by Greg Hall
“He died a few months back. Town held a vote. David was the one who came out on top.”
“Then why is he self-proclaimed?” Henri asked, a little confused by Franklin’s wording.
“Not everyone was allowed to vote,” Franklin said as he turned to join a small crowd. He motioned to everyone who had gathered.
Kenny ran over and grabbed onto his father’s leg. As Franklin looked down to his son, hands had wrapped around his torso. He held the soft arms and took a moment to revel in his wife’s embrace. The woman popped her head around Franklin and looked over at the strangers who arrived.
“Modeste?” the woman questioned.
“Hello, Selaisse,” Modeste said.
Selaisse quickly dropped her hands from her husband and dashed to Modeste. She grasped onto Modeste even tighter than she had her husband.
“It’s been too long. Words cannot express how much we owe you,” Selaisse proclaimed.
“What did you do?” Henri asked.
“You don’t know? Kenny wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for her,” Selaisse before Modeste could speak.
“You saved their son?” Henri asked, but Modeste kept her eyes on Selaisse.
The more Henri discovered about Modeste, the more impressive she became. He wished he had listened to her earlier.
“We’re going to have a party!” Franklin called out, grabbing Kenny’s hand and Selaisse’s hand and guiding them toward the barbeque pit.
“It was a long time ago,” Modeste responded with modesty. She started to walk away, but Henri reached out and took hold of her arm.
“I’m sorry about how I acted,” Henri said. “I’m not a violent person. I’m not sure what came over me.”
Modeste’s lips curled in a coy smile. “Henri, I appreciated what you were doing, but I don’t need a protector,” Her smile faded and her disappointment became apparent. “It could also have been the alcohol.” She continued to walk away, leaving Henri standing alone.
It didn’t take long to get the fire going. Henri stood by himself, staring into the flames. Henri was anxious, he wanted to talk to Modeste. He wanted to plan their next moves and discuss how they were going to catch the killer. Now that he saw all the good Modeste was capable of, he thought that she was right if this was a bloodsucker, accepting the idea would shake him to the core. He knew men could behave as monsters but the existence of real monsters scared him more than anything. .
Suddenly, a wave of fear washed over Henri. He felt his heart beating in his chest. Sweat had formed on his forehead; his legs became weak. He felt dizzy, and thought he might fall. He wanted to reach out for something, but his arms were shaking and heavy to hold. He started to concentrate on his breathing. Deep breaths, in through his nose and out his mouth. His eyes darted around to everyone in the vicinity. He was trying desperately to appear as normal as possible. He wondered what was happening.
Then he felt the stare. The sensation that someone, or something, was watching. He looked around, but he couldn’t get his eyes to focus.
“Modeste,” he tried to call out, but she was too far away. His voice was a whisper and broken, and if it were any louder, others would see his panic.
As Henri’s head began to spin, something caused him to look through the fire. He caught sight of a figure standing behind the fire. It was only a shadow, but Henri could feel its gaze on him. He watched as people passed in front and behind the figure; it remained dormant.
“Henri…” a deep, haunting voice whispered to him.
All of a sudden, the anxiety was gone. Henri felt more calmness than ever before. A weight had been lifted off his chest. It was as if the shadow had lifted his burden and replaced it with a sense of calm. .
The flames of the fire rose higher. The shadow raised an arm and called Henri forward. Without skipping a beat, Henri walked towards the fire. The warmth welcomed him. The flames invited him in. Henri closed his eyes and kept walking toward the fire. Henri opened his eyes and felt the shadow all around him, pulling him toward the fire. Henri felt safe. Calm.
All his doubts and worries about his faith and the existence of God fled. He wasn’t worried about his garden. He didn’t think about Betsy. His journey was done. The warm embrace of the fire enveloped him. To Henri, this was the moment he believed one accepts their death and finally gives in.
One final step, and he would finally be at peace. A shadowed hand reached through the fire, beckoning him teo enter.
Henri listened. He took one final step.
17
Modeste hastily grabbed Henri by his right arm, just in time. She yanked him back to safety.
“What were you thinking?” Modeste asked. She waited for Henri to respond, but he was still entranced by something beyond the fire. Modeste grabbed him harder and pulled him close, snapping him from his trance. Modeste watched as Henri spun on his ankles as if he wasn’t sure where he was.
“Modeste? What happened?”
“You were walking straight into the fire.”
Henri was visibly distraught, concerned about his surroundings. He looked down at her hand that was still clenched onto his arm.
“It was here. It grabbed me,” Henri cried.
Modeste saw the fear behind his eyes. She believed him. His fear was something she knew well. Modeste knew if she would have seen it herself when Tiara was taken, it would have been the same..
Modeste looked around and tried to see if anyone was watching. No one had noticed Henri’s close call. She watched as groups mingled by the fire and others hung out by the barbeque pit, all missing what was about to happen.
Modeste caught eyes with Franklin, and once it happened, he approached the pair.
“It’s okay. He’s not here,” Modeste said.
“What’s going on?” Franklin asked as he stopped a few feet from them.
“He’s here,” was all Henri could muster. “He’s around here somewhere.”
“Did you see him?” Franklin asked.
“I felt him. He grabbed my arm.”
“That was me,” Modeste cut in.
“Before that. I felt him pulling me into the fire,” Henri said.
A shiver spread down Modeste’s spine. She knew they were on the hunt for the bloodsucker, but there was a part of her that hoped that they weren’t really chasing a monster. That it was just a human that they could catch and stop from murdering more. Now that she saw the fear that ravaged her travel companion—a non-believer—she became stricken with worry.
It was even worse knowing that the bloodsucker was there, watching their every move. Seeing their fear most likely contributed to his power.
Franklin looked around at everyone gathered together. Not a stranger among them.
Modeste could tell her old friend didn’t believe in what they were telling him. For some, the thought of monsters or supernatural beings was too much. They either chose not to believe or preferred to remain ignorant.
“If he’s here, he’s going to go after someone in your community,” Modeste said, pleading to Franklin’s compassionate side.
“Everyone is here right now. If what you guys think is here is here, it can’t hurt us if we are all together,” Franklin said, as he placed his hands on Modeste’s shoulders.
Franklin’s assurance momentarily relieved her tension. The monster was outnumbered, it’s true, but after seeing what it was capable of, it only meant there were more people for it to kill.
Dinner was almost ready. Modeste could tell by the delicious smells permeating the night air. The scent caused pain to ignite in her stomach. The thought of food was always there, but she was able to think it away until this point. They hadn’t had a proper meal in the last few days, and it began to show. Modeste was weaker and more sluggish than usual. She had also noticed that Henri’s skin tone had become paler as the days went on.
There was a crowd gathering around the food. Now that Modeste and Henri stood just a few feet away from it, they both felt even w
eaker than ever before. Modeste thought Henri was still in significant shock. She looked down to his right sleeve and noticed that the cuff had been singed, only then realizing how close Henri was to immersing himself into the fire.
“Sit down. I’ll bring you some food,” Modeste said as she guided Henri to a makeshift bench a few feet away from the food.
Modeste kept her eyes on him as the line progressed. Every few seconds, she would peer around her surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of the monster in the dark.
The magnificent sound of a fiddle broke the night. Hoots and hollers called out with it. Some people even left the line to enjoy a dance before dinner, a motion that allowed a very happy Modeste to move closer to the front of the line.
“Is he going to be alright? He looks like he’s seen a ghost,” Franklin said from behind Modeste.
“Not a ghost. That’s for sure,” Modeste said, turning to her old friend. He had a plate of food in his hands, and it took everything in her power to not just grab a hunk of brisket and dig right in. Modeste couldn’t believe the spread of food across his plate. Gumbo, king cakes, and another side she didn’t quite recognize, but it smelled so amazing it must be good.
“Some food will help,” Franklin suggested, then walked over to Henri and placed the plate down beside him. An act of kindness that brought a smile to Modeste’s face.
She watched as Henri tried not to accept the food, but Franklin had already walked away, leaving it a little awkward. .
When it was her turn to collect food, her eyes were bigger than her belly. She chose a little bit of everything. She was embarrassed at first, but a friendly man behind one of the tables waved her on. He told her there was plenty to go around and for her to help herself.
She carried the plate in one hand and the cane in the other. She took a seat right next to Henri. It bothered her that Henri hadn’t taken a bite of the food that was given to him. A few bugs had already made themselves comfortable in the brisket. .
“We can’t do this,” Henri sighed. “We don’t know the first thing about stopping this thing.”
“Henri, you need to eat. Eat first, talk after,” Modeste declared as she began to dive in. She’d never tasted something so good.
Whether it was what she said or the fact that she had begun to eat, Henri finally found the energy to eat. He started slowly at first but then quickly consumed every last morsel. Modeste wondered if he had ever had a barbecue like this before.
“How was it?”
“It’s amazing,” Henri responded.
For just a moment, Modeste and Henri were removed from their reality, from the horrible burdens they faced. Modeste felt a weight lifted off of her shoulders as the food warmed her soul.
“We knew this wasn’t going to be easy, Henri,” Modeste finally said. “But we have to continue. We’ve come this far. He’s here with us now.”
“Modeste. I saw him. I felt his power,” Henri said, almost not believing his own words. “What if that’s how he gets his victims? I was in a trance. I felt like I couldn’t control my body. He was probably doing the same thing to all the other victims. To Betsy. He kept her in a trance while he took the rest of the Boyds. He wanted Betsy to wake to their dead bodies.”
“That could be it,”
“Then how do we stop it? We can’t combat anything like that. Anything with that kind of power,” Henri said, then added, “It can’t be human.”
Modeste reached out and rested her hand on his knee. A gesture that Modeste thought calmed him, if only for that moment.
Modeste understood the fear that plagued Henri. She felt the same fear and distress the night her daughter disappeared. She recalled seeing the dark figure ahead of her, laughing as she struggled. The shadow knew there was no way she could keep up. She swore she it whispered her name.
“Come on,” Modeste said as she stood up. She grabbed ahold of Henri’s hand and motioned for him to stand.
Henri was hesitant. He appeared not to want to move from his spot.
“Get up. It will do no good sitting here wallowing in self-doubt.”
“Fine,” Henri replied. He rose from his seat and set the empty plate down beside him.
The fiddle switched to a more upbeat sound, and everyone around the fire began to dance, harmonious and joyous as they flowed to the sound.
Modeste tried to ignore the nagging feeling pulsating up her leg. She used to love to dance to the fiddle. It was the one thing that took her mind away from anything that bothered her. But now every time she had the urge to dance, the throbbing radiated down her leg. It wasn’t just a constant reminder about Tiara’s disappearance, it was also a reminder of everything she could no longer do.
Surprisingly, she noticed Henri’s hand reaching out to her. When she looked up to him, she caught him smiling gently toward her.
“Just one dance?” Henri asked.
Modeste took his hand and rose to her feet. She wasn’t comfortable standing without her cane. She felt, even though it was just mental, that her leg was going to give away at any moment. She relied heavily on the cane, and it was taking its toll on her mental state.
It was a slow movement as they danced to the sound of the fiddle. Modeste used to love dancing, but she never found the time to do it. She loved the fact that someone could physically embrace you, and it didn’t have to be sexual in manner. You could just share a moment of peace.
She hadn’t even thought about dancing since she introduced the cane, but the movement with Henri was so simple that she felt zero pain. It only took a few seconds for her to realize that Henri was keeping the movement to a minimum, being cautious with her injury. The gesture brought a smile to her face.
“You know, I think it feeds on our fears,” Modeste said, looking up into Henri’s eyes. She always thought Henri was taller than he was. Now that they were so close, Henri was only a few inches taller than her. If Modeste had better posture (the ache caused her to hunch over more than she wanted), it might only be an inch.
“I can’t explain what I felt, Modeste. I’ve never felt anything so powerful. So…” Henri’s voice trailed off. “Strong. It’s not the right word. I just can’t find words to describe it. My mind. It just seems, well, weak.”
“What made you take that drink?” Modeste asked, hoping the changing of subjects would help clear his mind.
“It was a moment of weakness. I wished I didn’t. I felt worse after the liquor touched my lips. As soon as I stepped into the tavern, it felt like I was supposed to be there. I think that’s how I always felt when I had the bottle in my hand like I was supposed to be drinking it.
“Was it worth it?” Modeste asked.
“Worth what? The feeling? The fact that maybe the Lord is shaking his head at me? Sure. We all have moments of weakness. He who is without sin…”
“I’m not judging you. I drain whiskey like a sieve,” Modeste said and let out a cackling laugh. She was happy to see the smile grow on Henri’s face. The first step to normalcy back on her traveling companion. The smile quickly faded.
“What are we going to do, Modeste? Why did He do that to me? How did He do that to me? That must mean it knows we are following it.”
“I don’t mean to butt in, but I found someone who might be able to help,” Franklin said, standing a couple of feet from the pair. Neither Modeste nor Henri had noticed his approach. Another gentleman stood to his right. He was a little taller than Franklin but slim and appeared about twenty years his senior.
“This is Gus, and he works the line. Sees people on and off the train.”
Gus nodded but made no eye contact.
“Go ahead, Gus. Tell them what you saw.”
Gus shook his head and took a step forward. He paused for a moment before speaking, “I saw the man you are looking for.”
The statement got both Modeste and Henri’s attention. They immediately stopped dancing and let their arms fall.
“When? Is he here now?” Henri asked in rapid suc
cession.
“Yesterday. I saw him get off the train. I thought he was an odd fellow. He wore dark glasses. So dark that I couldn’t see his eyes. He had a beaver hat that seemed too big for his head.”
“What else can you remember? We need something that we can use to identify him when we see him,” Modeste pleaded.
“Pale,” Michael said, then looked Henri in the eyes. “I mean no disrespect, sir. His skin was a lot whiter than yours. It was like he hadn’t seen the sun in weeks, months even,” Michael said, as he stepped back in line with Franklin.
“Look, if this is what you think it is, what can either of you think you can do?” Franklin asked.
It was the question that Modeste knew was tormenting Henri. She had thought about it more than once, but her perseverance to find out what happened with Tiara was more motivation than she knew what to do with. SHe had always thought it was a monster like a bloodsucker, and she needed to know the truth.
The monster was smarter, healthier, and faster than both of them, and unless they could figure out a way to drive a stake through its heart, neither would finish this journey alive.
“We have to find out where he is before he attacks next,” Modeste said, and before anyone could respond, a scream halted their conversation.
18
A scream.
It was the same sound that brought Henri on this mess of a journey. The same sound made him begin to question his beliefs and start to question his sanity in some strange way.
As Henri and Modeste made their way toward the commotion, Henri was still shaken by the image of the shadow across the fire. It was still vividly in his mind—the feeling of being guided toward the fire. He had been so willing and eager to jump headfirst into the fire. A total loss of self-control. If it weren’t for Modeste, he would have certainly perished in flames.
The events of the last few days had taken quite the toll on Henri. Members of his congregation were missing, later found in pieces, Sarah Jane’s mysterious illness, and now feeling the power of the killer all around him. Initially, his thought of tracking a killer had seemed much easier in his mind. Now, with what he had seen over the last few days, it was getting harder to think rationally about it. Against his better judgement, he now believed Modeste was right about the monsters she spoke about. Henri believed that a bloodsucker was the only explanation to what he felt.
