Autumn (36 page)

             
“Is that your excuse?”

             
“Excuse? I’m not making excuses! I did what I had to do, and I would do it again!”

             
“What? Dispose of my grandfather and disinherit my mother? You’d gladly commit these heinous acts a second time?”

             
“I never disinherited your mother! She ran away; she’s the one who left and never returned.”

             
“You drove her away! You wouldn’t allow her to be with the man she loved! Well, you will not receive the chance to do the same with me!” Arabel vowed, all trace of sleep vanquished from her mind and body, vibrant anger and hot fear trading places with relaxation.

             
“He couldn’t be trusted; he was one of them.” Amelia Bodean pronounced the word ‘them’ as if it left an unpleasant taste in her mouth, as if she could not even stand to think of Arabel’s father without grimacing in displeasure.

             
“Why are you telling me this?” Arabel asked.

             
Amelia Bodean sighed and Arabel could see the glass now, in her hand. Amelia Bodean raised it unsteadily to her lips, drank deeply, and then turned toward the door.

             
“You should leave the past alone Arabel, there’s no skin left on those bones.”

             
Arabel watched with incredulous outrage simmering inside of her as her grandmother wove her way unsteadily out the door of her bedroom and down the hallway, a darkened figure with a blackened heart.

             
Arabel was too wound up to sleep. She got out of bed and placed several fat logs on the glowing embers in the fireplace. Arabel poked at the logs with her fire poker and was frustrated when a tear or two began to slide down her cheek. She thrust the poker angrily into the flames, sending sparks flying.

             
How had Amelia Bodean known Arabel had delved into the horrors of the past? Could she have spoken to Dorcas as well? But how would she have even known to do so? Arabel’s thoughts we
re a confused muddle as she
returned to bed and stared moodily at the flickering flames. It would be a long time before sleep would claim her again, and everything within her felt heavy with sorrow.

             
Arabel felt under her pillow for the red stones Baltis had given her. Her fingers connected with the stones and instantly she felt the calm buzz of them begin to recharge her depleted energy. Arabel laid the magical red stones against her pale cheek and resigned herself to facing yet another dawn shrouded in confusion. The mysteries wrapped themselves around Arabel, beckoning to her to find answers. The upcoming dawn provided Arabel with another chance to continue on with the muddling quest for clues and yet another day of trying to understand and eradicate all of the evil which swarmed around her.

             
Arabel finally drifted off into slumber just as the dawn broke. She did not dream.

             
As was her fashion, in the small hours after dawn, Morna brought Arabel her morning tea, along with the shocking and unpleasant news that another dead woman’s body had been discovered draped across the Great Torch.

             
The giant heart of darkness swelled viciously and Arabel heard the laughter in her head, unrepentant, guttural, and hungry for bloodshed. Ano
ther victim had now been slain
. Arabel wondered when the evil would finally come to claim her.

             
Surely it could not be long now.

             
The dead woman’s name was Minnie Carlyle and she had been raped and choked to death. 

             
Arabel stood at the Priory with Ira on her shoulder, surveying the crowd which had gathered to observe the tragic scene. Minnie’s abused body was draped across the Great Torch as the others had been and her naked limbs arranged in a similar pose of sacrifice.

             
Minnie had gone missing only last night and so the killer apparently had taken less time with her than with the other two female victims. Arabel saw Chief Constable Bartlin ordering his minions to rope off the Great Torch completely and his eyes met Arabel’s briefly. Arabel saw a wary respect in the Chief’s expression, but he did not linger in looking at her, and proceeded to continue barking out orders to his staff.

             
Arabel moved fu
rther from the Torch and saw Zander Cross standing a small distance away. Zander spied Arabel at the same time and he hailed her in greeting, his normally merry eyes sober, their expression unreadable. Arabel and Zander moved toward one other, pushing through the excitable group which had gathered. Arabel felt the chalky taste in her mouth and was cognizant that the grey energy hovered nearby, pleased with the fresh, tragic disaster.

             
Zander took Arabel’s arm and led her away from the crowd. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

             
“We’ve found another shield,” he said abruptly.

             
Arabel hissed out a breath. “D’you think Minnie’s murder is related?”

             
Zander nodded solemnly. “Undoubtedly.”

             
“Will you take me to it?” Arabel asked him.

             
“Yes, it’s not far from here, we can walk.”

             
Zander led the way toward the edge of the forest, away from the buildings of town and the hum of the people gathered. The forest surrounded Arabel and Zander as they picked their way through the muddy slopes and gullies and across fallen branches and other natural casualties of nature. Neither of them spoke. The few birds that were enjoying the quiet of the woods chirped occasionally, their shrill birdsong piercing the air intermittently with their calls, but the sound was not as beautiful as it was haunted, and Arabel detected the sorrow in their utterings.

             
“Why, the very birds are in mourning today,” Arabel remarked softly and Zander glanced at her.

             
“Yes, ‘tis a sad day for all,” he agreed.

             
They came eventually to a denser part of the woods, a place where the redwood trees grew closely together. It was as if the forest had banded together in knitting a web of obstacles for weary travelers to traverse; a desire to pass meant threading through the majestic trees and careful consideration was needed to gauge the maze. Arabel was glad they were on foot; it made the darting back and forth much easier. They soon approached a vast clearing upon a hill, a spot Arabel was unfamiliar with.

             
“I don’t recognize this place,” she said.

             
“Barely anyone comes through here,” Zander replied. “Must be why they chose it for their ceremonial spot. It would have afforded them a great deal of privacy and given them time to enjoy their murderous activities.”

             
The clearing was pleasant enough looking, a large flat expanse at the top of the hill with knotted pines and weeping willows dotting its landscape. But for the blood stained shield resting against a hardy oak, the clearing reminded Arabel of what would surely be a perfect spot to picnic.

             
This shield was larger than the last one and covered in fresh blood, as if it had needed its power source renewed or replenished. As if the shield had needed yet another innocent death in order to rise to its full expression of dark strength. Arabel shivered.

             
The birdsong had completely ceased now and the air seemed to prick her very skin with the shadow of lingering evil. Above Arabel’s head, she noticed the moon had risen in the sky although it was not even mid-day. The floating globe looked eerie, shining overhead, with no trace of the sun visible.

             
“We found it this morning, well, rather, some of the other Gypsies did. They went this way to view the murderous offering at the Great Torch, and when they came back, they told the Council. Xavier sent me to scout it out. “

             
“When will it be destroyed?” Arabel questioned.

             
“As soon as possible. Tonight, most likely, if you’d like to come.”

             
Arabel nodded. “Most definitely I would like to be there.”

             
Arabel walked up to the shield, noticing its energy field pulsating as she approached it. If she quieted her mind completely, she could hear the cries, the voices of the tortured souls locked within its black boundaries as they begged for the merciful release of death. As they implored their captors for anything but the grey half-dark of the shield’s endless prison.

             
Arabel sensed suddenly that she and Zander were not alone in the desolate clearing.

             
Arabel immediately put a finger to her lips to ensure silence and alerted Zander to listen. Distinctly, Arabel heard the snap of a twig not far from where they stood, and then the muted sound of conversation. Two men were approaching the shield. Was it the murderers come to claim their bloody shield?
             

             
Zander grabbed Arabel’s arm once again and they hid under the scrub brush nearby and waited to see who would arrive at the clearing. The voices were louder now but Arabel could not make out the identity of the speaker, nor clearly comprehend the sentences being uttered. Her heart raced and she wondered what she and Zander would do if they were confronted by the Dorojenja.

             
Arabel twisted the protective ring Mireille had given her and uttered in her head the words to the easiest protective spell that Xavier had taught her. Arabel felt Zander’s mind closing in with hers, joining her in creating a protective web around them, and she tightly gripped the athame she kept upon her person at all times.

             
The two men came now into view and Arabel gasped when she realized who it was: Mr. Akings and Sully!

             
Zander sent Arabel a questioning look and she telepathically sent him her insight into the identities of the approaching men. Arabel was mystified as to what business the two men could possibly have in this place of death as she did not peg them for members of the secret society of evil.

             
“He said it was here, somewhere around here,” Mr. Akings was saying.

             
Sully bobbed his head up and down in agreement.

             
“Yes, he did say somewhere in the clearing, but what good will it do us to find it?” the larger man replied with a small amount of whine to his voice.

             
Mr. Akings looked briefly annoyed as he surveyed Sully.

             
“If we can find them once, then that means we have found them!” he declared rather sharply.

             
Arabel wondered whom the two men sought to find. Their friend was dead, they knew that, so it could not be him. Had Indra Northrup had an accomplice that Mr. Akings and Sully were now desperate to find?

             
Arabel bit her lip in confusion as the two men gained ground. They were now directly in front of her hiding place with Zander. Arabel barely dared draw a breath for fear of exposure. She watched as Mr. Akings scoured the clearing with his eyes, searching. Arabel was certain they would see the shield any second now, as they were not far away from it at all.

             
“It was here! It was here, I say!” Mr. Akings cried, shaking his grey head in consternation. Sully looked at him with patience.

             
“Well, ‘tis plain to see it no longer abides here,” he said companionably, which appeared to irritate Mr. Akings no end.

             
“We must find it!” Mr. Akings exclaimed and Arabel was certain now that they were referring to the Dorojenja wheel of death.

             
“D’you think they returned for it already?” Sully now asked as the two men poked and prodded the bushes, searching.

             
“Oh, poor Indra!” Mr. Akings moaned. “Why did he ever get caught up in such evil mischief?” The old man began to sob and Sully moved at once to him and comforted him with a bear hug.

             
“We’ll find it yet,” Sully consoled his friend. “Don’t fret.”

             
Arabel knew she had to speak with them. She carefully leaned over to Zander and whispered her thoughts to him. He nodded in agreement and the two of them emerged from the scrub brush, slightly less than clean, and made their way to the strange duo of Mr. Akings and Sully.

             
“You!” Mr. Akings cried upon seeing Arabel.

             
“You were at the inn!” Sully exclaimed.

             
“Hello again Mr. Akings, Sully,” Arabel said. “This is Zander Cross.”