Society for Paranormals

by Vered Ehsani

  “Whatever the case, we’re going there to engage in civil conversation,” I said. “We’ll try to persuade him to abandon his mission, an unlikely outcome, and more importantly to determine what that mission actually is.”

  Mr. Timmons had made a rough and rude comment about werewolves and their mothers.

  I won’t go far as to state that I distrusted my fiancé’s intentions, but I was concerned and a tad bit alarmed that I knew them all too well. Kam’s intentions, on the other hand (the hand I don’t have), were absolutely mysterious to me. I was therefore perturbed and baffled when Kam appeared that morning to accompany us.

  A distant whistle drew me out of my musings, and I could just make out a smudge on the horizon that marked the train’s location. By the time the train was a distinct shape, the rickety platform was creaking under the weight of numerous traders, merchants and food vendors, all jostling for space and the opportunity to snag the attention of the new arrivals.

  We were the only ones not being crowded about, and for that I thanked Kam. His looming, tattooed presence spoke more of a threat than Mr. Timmons’ glowering looks and hard words.

  With a squeal of metal against metal, and a belch of steam, the battered, soot-smeared train pulled up to the platform. People surged forward but we four remained near Mr. Evans’ office, observing as the train discharged its passengers.

  While the Professor wasn’t as tall or impressive as Kam, he was still a sizable man, and a solid enough physique to be able to push his way easily through the crowd and straight to us. He eyed us with the wariness of a stray dog expecting a kick or foul word.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” Cilla said, eager to break the impolite silence.

  He smiled, his shaggy facial hair unable to cover the ample mouth, or distract from the sizable nose. “Thank you, my dear, thank you indeed,” he said in his booming voice and rubbed his hands together. He paused to allow me the opportunity to introduce my companions. When I refrained from doing so, he continued, “I’ve been anxious, most anxious, to visit here.”

  He turned to me, his countenance jolly even as his eyes held a keenness to them I didn’t remember from our previous encounters. “And Beatrice. How are you, my dear?”

  It wasn’t just my stump with its dress-up hand that ached as I returned his greeting. Could Drew have been mistaken about Prof. Runal’s prior knowledge of the werewolf attack? Surely though my mother couldn’t have been incorrect as well. And Mr. Elkhart and his father…

  I smiled, my cheeks stiff, and curtsied, but kept my hands at my sides.

  “I see,” he said, the volume of his voice lowering. “Is this a welcome party or a jury?”

  “That depends on your business here,” Mr. Timmons said, unconcerned about social protocol.

  Kam stepped closer, as if to support Mr. Timmons. Or was it to attack the Professor? What was his issue with our visitor? Or did he view the Society as another form of colonization?

  I didn’t have to squint my eyes to know that the energies of the men had shifted and were charged with passion and violence. The rumble of thunder only emphasized the potential threat.

  Despite my determination to resist the memories of a fatherly mentor and a friend, I couldn’t tolerate the tension any longer. The contrariety of emotions overwhelmed my resolve. I stepped forward and slightly in front of Kam, as if my physical presence could discourage the Lightning God from lashing out.

  “Prof. Runal,” I said, my voice heavy with emotion, “no harm will come to you, at least not while I’m here. But we are all intrigued as to the purpose of your visit.”

  The old werewolf’s gaze softened, reminding me of how I’d always pictured him, as a gentle giant who’d never steered me wrong, who would never have consented to the crimes he seemed accused of.

  But those crimes happened and he was somehow involved, I thought in order to steel my nerves.

  Before I could resolve these different perceptions of the old werewolf, Prof. Runal placed a hand over his heart and said, “Beatrice, my dear Beatrice, I came here to warn you. Yes, to warn you of a very great danger, a very great danger indeed.”

  Chapter 16

  Mr. Timmons was the first to react. He crossed his arms over his chest, scowled at the Professor and said, “Rubbish.”

  I was impressed that was all he said, but he seemed sincerely determined to follow my request. Or perhaps he thought he could murder the werewolf with his hostile gaze. Either way, he was restraining both his hands and his energy, even though I could feel he wanted to engage both to strangle Prof. Runal.

  “Oh, I assure you, sir, the threat is real, very real,” Prof. Runal said, his tone still jolly despite his words.

  “Why not send a telegraph then?” Mr. Timmons growled.

  “That wouldn’t suffice,” Prof. Runal responded. “I needed to come personally. I have nothing but Beatrice’s best intentions at heart, truly I do.”

  “That’s not what Drew says,” Mr. Timmons said in a deceptively soft voice.

  Mr. Timmons was at his most dangerous when he was quiet.

  “Drew is here then?” Prof. Runal mused, not at all flustered by the implied accusation. “Interesting. I wasn’t sure where the poor boy had run off to. Well, it’s good to know, good to know. Have you by any chance noticed a very short fellow, a dwarf in fact, with a ponytail and goatee?”

  That paused the conversation, long enough for me to notice that the crowds had rapidly dispersed and we had the platform almost entirely to ourselves.

  “You’d made mention a few times about such a person in your correspondence,” I commented.

  “Indeed I did,” the Professor assented. “So have you?”

  “No, I don’t believe we have,” Mr. Timmons answered for us, his voice still cold steel. “What has that to do with anything?”

  “Perhaps nothing, nothing at all,” Prof. Runal said as he also gazed about, sniffing the air.

  I knew the werewolf well enough to know he was concealing something; I also knew he wouldn’t disclose what it was until he was prepared to do so.

  “As your warning is useless, I invite you to board the train and go home in one piece,” Kam spoke for the first time, his rough voice echoed in the rumble of thunder from a cloudless sky. “Or in many pieces, as you wish.”

  Prof. Runal studied the tall African, noting the elaborate skin markings. I was sure he could also see how they shifted about and changed. Would he understand what they meant?

  “A sky spirit of some sort,” the Professor murmured, his attention fixed on one of Kam’s muscular arms. “Most intriguing.”

  Kam peered down at the Professor, studying him in turn and none too pleased with what he found. His markings glowed. “Heed my words well, dog.” With that, he departed.

  “So what about the dwarf?” Cilla asked, as eager for information as she was to ease the strained ambiance.

  Prof. Runal, distracted from his studies, turned to her, his face beaming as if greeting a favorite granddaughter. “If you should see such a fellow around here, you must inform me at once and avoid him at all costs, avoid him completely. He’s a hunter, you see.”

  My eyebrows rose of their own accord. “There are many hunters who pass through Nairobi, Prof. Runal. It’s rapidly becoming a hub for such activity.”

  Prof. Runal rubbed his hands together, as if he could start a fire from the force of friction between his skin. “Oh, he’s a very special sort of hunter, my dear, an unusual sort. For he has an unnatural interest in the supernatural, and means to hunt us for his own foul purpose. He means us ill.”

  Even I was skeptical at that, but it was again Mr. Timmons who spoke for the group: “I’ve heard similar reports about the Society in regard to their purpose.”

  Prof. Runal glanced at him, unconcerned about the implied criticism. “I’m sure you’ve heard a great many things, as I have about you, Mr. Timmons.”

  Mr. Timmons looked as if he would choke on his own breath, for his face darkened;
before he could say or do anything, he turned about and stalked away.

  “What was that about?” Cilla asked before she hurried after her godfather.

  I wondered too, but was intrigued to learn more about the dwarf. “Is the hunter the reason you always use your pendulums? You fear he might be lurking about?”

  The Professor smiled slightly at that. “He’s one of the reasons, my dear.”

  My frown deepened. “It seems a bit far fetched to me: a dangerous dwarf listening in on our conversations and now he’s come to this distant colony to hunt us down? Why have you never mentioned his intentions previously?”

  Prof. Runal stared down at me, as if pondering my inability to grasp the serious nature of the situation. Finally, he remarked not unkindly, “There are many things you are uninformed about, Beatrice, a good many things indeed. I didn’t feel it necessary to instruct you on all matters concerning the Society.”

  “Such as my brother still being alive, and my mother being a witch,” I snapped, hoping he’d be goaded into a confession.

  Instead, the Director of the Society continued as if I hadn’t interrupted him. “As for the dwarf, he’s not to be trifled with, mind you, despite his diminutive stature. Don’t imagine he’s as easy to manage as the other creatures you’ve encountered.”

  I stiffened at that, for I was certain the old dog’s assumption was ill-informed and he didn’t know everything I’d managed as of late.

  Prof. Runal didn’t take notice of my irritation, for he continued as jolly as ever. “Well then, that will be all for now, my dear. It’s been a delight to see you. I’m sure we’ll have further opportunity to discuss all sorts of matters. In particular, I wish to review this misguided notion of your resignation, Beatrice. What an odd idea.”

  “It’s more than an idea,” I said, fuming. “It’s a fact. I’ve resigned.”

  “We shall see about that, my dear, we shall see,” he said with a chuckle. “Shall we be off?”

  “Where to?” I asked sharply.

  Prof. Runal’s eyes opened wide. “Did Mr. Steward not tell you? He was very kind as to offer me a room in his house until I should acquire another venue. Very kind man.”

  My hand clenched as I replied, “No, he neglected to mention that. Then again, we’ve been rather distracted lately with one thing and another.”

  “Indeed, indeed,” the Professor said as he lumbered off the platform. “All this talk of weddings and other disasters. No wonder it slipped his mind.”

  “Indeed,” I repeated.

  Chapter 17

  I left Prof. Runal to find his own way to the house. I fully realized this was quite rude of me, but given the infuriating nature of the conversation and the absence of answers, I was not inclined to linger with him any longer.

  I found Mr. Timmons and Cilla where we’d tied the horses. After escorting me home, they went on their way, and Kam… Well, Kam simply wasn’t there when I looked for him, and I could only wonder what he was planning.

  As Prof. Runal seemed unfazed by the hostility of our first meeting, I worried even more about his presence, particularly as I would have him in the house. And what was that nonsense about a ponytailed dwarf?

  I led Nelly into the barn, fatigued and frustrated. All I wanted was to collapse in my room while avoiding Mrs. Steward (who would certainly fuss some more over my missing hand) and sleep until supper.

  The barn wasn’t empty. Apart from our ox and the other two horses, Drew and Dr. Ribeiro were there, sitting on bundles of hay. Jonas squatted nearby, chewing on a twig while watching the doctor extract a blood sample from my brother.

  Drew nodded at me, and ventured a faint smile, before he lowered his head. Lank, unwashed hair screened his face from me. I marveled that he’d allowed the doctor to touch him, never mind extract a blood sample.

  “What’s this about?” I asked, not overly concerned but passingly curious.

  Dr. Ribeiro’s smile, which was never really absent, widened as he waggled his head from side to side. “Oh, Miss Knight, I am most very satisfied. I’ve very much wanted to study werewolf blood and now I am having a willing subject who is not attempting to bite me. Most generous of your brother, Miss Knight.”

  Drew remained unresponsive, preferring to stare at the ground than involve himself in our conversation, even if it was about him and his unbounded generosity.

  “Lovely,” I said. “Have any of you seen a ponytailed dwarf lingering about the environs?”

  Neither Dr. Ribeiro or Drew as much as twitched an eyebrow at the oddity of my question, but simply responded in the negative.

  “I have noticed a Biloko in the forest,” Jonas mentioned.

  “Is that a dwarf?” I asked.

  Jonas smirked. “Oh yes. Like you people, we have dwarves, but most of ours are terrible creatures that hunt humans.”

  “Charming,” I muttered.

  Jonas eyed me as if I was an imbecile. “Miss Knight, they are diabolical, not charming. They come from the unexplored regions of the rainforests further inland.” He leaned closer, savoring the attention. “The Biloko are restless ancestor spirits who resent the living. They are hideous: hairless, with three long claws on each hand and a mouth full of daggers. They can bewitch you, and they eat all those whom come under their spell.”

  “I’m not easily bewitched,” I informed him.

  “And I am having enough blood now,” Dr. Ribeiro declared.

  Jonas snorted and stood up, scratching at the tight curls covering his scalp, a sure sign he was thinking. He asked, “What is the use of studying his blood?”

  “Oh, I am hoping to learn about resisting disease,” Dr. Ribeiro enthused. “Very much, in fact. I’ve been taking samples in the camp as well.” He frowned, a temporary disruption of his normally cheerful expression. “There is something very funny going on there.”

  His statement was so vague and I was so fatigued that I didn’t bother following up with a question. And after all, there was always something peculiar happening in or around Nairobi. With a nod, I left Nelly with Jonas and entered the house through the kitchen, hoping to avoid Mrs. Steward.

  “Beatrice!” she shrieked as I tiptoed into the living room. She pushed herself off the sofa and rushed to my side. “You poor, poor thing! You should’ve sent word that you were coming home today, for we would’ve sent Jonas to collect you.”

  I waved her belated offer away. “It’s fine, really. I…”

  “Mr. Elkhart informed us of all the sordid details,” she continued, oblivious to my reassurance. “Atrocious business, really. We’d have visited more frequently, but he insisted we allow you to rest and the doctor to work.”

  She grabbed my left elbow, stared at the dress-up hand and clucked her tongue. “Goodness, what a disaster for you, having to use Dr. Cricket’s contraptions. What has Mr. Timmons to say on them?”

  “Nothing at all,” I said. “He acts as if he hasn’t even noticed.”

  “Excellent,” Mrs. Steward said with an approving nod. “Which just goes to show that men really don’t notice such minor details.”

  The minor detail was starting to ache and I wanted nothing more than to remove the hand and collapse into unconsciousness. I said as much and Mrs. Steward conceded to let me go, although clearly she wanted me to sit down and divulge every detail regarding my misadventure so she would have more gossip than Mrs. Patel the storeowner.

  Much of the day passed me by before I was awoken from my slumber by a terrible screeching sound, followed by a curse and the slamming of something heavy against the floor.

  “Now what,” I muttered, not bothering to leave my bed. If no one was dying, I needn’t be concerned. If they were already dead, the body could wait.

  My door opened and closed, and something pattered toward the bed.

  Was it that goateed dwarf? I wondered in a sleepy daze. Before I could resume my snooze, Burr’s furry face appeared by my side. She was chattering and hissing, gesturing to the door.

&
nbsp; Prof. Runal spoke from out in the corridor. “Beatrice, my dear Beatrice, what was that little creature? A tailless monkey? It’s made a right mess of my bags, I must say.”

  I pretended to still be sleeping, which dissuaded any further questioning. I heard the door to Lilly’s old room shut firmly.

  “Goodness, what were you doing in there?” I whispered to Burr as I turned onto my side to face her.

  With a hiss and a click, she waddled away. I heard something being dragged across the floor. I peered over the side of the bed to investigate, and saw Burr pulling a pouch toward me.

  “Oh dear, you naughty little beast,” I said. “I’ll have to return that to him now.”

  As I couldn’t summon the energy to arise just then, I retrieved the pouch and stuffed it under my pillow. Before I could promise myself I’d return it to its owner when I next awoke, Burr prodded at my stump. Satisfied that it no longer pained me too greatly, she began to hum and I was asleep before she finished.

  Chapter 18

  There are three perfectly good reasons to avoid dining with a werewolf: the wet doggy stench certainly isn’t conducive to a healthy appetite; the beasts have no sense regarding appropriate mealtime conversations; and one must contend with their sloppy eating habits. These reasons assume you aren’t the actual meal.

  That morning, I added a fourth: I couldn’t bear the idea of sitting across from the Professor and being required by social convention to converse with him.

  My true motivation in rising early was to avoid any chance of breakfasting with Prof. Runal. It seemed he had a similar but opposite idea, and awoke early with the express purpose of subjecting me to a meal with him.

  “By any chance,” he asked around a mouthful of heavily buttered toast, “have you seen my leather sachet? I do believe I’ve misplaced it.” Crumbs splattered onto the table before him.

  I sipped at my tea, glaring at the bits of bread. “Anything important?”