Mooncusser Cove

by Darragha Foster

  "Do you know what he wants?” Jerrod asked.

  "Power, of course. Control. Probably to be worshipped. Whatever was in him before the curse is magnified by it. I've always been content to stay in the background. There were other kin who went into town on a nightly basis and caused trouble. They thrived on confrontation. Jin has taken after that side of the family. It's hard to guess what it is he wants. If he's a powermonger, nothing will appease him. He'll always be hungry. The curse I passed to him will drive him to unspeakable acts."

  "Kill him,” Jerrod said flatly.

  "He's a Shadow Lover, Jerrod. We don't kill our own. It makes us terribly ill—almost like a wasting disease. Too, we can't be killed easily. Starvation. Fire. A wood chipper—something that will completely destroy our body so that our soul can't return to it. One woman in my youth filled her pockets with stones and tied an even greater one around her waist. She walked out as far as she could into the surf and dropped the boulder to anchor her body. Drowning would certainly render her unconscious, but she'd just come back again—so the rock would hold her in place until she starved or was devoured by crabs. Gruesome way to die."

  "No one did anything to help her?” Jerrod asked.

  "It was her choice to die. Just like it's my choice to live. I am the last Mooncusser. This is my land. No evil spawn of mine is going to take it away from me.” Vesper opened the hatch and stepped down. “I want to make something good with you, Jerrod. Something strong. Don't forget that—no matter what happens."

  "I'm not going anywhere, Vesper. Go do what you need to do—I'll do what I can to turn the tide. But remember, that no matter what happens, you'll always be a Mooncusser. Even if you're living in the Midwest on a soybean farm."

  "A pirate vampire who farms soybeans? I don't think so. Better I find a way to stay here.” Vesper scampered down the iron staircase. Jerrod heard the cheery red door slam shut behind her.

  His cell phone beeped. He looked at the back-lit screen and rolled his eyes. It was a text from his team of attorneys. Checking up on him. Creating a billable hour. He smiled. I'll give them something with which they can earn their keep. He quickly replied with a text message asking for the firm's research department to do a little digging for him. There couldn't be that many women in the United States with the names Lauds, Terce, Sext, Nonne, Matins and Vigil. If Vesper was going to be driven out of town by an angry mob, maybe he'd have somewhere to take her.

  He glanced out the window. The slow-moving caravan of angry villagers continued their approach. “So freaking stupid! This is like some bad B movie. Why don't they just drive the speed limit? Why the funeral procession pace? I could write better than this!” Jerrod chastised himself for not taking the matter seriously. Sure, he was stuck in the middle of a remake of Frankenstein meets the Pirate Vampire, but to Vesper—and obviously to the townies—this was a serious matter. And he was a part of it. A key player. The hero, God help him. The Paladin hero. Paladins often had to save the kin from themselves. Perhaps that's what needed to happen here. Maybe it was time for Vesper to move on. Whether she wanted to, or not.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jin nearly bit through his lip as the procession crawled to the cove. He had to go at their pace, and they wanted it slow and deliberate, giving them all time to digest their outrage. Maria's body had been placed in a pink, silk-lined coffin, and she'd been prettied up by the mortician. She looked like she was sleeping. He was their poster child. She was their cry-to-arms.

  Jin dropped his head and took some short, deep breaths. Too slow! It was intolerable, but he held his tongue. He'd stimulated the infection in the townies, and he had to let the Vesper virus work its course in them. But why, why did it all have to be so dramatic and so damned slow?

  He was riding on the hay wagon behind Pennywise's big, stinking horses. He hated those horses. They were mean. Mean buggers with penises the size of torpedoes and dumps the size of a Honda Civic. He hated horses. Maria's casket was in the back, flanked by eight of Marshes Coombs’ finest. The sheriff. His two deputies. The mayor. The councilmen. Bigger horses’ asses than what was before him.

  Behind that came the first Chevy longbed with the centuries-old torture devices. It had taken a dozen men to move the plank and the stones. The stones which had tasted blood—four hundred years prior. Jin wondered if they were excited to be this close to tasting blood again. To be hewn from solid rock, stripped away from the earth for the sole purpose of extracting information by torture might just leave an aura of darkness on the stone blocks. Had they been chiseled out to make a home or sidewalk or dyke, well—their whole spiritual make-up might be different. But no—these stones had been cut for one purpose only. To weigh down the four-inch-thick, five-foot-wide solid chestnut wood plank as it crushed the lies from a witch. Or a Mooncusser.

  He could smell her perfume on the breeze. Whatever animal-thing he'd become, she was a big part of it. Maria had understood. Too bad Maria had been so fragile. So freakin’ docile. Even as he screwed her and drained her blood simultaneously, she hadn't cried out except to beg for more. It annoyed him that Maria hadn't really wanted him. She wanted that part of him that carried Vesper's scent. He'd given it to her.

  He'd felt remorse for maybe twenty minutes. Long enough to slice open the veins of his arms. Then he realized he couldn't die. That he was too strong to die. Full of Vesper, full of Maria. Full and festering.

  That's when he'd tried to make his way to the cove. He hadn't gotten very far. Blood loss made him feel weak, sure ... but it was the gut ache that really slowed him down. He'd eaten too much. Plop-plop, fizz-fizz. He had terminal indigestion. And no one had a clue.

  The townies were primed and ready for this event. When old Abidjan found him, Jin smelled Vesper on him. She had been gleaning off the poor beggars for years, and her sultry residue had left a layer of filmy dust behind that he could easily detect.

  One look into the sheriff's eyes and he knew he could control the town. Rally them to a common cause.

  He'd turned into a creature just like her—only stronger, more twisted and not at all inclined to stay in the background. He needed to take her place in history, myth and legend.

  * * * *

  Jerrod wasn't sure if he should retrieve Vesper's shotgun and stand deadcenter of the road to block the caravan or simply walk up to the sheriff, extend his hand and make small talk. He'd never stopped an angry mob hell-bent on destruction before. Was there etiquette for such matters? What would the first Paladin have done? What would the last Paladin—his father—have done?

  Was this to be a massacre of epic proportions? His? Or theirs? Jerrod didn't want to kill anyone. He just wanted them to go away. Leave Vesper alone. As far as vampires went, she wasn't too bad.

  About thirty paces off Vesper's property line, the driver gave the horses the command to stop. Jin slid off the wagon and sidled up to Jerrod. It was after dark, but the torches, flashlights and lanterns lit up the sky. The will-o'-the-wisps danced along the road, seemingly fighting for a ringside seat.

  "Jin,” Jerrod said. He extended his hand.

  Jin clasped hands with Jerrod. “I don't recall your name."

  "Jerrod."

  "Right. Know why we're here?” Jin asked.

  "Enlighten me,” Jerrod replied.

  "You don't have her in you,” Jin said, tightening his grip on Jerrod's hand.

  "I'm immune. But trust me, she's had me in her a time or two."

  Jin chuckled. “I'll bet. How is it that you are immune?"

  "I come from a long line of men sworn to protect the Mooncusser clan. They value us. They respect us. We're not cattle to them."

  Jin glanced back at the mesmerized townies. “They're sheep, not cattle. I control them, too. Vesper made me a bull in the cow pasture, Jerrod. I'm running the herd now."

  "Who's in the coffin? Or is it empty?” Jerrod asked.

  "Another one of Vesper's victims,” Jin replied.

  Jerrod pulled his hand away. �
�Vesper doesn't kill. Or at least she hasn't for a very long time."

  "I finished what she started. I'm like her."

  "You are nothing like her,” Jerrod said flatly. “Nothing."

  "If I let you live are you going to swear allegiance to me and protect me, too?” Jin asked.

  "I wasn't planning on dying tonight, Jin."

  Jin leaned in. “They want her blood. They want to punish her for whoring the town for the last few centuries. She's screwed them all and infected them with some kind of hellish STD. And I'm going to give her to them."

  "You speak as though you have some control over Vesper,” Jerrod replied.

  "I do."

  Jerrod laughed. “And what would that be?"

  Before Jerrod could react Jin took him down. He held Jerrod's arm behind his back, twisting it. “I have you."

  Jerrod felt a flush of remorse capture him as cleanly as Jin just had. This was not a manly thing to have happen to him. He was supposed to be protecting her. How embarrassing.

  Jin looked up at the sheriff, who was twitching in the glow of the torch he carried like a small child needing a potty break. “Tie him up,” he commanded. The deputies jumped off the wagon and handcuffed Jerrod.

  "Leave him alone, Jin."

  Jerrod looked up and had the breath knocked right out of him. “Vesper. Oh, my God..."

  "It's her. It's the Lady of the Beach. The legend, walking,” the sheriff whispered.

  Vesper stepped off the back porch of the mansion as if she were walking on air. Wearing gossamer, cream-colored, form-fitting lace she was a vision of radiant beauty.

  "Let him go,” she repeated. A shawl cast about her throat trailed behind her like wings.

  Jin's eyes widened. “No."

  "What do you want, Jin?” Vesper asked.

  "The truth,” Jin replied. The mesmerized townies nodded and repeated like a choir, “The truth ... the truth..."

  "This is ridiculous! Jin! You're acting like Dick Dastardly from ‘Toon Town’ being followed around by brainwashed hysterics from The Mummy chanting Imhotep ... Imhotep...” Jerrod began. “Un-handcuff me and go home!"

  "I assure you, this is no cartoon, nor is it a movie, though I do see the humor in your analogy. Let me quote another movie, Jerrod. You'd better get used to ghost stories ... because you're in one."

  Vesper spoke up, speaking clearly enough so that even those in the back of the caravan could hear her. “This is not a ghost story, Jin. It's closer to Frankenstein, if you must use a media tie-in. Jerrod knows the name of this tale, don't you?"

  Jerrod nodded. “Mooncussers: American Vampires."

  The word swept through the parade of fools. Vampire...

  "What do you want, Jin? You should know better than to invite townies to step out of the fog,” Vesper continued. “Sixty years into your rein of terror, they'll come after you, too."

  Jin laughed, musing to himself; trying to formulate a response that wouldn't make him appear weak before his maker. What do I want? Do I know what I want? “I want..."

  "You're confused and dealing with powers you know nothing about,” Vesper replied.

  Jerrod nodded toward the casket. “He killed Maria."

  "No,” Vesper said. “Jin ... you couldn't have..."

  "I did. You made me. You forced me.” Jin began to sob. He raised his voice. “You wanted her blood! Virgin's blood for your devil worship!” Jin whispered toward Vesper, just loud enough for her to hear. “Take it from me. Take her blood from me. I want to share it with you as it mixes and courses through me. We belong together, Vesper. The three of us."

  The sheriff stepped forward. “Release Jin Park of whatever black magic spell you have on him, or we'll torch your place and force you into submission."

  Jin dropped to his knees. “Please, take the shadow away from me. Please."

  Vesper knelt. “I cannot."

  Jin looked into Vesper's eyes. His eyes were yellow, like a full moon—her greatest foe. “Stone her,” he sobbed.

  Jerrod kicked and pulled against the restraints as Jin's plea raced through the townsfolk. Four strong men unloaded the witches’ press, their faces stoic and chests puffed out like proud roosters. As if this was their finest hour—their part in ridding the world of great evil.

  Vesper raised her arms like Moses before the Red Sea.

  "Don't you use your devil magic witchy ways to stop us now. You save your energy to conjure up the spell to release Jin from his living hell,” Abidjan said. “Grab her, boys."

  The deputies manhandled Vesper to the ground. Knee to the small of her back, another on her neck, and her arms pulled out behind her.

  "Lay down the first plank!” the sheriff ordered.

  Vesper quit struggling. She went completely limp, passive.

  "Place her atop the plank and secure her with the straps,” Abidjan continued.

  "Oh, do be careful,” Mr. Mondragon interjected. “Those straps are original to the piece."

  Abidjan pushed the curator aside. “Press the board against her white breast that we may extract the truth in a breath from her lungs."

  The thicker plank was placed atop Vesper.

  "No! Stop!” Jerrod screamed. “You're hurting her!"

  "Vesper Highgate-Adaire, will you remove the spell upon the town and this boy?"

  Vesper coughed. “I cannot."

  "Who shall place the first stone?"

  Mr. Argyle laughed. “I'm the eldest. I've been drowning in her honey the longest. I haven't the strength to lift a stone, however. So let someone place it for me, but let it be my stone."

  Abidjan nodded to one of his deputies, who lifted a stone out of the bed of a truck.

  About the size of a man's head, but squared off, the deputy struggled to carry it to the press.

  Argyle laughed. “Not you, fool! I want him to place my stone.” He pointed at Jerrod.

  "I will do no such thing,” Jerrod replied.

  Galen Abidjan stroked the stubble on his chin. “Thought it might add to the evenin', seeing as you're obviously the lady's current lover, but you go on there, deputy—put it where you will."

  The sheriff held out his hand to stay the placing of the rock. “Vesper, will you remove the spells?"

  Again Vesper replied, “I cannot."

  The deputy lowered the stone onto the plank. Vesper struggled under the weight.

  "It's not a spell!” Jerrod yelled. “It's a curse! It's her family curse, and she never meant to hurt anyone!"

  "But she did hurt us. She raped us. She drained us. She used us. And she blinded us to her crimes,” Jin said. “Give me a stone."

  "Get it yourself, Jin. Each must place his own. That's the way it's always been,” Abidjan replied.

  Jin rose, squared his shoulders and walked to the truck. He picked the largest of the stones, carrying it on his shoulder. He grunted and strained under the weight. Though the distance from flatbed to Vesper wasn't far, quiet bets were taken on whether he could make it without dropping the stone on his own feet.

  Jin grimaced as he raised the stone above his head. “This one is for Maria."

  The sheriff again questioned Vesper. “Vesper! Will you remove the spell or lift the blight of your family curse on the town?"

  Jin dropped his rock hard onto the plank. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don't bother replying. You cannot, right?” The plank bucked under the sudden weight and shifted, hitting Vesper in the nose.

  A trickle of blood meandered down Vesper's cheek. Jin reached down and wiped it away. “First blood!” He turned away from the crowd and licked his fingertip. He then whispered just loud enough for Vesper alone to hear. “Sweet."

  Vesper choked out a reply, “Does your stomach hurt, Jin?” She exhaled, barely able to catch a breath under the some three hundred pounds now resting atop her. “Do you have a gut ache that won't quit?"

  "Why?” Jin asked, glaring at Vesper with the eyes of a starving dog.

  "You killed Maria.” Vesper paused to spi
t blood from between her lips. “We don't kill our own. It's bad blood. Literally."

  "What do you mean?"

  "We can't feed off our own. We don't kill our own. We don't breed with our own. Has the vomiting started yet? The diarrhea?” Vesper had him. She could tell by the strained look in his eyes. The hunger had turned to fear.

  Jin dropped to the ground, his mouth going to Vesper's ear. “Fix me,” he commanded.

  "Not a damned thing I can do for you except tell you where the toilet is. Through the back door of the mansion take an immediate left. Small half-bath. Lots of toilet paper.” Vesper coughed. The weight had been tolerable, but her resolve was weakening. She was growing weary of supporting the witches’ press and blocks.

  Jin growled and stood. “I'm going inside for a moment. She's not going to say a damned thing. We might as well cut out her tongue and nail it to a telephone pole."

  The gathering hung back in the flickering light of their cell phones, torches and flashlights, their eyes no longer on Jin.

  Their eyes were drawn to the flatbed bearing the coffin. Like a tender shoot pushing its way through the soil, a pale, slender arm rose from the casket.

  Jin couldn't wait. If he didn't get inside immediately, he would embarrass himself to no end by crapping his drawers right then and there. He tightened his sphincter and ran to the truck to peer into the coffin. “Maria?"

  Her eyes fluttered open. Black eyes. Hollow eyes. The light was on, but no one was at home eyes.

  He turned his head and vomited, starting a chain reaction expulsion of bodily fluids. He lost his bowels. His nose began to bleed, and he could barely catch his breath for the heaving of his gut.

  Maria sat upright and turned her head slowly. She held out her hand, beckoning a dancing ball of swamp gas to light her palm.

  The distinctive sound of rifles being cocked rang through the air.

  Holding his stomach, Jin crawled to the mansion. He was no longer the focal point for the mob. As some of them dropped to their knees before the truck, it was clear that Maria was taking center stage.