Chapter Twenty One:
No One Is Safe
The Marsh and The Abandoned Keep:
Reverend Elijah Harding ducked and ran for his life, as the spectral soldiers at the marsh fired at his head.
He was not certain what had happened to him when he and Lord Hanbrook had been sucked into the whirlpool of light – only that the power behind the manifestation had not been godly. The two men had spun out of control within the spiral, which then flickered in and out of existence – as if the phenomena had demanded great power, and there had been an insufficient quantity of it. Tears or rips had actually opened up within the tunnel of…whatever the manifestation had been. Then Lord Hanbrook had managed to break the stranglehold Harding had employed on him, and the two elders had drifted apart, screaming. The last glimpse Harding had of Hanbrook was his plump figure spinning into the distance within the whirlpool of light – before he himself had fallen through one of the rips.
There had been a moment of roaring sound and blazing light that had assaulted his senses, making him cry out in despair as he prayed for deliverance.
Then it all abruptly ended – only for Harding to fall a few meters out of mid-air and land in the marsh.
Spluttering and coughing the mud and water out of his system, his reverence saw above him the tear in reality that he had fallen through seal itself up and wink out of existence. It took a minute or so for him to overcome his shock enough for him to realize that it was still not long after dawn, with mist all around him. And that he was in the marsh just south of Shadowbrook. His growing fears were then realized as the ghost soldiers began to yell out a challenge to him – their voice ringing out with increasing clarity in the moments before they materialized all around and started to march closer, in order to trap him…
Yelling, Harding started his flight of running, slipping, and wading through the mud and weeds and filthy water in order to escape the spectral soldiers.
" 'Tis Bartlett's work – those souls being here! Curse her!" he hollered. With a mud-drenched hand, he pulled out the crucifix that he wore over his black tunic – making the nearest bearded, green-glowing soldier freeze in his tracks and glare at him with hatred.
Eventually, the exhausted Harding was able to reach the ruins of the abandoned keep that had been his beacon of hope amidst the marshy mists as he sought to find a way out. Given his pounding headache - thanks to that schoolteacher throwing that bible at him - Harding barely noticed his white wig slipping off his sweat-drenched head and landing on the side of the road…
"Merciful lord!" he gasped, as he forced himself onto the most broken corner of the fortress, unable to stagger much further. He needed fresh water, rest, a wash, and a complete change of clothes as soon as he could grab any. He also needed a new plan. He had feel a stab of pain in his mind earlier whilst grappling with Lord Hanbrook in the whirlpool of light – a severance of the mental link between him and the Gargoyle…
He stumbled into the small pool of rainwater that was situated here – water that had leaked through the cracked ceiling above. The pool lay in a dip next to some vines that had grown through the empty window spaces, Harding gasped and splashed his lined face and short dark hair, savoring the wonderful feel of the water against his mud-streaked face. It was inconceivable, but if the Gargoyle was truly dead…
"What do I do now…?" he croaked to himself as he rested in the shade of the ruined wing of the fortress. He knew that the Grotesques and the living statues were dependent on the supernatural power of the Gargoyle. They would all become lifeless lumps of stone again.
As he lowered his hands, Harding shrieked. A painfully-thin cat was sat on a low stone wall, on the opposite side of the pool, glaring balefully at him. Suddenly, a green aura surrounded it.
"No!" he yelled. He was about to stride forward and throttle the hated animal – but found vines suddenly encircling themselves around his arms, legs, and neck…
Moments later, he was pulled back by the vines towards the pair of trees behind him on the other side of the window space, pinning him against the remaining stonework. Harding fought to free himself, his heart pounding furiously – but he was too weak now…
The green glow around Solomon expanded. The image of an ethereal, floating, hooded woman took form within the unearthly light. Her eyes were accusing, her smirk mocking, her lips widening in triumph.
"We meet again, Elijah Harding…," she purred.
"B-Bartlett!" he gasped.
"Today is the first anniversary of my death. I told all of you that I would rise again and have my revenge – remember?" the Shadow Witch's voice turned cold, frosty. "You elders failed to honor the agreement we made to spare my life for my killing the Delion Dryad. And now finally, despite the interlopers, and despite the death of my brother, I still have enough energy to carry out my revenge on you, reverend."
"Spare me…!" Harding croaked as the animated vine dug into his throat, making the skin bleed. He could not break it. Could not prise it away…
"Spare you?" the specter of Elaine Bartlett gave a small, heartless, barking laugh. "Oh no. You did not spare me when you were amongst the most vocal amongst the elders in calling for my hanging. And yet, since then you have allied yourself with a creature of malice that you hoped would protect you from me. You helped to cause the deaths of several innocent people, Harding. Hypocrisy revealed. No one is safe amongst the elders of either Shadowbrook or Tidewater. Not from myself. And now your hanging will empower me!"
The Reverend Harding saw Bartlett tightly clench her transparent fists. Immediately, the vines dug harder around his legs, wrists, and neck. His eyes bulged as it became harder and harder to breath. The world around him began to dim, until all he could see was The Shadow Witch stroking the purring Solomon, as they both watched him slowly choke and perish…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Shadowbrook:
As evening fell, Sophie O'Hare climbed the short ladder she had put in place and knocked on the hatch to her attic.
"Dinnertime," she called out.
Hearing the woman's voice on the other side, Sophie retreated to the floor below. Then her hidden guest opened the hatch from her side and climbed down.
"Dear god! You still look tired…"
"We both are, Sophie. That ritual of protection we cast around Shadowbrook drained me, in particular. I am sorry that I could not maintain it long enough…"
Sophie held up her hand. "We both did what we could. Alas, I also was too exhausted after fighting off both the Grotesques and the Feral Kin. Consequently, I was unable to be present at the final confrontations with either Major Bruckner or that Gargoyle."
"But you think that I still need to hide away – not just to rest, Sophie?" the darker-haired lady asked.
The blonde midwife nodded. "Elaine Bartlett has been defeated – but I fear that she is still bound to this world. She will try again to eliminate as many of the elders of Shadowbrook and Tidewater as she can take down. And…"
"And…?"
Sophie bit her lip. "News of what happened to this town is beginning to reach the ears of…learned people. The Sanctum of the Moebius Malus… They will send someone here. My meditation has provided me with a glimpse of this fact. When? I do not yet know."
"Dear spirits, no… If it is Eliza…" Sophie's guest nervously tugged on a lock of her wavy hair. She took a deep breath to steady herself.
"You can leave if you…"
"No, Sophie. I will continue to hide – but I will not run! You have taken me under your wing, and I am grateful to you. I will stay and help you, in readiness to face…"
"I fear that Elaine is too powerful for you, my kindred-sister. No disrespect intended," Sophie carefully told her friend. "However, we must be prepared in case other terrors arise. I sense that you will soon find your path, and the role that you must play."
The other woman slowly nodded in acceptance. "Those strangers you told me about… They could prove to be useful again," she considered thoughtfully. Then she snapped back to the moment at hand. "Let's eat, for now! Continue to build up our strength. We will worry, and study, later."
Sophie chuckled and patted her arm as they walked downstairs towards the smell of the prepared hot meal awaiting them.
"Agreed. You are a bright witch, Sara," she declared.
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
The Manor:
As Lucy walked arm in arm with Karl into the gardens of Hanbrook Manor, she stopped and looked back. As expected, her mother's disapproving face was at one of the upstairs windows. Then, seeing both her daughter and Karl glancing back at her, Lady Josette Hanbrook slipped out of sight.
Lucy sighed, and rested her head on Karl's shoulder.
"She does not want to lose you to me – especially, given…your father's disappearance this morning," Karl remarked softly.
"I know – and she is also upset that I am no longer…entirely human, Karl. But what can we do about it? Doctor Manning might be able to cure me – but he, Doctor Cochrane, and that Doctor Edwards from Tidewater have had more urgent cases to deal with. And…"
"…you are not certain if a cure is the right choice for you, right now," Karl concluded.
Lucy looked straight into his eyes. "No," she admitted, blushing. "Thanks to Mr Morgan guiding me, and our bond of friendship…, I was able to develop control over my wolf, last night."
"Impressively so, as well," Karl added. "You and Harlow managed to kill Major Bruckner between you. The people of Shadowbrook would be grateful to you both, if they knew who had rid them of the beast that Bruckner was."
Lucy tensed. She raised her head, and looked over the gardens – now caught in the lengthening shadows of the evening. The first evening following the deaths of Bruckner and the Gargoyle. Sunset would fall within the hour. The gibbous moon would soon rise above the horizon. But Harlow had already told her that their…breed…of werewolves were only forced to change on the nights when the skies were clear and the moon was exactly - not nearly - full. It was of some comfort, but…
In a quiet voice, she announced: "But I am a killer now, Karl. A monster. And yet – whilst I am scared by what has happened to me, a part of me is…delighted…as well. I felt so free, running with Harlow in the night on my paws – reveling in the incredible senses that threatened to overwhelm me… I even enjoyed my first hunt, my first kill! And now that I have proved myself strong enough to defeat another werewolf – even though it was not me alone who did so – who will be strong enough to defeat me, if…if I lose control?"
Karl's sad eyes saw the tears on Lucy's freckled cheek. He gently pulled her to him and hugged her – then gave her his handkerchief in order to wipe her face as her sniffles ended.
"You will not lose control," he told her. "You are Lucy Hanbrook – one of the champions of Shadowbrook. And you have both me and Harlow Morgan to support you, Lucy. Never doubt that. Never doubt yourself. That creature which tried to corrupt you at the windmill is dead. It is up to you now to make your own path in life. Not your mother, not anyone else. Just you."
Lucy nodded, appreciating Karl's words and his embrace – but still not being entirely convinced. After all, for as long as the blood of the wolf was within her, she would be a child of the moon – answering her call at least once a month, alongside Harlow.
"Thank you." She patted Karl's bearded cheek. "We had better join the others."
"Neither you nor Harlow have retrieved your clothes from last night yet," Karl pointed out.
"True… But we have been too preoccupied with everything else that has happened," Lucy answered. "The deaths. The damage to the manor and to the town..." She gave a sly smile. "I'll get Harlow to retrieve our clothes tomorrow. He knows where the cave is, after all!"
Taking his hand again, Lucy led her soldier into the maze, and guided him to the centre – where Inspector Cooke, Harlow Morgan (wearing a spare pair of spectacles retrieved from his workshop), Victor, and Anne Marie were already gathered. She joined the school teacher and playwright on the bench and shared smiles with them. Then she exchanged nods and smiles with Harlow Morgan, who stood next to the grim-faced Inspector Cooke, who was guarding the exit from the centre of the maze, occasionally watching and listening out for any uninvited people who might be lurking. For his part, Karl took up his post at the entrance to the maze's centre – likewise staying alert.
Lucy beamed. Her retired soldier was now carrying a second saber from the manor's collection – to replace the one broken outside the windmill. This time, Lady Hanbrook had assented to Lucy's insistence that Karl should have it.
"An elegant weapon for an elegant man," the younger Hanbrook had declared.
Her eyes swept across the group. All of them bore bandages and injuries somewhere about their persons. All of them were still fatigued and mentally shaken from their experiences. She hoped that each of them could recover as well as was possible. Given enough time. For her, it would be a more complicated journey of the soul. At least she had the experience of Harlow Morgan to draw upon, whilst she traveled with him on that particular moonlit road…
"Well… We are now all gathered…," Cooke declared.
"Pardon, Inspector. I propose a minute of silence for all those who 'ave fallen," Anne Marie suggested. "Including Isabella and her entourage…"
"…and Thomas," Karl added.
"…and the Scarlet Shadow," Victor elaborated.
"Sergeant Allardyce," Cooke muttered.
"And for all those missing – such as Katarina Clark and my dear father," Lucy finished the listing. She was glad to able to place a name to the werewolf who had been swept downriver from the covered bridge before she and Harlow had fought Brookner. The group of survivors had started to share information between themselves.
They all bowed their heads. After a while, Cooke – who had been counting the seconds – declared an end to the minute, and a beginning to business.
The discussion was long and varied. Inspector Cooke reported on what he had learned from Captain Townsend, Ben Summersby, and the rest of the town militia. Apart from the unnatural abduction of Lord Hanbrook and Reverend Harding, the remaining town elders were still alive and present in Shadowbrook. The last few reported Living Statues and Grotesques around Shadowbrook had abruptly halted in their attacks upon the militia and civilians, and had then suddenly broke apart into grains of tiny stones and dust at the time of the Gargoyle's death – indicating that the minions had been somehow magically linked to the villain.
Cooke had already told Karl that he had destroyed the statue of Thomas Harrow – as well as the implication that the courier had still been 'alive' in his changed body and thus under the Gargoyle's will. Karl had allowed this to sink in, before thanking the Inspector for setting Thomas's soul free.
As for the other army that had besieged Shadowbrook – that of the Feral Kin, only two of them were left now. Victor had identified the juvenile male as Jack, whilst Anne Marie (to her horror) had worked out the young female wolf-creature's identity when she had whined upon seeing the school teacher after the battle at the Manor. She had whined again upon Anne Marie's gasp of 'Gillian?'.
Both the schoolgirl and the youngest member of the Scarlet Shadow's outlaws showed no signs of returning to their previous forms of girl and boy – and both now seemed to have minds that were more wolf than human. They responded to their names being called, but were unable to speak. Harlow declared his belief that with the death of Bruckner, the pair was no longer under the Shadow Witch's control – but that her magik, cast over them, was irreversible. They would be human-shaped wolves for the rest of their lives, fiercely loyal to each other – and tolerating only the presence of Anne Marie; and their new pack master and mistress, Harlow and Lucy.
Cooke had earlier wanted the lupine children taken away to Boston – as well as having Lady Hanbrook arrested for the poisoning of the Reverend Joseph Harding. But Harlow and Lucy had argued against this. Instead, Cooke had come to an agreement with the Hanbrooks. To the subdued Lady Hanbrook's disgust, Harlow Morgan would move into the half-derelict wing of Hanbrook Manor, to look after Jack and Gillian there. His new workshop would be set up in another room, now that the wing had been checked and declared free of any more Grotesques or other horrors.
In the meantime, the recovered Delani – now free of any alien influence over her - would move into Miss Palfreyman's quarters and take up cooking duties. The black maid had convinced Cooke that she had been an innocent girl, who had never aided the Gargoyle or Harding of her own free will. And so, Cooke had practically ordered Lady Hanbrook to make the necessary arrangements. Her ladyship had done so, her silent protests still noted by Cooke. The woman's spirit was broken, given the sudden, unnatural abduction of both her husband and the Reverend Harding. Perhaps she feared the manifestation returning in her bedroom at some stage to claim her, the Inspector mused. Moreover, there was still the whereabouts of the murderous Harding to resolve – if he was still alive to threaten her ladyship again, that was.
Still, it was the price that Lady Hanbrook was evidently prepared to pay for her freedom – as opposed to being arrested and tried for the murder she had confessed to during the showdown. Cooke did not like it. But apart from the confession - which Lady Hanbrook was now reluctant to repeat - he suspected that he would find it hard to produce evidence for the crime, committed many years ago. And the bottom line was that there were simply too many other priorities to see to. Also, Cooke was reluctant to deprive Lucy Hanbrook of her remaining parent. The town elders, whether they knew of Lady Hanbrook's crime or not – were also in no mood to have Josette Hanbrook taken from them in the aftermath of the crisis, it seemed…
In the heart of the maze, the group of six heroes continued to share their experiences to each other – in an attempt to join all the jigsaw pieces together to form the complete picture, or as complete as it could be for the time being. However, Anne Marie did not reveal that she had discovered who was behind the fire barrier that had protected Shadowbrook for a while, due to her promise to Sophie. Still, she wondered who would have aided Sophie in her efforts, when she had to rest. Likewise, Victor kept what he knew of Sophie's secret to himself – given that they had fought against enough witchcraft in recent days. He did not want an apparent White Witch arrested and treated as scum, given the grief and anger of the local people as they tried to recover from their tragic loses…
On the other hand, Harlow and Lucy were open enough to inform those not already in the know that they were werewolves – and that Jack and Gillian were now their joint responsibility.
Victor did relate what he had overheard Major Bruckner telling Doctor Manning – that the doctor was hiding a 'disgusting fugitive', as well as relying on the smugglers of Tidewater for medical supplies. Furthermore, he – backed up by Anne Marie – related what Reverend Harding had spoken of in the church crypt. That the Order of the Crimson Hand, whatever it was exactly, was active in the area. That it was supporting the cause of the Ancient One and its demons. And that Harding had been informed by someone, now dead, that one of the town elders was a member of this Order…
When they were done, Victor lit the lantern that he had brought with him and placed it in the centre of the darkening heart of the maze. Yellow-orange light bathed their faces. He winced as he moved, still feeling his bandaged wounds – wounds that he had received from a Living Statue in Shadowbrook that had attacked him and Anne Marie at the Blacksmiths. Isabella had made use of the distraction to run away from them at the time…
"Careful, Victor," Anne Marie urged him.
"Yes… My wounds are still healing. Alas, that is why I could not join the rest of you at Hanbrook Manor in time for that showdown with the Gargoyle." Victor gave the others an embarrassed smile – then faced Anne Marie. "Thank you for your concern, mademoiselle."
She smiled back sheepishly – then her expression turned serious as she addressed the group in general. "I 'ave been doing some studying. I believe that ze whirlpool of light that Lady Hanbrook, Lucy, and I saw was a void – a lighted gate."
"A…what?" Cooke frowned.
"Someone conjured a portal of magik in the manor. That was what sucked in my father and the reverend," Lucy elaborated.
"The same someone who conjured that barrier of flame around Shadowbrook, to defend it?" Cooke asked.
"Possibly. Also…possibly not," Anne Marie carefully replied. "Mais pourquoi? I mean, but why?"
"To abduct my father, or the reverend?" Lucy pointed out.
"Or was the conjurer's aim a little off-course?" Karl ventured. "Was the target actually the Gargoyle?"
Harlow leaned back against the hedge behind him as he rubbed his spectacles on the corner of his jacket before putting them back on. "An interesting theory, Mr Harrison. Why do you think that?"
"Because of the conversation I had with the Gargoyle at the windmill. It told me little of its origins – but spoke of breaking away from 'their will'. I wonder… I wonder if 'they' were attempting to recapture it."
"You mean…that the Gargoyle was created, or brought into this world, to serve someone or something else?" Cooke speculated. "It spoke of something like this, to me, at the Manor."
"That could fit with the vanguard we encountered at the windmill, Karl," Lucy spoke up. "My vision of the tentacled horror… It was something greater than that in the cellar. I feel this to be so."
"So the nightmare over this land is not over – we've just managed to disperse the dark clouds for now," Cooke concluded. "No one is safe. Not really."
"We should remain in the area," Harlow suggested. "But you wish to return to Boston, Inspector…"
"I should, according to the law, be returning to Boston with you – and Miss Lucy – given your…natures… You, in particular, Mr Morgan, killed a couple of men. Granted, they were terrorizing a young lady at the time…" Cooke trailed off, and took a series of deep breaths to calm down. "But the law of this land does not recognize the existence of werewolves. And I am…prepared…to trust you pair to look after each other and stay out of trouble, whilst I return to Boston."
"I will remain in the area to watch out for them – and anything else…unnatural," Karl volunteered.
Cooke faced him – then glanced at Harlow and Lucy. "Really? And if they go wild, or dark, will you be prepared to kill either of them, Mr Harrison? Especially Miss Lucy? I know that you are old friends."
Lucy gasped at Cooke's tone. She saw Karl's throat bob up and down.
"If that is what they request of me, then that is what I will do. If I must," Karl declared solemnly.
Harlow nodded. Lucy looked both worried and relieved at the same time. She rose from the stone bench and walked over to Karl, before embracing him – unable to get her words out. He held her in return, and stroked her long titian-colored hair, sensing her turmoil.
"Ah-hemm…" Victor coughed. "I too will stay in the vicinity. See what help I can provide. Another set of watchful eyes, and all that."
"When the time is right…, I would love to see one of your plays, Monsieur Danforth." Anne Marie flashed him a shy smile. She squeezed his hand, making his heart beat somewhat faster.
"Ah… I will need to contact some of my old actor friends. See if they could perform in this town," he ventured. "In the town hall, perhaps…"
Lucy smiled. "I think we all deserve some reward. Some celebration – despite the loss of Papa. Just make sure it is not around any full moon, Mr Danforth."
"Ah… Yes. Of course not," he huffed.
When the meeting was done, they all broke up and went their separate ways – Lucy and Harlow walked back into the manor, and the others got to ride back to Shadowbrook in the coachman's carriage.
It was only much later that Anne Marie realized that she had totally forgotten about the bat outside the manor's bedroom window…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
After she and Karl had kissed each other goodnight and parted, Lucy retreated quickly to her bedroom, her heart pounding with joy. Karl's kiss to her had been long, gentle and sweet. And her nose… Even in human form, her sense of smell was now stronger. Karl had smelt nervous when he had initiated the kiss. But Lucy had also breathed in his love for her – and that excited her. Excited both aspects of her…
She had hoped that their friendship would grow and develop. Karl had not failed her when she was dying – he had helped to save her life. And in spite of what she had become, despite his having hunted and killed werewolves before, Karl had not turned against her or left her. Instead, he loved her.
If only it hadn't taken them nearly losing each other for her and Karl to develop their mutual feelings, Lucy considered…
The girlish grin on Lucy's face slowly faded as she sat at her dressing table. Her memory of Harlow's suggestion to Karl, to save him from the Gargoyle's Stone Touch, replayed itself in her mind.
"You could…join Lucy and me…"
At first, the thought had chilled Lucy to the bone. She did not want Karl to endure the agony of the transformation. Nor risk him losing control and becoming a monster. She had not chosen her fate – and she did not want Karl to be forced to turn into a creature that he would then loath and hate. But now…
Now? In spite of mother's objections, I love Karl, she admitted to herself. But I have become a werewolf – whilst he is still…normal. Can we…actually court…, without me losing control to the wolf within myself, in a moment of passion?
Dear God! I might hurt Karl. Even kill him…!
Lucy's now somber face stared back at her from the mirror – with only a slight predatory glint in her eyes revealing anything of the beast inside of her. She needed to speak to Harlow about this. How had he coped without love since the death of his wife? How had he fared without companionship after the death of his daughter? And…it might do to for her to form a friendship with Anne Marie Piaget. Lucy had seen…and smelt…the budding attraction between the schoolteacher and the tubby playwright. It was sweet. Perhaps the Frenchwoman could advise her, once she and Anne Marie had got to know each other well enough. Share discussions about the men in their lives, and talk about the welfare of the local children, and many other topics…
If only I had a sister! I could confide in her. Another wer-
A soul-sister… Yes, of course...
Lucy's thoughts flitted once more to the wolf woman who she had last seen being carried away downriver. If only she was still alive…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
The Olde Woods:
A moaning sound escaped her lips, as her eyelids stopped fluttering and she began to shift her head.
"Try not to move just yet." It was the voice of another woman. Someone older. A voice tinged with an accent that she could not place. A moment later, a damp rag was dabbed against her forehead and face, cooling her. Then, in the light from a candle, the face of the nursemaid was revealed. It was the attractive face of a woman of mixed race – light-brown skin, with a crescent-shape birthmark on her right check. A Romani gypsy from the old world, perhaps? But the eyes… The eyes were pure white.
She gasped. "You're…blind! Wait… I remember. I've seen you around town. You fought a Grotesque with your two staffs! But how…?"
The stranger smiled. "I have my ways. But let us see to you. I have some water and food that I can share with you…"
A minute later, the younger lady – having had her fill for now – allowed her eyes to take in the cool cave around them. The dripping pool at one end. And the abandoned piles of clothes, including a pair of spectacles…
She sniffed the air and drew in a sharp breath. Yes, it was the lingering scent of wolves, hours old. But she knew what the combined clues meant…
"What happened to me?" she snapped. "I mean, after I fell into the river!"
"You had nearly drowned, I think, when I was fortunate enough to come across you, south of the marsh. You had enough life left in you to grab hold of my staff," her rescuer answered. She chose her next words carefully. "Then came the dawn."
"Then…you know what…I am now."
"Yes. My hearing and my other senses told me enough as you transformed back to human form. Also, all of your wounds healed quickly – as is the nature of your kind. So…you are a young wolf."
"Yeah. I've been recently cursed." She sniffed.
"My name is Adriana. I am a traveler. What is your name, young one? What do you do?"
"Katarina. Katarina Clark. I'm an outlaw… Or, rather I was. Now my gang is all dead. My lover… Godammit! Darcius is dead. I had to kill him!" Katarina buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Adrianne pressed her hand against Katarina's shoulder to comfort her, but otherwise let her be.
Minutes later, Katarina realized that she was wearing nothing but the blanket that Adrianna had draped over her. Underneath her was the rocky floor of the cave.
"Um… Clothes…," Katarina muttered in embarrassment.
"I will see if any of my spare garments will fit you, Katarina," Adrianna declared. She gave a closed-mouth smile. "At some stage, the people who left their clothes in this cave before our arrival will want their possessions back. Perhaps they have died. Or maybe they have been too busy to think about retrieving their clothes, just yet."
"They're…werewolves. I think I even recognize the style of the lady's dress…"
"Maybe they can help you. I understand that the werewolf who had laid siege to Shadowbrook is now dead."
"Really…?! I'm sure glad to hear that – especially as he nearly killed me… But, I… I don't want to meet any other werewolves just yet! I better get out of here! I need time… Time to think things over. I need to be away from people… I'm… I'm dangerous now. Deadly. Waitaminute… Why aren't you afraid of me?"
Adrianna's impassive expression turned serious as she twisted her face slightly to one side.
"You are dangerous to others, Katarina Clark – yes. But not to me, and I sense that you are still needed. The darkness has abated for now – but there are further clouds of evil on the distant, and not-so-distant, horizon. The people of this area need heroes to protect them, guide them. You are one of the many candles that will provide light in the darkness that will return again. Just as night must follow day."
Katarina rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "Oh, great! You're a seer."
Adrianna grinned. "No – not a seer. However, I am more than you realize. But if you truly do not want to seek help from others of your kind, and wish to hide away from humanity – will you at least allow me to help you to find a new hideout? Help you to start to find your way in the new life that you must live?"
"Well… This just got interesting!" Katarina was tempted to refuse – but then she relented. "Yeah. Alright… Thanks. Once I'm dressed and had a bit more food and drink, that is. After all, a girl's gotta eat!"
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
Undisclosed location:
The wooden door was shut to, the vibration ringing through the torch-lit circular chamber for several seconds before fading away, to be replaced by the footsteps of the hooded and cloaked figure upon the floor.
Other, similarly-attired figures sat behind their desks – but their cloaks were all red, in comparison to the newcomer, whose red garb was edged with black.
Another of the assembled company stepped out from the grandest desk – which was raised like a magistrate's. This final person was dressed entirely in black, and they stepped out onto the marble floor, which bore hideous designs on it, to greet the newcomer.
"You are late, friend. It is not good to keep us waiting so lo-"
SLAP!
There was a gasp from the dozen hooded people around them, as their leader was struck by the raised hand of the newcomer.
"You dare…!" The leader drew in breath.
"You all messed up! The lighted gate appeared on the floor above where the Gargoyle was!" the newcomer hissed. "I saw the results. Now we have witnesses who saw the void appear!"
The leader rubbed the slap mark, and considered this news. The urge to respond with further anger was repressed. Then the leader stepped back and gave a brief bow – submitting to the newcomer.
"I see…"
"And for your information, I was caught up in business with the other town elders. Such as clearing up the fall-out and mess caused by the Gargoyle and its creations. Something that should not have been necessary in the first place, if it had not been for certain incompetents within this esteemed company! I came here when I could. Do not dare to speak to me the same way again!"
"M-my apologies, elder. The creation of the void was a desperate gamble on our part – an attempt to recapture the Gargoyle before it could possibly be held captive by the interlopers. It could have given information about us – and we were not prepared to risk that. Unfortunately, the creation of the void demanded more power and control than we anticipated, and consequently we were unable to then stabilize it. We will learn from this and practice further until we achieve perfection. So now, we hav-"
The hooded elder raised a gloved hand and motioned for silence.
"I am aware of what has happened. What is most important is this - the Gargoyle is now dead. So too is Major Bruckner. Shadowbrook and Tidewater can still be ours – but now the local people will not be so easily taken by surprise. Not that they now all know of what the night can bring – thanks to that accursed Shadow Witch and her brother, and thanks to you all losing control of the Gargoyle, who escaped from its cage!"
There were mutterings all around from the company at the news the newcomer had brought to them. One of them – the deputy - spoke up.
"What about Harding? He slipped through a tear in the fabric of the lighted gate."
The newcomer's lips curled with distaste. "He has evaded us! Nothing has yet been found of him by the militia. They will continue to search. In the meantime…"
The elder in black and red strode to the very centre of the chamber and raised their voice, addressing the rest of the gathered.
"In the meantime, we must beware of those who the people of Shadowbrook now regard as heroes! They may prove to be thorns in our sides, as the Great Plan slowly becomes reality. I believe that one has already slaughtered a vanguard of our god?"
"Unfortunately, that is so," the deputy admitted.
The leader in black garb bowed. "We understand your concerns. Fear not, elder. If need be, we will eliminate them. We are many, after all – and we have many means of removing any who stand in the way of the Crimson Hand!"
"Power to the Hand!" the gathered assembly intoned, as one.
The elder regarded the pointed nose masks of the ranks for a moment, before turning back to the leader, who instead worn the mask of a demon. "For now, I suggest that all of your members build upon their magical power and resources. The Crimson Hand would be best to keep a low profile – until our plans are ready to be put into motion. The actions of the Gargoyle and the Shadow Witch have delayed us – and I sense that the Shadow Witch will return again to plague everyone who refuses to bow down before her!"
The leader slowly nodded in agreement. "What will you do in the meantime, elder?"
"Most of those would-be-heroes who survived are staying in the vicinity. I will learn what I can about them. See how they can be weakened and exploited. I am already looking forward to making a meal out of some of them…" The elder smiled widely, laughed, and carefully ran a tongue in anticipation against the fangs that were positioned just above.
They were the bared fangs of a vampire…
*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*
That's the end of Book 1. I hope you have enjoyed this story. Please review!
The Elders – Secrets cards revealed (so far…):
Lord Hanbrook –
On The Hunt
Lady Hanbrook –
Guilty Conscience (She committed murder during the War of Independence)
Doctor Manning –
Werewolf Scratch (He is also hiding someone, as Bruckner declared to him, as Victor eavesdropped)
Sophie, the midwife –
Witchcraft
Reverend Harding –
Secret Madness & Shadow's Puppet
Magistrate Kroft –
Inner Strength & Coward
The Harbormaster of Tidewater –
War Criminal (hinted at in Chapter 14, by Mayor Carver's letter to Lord Hanbrook)