“Does this mean its gone?” she asked, hopefully.
“No. It means the Shiru is not around now,” Tolomato answered. “I am sure it will be back later.”
“Great.” She was less than thrilled with the information. “What about the offspring? Have you been able to locate where it’s buried?”
“Not yet.”
She opened the translation of the journal and started reading the passages about the offspring, searching for information about a possible burial site.
“What?” Jack asked, wanting to know what she was looking for.
“I’m trying to find any information about where the offspring might be buried.”
He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to jinx our chances of success, but its been over three hundred years since the offspring was killed and buried. Bones just don’t last that long, especially when buried in the humid wet soil of Florida. If we do find the grave, odds are there will be nothing left of the remains.”
“I thought about that,” she replied, glancing up from the book. “But that would only apply to human bones. Right? What if the bones of a Shiru were made of sturdier stuff, then something of the offspring might still remain. You have to think positive on this, and quit being so negative.”
“I’m a cop, being negative is part of my job.”
“Maybe it’s time you thought about a career change.” Ssabra smiled and went back to studying the book.
“According to the journal, the body of the offspring was buried in a small plot of land on the north side of the plaza. That might mean the offspring was buried on land where the Cathedral-Basilica now stands.”
“The offspring is buried at the church?”
“Maybe, at least according to what I’m reading here.” She put the translation down and picked up the original journal, flipping to the map in the back of the book.” “Look at this, there’s a small X drawn on the map, and a few words in Spanish that I can’t make out. I guess I looked at the map wrong last night, because I was way off on my search. I was several blocks north of where I should have been.”
Jack leaned forward and studied the map. “You’re right, the X does seem to be just north of the plaza, about where the church would be. Maybe the two of us should pay a little visit on the Cathedral-Basilica.”
She glanced at her watch. “They’re not open yet.”
“I’m a cop. They’ll be open for me.” He grinned. “I would suggest, however, that you leave the journal and translation in the car. It might be hard to explain what they’re doing in your purse.”
Her eyes went wide. “What if they’ve already discovered that the books are missing, and know I’m the one who took them?”
“Don’t worry. If anyone points a finger at you, I’ll just say that you’ve already been arrested and are now in my custody. Maybe I’ll even tell them that you wanted to come back to the church to confess your sins.”
“Thanks a lot,” Ssabra laughed. “Do you think that will get me off the hook?”
“Of course it will. Catholics are big believers in redemption. They’ll jump at a chance to save another soul.”
“Well, let’s not tell them that story unless we have to. I’m not sure if I want to be saved anytime soon.”
“Got it. No soul-saving unless absolutely necessary.”
They arrived at the Cathedral-Basilica less than thirty minutes later, but didn’t attempt to enter the church right away. Instead they walked around the building, hoping to find a hidden courtyard, or a small cemetery, where the body of the offspring might be buried. There might once have been such a courtyard, or cemetery, back when the church was first built, or back when it was considerably smaller, but the church had grown over the years and it now covered nearly a city block.
Having no luck on the outside of the church, they attempted to enter the building but found the front doors locked. A few minutes later they found a side door that had been left open, and entered the Cathedral. Ssabra was a little nervous about sneaking into the church, but Jack told her to relax, for she was in the company of a police officer.
Gaining entrance into the building did little to help them in their search. There were no tombs or crypts within the church, and nothing to point them in the direction of the offspring’s remains. Frustrated at the hopelessness of the situation, they were just about to leave when an elderly priest suddenly appeared from one of the side rooms.
The priest was suspicious of them at first, but seemed to relax a little when Jack showed his badge. Detective Colvin quickly made up a story about how he was investigating a string of church burglaries that had occurred in the area, and was worried about the Cathedral-Basilica. He asked if the church had ever been robbed, and then suggested they might want to keep their side door locked in the future.
Ssabra was amazed at the detective’s ability to fashion a believable story so quickly, and wondered if being a convincing liar was standard requirement for all police officers. She was even more amazed when Jack started talking about his love of history, and the research he had done on the Cathedral.
Then, with great craft, he worked in the story about a deformed child being buried on property where the church now stood, wondering if there was any truth to the old legend. Much to their surprise, the old priest’s eyes seemed to light up at the mention of a deformed skeleton.
“Yes, yes. The story is true, but not many people know about it. A child’s body was unearthed when they started to build the Cathedral in the late 1700s. No one knew who the child was, so the bones were kept in storage for a year. They were later reburied in a small crypt within the church.”
“Was the child deformed?”
“Oh yes, terribly deformed. At first they didn’t even know if it was human. The skull was misshapen, and there looked to be too many bones for just one body. Even the rib cage looked different. Poor child. How he must have suffered when alive.”
“Are the remains still here?”
"No, I’m afraid not. The remains were here for hundreds of years, so long that everyone had forgotten all about them, but they were rediscovered about forty years ago when a new section of flooring was being installed. Created quite a stir when the crypt was uncovered.”
The old priest looked around, as if worried about being overheard. “When they uncovered the crypt, some of the priests thought the skeleton was an abomination, and wanted nothing to do with it. Others said we should rebury it, and forget we had ever seen it. It was finally decided that it should not be buried in holy ground.”
“They didn’t rebury the body?”
The priest shook his head.
“Then what did they do with it?”
“As I said, the child’s body was looked upon as something unclean. Instead of reburying it, some of the church members hid it in the middle of the night. They put the bones in a small casket, and then lowered the casket into one of the old Spanish wells.”
“A well? They hid the remains in a well?” Which well?”
“I don’t know.” The priest shrugged. “I didn’t go with them that night, and all who did are now dead. All I know is that the remains of the child were put in one of the wells in the old section.”
Chapter 29
Ssabra and Jack were both silent as they walked back to his patrol car, each thinking about the nearly impossible task that now faced them. They knew the location of some of the old Spanish wells in St. Augustine, but there were probably just as many that had been filled in and forgotten, or covered up, during the last forty years. No telling how many old wells were now located under streets, parking lots, and modern buildings.
Reaching the car, Jack walked to the rear of the vehicle and opened up the trunk. “We’ll leave the car here and search for the old wells on foot.”
“On foot?” Ssabra looked around nervously. “Do you think it will be safe?”
“I’m guessing the Shiru is probably nocturnal, at least its victims have all been killed at night. We still have plen
ty of daylight left before it gets dark, so we should be safe. Even if it isn’t truly nocturnal, the streets are pretty crowded in the daytime and there’s safety in numbers. Besides, I’ll protect you.”
She laughed. “Gee, thanks. I feel much better. But I seem to remember that the Shiru got the better of you the last time you two tangled, and I was the one saving your butt.”
“Old history. I didn’t know there was such a thing as a Shiru last night, but now that I do I’ll be ready for it. You also have Tolomato to warn you of danger. He is still around, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him all day, but he doesn’t always show himself. Says it wastes too much energy. Tolomato, are you here?”
Ssabra stood silent for a moment, but there was no answer.”
“Tolomato?”
Again, no answer. The voice she heard inside her head was silent.
“Great. Just great. When we need him most, he’s off running around somewhere.”
“Maybe he’s out scouting the location of the well, trying to save us some time. Or maybe he’s keeping an eye on the Shiru.” Reaching into the trunk, Jack removed a map of the historic area of St. Augustine and a flashlight. He also took out a coil of study rope, and a tire tool.
“What’s the rope and tire tool for?” Ssabra asked, curious.
“The tire tool is in case any of the wells have lids that need to be pried off.”
“And the rope?”
“If we do find the offspring, one of us will have to climb down into the well to retrieve it.”
“One of us?” Ssabra asked, horrified by what he was suggesting. “You mean me?”
He nodded. “You’re a lot lighter than I am, and I seriously doubt if you would be strong enough to pull me out of a well.”
She stared at the rope for a minute, then looked him in the eyes. “I’m beginning to like our relationship less and less.”
“We have a relationship?” The detective grinned.
“Don’t get funny. You know what I mean.”
Jack slipped the tire tool in his belt, and handed the flashlight to Ssabra. He unfolded the map and studied it for a moment, then folded it up and stuffed it into his back pocket. Carrying the rope, he started to walk away from the patrol car, but then remembered they had left the journal of Father Sebastian Diaz, and the English translation, hidden under the passenger seat. Opening the door, he grabbed the journal and handed it to Ssabra.
“I’m not sure if all the old wells are marked on the new map, so we may need the journal. The map the priest drew is pretty crude, but I think he marked the location of some, if not all, of the old wells.”
Closing the driver’s door and locking it, they started off on foot for the heart of the historic district. The first of the old Spanish wells was located northwest of the plaza, near the intersection of St. George and Hypolita Street. Jack was hoping the area would be devoid of tourists and curious onlookers, but the well was located in a heavily traveled area. He almost had second thoughts about prying up the coquina lid, because it was stamped with a Spanish seal and obviously was quite old. He would catch hell if he broke the lid while attempting to remove it.
“You know, I’m probably going to get my butt in trouble for this,” he said, squatting down to study the lid.
“You can explain everything later,” Ssabra replied, kneeling beside him.
“Oh, right, I’m sure my boss would be interested in a story about hidden coffins and monsters.”
“I know I would,” she laughed. “I could use a story like that on my ghost tour.”
“By the time we’re done with all of this, you should have plenty of stories you can use.” He wedged the tire tool under the lid. “This is going to be a bitch to get off. Keep an eye out and let me know if I attract any unwanted attention.”
Ssabra watched the people who walked past as he struggled with the lid. They did attract a few stares, but for the most part the people seemed only mildly curious. At least no one started shouting and pointing a finger, or threatening to call the cops. She expected the lid to be sealed in place and impossible to get off, and was pleasantly surprised when Jack was able to remove it after only a few minutes of effort.
Setting the lid to the side, the detective switched on his flashlight and aimed it down into the well.
“Do you see anything?”
“No. Nothing. How about you?”
“Nothing.”
It was more of a cistern than a true well, a deep shaft lined with stones, used by the city’s original inhabitants to catch rainwater. There was actually an inch or two of water standing in the bottom of the well, but not enough to make much of a splash when Jack dropped a small rock into the opening.
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “The water’s not deep, so it’s not hiding anything. No offspring here. Let’s recap this thing and find the next one.”
The second well they located was also empty, as were all the others they found that day. They spent hours searching for the remains of the offspring without having any luck. They checked almost every well marked on the two maps, and were beginning to believe it was a hopeless situation.
The hour was drawing late, the sun already starting to set in the west, and there was still one more well left to be searched. The last well was in the historic district, but they weren’t having much success in finding it. It took them nearly an hour of searching before they finally found the location of the well, but someone had gone and built a restaurant over it.
The Sword and Cross Restaurant was housed in a two-story, redbrick building, and was one of the most popular eateries in St. Augustine. Owned and operated by the same family for over twenty years, the restaurant was always busy, even during the middle of the week.
“Now, what do we do?” Ssabra asked. They stood across the street from the restaurant, looking in at the dinner crowd.
“I’m not sure. I’m thinking.”
“Well, think fast. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s already getting dark out.” She looked around nervously, fearful of what the night would bring.
Jack also looked around. “What’s the matter? Do you feel something?”
“No. And I don’t want to either. Nor do I want to see anything,” she answered. “You’re a cop. Instead of us standing out here in the dark, waiting for you know what to show up, why don’t you just walk into the restaurant and flash your badge at the manager?”
“And say what, that I’m hunting for a dead body in a well? I don’t think that would go over too good.”
“It was just a suggestion,” she said. “Got any other ideas?”
“Just one.” Jack smiled. “Are you hungry?”
“Starved.”
“Good, then let’s eat. We’re not going to be able to get to that well until after the restaurant closes for the night, but we can look around and see if we can find where it’s located. And the best way to snoop around a restaurant is as a hungry customer. Don’t you agree?”
“Absolutely.”
“If you’re good, I might even buy you dessert.”
“I’ll be real good.”
“Okay, then. Let’s go eat.” Switching the coil of climbing rope to his left hand, he took Ssabra by the arm and led her across the street. The restaurant was crowded, but they were lucky enough to get a small table in the back room. They wouldn’t have gotten that if Jack hadn’t casually pulled his jacket back to reveal the badge on his belt. It was an old trick to impress hosts and hostesses, and it almost always worked.
During dinner they took turns looking around the restaurant in hopes of locating the old well. Jack used the excuse of going to the bathroom twice, and once he walked through the lounge area to supposedly check on the score of a ballgame. Ssabra was more direct in her snooping, telling her waiter that she had never been in the restaurant before and wanted to look around. She also pretended to be interested in the paintings that hung on the wall, when she was actually more interested in what
might be underfoot.
Dessert came and went and they still had not found the well. It wasn’t anywhere in the dining area, or in the lower level rest rooms, which meant it had to be in the kitchen, or in one of the storage rooms. It was doubtful if the manager would let them have a peek in the kitchen, especially if they told him what they were looking for. Jack could flash his badge and explain that he was in the middle of an investigation, but it might result in a call to his superior at the police station.
Stalling as long as possible, Jack paid the bill and the two of them left the restaurant. They didn’t go far, just across the street to sit on a bench and wait for The Sword and Cross to close for the night.
Ssabra was rather uncomfortable, remembering her previous encounter with the Shiru. If the monster was stalking her, then she didn’t want to be sitting out in the open after dark. She felt like fresh bait on the end of a hook, waiting for a large fish to come along and take a bite. Jack must have felt the same way, because, as they sat there, he removed his pistol from its holster and set it beside him on the bench.
She wondered if the Shiru had attempted to breed with any of its recent victims, or if she was the only one who held a special place in the monster’s heart. Would the dark god even be interested in her if her eyes had not been opened by Tolomato? Had her new gift put her in a world of danger?
“Thanks, Tolomato,” she whispered, trying to fight off the fear that was slowly seeping into her body.
“What was that?” Jack asked, turning to face her.
“Nothing. I was just talking to myself.”
“You said Tolomato. I thought maybe you were talking to your spirit friend.”
She shook her head. “No. He’s not around. At least he hasn’t said anything lately. He likes to talk, so if he was here he’d be talking my ear off.”
Jack frowned, looking around at the darkness surrounding them. “He hasn’t been around all day, and I thought he was supposed to help us find the well. We would have saved a lot of time with his help. I wonder where he’s gone off to?”
Breed Page 24
