“There is nothing erroneous about coveting the welfare and lives of people, and I praise you for your courage in admitting that you are wrong.”
“Not to begin another argument, Poe, but I am doing no such thing! You actually declared me the winner of our verbal war by agreeing that there is nothing wrong with considering the lives of the victims when we hunt!”
“If that is your perspective, so be it! I simply said it for the sole purpose of comforting you! Let us not forget that you admitted you were wrong by calling yourself ‘naïve and in great error!’”
Before their argument could become resurrected, the hunters paused for a few seconds and realized what they were doing. After a short period of silence, Poe and Quincy laughed at the situation and admitted to being equally right. While their ideologies differed greatly, the men understood that this was the reason they worked well together. With their argument diffused, Poe and Quincy proceeded with their research.
• • •
Two hours had passed with not one minute wasted as they searched through book after book and consulted each other about the monsters they found within the literature. They debated and argued about why particular monsters could or could not be the guilty party, yet each heated discussion ended in a stalemate until the third hour passed and Poe erupted with excitement, “Quincy! Come, you must see this!”
“What is it?” Quincy asked while rubbing his forehead.
“I found something!”
Quincy rose from his chair and went over to see what Poe was going on about. The hunters examined the chapter together.
SCEIDRA
A terrestrial creature who lives predominantly in forests feeding on the sources it naturally provides such as branches, bark, and leaves of trees and shrubbery. It has extraordinary climbing skills and the ability to jump from a tree branch to the ground with ease and grace. The sceidra possesses formidable claws that can tear into anything. Its tail has been known to beat a human being to a pulp. With the body resembling that of a reptile, its scaly skin is dark brown in color. Sceidras can also adapt to swampy landscapes. Sceidras can live in packs or alone if they choose to. Their most powerful skill is their ability to hypnotize their opponents with their three eyes!
“I don’t understand,” Quincy remarked. “How is the sceidra the monster we are looking for? The lore does not mention sceidras feeding on the heart, liver, and brain of a human. Nor is there any mention of its vocalizations. How are we to know if the roaring we heard in the forest was the sound it makes?”
“There’s more to it than that, Quincy! Sceidras live in forests, which is where the crimes happened. They have claws, which is likely the murder weapon. They can climb trees, which is the ideal method for quickly moving throughout a forest. And, from what I read in the newspaper article, police constables uncovered an area of the forest where tree bark, leaves, and branches were all strewn about the ground, meaning that it probably fed on them. It all comes together, Quincy!”
Quincy considered his partner’s points as he continued to stare at the words in front of him within the book of lore. He, then, decided to challenge Poe by questioning the creature’s biology. “What about the tail? What can we deduce from the sceidra’s tail?”
Before Poe could answer Quincy’s question, he had to picture the crime scene in his mind to find a suitable response. He thought about the trails that were etched into the forest floor. First, he considered the trail of the victim’s corpse, then the thin trail beside it. Suddenly, the answer to Quincy’s question was obvious.
“The trail!” he exclaimed. “Quincy, the trails we found. At the setting of the slaughter! One of those trails was a slender, elongated line! It was created from the sceidra’s tail dragging along the ground!”
At the sound of those words, a shockwave tremored through Quincy’s body and an expression of utter astonishment materialized on his face. All the information he learned, combined with the reasoning of his accomplice, began to make sense to him.
“I can’t believe it! You’re absolutely right! My dear, Edgar! You solved the case!” he shouted. “But, how do we kill it? What are its weaknesses?”
Poe reread the chapter once again to make sure he had not overlooked any important details. He noticed a paragraph he had originally glazed over, which contained a myth about the sceidras and their possible weakness. “Quincy, look at this. It says here that a popular legend associated the sceidras involves gold. In medieval times, there was an English explorer by the name of Daniel Moore. He discovered a hidden forest, which was a secret home to sceidras. The myth has it that Daniel Moore used a golden dagger to kill a sceidra, but it is unknown if the creature was only injured or was indeed slain by this weapon. However, we can infer from this information that any item of gold can at least weaken a sceidra. The solitary reason for this tale becoming popular is because it was reported by many of Daniel’s close associates that he possessed a golden dagger.”
Quincy shook his head in disbelief and formed a wide smile that stretched his goatee and showed the full set of his teeth. “My dear friend, Edgar. I know not whether to kiss you or embrace you.”
Poe wrapped his arms around Quincy and the two hugged in the middle of the library. “We have done it, Quincy! Our monster has lost its anonymity. Now, all we have to do is gain possession of a golden weapon, and I know just the place.”
The hunters exited the library filled with confidence and bliss.
• • •
In his room, Poe sat at his table to pen a new letter to send to Ms. Osgood, who he hoped would be his bride sooner rather than later. The hunter deemed it as a ‘follow-up’ to the previous letter he wrote and sent to her. He made sure to indicate this in the letter. Poe wrote about how strange it must have felt for Ms. Osgood to receive his letter but decided it necessary to establish “a channel of communication in which we talk to each other.”
To add to the piece of writing, Poe made a firm verdict to send Ms. Osgood a poem. Poe was uncertain about a subject for his poetry, so he decided to roll the dice by writing about the classic subject of two lovers separated by antagonists who went to great lengths to ensure the pair would never experience happiness by keeping them apart. But in the end, the lovers would not only see each other again, but they would profess their love to one another and elope.
After finishing the poem, Poe wrote in the letter about the poem and that he wanted Frances to “consume a taste of his artistic writing talents.” He also described the poem as following the tale of Romeo and Juliet to show Frances his expertise on Shakespeare and his admiration for the playwright. After he was done writing, Poe enclosed both the poem and letter in an envelope and sealed it, leaving it on his desk for the day he would send it to Ms. Osgood in the hopes that she would read it and be compelled to respond.
Chapter 5
Poe meandered through the streets and alleys of Baltimore on his way to the ammunition shop that was owned by a good friend of his. Now that he and Quincy knew the type of monster they were hunting, Poe was on a mission to obtain the golden projectiles that would render it powerless. After walking for half an hour, Poe reached the shop and walked through the door, which triggered a small bell to shake and jingle alerting the owner that he had a patron.
An older gentleman emerged from the back area of the shop. His age ranged from the mid-60s to the early-70s. He sported short, white hair and wire-rimmed spectacles. His overalls were soiled with a combination of gun powder, dust, and sweat. The man’s name was Walter Burrison.
Prior to moving to Baltimore and opening the ammunition shop, Walter fought in the American Revolutionary War as a corporal in the militia headed by Major General Nathanael Greene. After the war was over, Walter moved to Baltimore and served twenty years on the Baltimore City Council. Afterwards, he retired from politics to start his own business of selling and manufacturing arms for commercial sale. The idea was
driven by Walter’s fascination with weaponry and their power in this world. Poe and Walter became fast friends a few years ago when Poe purchased his trusty Colt Paterson from this very shop.
Walter smiled broadly as he walked around the checkout counter and embraced Poe with all his might. Poe was just as happy to see his old friend as it had been two years since they last spoke.
“It is with honor to have you grace my shop with your presence,” Walter exclaimed.
“Nay, my dearest associate,” Poe responded. “It is I who am humbled to be back here with you as I am facing desperate circumstances and in need of your assistance.”
“Is that right? Tell me the purpose of your visit. Are you looking for a new weapon to carry with you at all times in addition to Paterson? I just received a special shipment of weaponry from the opposite side of the Atlantic! Perhaps you might see something that will serve your needs. Please, survey the shop and let me know if anything beckons to you!”
Poe smiled and nodded in agreement as he turned to peruse the display cases. It was a modest shop and about as small as the parlor of a mansion. It had a workshop in the rear where Walter created bullets and crafted bladed weapons such as knives and swords. A bit of a hermetic magician, the shopkeeper also fashioned other weaponry such as talismans whose power was beyond the understanding of most humans. The shop was surrounded by glass showcases of armaments ranging from the smallest dagger to the largest rifle, and accessories such as bullets of various calibers. Poe was a bit overwhelmed by all of the choices this unique shop offered, yet the scents of stainless steel and gun powder relaxed his mind.
The hunter was finished surveying the shop’s wares and called out to his friend. “I am in need of something golden, Walter. My latest investigation has revealed that I need a golden projectile to fire at my target in order to bring it down. Tell me, do you have golden bullets in your arsenal?”
Walter nodded and looked at Poe with understanding in his eyes. “Before I fetch them, can you bestow me with information you have about this monster you are hunting?” Walter knew of Poe’s job and supported his endeavors because he possessed an open mind and believed wholeheartedly in otherworldly beings.
“I am sorry, my friend. As much as I would like to tell you everything, now is not the time,” Poe responded. “But I promise to return soon and quell your curiosity by filling your ears with every detail about my hunt once this menace no longer exists.”
Disappointed, Walter smiled nonetheless and retreated to the back of his shop to retrieve the bullets Poe needed. Waiting for his friend to return, Poe strolled around the showroom floor and gazed upon the cache of items to see if he had missed anything during his first survey. Three daggers stationed to the left the doorway attracted the hunter’s eyes. The blades were sixteen inches in length with brown wood grips. Although it was not their size or the handles that enticed Poe, but rather the fact that they were golden. He stroked his chin while strongly considering that these beautiful daggers could also be of great use during their battle against the sceidra.
Walter returned with a small wooden box containing one hundred golden bullets lined up neatly in ten rows. “Here are the golden bullets you require, Edgar. I beg of you to be cautious on your hunt. I do not want to pick up a newspaper and read about constables discovering your body because this evil beast was able to get the upper hand during your hunt.”
Poe smiled widely and boasted, “My dear Walter! Have faith in my skills! Have I not proven myself time and time again of being a talented hunter that practices careful planning and handles my weaponry with precision and accuracy? I never miss my target, and monsters tremble at the mere sight of my silhouette. If I do say so myself, I have gained quite the reputation within the realm of the supernatural.”
Walter sighed and crossed his arms. “Yes, Poe. I have complete faith in your abilities. You are a magnificent hunter, but do not be led by your ego or the monster may surely take you to your doom.”
Poe grasped Walter’s shoulders. “Wise words indeed, my friend. I promise to stay confident, but not overly so for it will cloud my judgement.” Poe took the container of bullets from Walter. “Before I leave, I want to buy two of those golden daggers displayed near the front door. They will be instrumental in the fight!”
“Of course, take whatever you feel is necessary, Edgar!” Walter said in a cheery mood.
Poe thanked him and walked over to select a pair of daggers. Feeling sure of his choice, he paid for them and the bullets, then bid Walter farewell.
• • •
Poe and Quincy were in the parlor deliberating about the proper and adequate use of the golden bullets in their upcoming battle.
“Edgar, I applaud you for your productive actions in obtaining these bullets, but do you really believe that we will use all one hundred of them? With all due respect, you are aware that we do not own enough guns to fill with so many bullets, correct? Considering this fact, how will we store them all safely on our person without losing any of them? On another important matter, will we have time to reload our weapons during the melee?”
“You are right, Quincy, these are reasonable grievances you are airing, but allow me to ease your mind. I took the liberty of gathering several magazines with which to store the bullets and we will stow these magazines in our hunting trench coats. As the combat rages on, we will have the ability to access the magazines easily, then quickly reload our guns should we exhaust each of our first rounds of ammunition. However, should worse come to worse,” Poe revealed the golden daggers he purchased, “we will use these blades to slay the sceidra.”
Pleased to see his partner had considered all angles, Quincy nodded his head in approval.
With no time to delay, the hunters began the arduous task of filling the magazines with the golden bullets. Each magazine held ten bullets, but there were only five magazines. Therefore, half of the hundred bullets would have to remain at the house and miss out on the action.
The fingers of the hunters moved rapidly in stockpiling the magazines. After Poe filled three magazines and Quincy filled two, the hunters grabbed their primary weapons and ejected their magazines. Ten bullets were loaded in Poe’s firearm and ten in Quincy’s. The hunters, then, reloaded their guns with the magazines that were made heavy with the weight of the golden shells.
With their weapons prepared for battle, the hunters retreated to their bedrooms to dress in their hunting garments, which consisted of brown breeches, tall fitted boots, topcoats, and black vests. Poe wore a red topcoat, while Quincy donned a blue one. Confident they were as ready as they would ever be, the men gathered their weaponry and headed in the direction of the Patapsco Forest.
• • •
The rushing river filled the ears of the hunters as they stood in the forest. The lights of fireflies caused playful streaks of light that could still be seen within the brightness of the full moon, which provided the men with guidance as they trekked through the forest. The sight that greeted them first was the section of the forest that was the scene of the second crime. Poe and Quincy were in awe as they surveyed the fallen leaves, branches, and tree bark strewn across the ground.
“This must be an indication of the feeding behavior of the sceidra!” Poe said. “Missing bark, half eaten tree leaves, and splintered branches. It appears that the sceidra must have been starving as it is clearly evident that he was not picky about what he chomped on.”
“You need not confirm to me that we are hunting a sceidra, Edgar. I, too, believe this to be the case, so we cannot let proof of its actions distract us. We must keep our eyes peeled for it.”
Poe formed an odd look on his face. He defined the tone of Quincy’s voice as worried or nervous. “Quincy, are you anxious or feeling panicked?”
“I am a hunter, so of course not,” Quincy whispered loudly, “but I do not want to lose focus with distractions surrounding me.”
“You believe me to be a distraction?” Poe quipped.
“I meant that your chatter is offsetting my focus. I pray you stay silent while we hunt for our villain.”
Poe stifled a chuckle and shook his head as he and Quincy continued their expedition. On a tree to the right of Poe sat a great horned owl; the same owl that disturbed the first victims and stared at them to ruin their nightly pleasure. The hunters looked at the owl, but their eyes did not remain on the bird as a rotten odor began filling their nostrils. It smelled as though a colony of rats had died a week ago and all that remained was their decomposing corpses. Poe and Quincy walked in the direction of the putrid stench while covering their noses with handkerchiefs to block the disgusting odor.
After walking for approximately five minutes, the hunters began to spot flies zipping through in the air. The flies’ population increased exponentially as the hunters discovered the source from which the smell arose: the corpse of a man with his brain, liver, and heart missing. Obviously the latest victim of the sceidra, he looked to be in his 30s and wore a simple suit and cravat, which suggested he was just a commoner. Quincy became visibly upset and shook his head in dismay. He marched to a tree and angrily kicked it as he threw his handkerchief on the ground in a fit of rage.
“I can’t believe it! Another body! I am glad we identified this nightmare, so we can kill it and send its soul to the deepest abyss! I want to be the man who discharges the kill shot!”
“Quincy! Calm down! The only thing we can do now is avenge the deaths of the victims. Remember, we are not saviors. We are avengers, and we can’t be both!”
Quincy did as he was asked and took a deep cleansing breath. “Let’s carry on! The more my eyes settle on this man’s carcass, the more I will be driven to madness! Onward, Poe!”
The hunters hurriedly walked away from the scene and as they moved deeper in the forest, the atmosphere became thick and stifling. Every noise the hunters heard triggered them to suddenly react fearing it was the sceidra. Whether it be the wind moving a few leaves or the chirp of a cricket, the men were waiting for a sign of the sceidra’s presence.
Poe the Hunter- Bedlam in Baltimore Page 4
