by J. C. Diem
“We’ll need a guide to take us to her farm,” Thomas said. Missing sheep were bad enough, but they needed to verify whether the harpies had indeed started hunting people as well.
“I’ll take you there,” Warren replied with a heavy sigh. “I’m old and probably not long for this world. It won’t matter if the she-devils take me.”
Thomas placed his hand on the frail old man’s shoulder. “Hopefully, none of us will be taken and we’ll all return to town safely.”
After a restless night of tossing and turning, Thomas and Harold ventured downstairs for a hasty breakfast. Warren was waiting for them outside in an ancient cart with an even older nag pulling it. “It is a fair distance to Old Lady Birmingham’s farm,” their guide said gruffly. “We’d best get a move on.”
Harold was armed with a longbow and a quiver full of arrows. Thomas had a short sword belted to his waist. They trotted their horses to catch up with the cart when Warren set it into motion.
“What have you learned about these creatures so far?” Thomas asked as he rode alongside the creaky old cart.
“They strike just before sunset,” the old man replied. “There are two of them as far as we can tell. They choose a different farm to hunt from each night.”
“How many sheep do they take?” Harold queried.
“Just one. Their attacks have been more of an annoyance than an actual danger. That is until they took Miriam.”
Thomas assumed he was talking about Old Lady Birmingham. It was little information to go on, but at least they had some small knowledge about their foes now.
They reached Miriam Birmingham’s farmstead at midday. A few sheep were scattered around the meadow near the house, but the building itself appeared to be abandoned. “Did Mrs. Birmingham live here by herself?” Thomas asked their guide.
Warren shook his head. “She lived here with her daughter. The girl ran off after she saw the harpy take her mother.”
“Where did she go?” Thomas very much wanted to question the daughter.
“She fled to her cousin’s house. She lives in a town several days away from here.”
“That’s a pity,” Harold murmured. An eyewitness account would have been helpful.
“Where was Mrs. Birmingham when she was taken?” Thomas asked.
Warren pointed at the well. “She was drawing water when she was attacked. According to the daughter, the harpy came out of nowhere and snatched her mother up.”
“Did she see where the creature took her mother?”
Warren gestured vaguely to the north. “She said it flew off in that direction.”
“Let’s take a closer look at the well,” Thomas urged his friend. Dismounting, they tied their horses to a post near the house and ambled over to the well.
“Look here,” Harold said and pointed to a deep scratch in the stones. Thomas ran a finger along the groove. Whatever had made the mark had been sharp and deadly.
Spying something lying on the ground, Harold walked over and came back with another gigantic feather. “I’d say this answers the question whether or not a harpy took Old Lady Birmingham.”
Judging the position of the sun, Thomas knew it would be too dangerous to hunt their prey today. Harpies were at their most dangerous at twilight and they most likely had a long journey before they’d reach their nest. “Let’s stay here overnight and get an early start in the morning.”
“You want to stay here?” Harold queried. His voice went up several octaves in fear.
“We need to get an early start if we want to find them before nightfall,” Thomas pointed out.” He examined his friend’s face and laughed. “You don’t think this house is haunted, do you, Harold? You know ghosts don’t really exist.”
Harold’s eyes rolled in terror, but he staunchly followed Thomas back to the horse and cart. “Just because we haven’t seen a ghost doesn’t mean they aren’t real.”
“That’s true,” Thomas conceded. “I shouldn’t have made fun of you. I apologize.”
Harold nodded good-naturedly as they reached their guide. “Think nothing of it.”
“We’ve decided to remain here for the night,” Thomas told Warren. “We’ll endeavor to find the harpies tomorrow.”
Warren nodded. “I suspected that would be your decision.” He reached beneath the seat and drew out a sack. “Here’s enough food to last you for a few days.” Checking the sky, he clucked his tongue. “I’d best be leaving if I want to reach town before dark. God be with you both.” With that, he set the nag into motion.
Harold peered into the bag to see they’d been provided with bread and cheese. “It isn’t exactly a fancy meal,” he complained.
“It’s far better than nothing,” Thomas chastised him. “Come, old friend, let us take a look at our lodgings.” They’d only known each other for a couple of years, yet it felt as if they’d been friends for a lifetime.
The cottage was tiny and had only two bedrooms. One main room served as a kitchen and dining area. Lighting a lamp, they sat at the table and spoke of their mission ahead. Just before sunset, they heard an eerie screeching sound. Rushing out through the door, they saw a large shape in the distance. The creature was definitely birdlike and had gigantic wings that spanned several yards. It swooped down and came up with a struggling animal. They watched it fly northwards until it disappeared into the trees at the top of a distant hill.
“Now we have a better idea of where to search,” Thomas said.
“I don’t think my bow and your sword are going to be much use against those things,” Harold said doubtfully.
“I agree.” Looking around the rapidly darkening yard, Thomas pointed at a discarded pitchfork. “Perhaps that would serve as a better weapon.” They’d need something strong that had a longer reach than his sword.
Searching the barn, they found another pitchfork that was in fairly good condition. The tines were rusty, but they didn’t need to be razor sharp. They just needed to be able to puncture flesh deeply enough to cause a mortal wound.
In the morning, they ate more bread and cheese then tied their new weapons to their saddles. They mounted their horses and headed northwards at a steady trot. When they reached the trees, they found a path that took them towards the hill.
When they eventually reached the base of the mound, they knew they were close to their foes. The musty smell of feathers that blanketed the area gave them away. Their horses sensed danger, which was another sign they were in the right place. The animals rolled their eyes wildly and started constantly in fear. Both were on the edge of bolting.
Riding back into the trees until their horses settled down again, they tied the animals securely and went the rest of the way on foot. It was late afternoon by the time they reached the crest of the hill. A gigantic nest had been constructed at the top. Made of thick branches and dead leaves, it was impossible to see inside. Disturbing rustling sounds came from within. Something made a noise that sounded a little like a bird, but also like the cry of a baby.
In trepidation and keeping their eye out for the harpies, they climbed the twenty foot high nest and peered over the edge. Seeing a human skeleton lying amidst the rotting carcasses of sheep, Thomas mentally said a prayer for Miriam Birmingham before he turned his attention to the things that had eaten her.
Three chicks were nestled together for warmth. They weren’t aware that they were being observed as yet.
“Good Christ in heaven,” Harold whispered. “I’ve never seen anything so ugly in all my life.”
Thomas had to agree. The creatures were indeed hideous. They had the feet, legs, bodies and wings of birds, but the heads of little girls. They were only slightly smaller than the two men, which made Thomas wonder how large the adult harpies would be.
One of the chicks looked up, saw them and screamed. Thomas knew it was a cry for their mother and he went into action. Throwing himself into the nest, he slid downwards and landed on his feet. He speared the chick with his short sword and it gave a buzzi
ng cry of pain. Harold landed beside him and jabbed his pitchfork into a second creature. It took several stabs to kill it then they turned on the third and last chick together.
The chicks’ alarmed screams had been loud enough to alert their mother and they heard a cry from overhead. They instinctively ducked when a huge shadow passed over them. Seeing two of her young already dead and the final one in the throes of dying, the mother shrieked in fury. Another cry came from behind them. They whirled around to see a second harpy about to attack. It was another female, most likely the dead chicks’ aunt. Both of the adults were more than double Thomas’ height of six feet two inches.
Both of the harpies attacked them together, which proved to be a flawed plan. The aunt knocked her sister aside, which inadvertently saved Thomas’ life. He ducked as a talon swiped at him. He wasn’t quite fast enough and it tore into the flesh of his back. Blood began to flow, but he ignored the pain and drove his sword into the aunt’s leg. She gave a shrill cry and pulled away. The weapon was torn out of his grasp and he groped for the pitchfork that he’d dropped when he’d first slid into the nest.
Harold leaped to his assistance and batted the mother away when she made another attempt to claw his friend. Thomas deflected the aunt’s foot and threw his pitchfork like a spear. It punctured her breast and she gave a cry of pain as she fell.
Knocked over by the half-bird, half-human creature, Thomas scrambled to his feet as Harold continued to protect him from the mother’s talons. He felt a moment of great pity when he met the aunt’s all too human eyes that were full of pain. Thankfully, they slid shut as the monster breathed her last.
With a forlorn shriek of rage, the mother went berserk. She shoved Harold aside with one foot and smacked Thomas down with her wing. Insane with anger at losing her entire family, she pinned him down with her talons and prepared to tear his head from his shoulders.
Springing up, Harold darted beneath her wing. He lifted the pitchfork, braced himself with both feet then stabbed her in the chest. Staggering back against the edge of the nest, she batted him with her wings, but he stubbornly clung to his weapon. Thomas staggered to his feet and threw his weight against the pitchfork, driving it deeper into her heart.
Shrieking in agony and despair, she collapsed and bore them both to the floor of the nest where they were trapped beside the bodies of her dead offspring and her sister.
“How badly are you hurt?” Harold asked.
“I’ll live,” Thomas replied. His back was on fire, but the wounds were shallow.
“Not if this damned bird suffocates us with her feathers,” Harold said with a laugh. He had a knack of lightening the mood even in the darkest of times.
They managed to dislodge the harpy then decided it would be best to destroy the nest. They lit it on fire and watched it burn to cinders before making their way back to their horses. Weary, wounded and blackened by ash, they returned to the village to give the townsfolk the good news.
Amidst the celebration that ensued, Thomas brooded about the deed that he and Harold had performed. To his knowledge, that small family of harpies had been the last of their kind. He debated long and hard about whether they’d done the right thing by killing them. In the end, he’d decided that God had led them to the monsters and that he must have wanted them to die.
Even the being who had created an entire universe made mistakes. Not all of the creatures that he’d created had a right to live. At least not once they’d killed humans for food.
Thomas’ conscience was clear, but his dreams were often dark. He’d seen many things in his strange line of work. Things that had changed him forever. He wasn’t just a priest anymore. He was far more than that now. He’d become a warrior against the darkness that few people were even aware of.
₪₪₪
Chapter Twenty-Two
Finishing the report, I blinked away tears at the fate of the last of the harpies. It was probably wrong of me, but I could almost identify with the monsters this time. They’d just been living their lives, stealing a few sheep here and there. They’d been fairly harmless until they’d made the mistake of eating one lone human. If they hadn’t snatched Old Lady Birmingham, Thomas might have taken pity on them and allowed them to live.
I put the wistful thought aside, realizing how childish it was. Monsters all had one thing in common; they had the capacity to kill people. Some of the creatures I’d seen or had read about in the archives had just been trying to survive. The rest had known better than to prey on humans, but had done so anyway.
The Paranormal Investigation Agency had been created to stop supernatural creatures from causing chaos. We’d eradicated entire species in our mission to rid the world of evil. We’d continue to hunt them until there were no more threats left to humanity. It was ironic that the PIA was using monsters to hunt monsters. Mark’s superiors trusted him to keep us in line and to make sure that we didn’t turn rogue.
After dinner, Mark followed me out to the backyard when I let Zeus out. He drew me aside and checked the windows to make sure we weren’t being watched. “I want you to keep your eye on Kala tonight.” He spoke in a bare whisper so the others couldn’t hear us.
“You think she’s going to sneak out and go back to Cole?” His hearing was pitiful in comparison to mine and he had to read my lips.
“It’s a distinct possibility.”
“I’ll watch her,” I promised then spoke at my normal volume. “I’m going to take Zeus for a walk. There’s a park only a couple of blocks away. I’m sure he’d love to play fetch for an hour or so.” Zeus’ ears pricked up and his eyes shifted longingly towards the gate.
Mark’s voice rose to normal as well. “I don’t want anyone wandering off alone.”
“I’ll go with her,” Flynn called from inside. He appeared in the doorway and jogged towards us.
“Make sure you’re back before dark,” Mark ordered.
“Yes, Dad,” Flynn said and rolled his eyes. He waited for our boss to be out of hearing before he spoke again. “He can be overprotective at times.”
“Can you blame him after what happened to Kala?” Not to mention what had happened to me in the cemetery.
He sighed and followed me through the gate. “Not really. We came very close to losing her today.”
“How could the lions possibly think it’s okay to enslave their females like that?” I was truly baffled.
“You heard Cole. It’s always been that way for them. They didn’t know any better.”
“I don’t buy that,” I scoffed. “They see humans every day. Surely they know it’s wrong to strip a person’s will away from them.”
“I’m pretty sure Kala managed to convince Cole that she wasn’t happy about what he did to her,” he said with a grin. “She punched him almost as hard as you did.”
I grinned as well and bent to pick up a stick as we reached the park. Instead of throwing it as hard as I could, I tossed it as if I was still a normal teenage girl. Zeus looked at it then back at me in bafflement. We can’t let the humans know we’re different, I explained.
Accepting the explanation, he trotted over to the stick to retrieve it. Bypassing me, he thrust it into Flynn’s hand. “I should have guessed he’d expect me to play with him,” he complained. “I can’t really blame him. You throw like a girl.” He grinned at the insult and tossed the stick away. It landed a lot further away than my throw had, but not far enough away to draw unwanted attention.
We kept up the pretense of being normal for a couple of hours, much to the Rottweiler’s dismay. When the sun began to sink from the sky, we abandoned the game.
We were halfway back to our temporary base when I sensed a ghoul approaching. It wasn’t beneath the ground this time, but was creeping along the surface instead.
Grabbing Flynn’s arm, I motioned for him to be silent and to follow me. I cautioned Zeus to be quiet as well then we hunkered down behind a car. We peeked through the window and spied a pale, humanoid figure scuttling along
the sidewalk.
The ghoul avoided the streetlights as she searched for a victim. Stopping at each house, she sniffed the air and listened for a few moments before moving on. She’d almost reached us when a baby cried inside the next house. The ghoul stiffened then became more alert. She shuffled over to the house in a crouch and entered the driveway.
When she disappeared around the back of the building, we went into action. I ordered Zeus to stay behind then Flynn and I sprinted across the road and down the driveway. We peered around the corner in time to see the ghoul forcing a window up. Flynn’s expression turned grim. If we didn’t intervene, another child would fall victim to the starving ghouls.
I could have put a bullet through the creature’s brain, but the shot would rouse the entire neighborhood. Someone would call the cops, which was the last thing we wanted. Tompkins and McSweeny might have some idea of who we were and what we did, but the other cops on the force might not be as understanding.
The lock broke and the window slid up a few inches and we ran out of options. I sprinted towards the ghoul in a blur of motion and tackled her to the ground before she could climb inside. She became a writhing, biting, clawing whirlwind as I straddled her and pinned her to the ground by her shoulders. Hissing at me, she swiped at my eyes. I jerked my head back out of her reach just in time.
Flynn appeared beside me and yanked her up just high enough to snake an arm around her throat. “Get her legs,” he whispered.
It wasn’t easy to grab hold of her when she was twisting so violently to get away. She scratched Flynn’s arm, drawing blood, but he ignored the pain. I wrapped my arms around her legs and we lifted her into the air. I paused long enough to slide the window back down before we carried her out onto the street.
“Where do you want to do this?” I asked.
“We’d better take her to the park,” he decided. “It should be empty by now.”
The ghoul didn’t speak, but her emotions were battering at me. I sensed terror, anger and an insatiable hunger for flesh.
