by Ricky Fry
The whole of the village, at least those among them who still lived, worked together to prepare the search party. Food and supplies were gathered, along with four sturdy horses, normally reserved for ploughing the fields, which had been volunteered for their journey.
The priest begged to join them, but Bogdan insisted he remain behind. “You’re too old,” he said. “Who will carry you when your bones bend and break? My friend, you should be here to watch over the village.”
“Very well,” said the priest. “It’s true. I’m an old, simple man. Who am I to argue with Bogdan the Great?”
Bogdan returned the smile the priest had given him in the church. “Come now, father. We both know you’re much more than that. You’re a true servant of the Lord, and the people will surely have need of your steady heart and mind before the worst of it has passed.”
“Go with God, my friend. May His light never fail to guide you through the darkness.”
The sun had almost taken its place below the horizon when they set out together, four brave souls in search of an end to the curse which had plagued their people for so many generations.
They rode in silence, the trees closing in around them as they advanced deeper into the forest. A thick canopy of leaves and branches blocked the light of the moon and stars, and the path—nothing more than a thin line of dirt cutting a trail through the heavy underbrush—would have been lost to them had Bogdan not stopped to light a torch.
It must have been midnight, at least it was close by their best guess, when the trail widened and emptied into a small clearing. Svyatoslav urged his horse forward to join Bogdan at the front of the group.
“Fine night for a ride.” The big man lit his pipe with a stick held to the torch and took a puff before passing it.
Bogdan picked at a small cut on his cheek, left by a branch which had scratched him in the dark. “Thank you for coming, my friend. The journey would not be the same without you.”
“I meant what I said. I’d follow you anywhere. Still, I can’t help but wonder where we’re going.”
It was the same question he’d been considering since his announcement in the church. The words had come without warning. The decision to leave had been made with no time to make a plan.
“Trust your gut,” the priest had said.
He took a puff from the pipe and passed it back. “Do you remember the legend—the story told by the priest on the eve of every sacrifice?”
“How could I forget? I’ve heard it year after year since I was a boy.”
“So we follow the legend, back to the place where it all began.” He raised a hand and pointed into the distance. A row of mountains loomed low and heavy before them, their dark peaks outlined by the absence of stars.
“It’s a long way,” said his friend. “It won’t be easy to cross the mountains. There are bears, and wolves, and fast running rivers.”
“Have we not faced worse?”
Svyatoslav took another puff as he considered. “Indeed we have, though it’s not the bears or wolves or rivers that should give us pause. You’re too young to remember, but in the summer before you were born, there arrived in our village a band of travelers who had passed through the very same mountains. Whatever supplies they’d managed to carry with them had been taken, along with a half dozen of their women and children. Those who survived spoke of outlaws who set upon them in the night.”
“Fear not, dear Svyatoslav. I too, have heard the stories. But the travelers had neither your fine company, nor the company of your brave son. We should not go so far only to fall at the hands of men.”
The big man snorted and took another puff. “They didn’t have Bogdan the Great. But what of the village? I fear for their safety in our absence.”
“Our only hope is to lead the evil spirit away, that he might take notice and follow us over the mountains.”
“But will he follow?” Svyatoslav glanced over his shoulder as though he expected to see something.
“Yes,” said Bogdan. “He follows us now. I can feel his malevolent presence, watching and stalking close behind like a pale shadow in the night.”
NINETEEN
She was somewhere in the dark. Was it the house, or someplace else? She couldn’t be sure. The only thing she knew for certain was that she wasn’t alone.
It came to her like a shadow, pressing itself against her body as she struggled to wrest herself free. She felt no fear. It was only a game of cat and mouse, like two lovers locked in a passionate tango. When she could resist no longer, she gave herself to the shadow with complete abandon, ripples of pleasure coursing through her body as they joined together in sexual union.
“Nancy.” A voice called to her from somewhere far off in the distance.
She didn’t want to answer. She wanted to stay there forever in the shadow’s erotic embrace.
“Nancy.” The voice came again. She felt a touch upon her shoulder, something cold and foreign.
Her eyes opened to find Byron standing over her with a dopey expression on his face.
“You were dreaming,” he said.
“What time is it?” She wished he would have let her continue to sleep. Every morning it was the same—they woke up early and got dressed before dodging a sea of reporters on their way to the courthouse. Afternoons were filled with dry testimony, facts and figures she didn’t want to understand. By the time they finally made it home in the evenings, she was exhausted. It had been weeks since the trial began, but to Nancy it felt like a lifetime.
“Almost eight.” Byron stood before the mirror and fumbled with his tie. “Inez made crêpes for breakfast, blueberries and caramel, and Iryna brought Nora down from the nursery.”
She’d said nothing to the old nanny about what she’d heard in the hallway outside the nursery. She was hardly a sentimental woman. What did it matter if Nora’s first word wasn’t ‘mommy’ or ‘daddy?’ Still, it stirred within her an uneasy feeling she couldn’t name. Was it simply jealousy, or something closer to guilt?
“The car will be here in forty-five minutes. I hung a dress for you on the closet door.”
How sorry her life had become, that her husband, a man totally lacking in style were it not for her meticulous direction, took it upon himself to choose what she might wear. “I’m not going.”
“We’ve been over this, Nancy. Mr. Bennett says it looks better with you there. Juries are more likely to side with a family man. You really should bring Nora.”
Nancy imagined the press shoving their cameras in her daughter’s face. She might not love Nora the same way other mothers loved their daughters, but she wasn’t about to make a spectacle out of her. “I don’t care what Mr. Bennett says.”
“Please, Nancy. I can’t do this alone.”
She said nothing as she rolled out of bed. There wasn’t time to do her makeup, but it didn’t matter. She’d become good at doing it in the car.
Inez and Iryna were waiting in the kitchen. Baby Nora sat in a highchair at the breakfast table, a dab of whip cream hanging from her tiny chin.
Even Nancy, miserable as she was at the prospect of another day in the courtroom, had to admit the baby looked especially cute. Nora giggled a little when she planted a kiss on her soft forehead.
She’d only half-finished her coffee when the driver called to say he’d arrived. “We’ll take the crêpes to go, Inez. I’m afraid my husband is expected to be punctual.”
“Of course, Nancy.” The housekeeper still hesitated when she called her by her first name. Old habits were tough to kick. “Your lunch is still in the fridge—caprese salad—I wanted to keep the tomatoes fresh. Oh, and I packed one of those chocolates you love.”
“What would I do without you?” It was more than a rhetorical question. Two days before, she’d thrown a small fit when Byron suggested cutting another member of the household staff. If only it was a decision between her husband and Inez. She would gladly choose the housekeeper.
Security had been stepped u
p at the courthouse in the wake of the desperate woman’s grab for a court officer’s gun. Nancy feigned a smile as the security staff combed through her personal belongings. Mr. Bennett had cautioned her not to say anything, but in her not-so-humble opinion the extra measures had become too ridiculous to tolerate. She couldn’t help herself when they insisted on picking through the lunch Inez had so carefully packed. “Be careful,” she said. “There’s a bomb wedged in between the tomatoes.”
The joke did not go over well. A particularly large and sour-faced officer pulled her out of line for a secondary search, along with a stiff admonition from the security supervisor. By the time they’d finished, she was one of the last to arrive at the courtroom, and had to settle for a place between a reporter she recognized from the daily feeding frenzies outside her home, and a woman whose three snot-nosed kids wouldn’t stop staring at her.
She’d grown surprisingly accustomed to the gawking of strangers, and gave them little thought as the hours dragged on. Her only real grievance, besides the unending boredom, was the wooden bench. It was some sick form of torture, she thought, to make people sit on hard slabs of wood for eight hours.
It was only after lunch, when she’d eaten the caprese salad and chocolate alone at a small table in the courthouse cafeteria, that something finally caught her attention.
“Your Honor,” said the prosecutor, “the people would like to present additional evidence in this case.”
Additional evidence? She wondered what else they might have found to use against her husband.
Mr. Bennett was quick to raise a hand. “Objection, Your Honor. The defense was not informed of any new evidence.”
The prosecutor ignored him and continued. “Your Honor, the investigators seized a shredder from the defendant’s residence. They’ve only just finished piecing the documents together this morning. We’re prepared to furnish copies to the defense, as required when submitting any new evidence in a criminal proceeding.”
Nancy’s stomach turned. She remembered what Byron had said, that if they discovered the contents of those documents, his fate was as good as sealed.
The judge called the attorneys for the prosecution and defense to the bench. There were several minutes of hushed discussion before he finally ruled. “Very well. The court will admit the new evidence. These proceedings are adjourned until Monday in order to allow the defense an adequate period for review.”
The prosecutor’s thin, hollowed-out face stretched into a grin.
“It’s bullshit,” the lawyer said on the ride back to the Hardaway’s home. “They’ve had those documents all along, waiting until just the right moment. How could the judge fall for such an obvious farce?”
Nancy struggled to understand. “Can they do that?”
“I’m afraid they just did.”
Her husband had been silent for much of the car ride home. She’d almost forgotten about him—her attention focused on the lawyer—when she felt his hand on her knee.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry for everything.”
They dropped her off at the front door. She watched from a curtained window as the black sedan sped away in the direction of Mr. Bennett’s downtown office. Byron had gone with the lawyer. At least she wouldn’t have to spend another afternoon in that dreadful courtroom.
Inez and the old nanny were helping themselves to hot tea in the kitchen. “You’re home early,” said the housekeeper. “Is everything okay?”
Okay was a relative term, she thought, as she joined them at the table. The new evidence was concerning, but she was sure the lawyer would work something out. The very real possibility of her husband going to prison was something she tried her best not to consider.
“You look exhausted,” said the nanny. “Have some tea. It’s chamomile, quite soothing for the nerves.”
“Does it show?” She raised her slender fingers to her face and felt for wrinkles. “It’s just this trial—Byron has me up early every morning.”
“Don’t fret, dear. I’m quite certain your youthful vigor will return just as soon as this is behind you. Have you been sleeping well?”
She was reminded of her dream. It wasn’t the first time the shadowy stranger had visited her in the night. Perhaps it was nothing more than unfulfilled sexual urges. Byron wasn’t much use in bed in the months since he’d returned home from jail. Still, she wasn’t about to discuss her sex life, or lack thereof, with the two women seated at the table. “Oh, I’ve been sleeping well enough.”
“Wonderful,” said the old woman as she poured herself another cup of tea. ‘There’s nothing more unsettling to one’s constitution than a bad night’s sleep.”
Nancy wondered if there was something more to the nanny’s questions. Iryna had made no complaints in her time with the Hardaways, and as far as Nancy could tell, was free of the terrible nightmares which had inflicted the others. If the old woman had indeed suffered the same fate, there were no screams in the night to serve as evidence. Still, she was curious as to why Iryna was so resilient. “Forgive my terrible manners,” she said. “I’ve been so preoccupied with the trial, I forgot to ask if your room is adequate.”
“No apology required, Mrs. Hardaway. Everything is quite adequate, and Inez has done a splendid job helping me get settled.”
“Yes, I’m afraid nothing would ever get done around here if it wasn’t for Inez’s efforts. Is the mattress okay? We should have replaced it ages ago.”
Iryna dropped a spoonful of sugar in her tea and stirred. “No need to trouble yourself. I’m from a long line of rugged stock—I could sleep soundly on a pile of rocks. But if you mean to ask whether I’ve been having the same nightmares as your previous nannies, I can assure you I have not.”
“How do you know about the other nannies?” Nancy shot a quick glance to Inez. Perhaps the housekeeper had made mention of it. Though the two women had hardly become friends, they had made a regular habit of taking tea together.
Iryna smiled. “Boston may seem like quite a large city to the casual observer, though you know as well as anyone it functions more like a small town. In fact, it was the untimely death of your first nanny, and the rumors which circulated not long after, that led me to your door. A good nanny always has her ear to the ground.”
Nancy blushed. “I should have said something that night when you came around.”
“It’s quite alright, dear. I’ve no belief in creatures that go bump in the night. And as for that poor young girl, I’m sure it was nothing more than an undiagnosed medical condition. I only wish it hadn’t happened so near the baby. Now why don’t you have a nice, hot bath? I’ll head upstairs and draw the water while you finish your tea.”
When they could hear the water running upstairs, Inez leaned in close. “I still don’t trust her, Nancy.”
“Oh? I thought you two were getting along nicely.”
“I’m watching her,” said the housekeeper. “I won’t let anything happen to you or the baby.”
Inez had always been cautious. Sometimes a little too cautious. But Nancy was touched by the woman’s unending devotion. “Wouldn’t you agree things have been more settled with Nora since Iryna arrived?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “I have no doubt. It’s just that something about her doesn’t sit right.”
“Could you be more specific?” Nancy trusted Inez, perhaps more than she trusted anyone, and was curious about what she might have to say.
“Well, on Mondays some of the local housekeepers meet to do our grocery shopping together. It’s kind of a little club we put together—a girl’s day out.”
She found it rather amusing, the idea of so many fussy housekeepers all shopping together in one place. She could only imagine the juicy gossip that traded lips as the women picked and squeezed fresh produce. “What does that have to do with the nanny?”
“Forgive me, Nancy. I know it’s not appropriate to involve myself in your business, but I asked some of the other housekeepers what they k
now about Iryna.”
“And?”
“That’s the strange thing. None of them had ever heard of her before. Believe me when I tell you these women know practically everything.”
Nancy couldn’t help but agree. If you wanted to know what happened behind closed doors in Boston, you need only ask the housekeepers. But whatever doubts she had about the nanny were far outweighed by the woman’s tender and able care for Nora. She wasn’t about to lose the help, especially not while Byron’s trial occupied every minute of her day. “Couldn’t it be possible she worked on the other side of town? I’m sure there are quite a lot of nannies over in Cambridge.”
“What did it say on her résumé?” The housekeeper suddenly look very embarrassed, as if she’d overstepped her bounds by asking the question.
“I don’t recall,” said Nancy. “Byron usually looks into those things.”
“I see.”
The sound of water running in the upstairs bathroom disappeared. Nancy finished the last of her tea. “Please excuse me, Inez. I’m so terribly exhausted and a hot bath is just what I need.”
“Of course. You’re under so much stress, and the last thing I want to do is add more. I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t think it was worth saying.”
“It’s quite alright, Inez.” She placed a hand on the housekeeper’s arm. “Your concern for Nora is touching. I’ll be sure to ask Byron about Iryna’s work history just as soon as he returns home. I’m sure it’s nothing more than a misunderstanding.”
She thought about what Inez had said as she climbed the stairs and slipped into her robe. She had no intention of speaking with her husband. It was he who had tasked her with checking the nanny’s references. Inez was only being paranoid. The Greater Boston area was home to some five million people, and while the housekeepers of Beacon Hill were certainly well informed, they could hardly track the activities of an entire city.
Nevertheless, as she slid into the hot bath—Iryna had scented the water with lavender and placed a lit candle on a shelf beside the tub—she couldn’t shake a nagging feeling of doubt. It was as if Inez’s suspicions, as overblown as they might be, had infected her mind like a virus. As she sunk deeper into the water, she knew there was only one thing she could do to put her mind at ease.
