by Ron Ripley
A cold drop fell on her, then another. Water came down from the branches of the tree. While the rain struck her, it passed through Samson.
Of course it does, she thought, chiding herself. He’s a little angel. The water doesn’t want to bother him.
Samson leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.
“Madison,” he said, “I want to hear a story. Would you tell me one?”
“What type of a story?” she managed to ask.
“A ghost story,” was his reply, and a mischievous smile appeared. “A scary one. How about one with the ghost of a little boy in it?”
Madison nodded. She ignored the rain, or the way her body shook as her clothes became wet. For a long time she sat in silence, Samson patient across from her. Finally, Madison smiled, and she started the story.
“Once upon a time,” she began. “There was a beautiful little boy named Samson, and he was a ghost.”
Samson let out a tremendous laugh and clapped his hands with pleasure.
“Tell me more,” he said, winking at her. “Tell me all there is.”
Madison’s voice continued to break, but Samson wanted a story, and she would tell him one.
Chapter 7: Choosing a Target
Frank had found his laptop, and he had brought a television downstairs as well. In a short time, he connected the two devices together. When he finished, Frank sat down next to Shane.
Shane glanced over at him while David accessed the email account.
“I didn’t know you had a television,” Shane said.
“I try not to have the volume up,” Frank replied. “I know you have a hard enough time sleeping.”
Shane nodded. “Thanks.”
“My friend,” Carl said in German, his voice low. “I do not know if I trust this David.”
“That’s why you’re in here,” Shane said, speaking in the same language. “If something goes wrong, I expect you to hurt him.”
“I will,” Carl stated.
“Here we go,” David said, clicking on an email. He selected an attachment and opened it. A picture of a large map appeared on the screen. While David used the laptop’s mouse, Shane stared at the image.
It was detailed, with small, marked places.
“What are we looking at?” Frank asked.
“That’s part of the map,” David said. He dragged his chair over. He used the cursor to illustrate what he spoke of. “This is Rhode Island, part of Massachusetts, part of New Hampshire, and most of Maine. It’s the coast line.”
“What map, though?” Shane asked. “I can see that it’s New England.”
“Sorry,” David grumbled. “This is the map that hangs in the headquarters of the Watchers. The information on it is updated every quarter. It tells them what buildings are still haunted, which ones are active, and how active they are.”
Shane chuckled. “So we can find out where their locations are?”
“Not with just the map,” David said. “I’m hoping my contact can get me the alpha file.”
“Which is what?” Frank asked.
“It’s an index to every location, and it has all of the applicable information.” David turned and faced both of the men. “With the map and the index, we’d be able to destroy the organization.”
Shane scratched at the scar on the back of his neck. “Frank?”
“Yeah?” Frank asked.
“Do you think we could get a copy of the ley lines from Abbot Gregory?” Shane inquired.
“Sure,” Frank answered. “I don’t think it would be a problem at all.”
“What are those?” David asked, sitting back and looking at them.
Frank explained the basics quickly, and David was nodding by the end.
“Makes sense,” David murmured. “All of the seeding.”
Shane straightened up as he asked, “What are you talking about?”
“You would hear it sometimes,” David explained, “from the higher ups. Places would be ‘seeded.’ Certain buildings picked out, people sacrificed there. Sometimes, like with Borgin, they were feeding the living to the dead.”
Frank muttered a curse under his breath and Shane clenched his teeth.
Shane took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and asked, “How many houses are out there?”
“I don’t know,” David answered. “If we can get the alpha file, then we’ll have everything we need.”
“What are the other attachments?” Frank asked.
“Hold on,” David replied. He turned back to the laptop and clicked through the other four attachments. Each one contained another section of the map. Frank got up and he manipulated the images to form a single composite.
A large, comprehensive map, showing all six of the New England States, was revealed. In some spots, there were one or two dots. In others, cities like Boston and Concord, the marks were on top of one another.
There were hundreds of them.
Possibly even a thousand, Shane realized. To Carl he spoke in German, “Make sure someone is watching the house at all times.”
“We have been,” Carl replied.
“Thank you,” Shane said, sighing. “Will you check on everyone for me, please?”
Carl responded with a short bow and vanished from the room.
“Is there a way we can strike at one, maybe two of them while we wait for the file?” Frank asked David.
The older man shook his head. “No, not that I know of. Only a few people knew of those outside of their own area of operations. Borgin had been mine for years. And I didn’t handle any others before it.”
“We may have someone who does know,” Shane said, standing up.
“Who?” Frank and David asked in unison.
“Lisbeth,” Shane answered.
David looked confused and Frank’s face revealed his disappointment.
“When will you let her go, Shane?” Frank asked.
“Soon,” Shane replied.
He just didn’t know when soon would be.
Chapter 8: Ben and Jesse
At thirteen years old, Ben was tall for his age, almost six feet. He was heavier than he should be, according to his doctor, and the high school football coach had already come to the house to talk to him about playing his freshman year.
Jesse, his fraternal twin, was everything Ben was not. Short, thin, and completely lacking in any athletic ability, she preferred to be left alone to read in her room. While people thought her brother was older and already in high school, no one believed Jesse when she said she was in middle school.
She didn’t know if she loved, liked, or hated her brother anymore. When they had been younger, they had been the best of friends.
Most of the time she didn’t bother thinking about him, and when she did, it was with no enjoyment.
Jesse put her bookmark in the newest Richard Matheson book she had checked out from the library and shivered. It had gotten cold in her room. She sat up, searched around for her blanket, and stopped as something strange caught her eye.
A shadow stood in the corner of her room where there shouldn’t have been one.
It seemed to solidify and a young boy stepped forward.
Her heart skipped a beat at the boy’s beauty and her initial surprise and concern at a stranger being in her room vanished.
He smiled at her and she smiled back.
“Good evening to you,” he said, bowing.
“Hi,” Jesse whispered.
“You know,” the boy said, looking around. “it has been quite some time since I traveled out of my own yard. I do believe that I am getting stronger.”
“How does it feel?” Jesse asked in a low voice.
“Good,” the boy replied, nodding. “Quite good.”
She smiled.
“You were reading,” the boy said with a grin.
She nodded.
“Of what is the subject of the book?” His voice was as beautiful as he was.
“Vampires,”
she said.
He frowned and asked, “What are vampires?”
Jesse told him everything she knew, and when she finished the boy smiled at her.
In a low voice he said, “There’s a boy in the room next to yours. Is he your brother?”
Jesse nodded.
“You know,” the strange boy whispered. “I believe he is one of these vampires you describe.”
And as the words left the boy’s mouth, Jesse knew it to be true. She felt her eyes widen and she asked, “What should I do?”
“You are a strong girl,” the strange boy confided in her. “I have no doubt you know what to do about this vampire.”
The boy was right.
Jesse knew exactly what to do.
She got out of her bed and walked to her desk. In silence, she flipped her chair over and with a strength she had never before possessed, she broke off one of the legs. The end of the leg was sharp, a jagged piece of wood sufficient to put down a vampire.
“Yes,” the strange boy whispered. “Do it quickly, before he suspects anything.”
Jesse nodded, more to herself than to him, and left the room. She felt the boy behind her as she walked to her brother’s room. Ben’s door was open and he lay sprawled on his back. He had on his Beats, deaf to the world as his music played.
Jesse approached him with firm steps. Grasping the broken chair leg in both hands, she raised it above her head.
Ben’s eyes opened, and then widened in surprise as she drove the makeshift stake down and into his undead heart.
As her brother screamed, Jesse felt the strange boy’s hands wrap around hers and she smiled as they pushed the stake in deeper together.
Chapter 9: Damage Control
Clair Willette stood in her office, staring at the new map on the wall where a bright, silver pin marked the small town called Amherst in New Hampshire.
And the One might be there. The chance was high, and the possibility made her drunk with anticipation.
For nearly two centuries, the Watchers had tracked the house down. Once, when Borgin had still been alive, they had managed to steal it out from under him. But his retribution had been quick, and the property had vanished. The few people who had even known of its existence had ended up in shallow graves along the eastern seaboard, if the stories were true.
Clair had no reason to doubt their veracity.
She needed to find a team that could go into the marked off territory, find the One and supplicate themselves before him.
Clair would have to be among them, and it had been twenty years since she had last gone out to meet with one of the dead.
Will we have enough power? she wondered. With the loss of Borgin and the Mill, their ability to provide the energy the One would need, had been severely diminished. Part of her wanted to rush through the process, but to do so could have disastrous results for all of them.
Still, she needed to know.
Clair went to her desk, sat down, and called Ms. Coleman on the intercom. When the secretary answered, Clair said, “Connect me to Rousseau, please.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ms. Coleman replied. In less than a minute, the phone rang and Clair answered it.
“Clair,” Rousseau said. His voice was thin and pinched, as if he forced each word through his nasal passage before he spoke it. It conjured up a memory of him, dressed in his perennial running suit with his strawberry-blonde hair swept back and held in place with too much gel. “What can I do for you?”
“I need you to check out a location for me,” she explained.
“Hm, where?” he asked, and Clair gave him the particulars.
“That’s a haul for me,” he said after a moment of silence. “A good two hours, minimum. Connecticut State Police are cracking down on speeding this month. Not to mention the business I’d lose down here.”
“I understand,” Clair said, allowing her annoyance to seep into her voice. “However, you are held on retainer for the Watchers, and you are required for this particular investigation.”
He grunted on the other end but said nothing else.
“Excellent,” Clair said, dismissing the conversation. “I expect to see you in a week, no later. I’d rather not have any more unexpected issues occur among the rank and file.”
“Sure,” he said with a snort. “Whatever you say, Clair. I’ll go up there. Dig around a bit. See what I can come up with. Anything I should know about before I go into Amherst?”
“Nothing that comes to mind,” Clair answered. “It is merely a new acquisition. I expect you would need to take the proper precautions and nothing more.”
“I’m an extremely careful man, Clair,” Rousseau stated with pride. “It’s why I’m on retainer, and why I’m still in the business.”
“My thoughts exactly,” she said. “Call me when you have information.”
Without waiting for his response, Clair ended the call. She logged into her computer, brought up her email and frowned at the number of inquiries from various section heads.
All were about Borgin Keep. Each sought information, from the bare bones of ‘how’ to the more thoughtful ‘who’ may have done it.
Clair had spent a good portion of the previous evening with a bottle of wine and a pad of paper. By midnight, she had crafted what she believed to be a firm response that covered all of the questions.
It also avoided giving them anything remotely close to the truth.
My Dear Colleagues,
You have all heard about the Keep, and I regret to inform you at this time that we have no information to pass on. I have placed a mole within the State of Vermont’s forensic sciences division and our operative has successfully accessed the State’s server. As soon as the State has determined what happened to the Keep, I will let you know.
Until that time, however, we must continue on. As you may have heard, there is the real and thrilling possibility that the One has been found. We are in the process of reaching out to the entity and we are hopeful to have information regarding it sometime in the next two weeks.
Our patience, and the patience of those who went before us, has nearly paid off. Soon we will no longer need to fear our mortality. Soon, my friends, we will dine at the table of the One and outlive humanity.
When she finished, Clair read the email over several times, adjusted sentences and grammar, and then pressed send.
In a split second, the message was sent, and she exited out of the account. Chuckling to herself, Clair stood, walked back to the map, and stared at Amherst.
Will he find the One? she wondered. Are we finally at the end?
If he did, Clair knew he wouldn’t survive the experience, in which case no news would be good news.
Smiling, Clair hoped she would never hear from Rousseau again.
Chapter 10: Securing the Alpha File
She knew it existed.
Not from word of mouth or any such nonsense, but she had actually seen the file. A glimpse only, to be sure, yet it had been there. Plainly listed as such on the screen of Director Cesare before he too had been removed in the tradition of the Watchers.
Cesare had never been adept when it came to the use of a computer, and his inability to close files had leaked information out to the wrong people. In the end, it had cost him his life, when an assassin had slipped an awl between a pair of vertebrae in his neck.
She pushed the thoughts from her mind as she slipped into the office. For the second time that week, she had made her way past security through the outer office and into the director’s inner sanctum. She was frustrated with her lack of foresight. Had she been thinking beyond the map, she would have considered the significance of the alpha file, and how useful it could be.
With a deep breath, she reminded herself of the importance of the task at hand. A small, tickle of fear settled into the base of her neck. The hour was late, far later than was acceptable for her to be in the office.
And there was no reason why she should be standing in front of Clair’s c
omputer. In the darkness, she stood still, staring at the hard drive, waiting.
Her patience was rewarded a few moments later when a dull green light flashed on the drive’s front.
The system was on.
She stepped closer to the desk and with a gloved hand, she turned on the monitor. When the image of the desktop appeared, she smiled. She typed in Clair’s username and password quickly, having acquired both of them weeks before through a backdoor program in the system.
She bent down, pulled a thumb drive from her pocket, and plugged it into an available port. She proceeded to search for the information she needed, a growing fear of discovery gnawing at the back of her thoughts.
In less than a minute she found the alpha file, clearly marked and named in a folder labeled ‘Important.’ She made a copy of the file and then transferred it to the thumb drive and pocketed it.
She reached the outer office and heard footsteps in the hallway.
With her heart pounding in her chest, she stepped to the left of the door. Her palms began to sweat and her mouth went dry.
Someone swiped an entrance key through the reader, a confirmation beep sounded and the door swung open.
She pressed herself close against the wall, the door stopping only a few inches from her feet. Her eyes were closed as she listened, trying to hear who it was.
Then the door was swinging away from her, clicking shut. In the semi-darkness, she saw a person walk to the director’s office. Another key was swiped through and Director Clair Willette stepped into her office. She passed through the evening glow that came through the window and walked to her desk to turn on the light, not looking back as it settled into place.
The thief wasted no time and let herself out, easing the main door shut as she stood in the hallway. Her vision pulsed as she stepped away and hurried down the hall towards the stairs. The thumb drive in her pocket felt like a lead weight as she realized that she could have died because of it.
The Watchers, as she had seen in the past, were not fond of thieves.
