Burned to a Crisp

by K A Miltimore

  Bren left the disturbing piles of paper and headed into the front room. From the windows on the left he could see Hedy’s yard. No doubt Jeffries had perched in here and watched with anger at the comings and goings at the house. But why had he abducted Ana?

  “My, my, if it isn’t the salamander. How nice to meet you.” A female voice spoke from behind him and he whirled around to face her. She stood near the dining room table with all the clippings. Her dark eyes were all that Bren could really focus on, though he was aware of her reddish hair moving about her despite the still, fetid air.

  “We haven’t been properly introduced. My name is Lyssa. What brings a salamander to this sleepy little town, eh?” Her hand lightly swirled around some of the pages on the table.

  Bren could hardly force himself to reply. Those eyes were drawing him in.

  “Just passing through. But now I need to find my friend.”

  Lyssa laughed softly, her voice would have been beautiful in any other context. “Oh, you mean the undine? Yes, what a stroke of luck for an undine to cross my path. She’s a lovely girl, isn’t? I’ll be making her acquaintance soon.” She ran her finger along the edge of her long black coat.

  “Where is she? Tell me where she is.” Bren took a step toward Lyssa and she smiled.

  “Oh, there’s no fun in telling you where she is. I’m not through with her yet. She’ll be back when I have no more need of her. But right now, I need to attend to my unwitting helper. He should be back any moment.”

  Bren took another step toward Lyssa, though he had no idea what he would do if he reached her.

  “Your helper? Jeffries? He took Ana.”

  “Yes, he took the undine, at my direction. Though he didn’t realize it was for me. Everything he has done has been at my direction, a little voice just giving him a nudge. Not that he needs much help in that direction.” She scattered the pages again. “His hate is palpable and that makes him pliable, easy to use. Having such a willing helper makes my task that much easier.” Lyssa took a step toward Bren and now they were practically face to face.

  “I don’t want to hurt you but I will if you don’t tell me where Ana is.” Bren’s temperature began to rise, though he still had it under his control, for now.

  Lyssa laughed merrily. “Oh, my dear salamander. You are too much. As if you, an elemental, could hurt me, the daughter of Nyx, the dark goddess of the night. Really, how very amusing, almost amusing as these mortals. They are so susceptible to whispers of rage and madness. I find it almost too easy to stir their passions, their basest fears.” Lyssa’s eyes flashed darkly and Bren found that her hands were now around his throat. He couldn’t move.

  “My dear salamander, I have no need for you. Once my little helper returns, I will deal with him and make the acquaintance of the lovely little undine. Farewell, salamander.” Bren felt her hands tight on his throat and everything in front of his eyes began to turn reddish black. He felt himself sinking to the ground, sinking into those dark eyes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  There was smoke, all around him. Smoke and heat and the smell of kerosene. This fire was newly born, not fully engulfing the house but it would in a few minutes. Bren tried to clear the darkness from his brain and wake himself up. Next to him was the limp body of Jeffries.

  Bren coughed and tried to clear his head but the smoke swirled in his eyes, in his lungs. He reached out a hand and gave the still body a shake. He heard a weak groan coming from the man; he was still alive.

  “We have to get out of here.” He croaked out the words as the fire began to roar around them. “Jeffries, wake up.” He shook the body again and again he heard the slight moan.

  Bren pocket was vibrating and it took him a minute to realize that Mel’s phone was ringing. He didn’t have time to answer it, they only had seconds to get out of the house. He lumbered to his feet, still dazed and moving like he was bound to the warped floorboards.

  Jeffries was barely breathing and it was all that Bren could do to bend over and pull the lifeless man to a sitting position so he could sling him over his shoulder. He hoped he had enough strength to carry them both out of the fire. Jeffries moaned as Bren hoisted him up and he headed toward the front door. The fire was all around them but heaviest toward the back of the house. The papers that had littered the dining room table were wisps of ash. With the heat of this fire, there would be nothing left. The smell of Lyssa’s delight permeated the smoke.

  Bren grabbed a throw blanket off the sofa as he passed it, trying to cover Jeffries and shield him from the heat. The man screamed in pain, though his voice was muffled by the flannel blanket over his head.

  “Hold on, Jeffries. Just a few more feet.” Bren staggered toward the door and gave it a kick with all his might. The flames were all around them and though he didn’t feel the pain, his clothes were starting to burn on his body. Jeffries was now writhing on his shoulder.

  The door was holding and Bren gave it one last kick before it finally opened and he was able to see the front porch and the darkness in front of him. He felt the fire roar behind him as the oxygen from outside poured into the house. He managed the few more steps until he could stumble down the front porch and creep toward the front walkway. He could just make out the shapes of people gathered on the sidewalk, before his knees buckled and Jeffries tumbled to the walkway.

  He felt Darro’s hands under his armpits, dragging him away from the fire and he was on the cool damp grass near the street. Hedy was hovering above him and he felt Jeffries’ hot body pulled next to him.

  “Bren, are you alright? Say something!” Hedy’s voice was sharp with worry.

  “Save Jeffries. He knows…Ana…danger.” Bren croaked out the words, finding that the smoke he had swallowed had closed up his throat. Salamanders in their human form could suffocated in fire, and he very nearly had.

  Mel was wiping down Jeffries with wet towels and with each stroke the man howled, his skin blood red from the burns. “Lass, don’t touch him. He’s badly burned. Pour some water down his gullet if you can.” Darro’s voice carried over the sound of the crackling flames. Bren could hear the distant sound of a fire truck.

  “Where is she, Jeffries? Where is Ana?” Hedy was standing over the burned man, revolted by the peeling skin and the shrieks of pain coming from him.

  “Too late. The cabin. Too late.” He croaked the words before he lost consciousness.

  “The cabin? Where, what cabin?” Hedy yelled into his ear but he said no more. Mel grabbed her arm and pulled her away.

  “Come on, I can find it.” Mel reached into Bren’s pocket for her phone; luckily, it hadn’t melted. Both women raced back toward the house while Bren stayed where he was on the grass, next to the limp body of Jeffries. The fire truck screamed around the corner. Bren would have to gather his wits if he was going to explain all this.

  “What do you mean, Mel? Do you know about some cabin?” Hedy didn’t understand as Mel pulled her inside.

  “No, I don’t know about any cabin but the county does.” She began furiously tapping the screen of her phone.

  “What, you mean like property records? The office probably isn’t open but we could try calling.”

  “No, we don’t need to. Pierce county has all their property records online and searchable. I can look for property owned by Jeffries within the county and if the cabin is in his name, we should find it.” Hedy could hear the sirens right outside and she wondered if she should be out there, trying to help Bren and Darro.

  “Jeffries, what’s his first name, do you know?” Mel looked up from the screen and watched Hedy as she searched her memory.

  “Ooh, it is…George, yes, George Jeffries.” Hedy was normally terrible with names but she tried to make up rhymes to remember those she might need to recall. His rhyme had been the Jetsons’ theme, as in Meet George Jeffries.

  “Crap, here is the house on Griffin but nothing else comes up under that name. Maybe it isn’t in the county or it is someone else�
��s cabin. Damn it, we’ll never find her now!” Mel’s voice was in a panic and she was practically wailing. Hedy was just about to tell her to calm down when another voice spoke.

  “The grandfather, George Wilkenson” No riddles, no confusion from Adelaide. Just a simple name whispered in Hedy’s ear.

  “George Wilkenson. His grandfather’s name.” Mel looked at Hedy like she was crazy but she typed it in quickly.

  “Here, here I found it! A parcel owned by George J. Wilkenson, up on Mount Enumclaw. It’s about six miles from here. My phone’s about to die, do you have paper so we can write down the address?” Hedy scrambled for a marker and she wrote down the address on a scrap of parchment paper.

  “Let’s go.” Mel was up and heading toward the door before Hedy stopped her.

  “No, you are staying here, with Bren. He needs help. I am going to the cabin.”

  “No way, you aren’t going alone. You can’t do this by yourself.”

  “Mel, listen. If you come, you could make things worse for Ana. You care about her and Lyssa might use that against her. I know you want to help, but stay here and help Bren. I’ll bring her back. I promise.”

  “How are you going to do that?” Mel’s voice sounded desperate.

  “With help, but a special kind.” Hedy went into the entry and began checking the curio cabinet until she found a small knife.

  “What is that? A knife?” Mel was not overly impressed by the small simple knife in Hedy’s hand. What could she do with that?

  “It’s another relic from my family, older even than the shingle I showed you before. It’s time to find out if the legend is true.”

  Hedy took the parchment paper with the address. Mel had just enough power in her phone to give her rough directions on where it was located before Hedy headed back outside.

  “Help Darro with Bren. I’ll bring her back.” Hedy drove off leaving Mel at the curb.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Hedy had a good sense of direction; given all the places she had lived in her life, it was a necessary skill she had picked up along the way. The directions had told her to head north, out of town toward Cumberland. Mount Enumclaw was near Lake Walker and though she had never been there before, she trusted she would be able to find it. She just hoped she wasn’t too late.

  There were only streaks of sunlight left in the sky, with long shadows and patches of darkness filing in the pastures as she drove. The meadows and grassy patches gave way to pockets of trees as she drove closer to her destination. Turning off passed the small state park on the country road leading to Lake Walker, the route began to curve and twist and the little bit of sunlight that remained was lost in the trees. She passed the Christmas tree farm and kept heading northwest, using the small compass on her dashboard and the flashlight in the front seat to navigate. Reaching the lake, she saw the towering form of Mount Enumclaw behind it, blacker than the darkening sky. The shape of the mountain was like an anvil and she hoped that the cabin wasn’t too far into those woods. Sense of direction or not, she could imagine getting easily lost on those old hunting trails.

  The paved road ended and Hedy found the dirt road she needed, almost obscured by a huge thicket of blackberry bushes. She slowly followed the road, bumping along the potholes and ruts and she began to worry that the Corvair wouldn’t be up to the challenge of this terrain. The road came to an abrupt end with a large metal barrier blocking the road and a weathered sign that read “private property”. Hedy would have to continue on foot.

  She grabbed the flashlight in one hand and the knife in the other and set off up the steep path leading into the darkness. The woods weren’t terribly thick here, mostly scrub brush and young saplings; the area had been logged in recent years and the forest hadn’t quite reclaimed it yet. As she walked through, the trees began to thicken and Hedy began to wonder if she would be able to find her way in the dark, even with her large flashlight. She climbed on, taking care not to trip over any tree roots or rocks as she went. A broken ankle could mean the end for Ana. The trail curved sharply and then Hedy found herself in a clearing, with a ramshackle cabin perched precariously against the hillside.

  The cabin windows were boarded over but through the cracks, Hedy could see light. Someone was inside. She approached the cabin, walking carefully up the porch stairs, trying to step as lightly as she could. Wood that old would not be quiet and her steps sounded loud to her ears. Whoever was inside would surely know she was there.

  The door to the cabin opened wide and the light from the oil lamps lit up the darkness. This was her invitation to come inside.

  Hedy stepped into the cabin, clutching the knife tightly, feeling her heart now inside her throat. The room was small and the first thing that caught her attention was the smell. It had the overwhelming smell of a latrine.

  “Well, if it isn’t our intrepid baker, coming to pay us a call, ladies.” Lyssa was standing near the only table in the room, which held the box stolen from the fruit cellar. Behind her, shackled together were Ana and two women.

  “Ana, are you alright?” Hedy only glanced briefly at the Ana before stealing her eyes back on Lyssa.

  “I’m alright, Hedy. We’re alright.” Ana’s voice was steady as she spoke. The two women with her said nothing but they had been trapped in this cabin for much longer. Hedy had found the missing women.

  “Oh yes, everyone is fine, Miss Leckermaul. In fact, you’ll be able to take all three of them back to town with you, once I am finished.” Lyssa spoke in a sing-song voice, as if they were somewhere much more pleasant than a stench-filled cabin in the darkening woods.

  “What do you want? Leave them alone, please. You have the box, just go.” Hedy stayed in front of the doorway, keeping an option of escape just in case Lyssa decided to step toward her.

  “Oh yes, I have the box. It’s funny, really. The box is something I have been looking for, for quite some time. When I finally found that peddler in Crete, he told me a strange American named Leckermaul had purchased it. You are what brought me to this little town. But now that I am here, I see this is the perfect place for me. So much rage, so much discord, so easy to provoke.

  “Speaking of provoke, what little trinket have you brought with you, Miss Leckermaul. Is that a knife? How fitting for a baker, I suppose.” Lyssa smiled as she lifted the wooden top off the box.

  “Yes, it is a knife, a very old knife, a special knife, a knife that can harm even one such as you, Lyssa. Give me the women and we will leave this place and you will have your box. No one need be hurt.” Hedy said and Lyssa laughed softly as she drew out the small terracotta vial from the box, sniffing at the opening.

  “Hmm, imagine that, it still smells of marjoram.” She threw the vial against the stone of the fireplace, where it shattered. The three women behind her shrieked, their chains rattling as they tried to pull away.

  Hedy took a step forward, still clutching the knife. She had never stabbed anyone, and until this day she would never have thought that she was capable, but it was all she had between her and harm for the women in the cabin.

  “It is really amusing that you thought a knife could harm me. That I would be threatened by something so mundane. It would almost be charmingly naive, if I were incline to be charitable. But I am not.” Lyssa picked up the small figurine and slowly unwound the linen around it. She brought the figure close to her face as she inspected it, turning it over carefully in her hands. “I always liked the Minotaur.”

  Lyssa smiled and smashed it against the stone. Hedy took another step forward, there was now only the table between them.

  “I may not be like you, Lyssa, but you know my family history, surely. Did you think I would come here with some ordinary weapon?” Hedy raised the knife so that it shone in the oil lamp light.

  “Oh, do tell. What makes your little pig-sticker so special, Miss Leckermaul?” Lyssa pulled out the arrowhead, the only thing in the box she was after.

  “The world is full of stories, Lyssa. Espec
ially the Black Forest, where my people are from. Enough stories for the Brothers Grimm to fill book after book. This little knife is not a fairy tale, it is real. It is an elfin blade, forever sharp, it can cut any flesh, even yours. It was given to my ancestor by the elf himself, a master bladesmith.” Hedy watched as Lyssa turned the arrowtip over in her fingertips, tracing the jagged edge of one side.

  “Oh indeed? How very impressive. Well, that is a special little blade then, but I don’t think we will be needing it, Miss Leckermaul. As I said, you will be free to take your friends here with you. All I require of them is a small scratch. Surely that isn’t worth much fuss.” Lyssa turned slightly and smiled at Ana, who was closest to her.

  “Why have you brought us here?” Ana spoke up, keeping herself between Lyssa and the two cowering women behind her.

  “Well, this is far more dramatic than I really would have preferred but our Mr. Jeffries wanted to make an example of you three. You see, Mr. Jeffries, like his grandfather before him, cannot abide sin. And to his mind, you three women are just living, breathing sin. The woman teaching ‘heathen ways’ as he called it, the girl showing her naked flesh to sell coffee, and you, my dear undine, with your clear affection for that girl. Well, that was beyond bearing for Mr. Jeffries. All too easy for me to use. He wanted to purge your sins in fire and then dispose of you in these woods, as his grandfather had done in the past. Unfortunately for Mr. Jeffries, his usefulness was at an end and I need you all very much alive. You should be thanking me right now for saving you from his dark purposes.”

  Hedy started to move toward Lyssa but she was fully aware and she grabbed Ana’s wrist, holding the arrowhead to a vein just under the skin.