Shadows in the Mist

by Jeri Westerson

  “You’re just in time, then. Erasmus and I have to leave. Could you watch the shop?” I grabbed my coat from the hall tree and jammed my arm in the sleeve.

  “Wait. You’re taking off? With him?”

  “Yes,” said Erasmus in his oiliest voice. “As you know, I stayed here all night.”

  “Enough, you two.” I sensed Jeff was just barely holding on to his humanity. Yup, his ears were getting pointy. “Jeff. Ears.”

  He snarled, but the wolf ears began to recede.

  “It would be a great favor.”

  “Okay, Kylie. But only because I owe you.”

  Erasmus let me go through the door first, but I turned just in time to catch him give Jeff the same forked-finger I’m watching you treatment that Jeff had given him the night before.

  “Must you?” I asked wearily when we were outside.

  “I haven’t the least idea what you’re talking about.” He scanned the skies and took my arm.

  “No! We have to go by car.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s a bit far to walk, and she’ll get suspicious if we show up on a stroll in the middle of the work day.”

  He muttered something unintelligible and turned toward the Jeep.

  Chapter Seven

  I parked the Jeep in front of Ruth’s sprawling house with its perfectly manicured lawn and blazing gold trees in full fall raiment. We walked up the flagstone pathway and stood on the porch. Before I rang the bell, I elbowed Erasmus, pointed to the door mat, and toed it aside. A mandala done in glass tiles lay beneath it. The design was one that Nick had showed me online. It was supposedly for protection from evil.

  He nodded sagely while he waited beside me, hands clasped behind his back.

  I rang the bell. It wasn’t long till Stella, Ruth’s maid/housekeeper/majordomo, answered the door. “Is Mrs. Russell expecting you?”

  Never in a million years. “Not really. I hoped to catch her at home.”

  Stella paused to think. Last visit she had me wait on the porch. This time she thought better of it and let us in. She eyed Erasmus with a sultry blink of her lashes.

  Did he have that effect on everyone? Why was I suddenly noticing it now?

  Erasmus did a ballet of skirting the mandala, edging against the wall and leaping over it to land on the threshold. If Stella noticed she didn’t say anything.

  We waited in the warm foyer beside a table adorned with an enormous spray of harvest flowers, wheat sprigs, and tiny pumpkins. I noticed we hadn’t been allowed into the living room.

  I glanced at Erasmus. He was as calm as could be, even as he surreptitiously sniffed the air. Looking for other demons and black magic perhaps?

  Ruth came down the stairs at a good clip for a mature woman. Her skinny legs were again exposed under a knee-length skirt and sweater ensemble. “Why, Kylie. And…friend.” She looked Erasmus up and down.

  “Sorry, this is my, um, old friend, Erasmus Dark,” I said, coughing a bit to hide his name. “He was with me at the cemetery…”

  She didn’t put her hand out to shake, and neither did he. They simply stared at one another.

  “Well,” she said at last. “What an unexpected surprise. Won’t you come in?”

  “Actually, we were just passing by and I told Erasmus—didn’t I say, Erasmus?—that we should call on Ruth and invite her over for—”

  “Dinner,” he said.

  “Dinner?” I whispered out of the side of my mouth.

  He glanced down his nose at me.

  I turned a smile on Ruth. “Dinner.”

  “What a lovely idea,” she said, though the expression on her face said otherwise.

  “Tonight,” he said, looking at her intensely now.

  She didn’t seem to be affected by the old demon charm. But she nodded in a let’s get this over with sort of way.

  “Very well. Tonight then. About what time?” She was already escorting us to the exit.

  I didn’t dare glance at Erasmus. “Shall we say seven?”

  “Seven it is.” She opened the door.

  What’s your hurry?

  “See you later, Ruth.” I grabbed Erasmus’ arm and hustled him out. The door couldn’t seem to close fast enough.

  “Shoot. I didn’t think she’d actually agree,” I muttered as we walked down the path to the car. “Now I’ll have to cook something. Hey, should we invite the rest of the coven? I think that might be a good idea. That way they can really gauge her, see if she’s hiding something.”

  “You seem to already have decided.”

  “I don’t suppose you cook.”

  “Since I don’t eat, there is very little need for me to cook.”

  “Souls are best served raw, huh?”

  He scowled. Okay, so that wasn’t in the best of taste, having your food talk back to you. It was only a little gallows humor to cut the tension.

  “You know,” I told him as we got into the car, “she has a portrait of Constance Howland in her bedroom.”

  He stopped pulling the seat belt over him. “She does?”

  “Yeah. And she’s always changing the subject or interrupting whenever old Constance is mentioned.” Constance was the last Chosen Host before me…in 1720. She was an ancestor of Ruth’s—and also of mine, as it happens. Constance Howland’s well-documented court case for witchcraft wasn’t spoken about among Moody Bog’s elite. Until I came blundering in, that is. If Ruth was so ashamed of Constance, why keep a portrait of her in her bedroom?

  I turned to Erasmus. “Tell me about her.” I wasn’t going to take any evasions from him anymore. He was as bad as Ruth. At least now I was pretty sure he hadn’t been lovers with Constance, which made me feel marginally better. It was not the done thing in the eighteenth century for a decent maiden fully churched to carry on with a demon. Or so I imagined.

  Erasmus stared out the windshield at the perfect fall day. It was as if the stagehands had gotten the cue to distribute just the right amount of spinning fall leaves into the air, with a deep blue sky and bright clouds in the distance.

  “She was like you in many respects,” he said quietly, carefully. “Fierce. Strong. But she never entirely put her trust in me.” He glanced my way. “Which was, all things considered, what one would expect. She worked alone. She insisted that I not help her. Her religious instincts forbade her from working with me, you see. It could have gone better for her if she had. She might have lived longer.”

  His monologue cut off when he seemed to realize what he said. He frowned. “I did try to help her.”

  “But you chased her off a cliff.” It was on the old engraving that had started me on this journey. The one Karl Waters had in his museum. The one Ruth Russell refused to acknowledge.

  “I did not.”

  “But you did.” My voice was unsteady. Unlike Constance Howland, I kept forgetting who he really was. “You said you did.”

  “I said that I was there on Falcon’s Point when she died. I was trying to help her. She insisted on running away from me.”

  “So, are you saying it was an accident?”

  “No. It was suicide. She knew that this would close and seal the book. What she didn’t realize was that its closure was only temporary…until you came along.”

  “Sh-she killed herself.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did they all kill themselves?”

  His mouth curled into a snarl. “Some of them. Those that the creatures didn’t get to first.”

  My heart suddenly squeezed tight. “Those that didn’t…did you kill them?”

  He looked out the window for a long time. I could tell he didn’t want to say. But he seemed to screw up his courage to face me. “Yes.”

  I sucked in a breath. I didn’t…I mean I really hadn’t…

  It was a long time till I was able to speak. “Thank you, at last, for your honesty,” I said hoarsely. Facing forward, I rested my hands on the steering wheel, swallowing down the sour taste in the back of my throat. M
y stomach clenched. I wished I hadn’t asked, didn’t know.

  “You fear me again. I can smell it.”

  “Of course, I do. I keep forgetting who and what you are.”

  “It doesn’t change the fact that I have no intention of hurting you.”

  “But don’t the Powers That Be expect it?”

  He said nothing to that, just stared out the windshield again. And I found myself unaccountably feeling sorry for him. After all, this was his job. This was literally what he was created for. And now, suddenly, after centuries of having it work as it was supposed to, he had begun to question it. He was just as much a pawn as I was. Doomed to play out the same scenario like some hellish Groundhog Day, over and over again.

  I couldn’t bring myself to comfort him, so I started up the car instead.

  Pulling off of Mill Pond Road, I meandered slowly through Moody Bog’s better neighborhood, filled with mini-mansions and wide lawns. A thin dog, like a greyhound, was loping along the grass, leaping over hedges and trailing something—maybe laundry—over its neck and back. Except when I looked closer, I realized it wasn’t a dog at all. My throat thickened, but I managed to croak, “Ghoul!”

  Erasmus suddenly vanished beside me, and here I was with no crossbow. I rolled down the window and waved my hand around, but it just wouldn’t come. I pulled over, scrambled out of the car, and went to the trunk. I grabbed a tire iron from my spare and took off after them.

  I couldn’t believe it. Here the ghoul was, just running around in the bright light of day. Then my heart panged. Where was the school? All those kids! They were all sitting ducks in the daytime. Is that where it was going?

  Erasmus was catching up to it, which was a good thing because I was getting winded. He managed to corner the little bastard at a rock wall. The ghoul could certainly leap over it if it wanted to. What was its game?

  I got to them and raised the tire iron. It cowered away from Erasmus and then turned its bulging eyes pathetically toward me. What was I going to do, after all? Beat it to death? Maybe one good whack… But I knew I couldn’t.

  The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. When I spun, I caught a flash of skin suit and white wings and leapt out of the way, landing hard on the grass.

  Andras swooped and banked and then, like a bird of prey, was on me again. I swung the iron and made contact. He screamed and grabbed his hip. He banked again but sloppily this time, yet it didn’t seem to discourage him. He dove.

  I swung and missed, and then I screamed as talons sank into both shoulders and lifted me off the ground.

  The iron dropped from my hand, but I whipped around as hard as I could, no matter how much it hurt, trying to dislodge him. It was agonizing, but I couldn’t let him carry me off or drop me if he got any higher.

  Hands grabbed my feet and yanked. The talons dug deeper, and I gritted my teeth over my scream. I knew it was Erasmus trying to pull me from his grasp. I beat the clawed feet and scratched them for all I was worth.

  Our combined weight must have been too much for him. The toes loosened, and I was suddenly tumbling toward the earth. Chosen Host skills reared up at the last minute, and instead of taking a noser and breaking my spine, I somehow flipped and gracefully touched down on my feet, my legs like springs.

  I stood, wobbling for a moment before my legs gave out and I landed on my backside. Erasmus knelt and scooped me up.

  “Kylie! Are you all right?”

  “I…I think so.” I groaned as I touched my tender shoulders. There was blood on my coat. My blood. “I guess I’m bleeding a little.”

  Scanning the skies, I sat there, recovering and relieved. Andras was gone. But so was the ghoul.

  “That’s the second time Andras screwed up my chance to get the ghoul.” I didn’t bother mentioning that I had no intention of smacking the little scrapper with a tire iron. I don’t know why, but the crossbow seemed more…impersonal.

  “I wish I had my crossbow,” I said.

  “It’s my crossbow, and you’re out of range.”

  “That’s what I figured.” I looked around the quiet cul-de-sac. No alarms. No one coming out of their house to ask questions. We were surrounded by lots of sheltering trees. I could only hope that they had blocked our aerobatics.

  Erasmus gave me a hand up to steady myself. But then he didn’t let me go, giving me one of those intense glares.

  “I can’t help what I am,” he insisted.

  Apparently, he wasn’t letting go of our discussion in the car. I tried to keep all emotion from my face. “And I can’t help what I am.”

  “Dammit, Kylie. I never imagined there would be a Chosen Host like…like you.”

  What could I say to that? “Yeah, well. We’re all dealing with life’s little surprises, aren’t we.”

  I turned away, but he grabbed me again, drawing me to him and planting one on my lips. I was unresponsive. At least…I feigned disinterest.

  He pulled back and studied my face. After a moment he let me go and scowled. He stalked sourly toward the Jeep, yanked open the passenger door, and sat sulkily.

  I hobbled to the car and sat gingerly, pulling the seatbelt oh-so-gently over my hurt shoulder. Sitting in the car, a strange feeling came over me. I felt anxious, as if I’d forgotten something, as if it were right on the tip of my tongue.

  I was just about to turn to Erasmus to ask him when my phone rang.

  “Hey…Ed.”

  Erasmus was immediately on alert. He sat up but tried to look casual and as if he weren’t listening to every word.

  “Kylie. I thought you’d want to know what we found out last night.”

  “Yeah, go ahead.”

  “Well, not much. I mean, it wasn’t as if I could discuss it with George or the coroner. They concluded some animal had somehow dug up Lexy and Dan Parker’s graves. Smelled the recently buried, I guess. Now, about Dan Parker…”

  “We know it was a ritual. A very bad one. And we think it might have been the one that summoned Andras.”

  “The guy with the wings.”

  “That’s the one.”

  “You said not to go off on my own without consulting you. So I’m consulting. Should I arrest Doug?”

  I turned to Erasmus. “What do you think?”

  “You’re talking to that demon guy, aren’t you,” said Ed sourly.

  “Yes, I am. And what difference does it make to you? We’re on a break, aren’t we?”

  He made some grumbling noises.

  Erasmus considered. “Your constable can certainly ask him about it, but I fear this is beyond their abilities, even if Shabiri helped them. But…I should ask Shabiri instead. She might have some insight, though I don’t know if she will help.”

  “Did you get that?” I said to Ed over the phone.

  “Yup,” he said in that clipped tone that meant he was annoyed.

  “But I still have my suspicions about Ruth Russell,” I put in.

  “What? Kylie, that’s ridiculous.”

  “No, it isn’t. And by the way, she’s coming over for dinner tonight. I think you should be there.” I rubbed at my shoulder, wondering what in the world I could cook under these new circumstances.

  “Ruth is coming over for dinner…at your place? How’d you manage that?”

  “I just asked her. Doesn’t that seem suspicious in and of itself, her agreeing and all?”

  “I…it’s…what?”

  I stared at the phone in frustration.

  “Kylie, I think you’re making too much of this. Maybe she’s just trying to get over you breaking into her house—”

  “I didn’t break into her—” I calmed myself and said more quietly, “Ed, just be there tonight, okay? Please?”

  I could hear the surrender in his voice. “Okay. Does that Erasmus guy have to be there?”

  Erasmus leaned over and spoke loudly into the phone. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

  “Everyone’s going to be there. Seven o’clock. Bye, Ed.”


  Erasmus had a wide smile on his face.

  “This isn’t funny,” I muttered, starting the engine.

  Chapter Eight

  When I told Doc about the dinner, he suggested I invite Reverend Howard Cleveland from the First Congregational Church of Moody Bog—the little white clapboard church off the green. He thought Reverend Howard might be a tempering presence if Ruth got upset about the coven being there, and he wasn’t wrong. At least Ruth liked Reverend Howard, who thankfully was delighted to accept my invitation.

  Jeff had puttered about the shop all day, quiet and sullen. I didn’t know how to comfort him, so I thought it best to simply leave him on his own. Jolene arrived at her usual time, throwing occasional curious glances at Jeff, perhaps wondering if he was going to shift. I wondered about that too. Seraphina had made him a wolfsbane potion to keep his wolfy tendencies under control, but it didn’t look like it was working.

  It was almost time for Ruth to show. I had decided to cook a New England pot roast dinner, because it could cook by itself for several hours and feed a roomful of people. I had hoped that the comfort food would cause Ruth to slip up and say something useful…or incriminating. And the meat was soft, which was good; my shoulders wouldn’t have to work too hard chopping and slicing. Even after Erasmus helped me bandage them and declared that I would recover, they still felt sore. Who knew Chosen Hosting would involve so many scars?

  There was an awkward moment when Ed arrived. He did lean down and tentatively kiss me on the cheek, but then his face reddened, and he quickly escaped in the direction of Seraphina, who was serving cocktails.

  She sidled over to me once Ed was chatting with Doc. “Looks like something is amiss between you two. Is he having a hard time adjusting to the truth behind Moody Bog?”

  “You could say that. We’re taking a break.”

  “Oh dear. I was afraid of that. Maybe I should talk to him.”

  “No! I mean…” I glanced at Ed, who was shooting his own surreptitious glances at me. “I think he’s got to work it out.”