A heart attack waiting to happen.
The owner puttered around the dining room and tried to talk to Val, her movements birdlike and a little brittle. But she was a fountain of information and willing to talk. If Val was being polite she'd say the woman had a gift for gab. Really, Val was sure the woman wouldn't be able to shut up if her life depended upon it.
Before Valerie could decide where to start her questions, Mrs. Jenkins took the helm. “And what brings you to North Walsingham, my dear?”
“Oh, I'm a history student and I'm writing a dissertation on the occult. There are quite a few supernatural tales associated with this area of England.” Val said, hoping her story didn't sound too rehearsed. It was almost true.
Mrs. Jenkins was middle aged and clearly believed that a scone a day was part of a healthy diet. Her gray eyebrows rose heavenward when Valerie explained her purpose. She had a very soft voice and a melodious accent that made Valerie feel like she could be in the middle of a murder mystery on PBS.
“Yes. Indeed we do. One could spend several days in North Walshingham alone. It's a very superstitious town.”
“Really? Is it still superstitious?”
The woman tilted her head, perplexed. “Well it depends upon what you mean by superstitious.” She paused dramatically while she stirred her tea and added more sugar, nodding sagely when it was just right, “Right there on the fireplace, do you see the flowers? It's an offering to the little ones. You mustn't ask for specifics about which little ones, as it's very bad luck to speak of them and gain their attention. But, every week I put up new flowers.”
This was better than Valerie had hoped. “Are the... little ones friendly?”
“Heavens no! One can only try to placate them and hope they make mischief elsewhere.”
“Did they live around here?”
“You wouldn't go looking for them, would you?” There was real concern in Mrs. Jenkins voice. The woman leaned forward, looking at Val's face as though to see the truth more clearly.
“No. Oh, no. I was just wondering if I should avoid any places in town.”
The woman seemed mildly appeased, slumping back in her chair.
“They are gone now, though?” Val asked.
Mrs. Jenkins shot her a canny glance and Val decided a bit of sympathy might go a long way to getting more information from the woman.
“Actually, Mrs. Jenkins, I have to confess that I also put flowers up every week. I just buy them from Tesco down the road- nothing fancy- but I have studied so much and heard so many strange and true stories that I would almost be afraid not to!” Valerie laughed nervously.
There was a lengthy pause and Val heard a clock ticking somewhere nearby.
“My husband, bless his soul, he wasn't a believer. Thought it was all hogwash. So I went away, for eight days, to see my sister and when I came back, the flowers were gone and poor Harold was dead on the floor. A heart attack.” Mrs. Jenkins patted her sweater absently as though looking for a tissue. “I should have come back a day earlier. Seven days, you see.”
“Yes. I see.” Valerie felt cold and uncomfortably clammy. She hadn't disbelieved Lucas when he'd told her about the Fey, but she supposed she hadn't really expected to find anything either.
It was possible Mrs. Jenkins was wrong, or a kook, but Val feared there was at least some truth to her story. Mrs. Jenkins found the tissue and blew her nose noisily.
“Would they have been so cruel? After only a day's lapse?”
“Oh yes. Our little one is very vengeful. I suppose they all are though. But most of them are long gone.”
“Why do you think they are gone? Why would this one still be here then?”
“Every village and town has its history and gossip and so does ours. We all know what used to be here and we know when they left.
“But why do you think there is one little creature left behind?”
Local legend says that there is a little goblin who roams the woods crying, sad that he had been forgotten. I’m not saying it’s true…but most legends have some basis in history.”
Val smiled weakly. “So why do you think he’s still here if the others are gone?
“If I had to guess I would say he got lost when the others left. Or he could have been abandoned. It's even possible that he was too tied to the land to leave. I don't know.”
“When would it have been abandoned?”
“Well, people will say different things, but I suspect it was 1587.”
“That's very precise,” Val said, surprised.
“1587 is a pivotal year in our town's history. The town was divided, half of them leaving for America and half of them staying.”
“You think the Fey went to the New World?”
Mrs. Jenkins got a sour expression on her face. “I didn't say Fey,” She said defensively.
Valerie took a bite of her scone and chewed slowly. “I thought the little ones were the Fey?”
Mrs. Jenkins shrugged and looked like she was getting ready to excuse herself, smoothing her tweed skirt and dusting crumbs off her lap.
“Why leave any behind?” Val asked quickly.
“I couldn't say. I don't know if they did it on purpose or not. Just like them leaving: It could have been they went to America, or they could have gone somewhere else entirely. But after they left, our town became more in step with the rest of the country, less backwards.”
Mrs. Jenkins said 'backwards' oddly and Valerie couldn't decide if Mrs. Jenkins was angry that the old ways had been abandoned, relieved or maybe even frightened. Her tone had been weary, her faded brown eyes roaming the room restlessly.
“I don't think we should talk about it any longer, just to be cautious, but if you are still interested, you should go to the town museum at the end of the road.”
Valerie finished her tea and a second scone (with an even larger helping of clotted cream and strawberry jam) then took her leave to find the museum. Stepping out the door, Val was doused in a drizzle, which she despised. A drizzle had all the wetness of rain but was more insidious, like a rain sneak attack.
The museum was open but no one was there. Valerie made the requested two pound donation and looked around, captivated by the history of the area.
In 1587, almost half the village left for the New World, going to Roanoke, South Carolina. The name was familiar, but she wasn't sure why. She found an explanation on the other side of the room.
Roanoke was 'The Lost Colony'.
115 men, woman and children had vanished, never to be seen again.
The first English child born on American soil had been Virginia Dare, born just a few months after the colonists arrived.
When a ship had come from England bringing supplies, they found the colony abandoned. No sign of attack or illness—just vanished.
The fate of Virginia Dare captured people’s imaginations, leading to stories that she’d survived and been adopted into an Indian tribe.
There was something so sad about all those people missing. Thinking they’d made a choice for a new life only to vanish.
On her way back to the bed and breakfast she saw Dare Lane and decided to take a detour. The little lane ended in front of a Tudor style home that had a wolf carved into the lintel above the front door. Had the Dare’s been werewolves?
Was that why it was carved there? The house was empty and owned by the town, used only for meetings which made it impossible for her to go in and look around.
The rain picked up and Valerie hurried back to her room searching the internet for more information about the Lost Colony. She also wanted to reread the information Lucas had given her.
The colonists had vanished, leaving behind three letters carved into a tree: CRO.
She found the file Lucas had given her and read through it again. There was nothing in the wolf reports for CRO but in the index she found a single mention bunadh na cro which was Celtic and translated to Host of the Hills, another name for The Fey.
Assuming ever
ything Lucas had told her was true, then the villagers who had left had been werewolves, fleeing England to escape persecution. They had landed in Roanoke only to disappear three years later.
Was that why CRO had been carved into the tree? To tell people they’d been abducted by the Fey?
Back in her room she checked the time table for trains and discovered that if she hurried, she could make the last one out and sleep in her own bed. She packed quickly and left, calling Lucas on her cellphone as she drove back to Norwich. What would his voice sound like on the phone, she wondered and felt a little breathless at the thought.
The call went straight to voicemail with no message or greeting. Considering how terse Lucas usually was, it shouldn't have been a surprise. She left a message saying she had found something and would be home late tonight.
It was 10:30 p.m. by the time she got home. She went into the kitchen and was startled to see a huge bouquet of flowers sitting on the counter. There were hydrangeas and roses, tulips and some others she couldn't name. There was also a bottle of wine sitting next to it with two glasses. She found a note. It didn't say anything, just an incredibly luxurious L written boldly on the page.
Val dropped the note like it had thorns, and wiped her suddenly sweaty palms on her jeans. Geez, she was in trouble. The Vampire King was sending her flowers and setting her up in an apartment. As a bonus, if she didn't do what he wanted, he might kill everyone she loved or at least let it happen.
And yet her heart was pounding and she was wondering if she should put on some lipstick. She was drawn to him. No, it was worse than that. When Lucas was near her, she almost craved him. It was sick and weird.
The moment Lucas was gone, sanity returned and she could see the danger she was in, how close her death might actually be, and then she was afraid. But when he was with her, the fear was almost gone. She had to remind herself to be afraid of him since all she wanted was to touch him.
She heard a knock on the door, surprised at how quickly he was responding to her call. If she was this closely monitored she should be worried. Opening the door, expecting to see Lucas, she was surprised to find Jack instead.
Her heart gave an extra beat as she looked at him. He leaned against the door frame in a pose of total confidence and boredom. Jack straightened, giving her a huge smile before grabbing her in a hug.
She had the urge to tell him everything. Confide in him and have him fix her problems like he used to. But he couldn’t fix this. She took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of him, the feeling of being squeezed tight and then he let her go.
His gray eyes were dark, his skin pale as though he was tired from days of too little sleep. His dark brown hair was too long, the ends curling against the back of his olive colored cashmere turtleneck. She stood back and swept her arm wide, inviting him in. Giving her a small nod, he walked into her apartment, looking around him with curiosity.
“This is nice. Makes much more sense, who wants to live in a dorm?”
“Thanks.” She wondered if he’d ask anything else. Like he’d suddenly turn around and shout twenty questions at her until she started blabbing about Lucas.
She'd left college and sent him an email telling him she didn't like the dorm and had decided to use some of the money her mom left her to move out. As far as he knew, she was still in school.
Shit the flowers!
Jack was already in the kitchen, the paper in his hand. “Who is L and why has he left you a very expensive bottle of wine?”
“Hello,” she said sarcastically, “and how nice it is to see you too! What business is it of yours?” Carefully, he set the piece of paper down on the counter then walked out of the kitchen.
“Why do you even know how expensive the wine is?” Was he a big wine connoisseur?
He went to her sofa and sat down on the crème leather, slouched down and put his arms on the back of it possessively. Stick a beer in his hand, turn on the game, and he might never leave, she thought.
Jack looked at her again and straightened. Why was he so fidgety? “It's Italian. The vineyard was near my home. The owner threw a party once a year when the grapes were in. It ain't cheap.”
The coincidence was scary. How likely was it that the one winery Lucas had chosen was coincidentally next to where Jack grew up? She felt sick to her stomach knowing that it wasn't chance. Did Lucas also know that Jack would see the bottle of wine? Was that why he'd left it and brought the flowers? To piss off Jack and tell her that he knew Jack's movements and what he was up to? She wouldn't be surprised if this was all some elaborate game of Lucas'. He'd told her he'd spent the last 1600 years scheming. She hoped she was being paranoid.
“What's going on Jack?” Val asked, needing to focus on one thing at a time.
“I’m worried about you. I came to bring you some weapons. Make sure you were okay here.”
“Why?” Her anxiety cranked up another notch and she felt like she'd had six cups of coffee; wired and nauseous.
“There are too many vampires in town. It's weird. I've never heard of so many being in one place at one time since Italy.” His eyes met hers quickly and studied her.
“Why do you think they are here?” she asked.
“That's what I wanted to ask you.”
Her heart pounded. Did he know about Lucas? What would he do if he did? Oh right, he'd get his death wish fulfilled.
“You've been sniffing around for a couple of months and now a whole cadre of vampires turns up in your city. Maybe you were not careful enough.”
The jerk! Why did he assume it was her fault? He was the one who went around killing vampires and he thought she was responsible? Val wanted to tell him that there was no way it was her fault. All the information she'd given them over the last few months had come straight from Lucas. Her sole job was to fact check it and then send it on to Jack.
Lucas was still holding back information on Marion and had given her nothing more since that meeting in the cafe. Jack had nothing to go on. He'd gone straight to Geneva after leaving Val in Hampstead, determined to find Marion and no doubt kill her.
After tracking down where the photo was taken, staking out the major hotels and even hacking into some local computer systems, including the police department, he’d run out of leads.
Now he was getting impatient and Val feared it would make him reckless.
Val slumped down onto the couch next to him.
“I brought you a sawed off shot gun with wood and silver shot, along with 30 bullets.”
She was surprised. “That sounds like a lot.”
“I wanted to get you more but it's taking a while. We've been distributing it to Hunters all over and it's made a big difference. The kill rate has increased while injuries have decreased. So, good work on that front.”
“Yeah, but it's not easy to walk around with a sawed off shotgun and be unobtrusive.”
“It's also illegal to have guns in the UK. Which is why you are taking this too.” He sounded pleased with himself, holding something small and black out to her.
“This is just a taser.” Val said, sounding a little disappointed.
“Oh, ye of little faith. It's more than a taser. It's been specially modified, and interestingly, it will incapacitate a vampire for about thirty seconds.”
This was fantastic. “How did you get this?”
Love is Darkness (A Valerie Dearborn Novel) Page 15
