by Alex Archer
With a brick in his mouth? Annja wondered.
What beliefs would these people have for a murdered child? Could they imagine the boy might return from the dead to attack them?
It was now apparent Annja had stepped into something that had nothing to do with her work at the dig site.
Luke laid a hand on her wrist and he gestured with a tilt of his head that they should step outside. Mamma sat nursing her vodka, her eyes focused on the dark hallway leading into the living area where Santos had disappeared.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Luke offered, and got up to follow Annja out into the moonlit yard.
Along the side of the house stood a tin washbasin with an old-fashioned washboard and wringer, and beside that a wooden stool painted with flowers. Half a dozen bikes in all states of repair were lined along the side of the house where Luke wandered.
He turned to Annja. “We should head back to the site, get in the car and never return.”
Doug sauntered up behind them, hands stuffed in his pockets. “That’s not an option. Don’t you see?” he said. “Someone is using the legend of the mullo to cover something darker and more vile.”
About to protest and suggest they call the authorities, Annja paused to run Doug’s suggestion over in her thoughts. It could indeed be a clever cover-up. But it was also something she didn’t want to involve Doug or Luke in. They’d already been kidnapped. Apparently more than one child had been kidnapped and murdered. Although Tomas had been kidnapped and released, only to die shortly after his return. That was strange.
And Garin had gone off in a helicopter with a cooler that sickened Annja to think of what could have been inside.
“I don’t know.” Luke toed the rusted wheel rim of a bicycle, his heel landing on a red-clay brick.
“It’s what I feel in my gut,” Doug said. “I’m not always right, but this is too weird any other way. But I do want to get away from here and head back to town.”
“Uh, we’ll probably need Santos to show us back through the forest,” Luke pointed out.
“I can navigate,” Annja said. “It was just a few bends and the path was obvious. And I’ve got a flashlight in my hip pack.”
“Great.” Doug turned toward the forest, which was completely black. “Wolves in the area, eh?”
Yes, wolves. But were they real or imagined, Annja couldn’t help but wonder.
* * *
“WHERE’S SANTOS?” DOUG asked as Luke strode by him on his way into the trees.
“He said to follow the path. Gave me a flashlight.” Luke wielded the small mag light near his shoulder, sweeping the beam across Doug’s face.
“It’s a mile, give or take,” Annja said. “I’ve got a light, too. We’ll be fine. Come on, gentlemen. And you, Doug, what’s up with not wanting to trek into a dark, creepy forest in search of vampires?”
“I prefer my vamps a little less sanguine than the ones rumored to stalk these parts.”
“Oh, you mean you like them to sparkle?” Luke asked.
Annja laughed at the jibe as she stepped onto the path through the brush.
Within seconds they were surrounded by utter blackness. The flashlight beams couldn’t permeate the dark farther than a few feet. Annja let Luke take the lead.
A person forgets how dark it is away from the city, she thought. And the night had chilled measurably. Wishing she’d worn long sleeves instead of the T-shirt, she trekked onward, thankful the biting insects were avoiding them.
Doug stepped on Annja’s heels for the third time, and she swung around to laser the flashlight right into his eyes.
“Annja!”
“Do you want to hold my hand?” she asked.
“No. But I wouldn’t mind walking alongside you.”
“Children,” Luke admonished from the lead. “The faster you move, Doug, the quicker we get to the other side.”
“I’m taking the middle.” Doug stepped around Annja and they trekked onward.
“Did you hear that?” Doug’s voice vibrated nervously.
“The squirrel in the tree above us?” she asked calmly.
“Probably smells the bread you stuffed in your pocket,” Luke called back. “Did you have to do that? The woman was kind enough to offer us food, and then you make off like a homeless bandit.”
“Just be quiet, Doug. We can navigate better if we can hear,” Annja said.
After a few moments of silence, they heard a long howl somewhere out in the darkness. A chill ran up Annja’s spine, and the muscles across her scalp tightened.
In front of her, both men looked at each other. Nobody spoke for a brief moment.
“Just a dog,” she finally commented, though she wasn’t sure about that. The difference between a wolf and a dog howl was negligible. Though wolves rarely barked, when they did, the sound was quite distinct from a dog’s.
They heard the howl again, low and angry-sounding.
“Far away,” Luke whispered.
“Not really,” Doug said. “It sounded close. Like it could be at the opening where we went into the forest.”
“If it is a wolf, then keep walking,” Annja said. “The dig site isn’t far. I can smell the smoke. Just keep moving.”
“Don’t look it in the eye,” Doug said. “I think that’s what I know about wolves. Or is it, look them in the eye? Show them you’re the alpha?”
“Wolves rarely attack humans,” Annja added.
Unless they were hungry or the humans had encroached on their territory. And they had the ability to bite fast and hard, so fast, in fact, that a human couldn’t predict the hit and get out of its way in time. This close to the Romani encampment, she hardly expected a wolf to attack.
They moved more slowly since hearing the howl. Luke’s flashlight blinked out. Doug swore.
“Take mine!” Annja called. She tossed her light toward Doug, who missed it, and the flashlight landed on the ground, a tiny glow in the leaves. The undergrowth and tree trunks were all the same, deep shadows upon darkness.
That’s when they heard a low, panting sound. Annja twisted to look behind her.
“Annja?” Doug whispered.
“Right here, Doug.” She reached out and he grabbed her arm. The smell of his fear was strong and acrid, and his fingers clutched her shoulder.
“If it’s a mullo,” he whispered, his fingers tightening into her muscle, “it shouldn’t have a grudge against us. We didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Except dig up its bones,” Luke muttered from the darkness. “Found it!”
The light beam swung toward Annja and Doug and then traced the path border. Two gold eyes flashed in the brief swing of the light beam.
“Keep walking, slowly,” Annja murmured. She’d thought that the dig site hadn’t been far off, but she couldn’t see a glimpse of the flame. She should see it by now.
There was a rustle of leaves and suddenly the eyes were on the path in front of them. How it had moved that fast, she had no idea.
“We need to walk in that direction,” Luke said. “It’s standing in our way.”
The wolf growled quietly, revealing its teeth. The light should have blinded it. It was a good height, perhaps the size of a German shepherd, but leaner, the legs longer and the body more muscled.
“The flashlight is making it angry,” Doug said.
“You want me to turn it off?”
“No!”
“You see a branch or something to use as a weapon?” Luke asked.
“There’s a thick one.” Doug’s voice wobbled.
“Where?”
“By the wolf’s foot.”
Overhead, an owl hooted, startling Luke into jerking the light upward.
The wolf dashed toward them. Luke stumbled backward, the flashlight slipping from his grip and rolling up against the branch.
Chapter 13
Teeth grazed Annja’s thigh, and she swung out with the sword, but didn’t catch the animal. She didn’t want to slay the wolf, just wound i
t.
They stood in darkness. Luke’s breaths came quickly to her left. She didn’t want to accidentally slash the blade across a man, either.
Doug’s yell chilled Annja’s blood. She stepped across the path, careful of the branches she couldn’t see, using Doug’s voice as a guide. The wolf barked and Doug screamed again.
Overhead an owl screeched and Annja could make out the flapping of the great bird’s wings as it flew away.
“Guys?” she called. “Luke?”
“I’m here,” Luke answered. “I’m okay. But what about Doug?”
At the sound of an animal tearing into clothing Annja’s throat tightened. The wolf yelped and a high-pitched whine was abruptly cut off. Annja felt fur against her leg, a tail twitching, as the wolf landed on the path before her. Its eyes caught the muted flashlight glow. She swept the sword in warning in front of the wolf. The creature didn’t flinch. It only growled, exposing its teeth threateningly.
“Doug?”
“I’m...here,” he said weakly.
The idea of killing such a beautiful animal made Annja’s gut clench. They were encroaching on its territory.
With a snapping growl, the wolf lunged for her. She managed to swing the sword, but it cut through air. The wolf’s forepaws landed against her chest. Instinctually, she knew she couldn’t move the sword to perform a wounding cut, so she dropped it into the otherwhere and grabbed the wolf’s jaws with both hands. Teeth cut into her palms as she forced the jaws wide.
The animal yelped and, shaking its head out of her grasp, stumbled away into the brush. They could hear high-pitched whining as it retreated from them.
Luke was at Annja’s side in a heartbeat. He’d claimed the flashlight and swept it over her body, stopping at her bleeding palms. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s wounded,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean it’s down. We need to get out of here. Doug? Where is he? Direct the light over there.”
Luke fumbled with the mag light and swept it over the body of the prone man. The leg of Doug’s jeans was torn but they couldn’t see much blood.
“He’s been bitten.”
Doug gave Luke the thumbs-up. “Dude.” Then he passed out.
* * *
LUKE PACED THE hotel room floor in front of the bed where Doug lay sprawled. Annja had placed a wet cloth to his forehead and then brought in the first-aid kit from the Jeep. She’d cut Doug’s jeans to below the knee where the teeth had penetrated into muscle. She’d cleaned the wound with alcohol and soap and bandaged it tightly.
Now she suggested he go to the hospital for a rabies shot.
“In the morning,” he said. “I’m tired and just want to sleep. Can it wait?”
“I suppose,” she said reluctantly. “We’ll find a clinic in town tomorrow.”
“I survived a wolf attack,” Doug said proudly, tossing the cloth off his head.
“That you did.”
“And the worst part?”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t have it on film.”
Ever the producer, she thought with relief. “Would have been difficult filming in the dark while trying to fight off the big bad, eh?” she offered with a grin.
Doug would work this one for days, weeks, surely. Wasn’t every day he was attacked by a wolf, and to walk away with just a scratch?
“You think it was the mullo?” Luke asked as he took Annja’s hands to inspect the wounds. Turned out only one tooth had punctured her palm, and she was only beginning to feel the pain now that her adrenaline was fading. Thank God her shots were up-to-date.
“Of course it was a mullo,” Doug retorted in a rapidly weakening voice.
“You buying into the idea of a dead man returning from the grave with the ability to shift into wolf shape now, Luke?” Annja asked. “I leave you with Doug for a day and your whole belief system goes topsy-turvy. Ouch!”
Luke tossed the alcohol wipe into the trash can, then grabbed the roll of gauze Annja had used to bandage Doug’s leg. “He could have been killed. You, too. I’m responsible. This is my dig. The fire, and now this wolf attack. What next?”
“Time to get out the garlic and stakes,” Doug said, his eyelids shut.
Annja allowed Luke to bandage her hand, knowing she’d peel it off in the shower, but it was his way of compensating for how badly he was feeling.
“I wonder where the thing came from?” Luke muttered.
Much as she wanted to believe Santos hadn’t thought anything wrong with sending three people out in the middle of the night, she felt a twinge of suspicion, and always trusted her instincts. She hadn’t seen the dog Mamma had claimed they owned. Could it have possibly been a wolf?
“I should talk to Santos first thing in the morning.”
“The funeral is tomorrow,” Luke said. “Wouldn’t be wise to go there while they’re mourning. Although I certainly would have liked a chance to look at the child’s body. I’m no surgeon and forensics is far from my specialty, but I keep thinking about what Mamma said about the stitched-up wound. My mind goes to those crazy stories about people waking up after a drunken binge in a tub full of ice, with stitches and a note telling them to get to the doctor because their kidney has been removed. Could someone have taken out one of Tomas’s body parts and then sent him on his way?”
“And if so, did they place the organ in a white cooler?” Annja whispered.
Luke grabbed her by the shoulders. “What did you say?” His gaze was so intense, she almost flinched from it. She felt his desperation in his grip.
“There was a cooler,” she said. “Garin and I tracked the people who kidnapped Doug to a country cottage outside of Liberec, and after we took out half a dozen, there...was a cooler. One of the men was waiting for a handoff, which, I assume, meant handing over the cooler. I didn’t get a chance to look inside, but they said it had been sealed and whatever was inside would be ruined if the seal was broken.”
“Body parts?” Doug asked, his voice hollow and weak. “That’s so wrong.”
“You think that was what was in the cooler, Annja?” Luke asked.
He rubbed a palm across his temple. Anxiety lined his sun-browned skin and she sensed his unease. He’d come to Chrastava to excavate, not become involved in organ trafficking.
“Garin, the friend who is not a friend, mentioned something about seeing bags of blood at a warehouse he works—well, er, a warehouse he walked through.”
“Blood? Now the vampire connection comes to light,” Doug muttered from the bed. “Well, I mean it fits in there somehow. You think there was a human body part in that cooler? What the hell?”
“We were following the trail. Garin decided I wasn’t an asset and took off on his own. I should have stayed on him.” She touched her jaw. The bruise no longer hurt, but it was now changing from purple to green and black.
Annja wandered to the window. Putting her back to the men made it easier to think, to reason.
A child had been kidnapped and returned home days later with a strange wound, and then had died. It was possible illegal blood donations were taking place in a warehouse outside Chrastava, but blood transfusion didn’t create a wound that required stitches.
If only she’d had the opportunity to look inside the cooler. If only Garin would answer her phone calls. Had this all started because of the skull Luke had uncovered?
“Guys, the more I think about this...” Doug sat up and eased a leg off the side of the bed. He touched the bandaged wound carefully. “Maybe I shouldn’t say anything. Annja never puts much faith in my theories.”
“Tell us, Doug,” Luke said. “I want to hear your theory.”
Giving the gauze bandage a pat, Doug leaned forward and explained. “Someone is using the Romani’s beliefs in revenants—the myth that the dead will rise and seek revenge—to cover for what happened to the kid. Child goes missing? It’s the work of the vengeful chewing dead. Yes?”
“But how could anyone have known the skull would be
discovered?” she posited. “It couldn’t have been planted. The flooding uncovered it. It’s been in the ground for over a century.”
“Possibly,” Luke added. “It’s looking newer than that to me every time I go over the thing. Could be as new as a few decades.”
“Really?” Doug gestured to the skull. “But it looks old. What could cause a skeleton to age so rapidly as to look centuries old?”
“Malnutrition. Anemia. Many other factors that a bone specialist could answer. I need to get the bones to London.”
Annja heard Luke’s heavy sigh over her shoulder. “We should get some rest. It’s been a long day fighting fire and battling wild animals. You guys take the bed. I’ll toss a pillow on the floor.”
“Thanks, Annja.” Doug, never one to subscribe to chivalry, lay down again with a dramatic flop and a groan. “Don’t worry, Luke. I’m not a spooner.”
“You should take the bed,” Luke said as she passed him, pillow clutched to her chest. “Or I can rent you a room to yourself.”
“I sleep well on a hard surface,” she said. “Slate riverbeds, underneath a picnic table, crashed on the open plain. It’s all good. Besides, I got your pillow. We’ll all have clearer heads in the morning. Deal?”
Luke nodded, and collapsed on the bed beside Doug, who had already begun to snore.
* * *
ANNJA WOKE BEFORE sunrise and slipped out of the hotel room. Commandeering a coffee from the front lobby, she downed the strong brew, then headed out to the dig site. It was a disaster. Kindling had been thrown over the pit and a huge pile of ash now covered it.
What she’d come for lay about one hundred yards into the forest on the well-worn path that this particular Gypsy camp obviously used a lot.
Now with the daylight filtering through the leaf canopy, she noted tattered strips of cloth on trees designating break-offs from the path, and assumed they used the area for hunting. Although she wagered they only hunted fox, squirrel and perhaps a wild pig on occasion.
