Soul Inheritance (10 page)

The shimmer came again. Katherine’s body tingled with the energy. She noticed the hair on Dora’s arm prickle.

“
What is that?”

Dora faced her, those sparkling eyes intent. “You know so little of the past, don’t you? Of yourself even. That’s the dark ones. When you passed into my home, they were bared from following. This’s a good and strong place with roots reaching out over hundreds of years. My ancestors brought great protection here. They planted and tended it carefully and taught each generation to respect and use it.”

They stopped beneath a huge oak tree that grew in the back of the yard, where the path encircled it. Dora looked up, laid a hand on its trunk. “Oaks are very powerful guardians you know. As are willows. Infused with the right kind of magic and care they’ll protect you from everything you don’t want to enter. They were often planted by cemetery gates to keep the bad things out, or in some cases in.”

Katherine looked around. The yard was bordered on all sides by oaks and willows. Dora’s serious, gentle gaze did not falter. “You’re safe here. Use my library, search for answers that may help you do what you must. There’s even an internet hookup up there.” She put her hand on Katherine’s arm. “Now, let’s go in and fix some lunch.”

Chapter six

The fiftyish, plump woman knocked on the door again.

“
Gretchen.” Her volume increased with anxiety. The supervisor at the car rental had called, concerned that her car was still there. He had wanted to know if she was having trouble, if she needed a ride to work tonight. No one seemed to know how she had gotten home. She hadn’t had a phone in months. Not since her mother refused to bail her out of the last huge bill she ran up calling men she’d met on the internet. Her mother was just a few miles down the road, so she could manage without it.

“
Surely you had more sense than to hitch, again,” her mother mumbled as she waddled off the porch and went around back. She stopped short when she saw the back door standing open. Slowly she approached, called out again.

“
Gretchen?”

Something stirred inside. She stepped up the first two steps, then stopped. There was something stooped in the hallway, beyond the kitchen. A black figure the size of a large dog shifted there. It moved, unfurled and straightened; stretching upward to stand much taller than a man. It turned and looked at her through the darkness in the narrow space. The red eyes sliced through the shadows, like hot coals in the fireplace on a dark night. She gasped. Her heart pounded, then ceased to beat at all as she stood eye to eye with a creature she could not have imagined in her worst nightmares. It stopped again, drew back, then sprang forward, spreading it’s wings as it flashed through the kitchen, folded them again as it shot through the door and took to the air, it’s claws scraping the porch on it’s way by. The wind from its movement knocked her off her feet as she watched it glide and disappear. Shaking she ran back to the green station wagon and sat down hard in the seat. Fumbling and breathless she dialed 911.

The Bangor police responded, spoke with the traumatized woman and proceeded to the backdoor. The two officers glanced at each other after they were around the corner. Tolbert, the senior officer took the lead, easing quietly up the stairs and into the kitchen. There were bloody footprints, but what the hell kind of shoe would make that print? Pulling his gun he stepped carefully past it. Twelve years on the force, he knew his stuff. Bennett was fresher, with only three years in, but he was a good partner.

Carefully he followed the trail, partner in tow, gun in hand, growing more wary, and steeling his nerves for what obviously lay ahead. The footprints were heavy and fresh. Each officer made his way down the narrow hallway, trying not to step on the evidence. The bedroom was the first door on the left.

Tolbert peered carefully in. The room was shredded. Pillow stuffing and feathers from the down comforter stuck to everything and floated in the air at the slightest draft. The covers and sheets lay in torn tatters, scattered on one side of the floor. The mattress had three long tears down the middle at an angle. The bedside table lay bent on the other side of the room, its glass top broken and littering the floor. There was blood in the mix. Streaks from the bed, to the floor and leading down the hall to the bathroom. One streak in particular caught his eye. It was a handprint that started beside the bed and streaked across the floor, as if she had been reaching for something to grab as she was dragged from the room.

In all of his years on the job Tolbert had never seen such havoc. Not here, not in Bangor. Bennett was visibly alarmed as he gripped his gun tighter. He took a shaky breath, nodded toward the bathroom.

Tolbert motioned him to wait, as he cleared the room across the hall, apparently used for storage. They continued through the house, on either side of the widening trail that stopped at the bathroom door. The light was not on inside. Bennett reached out, pushed the door slowly open, while Tolbert reached around the corner and switched on the light with the back of his hand. They both fought to keep calm.

The sink and floor were covered with blood, the metallic scent seeping into their nostrils. There were several small handprints on the door jam and the wall. Bennett averted his eyes toward the ceiling, away from the gore.

“
Oh God.” He turned away from the scene entirely, too nauseated to stand without leaning on the wall.

Tolbert looked up. There were small handprints there, too, so thick with blood that every feature of the hand that made them showed. He stepped forward, unable to avoid the blood now. There was a piece of clothing draped over the closed curtain.

“
Ray, stay there.” He replaced his gun and took out a nightstick.

It was the only thing in the room that seemed to have no blood on it and a collar of thin fur. He poked at it, tried to open it up. It was coated in a clear viscous fluid. He gave up, pushing the shower curtain back.

Tolbert had expected the usual. A dead body dumped in the tub. Perhaps cut up more than he was used to, but he had seen his share of murders. Neither man was prepared for this. Bennett gave in to his churning stomach and headed for the back door. Tolbert stood and stared in stunned disbelief, his eyes bulging, unable to look away from the small body that lay there, every inch perfectly skinned, blue eyes staring up at the shower head. It was then that he realized what hung on the rod. For the first time in his career he vomited, trying not to look at Gretchen’s carefully removed skin.

Nigel turned into Bangor at four and headed for the Marriott.

“
Can I help you sir?” The clerk at the desk glanced at Nigel as he approached, then back at the computer screen.

“
Yes, I need a suite.”

The clerk raised a brow, his attention gained.

“
We have several of those. Will it be just you or will someone be joining you?”

“
Just me. Give me your nicest room.”

“
Yes sir, will that be cash or credit card?”

“
Credit card.” He tossed a card from his wallet onto the counter. ‘Yea, the bitch thought of everything. She even thought to close the bank account. That’s okay. She’ll be back and this time I’ll set things up right.’

The darkness that had overtaken him that morning stirred like a stomach ache then settled back to wait.

‡

Katherine yawned and stretched in the straight backed chair. Dora’s library was beautiful, with detailed woodwork of ivy along the tops and edges of the shelves, in the legs of the chairs and table. The hardwood floor shone in the soft light and the grandfather clock in the hallway ticked the night away one slow minute at a time, methodically wearing away her resolve to find answers. Dora’s library was extensive with books on every imaginable supernatural force. Many of them smelled strongly of age. Katherine pulled her own book closer. She had studied it more in depth in the nights she had spent in hotel rooms. There were a lot of drawings and phrases written in Latin. Some of it seemed vaguely familiar, though she had never studied the language.

One drawing in particular drew her attention more than the others. A woman with long dark hair, a slender form, long dress and pointed boots, stood by the lake. She bore a very strong resemblance to Katherine. The Victorian house stood in the background in all its glory, lights shining from the windows and reflected on the lake the way she saw it in the dreams. She was standing with her back to the house and the lake, facing the artist and the forest that Katherine knew was there. Behind her the winged creature stood, ankle deep in the lake, water dripping from him, his wings spread, reaching for her. He almost had her in his grasp as she gazed unaware, forlornly toward the forest.

Katherine felt her sorrow, felt her loneliness to the very core, as if she were the woman in the masterfully detailed drawing. It was as if the woman’s emotion, her desperate sorrow, rang through into the present. The Latin words at the bottom of the page were foreign, yet she could almost translate it.

Aevitas dividuus in corpus, aevitas astrictus in anima.

She had no clue what it meant, only that it emanated sadness.

“
How horrible, trapped there, with that beast always just steps behind.” She ran her hand down the page. “I’ll find the answer. I have to.” A hand touched her shoulder. Katherine jumped to her feet, sending the chair scraping on the floor behind her, nearly toppling it.

“
Oh, Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just me.” Dora raised her hands, motioned downward.

“
God, you startled me. I’m sorry. I’m just a little jumpy lately.”

“
Quiet all right, dear. I understand.” She turned her head to the side to look at the book. “Latin. Very interesting.”

“
Do you speak it, Dora?” Her hopes swelled only to be dashed on the shores of Dora’s frown.

“
Well, it’s very rusty, but I have books here to translate with. Most of my Latin is in regard to my, um, practices.”

Katherine shook her head as her heart sank. “Maybe I can figure out the jest at least.”

“
You look exhausted.”

The grandfather clock began to strike in a low tone. Only two strikes and it fell silent.

“
Is it that late?”

“
Yes. You’ve been up here a while. Hungry?”

“
No, not really. Just tired I guess I’ll call it a night.”

“
If you don’t mind, I can try to help with this,” she said, motioning to the book. “May I look?”

Katherine hesitated. “Well, it can’t hurt. You may be faster at it than I could be.” She didn’t know why, but she needed, wanted to trust Dora.

“
You get some sleep. I’ll work on this for a while. See how it goes. I haven’t been able to sleep anyway.”

“
I can’t shake the feeling that I’m terribly behind. That I’m not going to be able to catch up.” Katherine stared down at the book, wished it were clearer, that her father were there to explain.

Dora turned to face her. “I’ll do all I can, just be careful what you wish for. It’s the same as opening a door in certain ways.”

Katherine shrugged. “Things can’t get much stranger.”

“
No, but it could be worse. Go on and get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Katherine dropped onto the bed, pulled the covers around her instead of climbing under them and slept. At some point she was at the lake again and she began to wander. This time there were sounds of celebration coming from the house. She turned toward the cove and followed the path. There was a strong wind streaming across the water, bringing goose bumps up on her arms. She rubbed her hands together. They felt strange, like they were not her own. Looking down she spread her fingers out. There was a ring on her third finger. An intricate gold band with Celtic eternity knots. On the other hand was a heavy silver ring. In the center a dark, blood red oval stone in a setting of carved talons.

The wind abruptly stopped. The late evening air was still and deafeningly quiet. She’d grown increasingly observant over the last few weeks. Now she looked around and quickened her steps toward the house. That wasn’t the safest place to be, but out here was worse. Something drove her there and away from the forest. The best she could hope for was to follow those instincts.

A low whine from far off broke the stillness. Katherine stopped and listened intently. The call was answered by a sound she had only heard imitated in movies. It started out low and increased in intensity and volume. The sound of wolves howling. Just one at first, then others joined in until there were at least a dozen distinct voices crying out into the late evening. It was not far off. Definitely in the direct vicinity.

Turning back to the trail Katherine stumbled toward the house.  She was nearly halfway around the crescent of the cove when the water began to ripple in one long path and the baying picked up intensely. She rushed toward the warmth of the distant lights.

The harder she ran the further away the house seemed, until, in exhaustion, she collapsed on the muddy shore. She heaved in despair – looked toward the lights that shined in the dim evening. It was too close to give up now. Rising to her feet again she pushed onward. Reaching the turn of the shore she felt herself break free of whatever had been holding her back. New hope took hold as she sprinted toward shelter. In only a few strides her hopes wilted. The water itself began to churn and surge until it escaped, slipping over the ground as easily as if it were supposed to be there, forming a slick smooth surface. It was solid like a mirror reflecting back her image. She looked in it to see herself, but the image that peered back was not her own.  The long dark hair, with the slight wave that she had always hated, was pulled back at the top, but hung to her waist instead of stopping at mid back. The eyes were brown instead of green, with high arched eyebrows. The face bore slight wrinkles and wisdom she had not yet acquired. The dress was adorned with black pearl buttons and tapered at the waist. It hung comfortably on her slender frame all the way to her ankles where it overlapped boots that buttoned up the sides. She stared for a moment and then moved back as the wall rippled.