Predator (9 page)

A rock and dirt path led from where they had parked to a stone house flanked by giant oak trees. On the left was a rocky field; on the right, woods. Parked in front of the house were a squad car and a Sentra, or maybe it was a Camry. Bree couldn’t really tell in the dark with only the moonlight illuminating the way. Lights blazed through an upstairs window, but otherwise the house seemed deserted.

Her dad said, “The police officer’s waiting for us around back.”

As Bree neared the house, shadowy shapes by the front door became a shovel leaning against the doorframe, a pair of rubber boots, and a tilted stack of broken chairs. They trekked around the house. The smoke thickened the closer they got to the back, and the pungent smell enveloped everything.

“You’ll get used to it,” the officer said as they rounded the corner. “Give it a few minutes.”

On the ground beside the officer, a circle of rocks encased a smoldering fire. What was left of the hand sat atop a bed of burnt branches. Torn between staring at the grossness and turning away with revulsion, Bree focused her attention on Kelsi, who sat handcuffed on the back steps leading into the house. She stared hard at Bree but remained silent. Bree turned her focus toward something that might surrender its secrets.

With a flashlight borrowed from an officer, she examined what was left of the hand—two fingers and part of a palm. The hair had burned off, the pointed fingernails were dark as tar and partially melted, and the remaining flesh was black and shiny and appeared petrified. When her dad joined her a moment later, Bree turned to him and said, “It’s really badly damaged. How are we going to get it out of there without totally destroying it?”

“We’ll have to act fast.”

“I wouldn’t be sticking my hands in there right now, Dr. Sunderland. It’s still pretty hot.”

“I saw a shovel by the front door,” Bree said. “Maybe we could use it to get the hand out.”

Her dad glanced at the officer. “It’s a good idea. Do you mind?”

The officer returned with the shovel a minute later.

Her dad wrapped his fingers around the wooden handle near the blade, tilted the shovel until it was nearly parallel to the ground, and then gently slid the shovel between the burnt wood and the hand. Each inch he penetrated shifted something, and the hand wobbled, threatening to topple off the pile and fall to the ground. After persevering another few inches, he stopped. “This isn’t going to work. Bree—get two sticks, would you?”

Once Bree fetched the sticks, she braced the hand with them, one on either side. Her dad eased the shovel under the hand, but the movement caused the wood and the hand to shift. Bree failed to catch it with her branches. The hand tumbled to the ground and rolled a few inches before coming to a stop.

Bree threw her branches to the ground so hard they bounced twice before settling.

Her dad dropped the shovel. “Not much else we can do. Now that the hand’s out of the fire, I think it’s best to let it cool off a bit before I try to move it again.”

Bree marched straight over to Kelsi. “You’re a scientist. How could you do this?”

“They killed my family.”

“But the hand’s an important artifact.”

“And if you knew even half of the lycanthrope lore you’d know to stay away. Far away.”

“So now you believe?” Bree said. “When I said I thought it was a lycanthrope hand you were all over me like I was an idiot. Now you’re saying that’s why you stole the hand.”

Kelsi said nothing.

“Take it easy, Bree,” Her dad said as he squeezed her shoulder. “It’s over now.”

“Come with me,” the officer said to them. When they were out of earshot of Kelsi, he said, “I’ve seen my share of liars. I don’t think she’s one of them. Either she believes all this stuff about lycanthropes, or she’s one hell of an actress.”

“I wonder what happened to the other woman.”

“What’s that, Bree?”

“Remember, Dad? The officer said there were two thieves.”

The officer cleared his throat. “Well, about that. There were two of them when we got here—”

“And you let one get away?” her dad asked.

“We didn’t mean to, but we were focused on saving the hand. The other woman took off the instant she saw us. By the time we cuffed Ms. Doyle and dowsed the fire she was long gone.”

“Did Kelsi say who the other woman was?” Bree said.

The officer shrugged. “She’s tight-lipped, that one.”

Her dad crossed his arms. “Does it really matter at this point?”

“I guess not,” Bree said, although she was starting to wonder if the second woman might have been wearing green the other night, when she had met Liam at Doolin’s.

The Woman lay so close to the moist earth she could almost taste it. The bushes surrounding her provided excellent coverage, and she could see Kelsi and the others through a small clearing.

After the last of the cars bounced back down the road and out of sight, the Woman rose from her hiding place to make her call.

“Did you get it?” she heard.

“We burned the hand and some bone samples,” the Woman said. “But the Garda arrived before we could finish the job. We did what we could.”

“If our secret is unlocked, all that the ancestors knew and all we dreamed for the future will be lost. They’ll try to destroy us as they did in the past—but this time, they’ll have access to our own power. And they’ll stop at nothing to get what they want.”

“Understood.” The Woman shifted, and a branch snapped underneath her foot. “I managed to get away but they got Kelsi.”

“And?” the voice said, a little impatient this time. “What did she tell them?”

“I backtracked and overheard her tell them she did it because they killed her family. She said nothing more other than to warn them to stay away from the hand.”

“Do you think they bought it?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” the voice said. “Do you think there’s enough left of the hand for Dr. Sunderland to work with?”

The Woman’s heart felt like it missed a beat. “I wish I knew.”

Liam’s house, Westshire, Ireland

It was odd seeing Liam’s house for the first time, especially since it would be Bree’s last, now that her dad had decided they should leave Ireland early and head home. It was also weird seeing Conor sipping a beer in front of the TV. Bree had imagined him like her dad, studying all the time or reading a book. She never figured him for a sports guy.

Liam’s mom smiled and a hint of wrinkles framed her mouth. “Why don’t you two come into the kitchen and leave Conor to his match. I’ve got cold minerals and crumble, unless you’d rather have biscuits.”

“Crumble sounds good,” Bree said.

“Blueberry,” Liam added. “It’s Bree’s favorite.”

Liam’s mom gave them each a plate of crumble and then fished in the fridge for the sodas. “It’s fascinating work you’re doing. I didn’t get chances like that when I was a girl. And that hand you found…if it’s a lycanthrope’s, it’s possible it was Benandanti.”

Bree looked up from her food. “That’s what Conor implied. What do you know about them?”

Liam’s mom set the sodas on the table with a metallic clunk. “The Benandanti were lycanthropes. The name means ‘Good-Walkers.’ Some people called them the ‘Hounds of God.’ They could sense evil lycanthropes and other malevolent spirits, especially vampires, witches, and ghosts. In order to fight evil, they changed into the form of a wolf. The battles were fierce. The Benandanti were loyal and intelligent and—”

“Alright, Ma. She gets it. We don’t know that it’s a lycanthrope hand or what it is. And just because the stories say the Benandanti existed, it doesn’t make it true.”

“Not all of my stories are superstition you know,” Liam’s mom said. “Believe what you want, but just because you haven’t seen something, it doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”

Liam groaned and glanced at his watch.

Bree, however, was in no rush to leave. “I’d love to hear your stories, Mrs. Dunne.” Bree missed her own mom, and that emptiness, for the few moments Liam’s mom spoke, had hurt a little less.

Liam and his mom exchanged a look and Liam nodded.

“Three nights each year,” his mom said, “witches stole all the grain and descended to hell with it. It was up to the Benandanti to stop them. If they failed, crops withered and people starved. Animals and fish died.” Her voice took on a dramatic depth. “But the Benandanti had the forces of nature on their side—wind, rain, lightning, all to their extremes—and they could summon them at will. The Benandanti were powerful and important. They also had amazing healing powers, especially when it came to helping children. Of course, some people argue that it’s all rubbish. But that’s how most things are: You have your believers and your non-believers.”

“But can that be trusted?” Bree asked. “Conor said that sometimes they did bad things too.”

Liam’s mom shrugged. “No one knows.”

“You think there are still Benandanti around today?” Bree asked.

“I imagine so, although they went into hiding a long time ago.”

“Why? What happened?”

“The Inquisition,” Liam said. “They murdered them. That’s what the lore says anyway.”

Liam’s mom seemed surprised that he had actually listened when she had told him the lore. “Many good people were executed in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries because they were Benandanti or suspected of being Benandanti. After living in secret for hundreds of years, somehow the word got out about their existence and that was it. The few that survived went back into hiding.”

“I thought only witches were executed during that time,” Bree said.

“That’s the popular belief, but sadly it’s not true.” Liam’s mom sighed. “The Benandanti were hunted, although some might argue and say they were investigated, for close to a hundred years, so it’s no wonder they went back into hiding.”

“That’s awful,” Bree said.

“Whether you believe or not, that’s up to you. But I think it’s reasonable to assume that some of them would’ve been buried in unmarked graves in the bog.” She stood and took the dirty dishes to the sink. “Now I’ll leave you two kids alone. We’ll save more stories for some other time.” She gave Bree’s shoulder a squeeze and left the room.

Bree drew in a deep breath. She wouldn’t be back, and they both knew it.

Liam balled up his napkin and tossed it onto the table. “You look disappointed. You didn’t really want to hear more stories, did you?”

“I thought if I knew more about the Benandanti it might help me figure out what Kelsi wanted with the hand. And then I could figure out more about the bog body and if there’s others out there like it. But I guess I’ll never know, now that we’re leaving Ireland.”

“You can’t give up.”

“I won’t,” Bree said. “But it would be a lot easier if we stayed here.”

“You think Kelsi really believes in the Benandanti?”

“I do,” Bree said. “Plenty of people believe in all kinds of things: Santa Claus. The Loch Ness Monster. The Tooth Fairy. And your mom seemed to think they were real.”

“Nah, she was just telling stories.”

“Didn’t you hear it—when her voice changed? Some part of every story is true,” Bree said.

“You’re cute when you get all excited about things.”

She pushed at his chest. “Seriously, why else would the stories about the Benandanti have been around for so long? Someone’s gotta believe in them or they would have died out.”

Liam nodded slowly, as if he was deep in thought. “I guess you’re right. I didn’t think about it like that. But even if Kelsi believes the Benandanti existed, it still doesn’t explain what she’s so afraid of.”

“My gut still says we haven’t seen the end of it. There’s something going on here that hasn’t played out.”

“Like what?” Liam said.

“I don’t know. I’m just glad Kelsi and that woman didn’t destroy the hand and that we were still able to get some DNA.”

Conor entered the room and headed straight for the refrigerator. “I’m just grabbing another
Guinness
. I’ll be out of here in a minute.”

Once Conor left with his beer, Liam stood. “Let’s go somewhere more private. I’d take you to my room, but my da’s real strict about not having girls in there.” He paused and his face reddened. “That’s not what I meant. I mean…I’m not allowed to have girls in there, but it’s not like I’ve brought home anyone else. You know what I mean, right?”

Bree smiled; it was cute that Liam was nervous. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Let’s just go to the sun room, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

In the sunroom, Liam’s younger brother played a video game, thumbs flying across the controller from one colored button to the next. “Get out of here, Finn,” Liam said.

“I was here first.” Finn kept playing; he didn’t even turn his head.

“Come on,” Liam said, turning off the television. “Bree’s leaving tomorrow and we want some privacy.”

Finn sat with his hands still clutching the controller. “A tenner.”

“I’ll give you five.” Liam slapped the bill into Finn’s waiting hand. “Now get outta here.” Liam turned to Bree as Finn left the room. “He can be a right pain sometimes.”

Bree kept quiet. She had had a brother, and she felt his loss acutely. Liam was lucky to have Finn in his life. Now, Bree only had her dad. Without him, she’d be all alone in the world. At least Liam had someone else he could count on, even if he thought Finn was a pain.

Liam flopped onto the sofa. “Grab a seat.”

Bree sank into the cushions, and Liam held her hand. His fingers were warm against her skin. “I wish we were coming to the States with you,” he said.

“You should. There are great opportunities.”

“That’s why my da wanted to go, but every time he brings it up my ma shuts him down. Says Ireland’s our home and she’s not leaving.” He moved closer until they were only inches apart and then pulled her against him. Bree wrapped her arms around his back—she could feel his hard muscles through his shirt—and wished they could sit like that forever.

Sliding his cheek against hers, Liam inched away. Then his hands found Bree’s face, and he caressed her skin so softly it tickled. In silence, they gazed into one another’s eyes. She could get lost in Liam’s baby blues forever.