to this farm the night before last…"

"…and targeted the Major it seems. Only the dog attacked it. The result being that Brutus the dog came off worse for the fight – and infected," Isabella declared.

"And th-that…glow?"

"It came from that cat I saw on the window ledge outside. Non…!" Anne Marie paused to correct herself, and she pointed at Isabella. "…what we saw. You recognized it. So too did Mademoiselle O'Hare. She was terrified of it, also!"

Isabella nodded. "It was the same cat that I saw in the maze at the manor. Lady Hanbrook was frightened of it. It scratched her – and then disappeared from a dead end, without passing through the hedge."

A loud knock sounded at the door. As Cooke called out 'Enter', Barnes burst into the outhouse. He was out of breath.

"Inspector…? Ladies…? I heard gunshots… Wh-?" The young man's eyes widened as he saw the dead dog.

A realization slowly took form and rose to the surface in Cooke's mind. He turned and grasped Barnes's shoulder.

"Steady yourself man! I need you to think… I understand that on the evening that Bunt and Shaw were killed, the Major was not here at the farm."

Barnes gulped. "N-no sir. He was not. I did not see him until gone midnight, that night."

"Where was he?"

The young man looked down at the floor. "I could not say, sir. It could cost me my job…"

"Answer me, dammit! This is important! Further lives could be at risk."

Barnes looked up. "He did not speak to me of this – but I believe the Major was out with Mister Bunt and the Shaw brothers, sir. He and several of the men are hooligans – those men included. They would have been drinking. They buy grog from the smugglers in the area, sir. Meet up on the road to Tidewater, they do…"

"Was there anything about the Major's behavior that night – or in the morning - which seemed odd to you? Before he left the farm to meet some of the other elders at the olde woods, after the dead men were discovered…?"

Barnes's throat bobbed once more, before he spoke. "I…I heard him arriving after midnight, sir. Spied him from the window of my room when he disturbed me. He didn't see me. His clothes were a mess – like he slipped in cow droppings. He washed himself in the stables, I believe. I saw evidence of this in the morning. The clothes, the mess – and some blood, along with some torn cloth."

"Torn cloth? The Major had been injured?" Cooke's nostrils flared.

"I believe so, sir. Major Bruckner's arm seemed to be caused him trouble in the morning when he set out on his horse. But if he bandaged it, no one would see with his shirt and coat on."

"Mon dieu. If the werewolf had bitten Major Bruckner…," Anne Marie spoke up.

"…we need to find him, before he goes the same way as the dog here…," Cooke concluded. "When is the next full moon?"

"Tomorrow night, I believe," Isabella answered, maintaining her composure. She stared at the gun. "Perhaps we should return to Shadowbrook, Inspector. We could do with finding more silver shot for one thing."

Barnes looked confused. "Silver shot? Hector Dalton, the blacksmith, can help you there."

"Excellent! Then we must go to him. Oh…" Isabella reached inside her purse and held out several coins to Barnes. "I really would like to buy this excellent hunting rifle from you…"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

The Windmill:

Several minutes after being rescued from the basement, Lucy had calmed down enough to begin to relate what had happened to her in the darkness.

She, Karl, Lucy, and Heidi had retreated to the next floor up – the bin floor. Heidi kept occasional watch on the trapdoor, which was now blocked off. There had been no further disturbance from whatever lurked in the cellar.

The storm had passed, and now the party sat on the floor, passing around a bottle of wine between them. Lucy had taken some to sip carefully from, first of all, to steady her nerves. Then the four of them had eaten some dried meat and biscuits from Karl and Thomas's supplies.

Lucy told them everything of the images her mind had received – except how she had been portrayed in them. The sole elder of Shadowbrook. A servant to darkness. A priestess and mistress to whatever the…thing had been. She still felt a churning swirl of emotions at how she had felt at first. The exhilaration of having power. Giddiness at being chosen as the de facto ruler – and consort - for the Ancient One. That had quickly been followed by bewilderment, horror, and disgust at what she had seen. Disgust at herself too, that she could become corrupted.

" 'The Ancient One'… Is that what's down there, Miss?" Thomas asked as he took a swig from the wine bottle.

Lucy swallowed down the bits of her biscuit before shaking her head. "No. I…sensed…that it is…a vanguard…of sorts – for whatever that horror was in my last vision. It…" Lucy drew in her breath and stared Karl and Thomas in the eyes. "It is not of this world, is it?"

"No…," Karl answered slowly. Carefully. "It's a demon. And either it's killed the workman, after luring him into the cellar – or someone has dumped his body there. Maybe to hide the body. Maybe to feed the demon. Probably both. Now how did it get from its realm of existence to this windmill? And what connection – if any – does it have with the men who were torn apart…"

"…or the screaming statues?" Thomas completed Karl's line of thought.

Heidi's face was pale. "How many monsters could vere possibly be in our midst? Surely vere is one force behind all vis?"

Lucy frowned, staring at the floor. "After my…experience, my instinct tells me that…whatever is in the darkness…it was brought there into our world, into the cellar itself. It has not yet left the cellar. It is building up its strength… Which means…" She raised her face to the others. "…some other evil is on the move!"

"Wonderful. Just wonderful…," Thomas snorted, as he finished eating. "We need to start fighting back, Karl. And so far, we got from here a pistol and a pitchfork for weapons…"

A loud bang interrupted him. It came from downstairs. They all jumped.

Heidi visibly swallowed, and forced herself down the stairs. Moments later, there was another bang. Heidi hurried back up.

"The trapdoor…?" Karl pressed her, hurriedly putting his food away and readying himself for action.

The handmaiden shook her head. "Nein! It vas the doors! Someone trying to break in!"

Karl addressed Heidi and Lucy. "Stand back… I'll handle this!"

"Not without me, matey," Thomas retorted.

"Be careful!" Lucy implored them.

Downstairs, the two men paused as they saw the splintered wood at the base of one of the double doors. Otherwise, there was silence.

Thomas moved forward – and laid himself flat on the stone floor before the damaged door.

"What are you doing?" Karl hissed softly. "Whoever – or whatever – is there might break through any mo-"

"Trying to get a peek!" Thomas rasped. He edged his face and right hand closer to the gap. Then his eye widened as…

A blue-gray colored clawed hand shot through the gap like lighting, seizing Thomas's hand with an icy grip. As Karl watched in shock, the hand glowed with a faint blue light.

"Aaaggghhh!"

Thomas tried to break free of the intruder's grasp. His other hand tried to pull his knife from his belt – but his body contorted with agony.

Cocking his pistol, Karl dashed over and shot Thomas's assailant in the wrist. The noise assaulted their ears.

Something just outside the doors gave an inhuman screech. It let go of Thomas. The being's hand vanished through the gap – and Karl wasted no time in dragging his friend away from the doors. Thomas swore and clutched at his hand.

"Is it bad?" Karl barked.

"It clawed me! But…yaagghh! Somemutt's happening to my hand! It's going stiff. Can't…move my fingers!" Thomas removed his other hand.

Both he and Karl were frozen stiff by the sight of Thomas's injured hand. The skin was turning gray.

Thomas yelped and torn his shirt sleeve cuff. The discoloration had stopped at his wrist. But now the flesh of his hand had turned hard and rigid…

…as stone.

Something crashed through the doors – breaking the damaged one into pieces. A winged shape was glimpsed by the men, before it disappeared out of view. Then their attention was drawn to the missile that had been thrown at the doors to the windmill, and which had landed just before them, face-down. It was the screaming statue of Miss Palfreyman.

A grating noise sounded. Before the disbelieving eyes of Karl and Thomas, the limbs of the statue moved. Pressing palms and knees to the cold stone floor, the statue gradually rose to its full height. The gray face was not longer set in a fixed scream now. Instead, it was smiling. Cruelly. The eyes glowed with a white light.

The arms rose into position – hands outstretched to throttle the two men. Underneath her stone skirt, Miss Palfreyman slowly stepped forward to attack…