“I gotta get out of this town,” Katie muttered. “The people here are just getting too weird.”
She took a deep breath and started for the drive that led around to the front of the building. The diner was open to breakfast customers. A few farm trucks and a sheriff’s cruiser were parked out front. Other than that, most of the town square was quiet. In the distance, she heard Tom’s merry tune capering across the breeze. Katie shook her head in wonder and drew her library key from her purse. The heavy key to the cellar was there as well. She ignored it, inserted the lighter key into the lock and gave it a turn. To her surprise and dismay, it felt as though it wasn’t locked at all, and the door fell open, letting light through. Katie stepped in and gasped.
There wasn’t a single book left on the shelves in the main room. All the reference books and the new books had been stacked in single lines that ran from the floor to the ceiling like columns. Catalog cards had been pulled from the drawers and flung hither and yon.
“Oh, crap,” Katie muttered, stepping on in to explore.
In every room, the books had been removed, though in some places, they just lay piled like a pyre, while in others, they had been carefully arranged to form pyramids and fortresses. The children’s room had butcher paper dragged out by the reams, and scrawled portraits of the kind a child would draw decorated each sheaf from end to end, reminding her of a crude version of Arthur Rackham’s work. Crayons had then been melted over lights, forming rainbow puddles on the floor.
“Oh, my god,” she muttered. “Durgan’s gonna kill me!”
A faint giggling fell on her ears, and with it, strange whispers that caused the small hairs on her neck to stand erect.
“What’s going on here?” she said.
More giggles answered. Katie turned, looking around, unable to find the source. The sound seemed to come from everywhere, filling the air. She swallowed and turned, then hurried for the main room.
“What in the name of God...!” Durgan’s startled cry broke, and the giggles fell silent.
Katie stopped as soon as she reached the main room. Durgan surveyed one of the stacks of books with an angry sneer. Behind him, Lonnie and two other staffers looked around with bugged-out eyes.
“Who is responsible for this?” Durgan demanded.
His gaze flashed on Katie. She shrugged. “It was like this when I got here,” she said.
“Oh, my...” Crazy Tom had pushed his way through the door before anyone even thought to stop him. “They’ve been up to a wee bit of mischief.”
“Who?” Durgan demanded turning to stare at the old bum.
“Why, the Unseelie, of course,” Tom said.
“What the devil is an Unseelie?” Durgan demanded. He glared at Katie again. “What is he babbling about?”
You’re the one babbling, Katie thought, but kept the words from her tongue. “Fairies,” she said. “Dark elves.”
“Oh, that’s utter nonsense!” Durgan snorted, and Katie wasn’t sure why she was inclined to agree.
“Red thread,” Tom said cheerfully. “Red thread will keep them away. Rowan will keep them at bay.” He started back for the door as he chanted, “Red thread and rowan will keep the fae a’going,” over and over until he was out of sight.
“That man belongs in an institution!” Durgan said, and then turned his fierce glower on those still present. “Well, just don’t stand around. Get this place back in order!” And with that he stalked into his office. The door slammed shut in his wake. Only a moment of silence passed before Durgan was heard to shout, “God damn it, what is going on here!”
Katie was first to reach the door.
Durgan’s desk had been upended, and his heavy chair perched atop that podium like a throne, draped with the curtains. And every book had been stacked end to end up the wall to forming columns of old leather. It looked as though some sort of revels had taken place, for there were candy wrappers from Durgan’s private stash scattered about along with empty soda bottles.
Katie backed away. “That one’s for maintenance,” she said. “I’ll take the children’s room.”
She headed back down the hall at a quick pace. Durgan was impossible as a rule, and this event was likely to make him downright dangerous.
Katie started by rolling up the butcher paper portraits and putting the wads aside. Maintenance changed the bulbs while she stacked books, dividing them by call numbers and alphabet. This would have been a better time to wear jeans, but since she hadn’t even bothered to mention the rats to Durgan.
And at this rate, I don’t think I should. He would be more ruthless than ever. Besides, as far as she could tell, she hadn’t seen any rats. So maybe they hadn’t gotten out of the sub cellar. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to going back down there herself.
The morning was gone by the time she emerged. Most of the place was back in order. Someone had gotten on the phone and called the rest of the staff in, and several volunteers had been rounded up from the town. In no time, the two stories above ground were in order and ready to open at noon. Durgan left on an errand, but Lonnie handed Katie a note addressed to her that demanded she go back to work on the display on work time.
Great. Now she could go back to looking in on the underground portion. At least, this time, I’m getting paid for it. She was supposed to lunch later with Dan, but at this rate, that was apt to get canceled.
The cellar looked pretty much the same way it always did. A shamble. She threaded her way among crates and headed for the door to the sub cellar. It wasn’t locked, and the lantern still sat by the door where she’d left it during her frantic flight. Wonderful, she groused. She collected it along with a flashlight, and put a hand to the door. Now or never, she told herself. She took a deep breath and opened the door.
Nothing. Certainly no rats. And no blue-skinned men. She stepped into the dark, following the path down to the first sub cellar. It seemed cooler now. At least nothing here appeared to have been touched. She threaded her way among the covered furnishings back to the desk. The trunk sat there with its lid open, and the glow she had noticed before was gone. Cautiously, she stepped up to the opening, lighting the lantern and holding it aloft.
The stairs descended as before. She looked at them, then back at the sub cellar. No, I am not going back down there, certainly not alone. She shook her head and slammed down the lid of the trunk, and for good measure, drew forth her key and started to push it into the lock…
But it wouldn’t fit! How could that be? It was the same key she had used to unlock it before. Now, it wouldn’t even go into the keyhole! She backed away, frowning in suspicion, and let her gaze dart about. Okay, if she couldn’t lock it, she wasn’t going to let anything get out. She grabbed several small boxes and some loose books and a chair in turn, placing each on top of the trunk. And once there seemed to be enough weight, she stood back, dusting her hand. There wasn’t a rat in the world that could lift all that.
Satisfied, she went back to the desk and pulled up a chair. She was determined to get this display set and give herself no more excuses to return to this place. The roll top still sat open, and the book that had glowed before still rested on its surface. The luster was gone now. She flipped back the cover. Ordinary parchment greeted her gaze.
It was a diary by all appearances. Or a ledger. Most of the entries were short. They dated from 1890 and earlier, all scrawled in MacKenzie’s hand.
A lightning of great power will fall on a
foreign land. Millions will die in agony.
Their flesh will burn from them, and they
shall rot and be ill for generations to come.
Katie made a face. That didn’t sound like the pleasant poetry she’d seen before.
A great ruler shall fall by an assassin’s
hand, and his brother shall also die such a
death.
The tree shall be split by the fury of a
storm, but the gate shall hold.
“Wait a minute,�
� Katie said aloud. “These are predictions.” So, old MacKenzie had fancied himself a prophet, had he? No wonder people were not sorry to be shed of him. Doomsayers were never welcome. In folklore, she knew they were looked upon as a necessary evil, though most of the news was bad or too convoluted in riddles. But from the looks of these passages, MacKenzie was predicting world disasters like Nostradamus had. Hiroshima and the Kennedy assassinations, from the sound of it. But how could he have known? He’d certainly gotten the bit about the tree right. She read on, frowning at the next passages.
When a woman of two bloods is given the key,
the Erl-King shall escape to darken the land
with evil.
Katie slammed the book shut. The Erl-King again! She leaned back in her chair, wracking her brain for what she could recall of the Erl-King. In Scottish folklore, he was king of the Unseelie Court, which was made up of wicked beings like goblins and fachan and bogles and faeries and kelpies. Supposedly, he led them in their nightly revels, and was believed responsible for many woes suffered by superstitious country folk. If she remembered right, he was always seeking to turn the world into a place of darkness. Stories about the evil Erl-King might have been part of the inspiration early Christians adopted in the personification of their own devil, along with legends like the Green Man and Herne the Hunter. The Erl-King’s minions had been the Scottish equivalent of the Wild Hunt too. And his domain could have rivaled any images of hell.
His opposite was found in the Seelie Court, or the Light elves. Ljosalfar and Dokkalfar carried on a battle not unlike that of the angels and Satan’s minions. Whether it was Ragnarrok or Armageddon, the stories were nearly the same. Christian mythology was riddled with tales that had their parallels in older lore. The Great Flood itself was recorded in every single mythology in the world.
“I’m getting nowhere,” Katie muttered and pushed herself out of the desk chair. “Except hungry.” She would get back to this later. Dan was probably threatening to eat everything in the Mountain Laurel Diner if she didn’t show soon. Where did such a tall, skinny guy manage to hide so much food? She rose from the chair, patting her own hips in dismay. “Guess I’m carrying it for him,” she mused and switched of the lantern. She used the flashlight to find her way back to the stairs, trying to ignore the sense that eyes were trailing her. From the stairs, she paused long enough to pass her beam around the room, sweeping it over the furniture. Shadows always seemed to run from the glow, and that made her frown.
“A trick of the light,” she muttered. “I’ve been down in this hole way too long.”
Katie turned to leave when the faint twitter of laughter graced her ears. She stopped and glanced back, swinging the light over the shadows again. Nothing. This isn’t funny, she groused.
“Henry?” she said, wondering if this was his way of getting back at her for making him work yesterday. “Bud?”
No answer came. Glowering, Katie advanced up the first stair. The noise started up again. She walked on slowly, pretending not to hear. This is madness, she told herself. The giggling persisted, and with it, the whispers. All right, two can play this game, she decided. Whoever they were, they were about to be sorry they had messed with Katie MacLeod! She flipped off the flashlight, climbing the stairs with only the light above to guide her. The whispers came louder, closer. They were right behind her, eyes full of mischief focused on her back, she was willing to bet. She felt for the switch, swinging her hand around so the beam would hit the bottom of the stairs when she turned it on again. And suddenly, she lurched around, flipping on the flashlight.
A scream broke, and Katie was so startled, the flashlight bobbed in her hand, making her unsure of what she thought she saw. A small thing with a large head, pointed ears and more teeth in its gaping mouth than she thought possible. Wrinkled and brown, it stood hardly taller than her knee. Spindly arms were thrown up to protect its large eyes. It turned and fled towards the shadows, and was gone before she could even think what to do.
“Damn it, that wasn’t a rat!” she said and started down the stairs only to pause. “What am I doing? That wasn’t a rat!”
She let her light skim the covered furniture in vain. The whispers and giggles had stopped, yet she still had the eerie sensation there were eyes peering at her from the corners. Only now, there was a sense that instead of mischief, the eyes were filled with malice. She slowly backed up the stairs, never letting the light waiver from the room. Only when she was on the level did she turn and run for the door.
A skittering sound broke the silence, like many tiny feet scrambling after her. Frantically, she shoved the shoved the top door closed, reaching for the key. She fumbled it in the lock, and managed to get it in and turned just as something hit the door. Katie backed away, looking at the door in dismay.
“What in the hell is going on here?” she muttered.
“Something wrong, Miss MacLeod?”
Katie gasped and turned, raising the flashlight like a weapon. Bud stood behind her, and the swift motion caused him to hitch back.
“S...s...sorry,” he muttered, ducking his head. “Didn’t mean to startle you...”
Katie shook her head. “That’s okay,” she said. “I... think I saw rats down there.” Liar. That was no rat.
Bud nodded. “I sees ’em now and again,” he said almost sympathetically. “I tol’ Henry, but he said not to say nuthin to Mr. Durgan as he’d get mad and fire us. Besides, Mr. Tom says they ain’t really rats...”
“What?”
“Mr. Tom says they ain’t really rats...”
“No, Bud, I mean, Crazy Tom told you they weren’t rats?”
Bud nodded. “He says he’s not really crazy. I like them songs he plays and sings. Some of them are funny. Anyway, he comes down here sometimes ’n’ tells us stories, and he allus asks if the door is still locked.”
“Why?”
“Dunno,” Bud said, shrugging. “He...just asks, and I always tells him yes, but now you got his key, and it ain’t locked no more.”
“His key?” Katie said. “You mean, Crazy Tom had this key before me?”
Bud nodded. “He gave it to me and told me to give it to Mr. Durgan and tell him I found it in the attic.”
“Why?”
“Cos’ Tom said it was meant to be.”
“BUD!” Henry’s angry shout filled the cellar. Bud started.
“I gotta go,” he said and rushed away before Katie could stop him with the myriad of questions now racing through her head.
Tom had the key? What would he have been doing with it?
Katie frowned and started for the stairs, passing one last glance back at the door.
“If Crazy Tom is the answer, just what the hell is the question?” she muttered to herself.
Somehow, she wasn’t sure she was going to like finding out.
FIVE
Dan wore the look of a man who had seen one too many ghosts when Katie entered the diner. He was in the booth, staring into a cup of coffee, and didn’t notice her approach until she scooted into the seat across from him. There were dark circles under the eyes that looked up at her.
“Dan, are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said in a noncommittal tone. “I just didn’t sleep well last night. Kept having these weird dreams.”
“What kind of dreams?”
“Nothing,” he muttered, his face taking on a healthy flush as he turned his eyes back to the cup. “Uncle tells me you had a prowler last night.”
“Wasn’t just a prowler,” she said, then paused as Maggie Sue brought over a coffee cup for Katie.
“What’s your pleasure?” Maggie Sue said.
“Grilled cheese on dark with tomatoes and extra pickles,” Katie said.
“Got it. Dan?”
“Burger and home fries,” he said.
Maggie Sue nodded and hurried back to the kitchen to take care of their order. Dan gave Katie a curious glance.
“What do you mean, it wasn�
��t just a prowler?” he insisted.
“I was dreaming a lot of crazy stuff myself,” she said, “and in my dreams, there was this creature with blue skin. Anyway, the prowler looked just like the guy in my dream. Now Tom tells me I’ve set the Erl-King free, the library looked like vandals had an orgy there before I walked in this morning, and there was something in the basement that wasn’t a rat.”
“Who’s the Erl-King?” Dan asked.
“The Erl Konig or Elf King. In Scottish folklore, he’s the king of the Unseelie court. His myth doesn’t show up until later lore, and he’s actually German in origin, which means his myth was probably introduced to the Scots by Scandinavian invaders. He’s said to be an evil fairy that leads the Host on their nightly revels and carries children to their deaths. By all accounts, he and the Sluagh are the most formidable of the Highland Faeries. They don’t just pull pranks. They lead people to their doom and war with the Seelie Court, and dance under the moon...”
“Funny you should mention dancing under the moon,” Dan said. “This morning, Uncle was all wound in knots. He said he spent the night following one call after another, and it was nothing but crazy stuff. Vandals and prowlers for the most part doing weird things. Worst of it was after midnight when he got a second call from the MacGreeley sisters. They wanted him to come arrest a group of naked people they said were dancing on their lawn.” Dan stared at the window as though some thought had struck him.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Katie asked.
“I just didn’t sleep well,” he repeated.
“What were you dreaming last night?” Katie asked.
He frowned at the question. “It was crazy. I dreamed you were sitting in the tree that’s outside my window, calling to me, and when I opened the window and reached out to pull you in to keep you from falling down and breaking your neck, you disappeared. All of a sudden, I had hold of this hideous blue-skinned hag. I started screaming, and she cackled like some maniac while the roots of the tree crawled into my window and snagged me and some green dog ran around the yard barking...”
Angels of Mercy Page 5
