by Mae Clair
Amethyst Hall.
He fingered the telescope by the window. Several times, he swiveled the lens between the thickets of trees, trying to catch a glimpse of the mansion. Each time, he gained nothing but an eyeful of branches and leaves.
Looking toward the sky, Elliott angled the telescope up toward the moon.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Finn thrust his blankets aside and pushed from the bottom bunk.
Elliott glanced over his shoulder. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d fiddle with my telescope.”
Yawning, Finn knuckled an eye. “Anything good out there?”
“Just the moon. Wanna see?”
“Sure.” Finn stepped close, peering through the viewfinder when Elliott directed. He gave a low whistle. “Cool. I might have to ask my uncle for one of these.”
“That’d be great. We could stargaze together. Um—unless you think that’s dumb.”
“No way. It’s great having someone who likes the same things I do. Rodney and Troy never wanted to talk about space or UFOs. I just wish I knew more.”
“It’s easy. I’ll show you.” Elliott angled the telescope for a better view, then pointed out different craters and terrain markers. It would have been better with a full moon, but Finn didn’t seem to mind.
After a while, Finn stepped back. “Do you ever look at other things? Planets and stuff?”
“Sure. When the viewing’s good.” Elliott thought about mentioning what months made for the best observing but realized there was something that might impress Finn more. “I look at other things, too.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Amethyst Hall.” From the time he’d first heard about the place, he’d wanted to catch a glimpse of the mansion. “I can’t really see anything though. There’s too many trees.”
“Let’s try.” Finn angled the telescope down from the sky. With his eye glued to the viewfinder, he swept the barrel left, then right. “Hey, check this out.”
“What?” Elliott knew he couldn’t have spied anything. It was too dark, and Amethyst Hall was buried behind a fence of pines, oaks, and sycamores.
“Holy shit!” Finn’s voice lurched up an octave. “There’s some guy on the river dumping a sack over the side of his boat.”
Elliott crowded close to peer through the viewfinder. “Something’s wrong. That boat has no running lights.”
“Don’t be a moron. There’s no running lights because the guy doesn’t want anyone to see what he’s doing.”
Elliott drew back but kept his fingers wrapped around the eyepiece. He stared across the top at Finn, his skin suddenly clammy. “He dumped something.” A finger of ice danced up his spine. “Do you think it was…a body?”
Finn took another glance. “The guy’s leaving.” He plopped to a seat on the floor.
Elliott’s skin crawled. “No one goes out on the river in the middle of the night unless they want to get rid of evidence. It had to be a body.”
“The sack was too small.”
“Not if it was a kid.” Elliott thought he might throw up.
“Shit.” Finn dropped his head back to stare up at the ceiling. Knees braced apart, he stared at the faux stars overhead. “Maybe I should call my uncle.”
“Now?” Elliott sat cross-legged beside him. “My mom will freak. She already seemed out of it when she came home tonight—like she was scared.”
“I picked up on that, too.” Finn climbed back to his feet to peer through the telescope. He was silent a moment, sweeping the barrel left and right. “The guy’s gone. I don’t see him anywhere.”
“We should forget it.” After falling into a grave, Elliott wanted nothing to do with anything creepy. “Halloween’s tomorrow. Maybe it was a prank.”
Finn stared down at him. “At three in the morning? On the water in a dark boat?”
Elliott realized how crazy it sounded. Standing, he stared out at the river. “So, what do we do?”
“Nothing.” Finn made the decision for both of them. “At least not now. Tomorrow I’ll tell my uncle. If there’s anything weird going on, he’ll figure it out.”
* * * *
David Gregg arrived unannounced on Tessa Camden’s doorstep a little after ten Saturday morning. He rang the bell wondering if Finn had told her he planned to drop by. In retrospect, he probably should have called himself, considering how great she’d been at having his nephew as a frequent houseguest.
He hunched his shoulders against the brisk air as he waited. Windy today, and it was scheduled to get worse. A few of his coworkers were already calculating how the weather would impact the masquerade. David figured partygoers would be more inclined to stay in the various pubs than spill into the street, which could factor into fewer incidents. Mix crowds with alcohol and late-night hours, and there were usually a few mishaps. At the very least, the wind should keep teens from snooping around Hickory Chapel Cemetery.
The door cracked open. “Detective Gregg.” Surprise registered on Tessa’s face. “Is something wrong?” That answered his question about Finn.
“Everything’s good. I just wanted to talk to Finn and Elliott.”
“Both of them?” Surprise gave way to concern. Drawing back, Tessa made room for him to enter. “The boys are in the kitchen finishing up breakfast. I made them scrambled eggs.”
“I’m sure Finn appreciates that.” David stepped past her into the entryway. The house smelled of bacon, coffee, and pan-fried potatoes. Thankfully, he hadn’t wakened her or caught her in a bathrobe. Dressed in jeans and a zip-up sweatshirt, she had her dark hair scraped up in a high ponytail. Some people were slow risers on a weekend, but he’d never been one of them.
“I thought maybe Finn would mention he called me.”
He’d already been at the precinct two hours when he got Finn’s phone call about a lone boater dumping “something” in the river at three in the morning. It was probably nothing, but a lot of crazy stuff went on over Halloween, and the Chinkwe made a convenient place to get rid of unwanted garbage. Two years ago, a plastics manufacturer had been caught trying to unload waste products rather than dispose of them properly.
“No, sorry.” Tessa shook her head.
“I won’t take up much of your time.”
“Is Finn okay?”
“Fine. He’s having a great time staying over. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s no problem at all.” Her smile was quick and genuine. “Finn’s a good kid, and he and Elliott get along so well.” She led him down the hallway. “Can I get you some coffee?”
“No, thanks. I think I’ve already had a potful. Did the boys tell you what they saw last night?”
She stopped shy of the kitchen, her expression yielding to one of alarm. “Saw?”
Through the open doorway, David spied Finn and Elliott at a dinette table, finishing up breakfast. “It’s nothing that—”
She wheeled away from him. “Elliott.” Her voice rose in pitch, edged with a note of panic. “Detective Gregg is here. He says you and Finn saw something last night.”
Both boys swiveled to face her, deer in the headlights.
“Uncle David.” Finn found his voice first. “I didn’t have a chance to tell Mrs. Camden you’d be coming over.”
“Obviously.” David stepped past Tessa into the kitchen, touching her elbow briefly to reassure her. “It’s nothing to worry about.”
“I’m sorry.” Deflating, she shook her head. “I’ve been on edge lately.” She walked past him to the counter, where she retrieved a cup of coffee. “Last night was…upsetting. I was afraid the boys might have seen—”
“All we saw was a boat.” Elliott was clearly befuddled. “What did you think we saw, Mom?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She took a sip of coffee. “But I want to hear about last night.”
David us
ed the next few minutes to coax the complete story from Finn and Elliott. Afterward, he asked to see Elliott’s telescope. That sent the boys racing upstairs while David and Tessa followed behind. Once in the bedroom, both boys took turns looking through the telescope until they agreed on the location where they’d spied the boat.
“This is it.” Elliott stepped back, offering the viewfinder to David.
He bent to peer through the lens. “South of Amethyst Hall.” The water was deep there, the river bottom riddled with holes. “Are you sure about the time?”
“I saw the clock on the nightstand when I grabbed my glasses.”
“What about the guy?” David looked from Elliott to Finn. “Could you make out anything about his features?”
Both boys shook their heads.
“He was wearing a hoodie,” Finn said.
“And he had his face turned to the side.” Elliott stood in front of a colorful floor-to-ceiling mural of planets and stars. Between the mural and the starscape on the ceiling, it was no wonder the kid had a telescope.
“But he definitely dumped a sack.” Finn seemed to appreciate that David hadn’t brushed off their story and was taking the time to question them. Exciting stuff for a twelve-year-old.
“Not a big sack. Kinda like a duffel bag.” Elliott spread his arms to indicate the size. “It looked sorta lumpy.”
Finn nodded. “He might have had it weighted down, but it was hard to tell.”
They were picking up steam, playing off one another as the words tumbled out. David could see excitement building in Finn’s eyes, spilling over to Elliott. What had seemed scary at three in the morning was now an adventure—something to speculate about and imagine how they would tell their friends at school on Monday.
“It was too small to be a body.” Elliott adjusted his glasses.
“Unless it was a kid.” Finn spoke with authority. His vivid imagination didn’t go over well with Tessa, who gasped. Apparently, she hadn’t considered a corpse.
“Finn, you’re scaring Mrs. Camden.” David remembered what it was like to be his nephew’s age. “Besides, you’re both letting your imaginations run wild. It’s not unusual for someone to dump garbage, even building materials, in the river.” He hoped his words would put Tessa at ease. She hadn’t elaborated about what upset her last night, but the cause clearly factored into her jittery nerves today.
Hugging her arms to her chest, she stepped closer to the window. “Then you think it’s probably nothing?”
“Most likely. If anything should happen to turn up, I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ll be at the masquerade tonight, right? I seem to remember Elliott’s grandmother would be”—he stopped himself from saying babysitting, knowing Finn would cringe—“staying with the boys.”
Tessa nodded.
“I’ll be in and out of a couple different venues keeping an eye on things. If I have any news and we cross paths, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, I’ll follow up later.”
She relaxed visibly. “Thank you, Detective.”
“David.”
A flush crept up her neck, but she nodded. “Please call me Tessa.”
Finn and Elliott exchanged a glance. With a shake of his head, Finn rolled his eyes.
Smartass.
Chapter 16
October 21, 1799
Atticus narrowed his gaze on Vernon Hode. “What do you mean I’m ‘sadly mistaken’?” The group of men ringed around them had gone deathly still. Even Keel’s coon hounds were subdued, heads lowered as if scenting danger. The wind scattered dried leaves at their feet. “The illness has been vanquished. Vane is dead, and his curse has been broken.”
“There was never a curse.” Hode’s eyes held a combination of pity and disgust.
“You speak from ignorance.” Atticus retrieved his frock coat from the ground. Curse Hode for showing up when the deed was done as if he had a right to sit in judgment. “You didn’t see Vane’s eyes. He was possessed, infected by the Endling.” Brusquely, he swiped dirt from the garment.
“He may have had some odd connection to the beast, but he didn’t carry a plague.” Hode spoke with authority. “He certainly didn’t bring this plaque to the village.”
“How would you know?”
“Because you brought the illness, Atticus.”
“Lies!” All night he’d fought a toxic mixture of rage and grief. The poison exploded, splattering the inside of his skull with the ferocity of a cauldron boiling over. “Ignorance I may tolerate, but slander I will not bear. How dare you malign my name!”
Hode didn’t flinch. “There is no slander in truth.”
A few of the men shuffled uneasily.
“Atticus cannot be to blame.” Cyrus worked his jaw back and forth. “He lost two of his children.”
“Due to his own foolishness.”
“Perhaps you best explain.” Thaddeus Keel’s pronouncement mirrored the grumbling of the group.
Hode’s answering nod was curt. “There was a reason I asked to be left in mourning. My instructions were clear—no one was to set foot on my property until a time of my choosing.”
“A matter that bears no weight.” Atticus ground his teeth. The long night was waning, and he still had children to prepare for burial.
“That is where you are wrong. I was not grieving but confined to my bed by illness. I posted notice of mourning to keep others away, not wishing to risk someone inadvertently contracting the sickness and spreading it through the village.”
“Sickness?” Cyrus looked befuddled. “You can’t mean—”
“It is an old malady, one that runs in my family.” Hode kicked a loose stone and sent it skittering into the shadows. One of Keel’s hounds whined low in its throat. “I have struggled with the disease for decades. It lasts no more than a week—two at most—but it is contagious when it strikes. During that period, I sequester myself and avoid contact with others.”
“But why did you not tell us?” Cyrus protested.
“Because my business is my own. I should not have to air my infirmity. Better you should think I grieved than learn the truth and grow fearful of the illness. I have lived among others all my life without allowing the malady to spread. I take precautions, but those precautions were breached.”
Andrew Whitley’s face had gone pale. “Atticus came to see you. To tell you about the Endling.”
“Aye. Disregarding my edict, he forced his way into my home. He saw that I was sick.”
“No.” A cold slug wormed through Atticus’s gut. “You were only resting.”
“Recovering. The plague cannot kill me—I have carried it too long, built up a resistance to the ailment—but I can still pass it to others.”
“Then you are at fault.” Blood thrummed against Atticus’s temples. He stabbed a finger at Hode.
“Is that how you see it?” A gust of wind scattered hair about Hode’s face. “First you accuse Gabriel. Murder him. Then, when you realize your mistake, you wish to foist blame on me. I took measures to keep the malady confined. Had you not ignored my order, innocent lives would not be lost, and Gabriel would still be alive. No one would have died, including your own children. You carried the sickness into the village, Atticus, not I.”
Cyrus pawed the back of his neck. “Then Vane was not possessed by a demon? I see no end to this confusion.”
Keel spat tobacco juice onto the ground. Muttering rippled through the circle.
“Do not listen to this insanity!” Fear crippled Atticus as he lurched forward. It wasn’t possible. Couldn’t be possible. “Vane was the spawn of Satan as I professed. If I carried the disease into the village, then why am I not sick?”
“For the same reason that none who stand here are sick.” Hode shifted his gaze from one man to the next. “Illness claims its victi
ms randomly. Not all who come in contact with an infection succumb to sickness. I should not have to explain basic curative principals to you. Nor should I have to clarify that Gabriel Vane would not have risked his life to track and kill the beast vexing our village, only to return and curse you with a plague. For God’s sake, use your head! The boy was your neighbor. He hoped to marry your daughter, and Jasper was his closest friend.”
Cyrus groaned. Folding in half, he slumped to the ground. “Dear God! Dear God, I have been blind! This is too much.” Burying his face in his hands, he choked on tears.
Keel shook his head. “There’s nothing to do for it now. Vane is dead, and there’s no taking that back.”
“Atticus deceived us.” In the torchlight, Ira Blake’s skin gleamed beet red. “He convinced us Gabriel was possessed by the Devil. He turned us into killers.”
“He didn’t turn you into anything!” Hode’s voice cracked with thunder. “You brought this upon yourselves.” He looked from Blake to Everett Donner, to Whitley, then Keel, and finally to Cyrus still sobbing on the ground. “It was your own fear and superstitions that brought you to this end. You believed what you wanted to believe so you could offer up a sacrifice for an antiquated practice steeped in wickedness.” He shook his head. “You repulse me. Every last one of you. Well, you have your sacrifice. You killed an innocent boy and will have to live with that guilt for eternity. If you have any decency left, you’ll make certain he is never forgotten.” With a final curse, he wheeled away from the group then stalked into the darkness.
Sniffling, Cyrus wiped dirty fingers under his nose. “He’s right. We should get a marker.”
“There will be no marker.” Hode’s sanctimonious speech left a bitter taste in Atticus’s mouth. “He can say what he wants, believe what he wants, but I know differently.” He cast a scathing glare at Cyrus. “Get up off the ground.” A kick to the leg made Herman scramble to his feet. “We have other burials to attend, starting tomorrow. Now that Vane is in the ground, his spirit will protect those who follow.”
“I will never believe as you do.” Enoch had been quiet so long, Atticus had forgotten he was there.
