Eric Butler's Blog, page 37

Chapters 16-18 Chapter Sixteen Ephraim led the way into the office of Stanbury and Devitt. A bell chimed to announce visitors. The spacious room had multiple tables and desks positioned throughout. A black stove stood opposite a wide fireplace, where a fire was dying down. The room was warm, but not stifling and Zona smiled as it seeped into her body. Visions had a way of removing her warmth, allowing a chill to take over. "Just a minute," a voice called from behind a door at the back of the room. Ephraim motioned to a seat off to the side but Zona shook her head. She might be tired after her spell, but she could stand. They waited a moment longer before the door opened and Mr. Devitt stepped through, his arms loaded with rolls of parchment. He glanced up and gave a start. "Good lord," he said with a frown, "Whatever are you doing here?" "We need to speak," Ephraim said. "Is your partner here as well?" Devitt placed the papers down on a desk and stepped closer to the three. He fidgeted with his hands and Zona noticed perspiration appear on the man's forehead. He glanced back towards the door before nodding. "Yes...yes, he's here," Devitt said his voice barely above a whisper. "But what do we need to speak about? I didn't see anything the other night." Zona touched his arm and offered a reassuring smile. He stared at her for a moment and then gave a start. "Oh, where are my manners, please sit," he said motioning towards the chairs near the fireplace. "Would you care for some tea or something stronger?" "Tea would be splendid," Zona said continuing to smile as if to encourage Devitt. He returned the smile before turning and hurrying back to the door. "What did you do?" Ephraim asked leaning in as if to share a secret. "I simply smiled," Zona said. "It does wonders. You should try it sometime." Livingstone snorted as he glanced between the two. Zona smiled and winked to the doctor and turned her focus on the flames. She recalled the smoldering remains of the village, smelt the burst and roasted flesh, and she wondered if it would ever go away. Zachariah always led her out of the visions in a way that left the more unsavory bits behind. This time however it all remained. "Zona," Ephraim said, snapping his fingers to get her attention. She opened her eyes wide in question, focusing on the two men. "Yes?" "You disappeared for a moment...just wanted to make sure you were back as our host arrived." Zona read the concern on Ephraim's face, even as he tried to hide it from her. She nodded and reached over and patted his arm. "I'm fine...truly I am. A little tired but a spot of tea and this fire should help tremendously." "Lily should be here in a moment with that tea," Devitt offered as he sat in one of the open chairs. He motioned to the other gentleman sitting next to him. "This is Charles Stanbury, my partner. Now, what exactly do you need from us?" Ephraim and Zona shared a look, Livingstone sat quietly watching the other men carefully. Zona nodded and Ephraim turned his attention to Stanbury. "I am Ephraim Godwin and this is Ms. Whitlock and Dr. Livingstone. We met Mr. Devitt the other night at a seance. Since that night we've made some shocking discoveries and hoped you might be able to help us." "I don't see how," Stanbury said with a frown. "I told Devitt it was a bunch of rubbish and when he returned he confirmed it. Said he witnessed nothing but a show, a charlatans' act." Zona shifted to the edge of her seat and gazed at Devitt. She seemed to be dissecting him in front of the others, and his cheeks flushed before he cleared his throat. "What are you doing?" he asked his voice filled with confusion. She continued to study him, not blinking or offering an answer. "I believe she is reading you," Ephraim said to fill the quiet. "Wondering why you would tell such a story. Ah, here comes the tea." A mousy woman entered the room. She moved in a timid manner that did the opposite of what she wanted as all eyes turned to her. She placed the tray down between Devitt and Zona and offered a slight curtsy. She waited until Devitt waved her off and began pouring the tea himself. "Fine, blast you. I may have told a white lie to you Charles...something did happen," Devitt muttered as he presented the first cup to Zona. She blinked at the offered cup and took it with a gracious smile. Ephraim and Livingstone were next and then Devitt handed Stanbury a cup before placing the pot back down. "No tea for you?" Livingstone asked. Devitt shook his head, "It gives me a massive headache, so I avoid it when I can. Not to be rude, but we really are very busy so what is it you want?" "It's two things, but we suspect you can cover them both with one answer. Tell us about Roberts and the village massacre." Devitt's face blanched at the question while Stanbury sipped his tea. The quiet returned and filled the room oppressing even the heat. "I know you were there...because I was there also," Livingstone said placing his cup down. "Well, not there but I would have been if not for that awful lion incident." A light appeared in Devitt's eyes, and he nodded, speaking before pausing to think, "Oh goodness, that was some nasty business. We eventually got those beasts under control, but they seemed possessed, the way they followed us and kept attacking." Stanbury glanced at his partner and sighed, "Well I guess the cat is out of the bag now." Devitt closed his eyes, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "Forgive me, Charles, ever since last night I've not been myself." "Is that what the man from your past was holding over you? Is the village the secret you wanted to keep from the outside world?" Stanbury nodded. "Yes, just being there stained us. There are rumors of course, but only a select few know how terrible the truth is. I believe that the truth would destroy us. Hatty suggested as much." Zona held her empty cup out to Devitt who took a moment to realize she needed more. He quickly filled her cup, offering more to the others who declined. "We need to know what happened," Zona said quietly. Devitt and Stanbury studied her before sharing a glance. Devitt shrugged and Stanbury spoke. "A part of our regiment was sent with Edwin Roberts to protect him as he spread God's word to the heathens. At first, we believed that was all we were doing but after some time it became quite clear that Roberts had an alternative motive...to collect as much wealth as possible from the villages we visited. If they accepted God and gave gifts to the church, we spared them but if they resisted..." Devitt jumped in at the pause, "If they resisted he found excuses to order us to attack. Roberts was clever though, always making it appear as defending ourselves or protecting the church and crown. But every time the smoke cleared, He ordered the men to strip the place clean of any valuables. Edwards kept most of it, but he always shared a little, claiming God's will that we be compensated for doing our duty." "When I was with the group, he destroyed no villages," Livingstone said quietly. "No...the lion incident was the catalyst. Roberts claimed the villagers used dark magic and bewitched the lions. After you left, he punished the village and wiped it out. We moved on to the next village and did the same. We realized the pattern, took our cut and left. We sold our commissions and returned home with our pockets full. Then We opened this trading and shipping company and tried to forget that time." "What aren't you telling us?" Zona asked a sad knowing smile on her lips. Devitt refused to make eye contact and stared at his hands as they fidgeted in his lap. "Yes, terrible things happen all the time but this man claimed to have something that he threatened to use against you...something worth money to keep quiet," Ephraim said. "Before we left we killed a fellow soldier, an officer...or thought we did," Stanbury said with a sigh. Chapter Seventeen "Terrible man... Colonel James Hatty; we called him the Butcher. In the last village, they barely waited before attacking. In the center of the carnage was Hatty, stripped to the waist and covered in the blood of the villagers. He moved from hut to hut, with a group of bloodthirsty soldiers. They murdered everyone in the huts, stopping only to rape the women." Devitt shuddered as he listened to Stanbury. Shaking his head he mumbled, "Terrible, just terrible." Stanbury nodded as he continued, "Bill and I stopped when we saw the madness take over the boys. No longer was this a mission of goodwill, of sharing the good word. Instead, it devolved into plain and simple debauchery. We followed the Colonel to the last, largest hut in the center of the village. By now all the others were busy fulfilling their own pleasure and the man hunted alone. He had been in there for a few minutes before we arrived. The sounds...inhuman cries of pain and humiliation came through those walls...froze a man's soul." Zona glanced to Ephraim. He wore a look of horror and understanding that broke her heart. His eyes shined with unshed tears and his lips pressed tight in a slight frown. His hands no longer held the cup as he gripped both arms of his chair with such force she was surprised the wood had not splintered. Suddenly aware of her gaze, he tried to relax but with little success. Zona turned her attention back to Stanbury. "Since there is a lady present, I will not go into any more details. Safe to say what the Colonel did to that poor woman and her child will haunt me to this day. We entered and as he lay, with his back to us, we drove our swords through him. To my eternal shame, we took whatever we found and ran. Heading back to relinquish our commissions and escape back to England to forget...as if we could." "That's why we run this business as we do," Devitt spoke after a moment. "We are trying to make up for our roles in that dark time. And then he returned after all these years." "He wanted revenge, and he would have it by destroying us and our business," Stanbury said his voice thick with emotion. "I could not allow that. I hired a man to track him. I stress we only wanted Hatty followed until we figured out a way to fix this but our man swears he was seen and forced to kill the Colonel in self-defense." "So the spirit was this Colonel?" Livingstone asked remembering the dark shadow pouring from the medium's mouth. Devitt nodded, "But I didn't know he was dead. So I assumed it was a trick or a part of his plan. So when the lights went out I ran. Came straight to Charles and told him what happened. Charles informed me then that Colonel Hatty had been killed hours earlier." "Who did you hire?" "An African we use for such activities, his Christian name is Jonah Cook. Strange fellow but usually gets the job done with no fuss. This was the first mistake he made in the three years we've employed him." "Where can we find Mr. Cook? And did he supply you with Hatty's whereabouts?" "Mr. Cook is near the brewery on Browns Lane. Hatty slept somewhere on Charles Street near where Thomas Street intersects." "It's a shame you weren't here a few moments earlier," Devitt said. "You just missed Mr. Cook." Chapter Eighteen Jonah Cook coughed into a handkerchief. He pulled it away and frowned. The quantity of blood increased each time. Jonah was dying; the magic to get him to England and close enough to exact his revenge required a heavy price. The crow trick took more out of him than expected. Once, that trick could be pulled off without any drain. Yes, in my younger days. He frowned at the thought. Looking in the mirror, he traced the lines on his face. His younger days were only ten years ago, but no one would believe that now. Although it helped him move within his enemies circles, this older unrecognizable mask. But soon he would wear a new face, one that would allow him greater maneuverability within society. He placed the mirror down and left the room. Jonah Cook took the steps down to the basement. Blocks of ice sat throughout the room driving the temperature down. Goosebumps rose on Jonah's naked flesh. He ran his hands over the bumpy skin, stopping on a long angled scar. He would miss that on his new body, the reminder of how much he despised the English. Do you really need to be reminded? He let out a long breath before shaking his head. His memories of his village, his family, his wife's and daughter's broken bodies would be enough. He would take that with him where ever he went, in this life and the next. Jonah glanced to the corner of the room and studied the woman tied to a chair. The woman trembled but Jonah wasn't sure if it was from the cold or fear. He stepped closer and squatted so they were eye to eye. She flinched when he reached up to her face and for a moment his anger burned hot. Taking a deep breath, Jonah forced a smile on his lips. "My dear Ms. Blaire, it will all be over soon. Play your part and I promise you a freedom you never experienced before." Ellie Blaire struggled against her bonds while fear made her eyes bulge and the gag muted her screams of terror. Jonah patted her on the leg and stood. He moved to the center of the room and picked up a pocket watch. Soon; Jonah bent over Zachariah Whitlock's body on a long table. He had covered the cold dead flesh with symbols and characters with the blood of Chattoway's unborn baby. She had proven quite useful in his quest for revenge. He smiled as he ran his fingers over Zachariah's soft hair. Soon he would be a new man; one final sacrifice to finish the spell. © 2020 Naked Cat Press. All Rights Reserved

Chapter Four A match flared and illuminated Livingstone's face as Ephraim eyes opened. He quickly lit all the candles on the table. Ephraim struggled to rise...

Chapter Eight Zona stood next to the couch staring at the slow but steady rise and fall of Ephraim's chest. She couldn't explain to Livingstone that Ephraim ...

Chapter Eleven Although warned of the carnage, Dr. Livingstone was unprepared for the amount of blood in the room. Taking a deep breath, he entered the room,...

Chapters 13-15 Chapter Thirteen Mrs. Chattoway sat in front of her mirror, studying her reflection. The time since her marriage date was visible in the lines...

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Chapters 13-15 Chapter Thirteen Mrs. Chattoway sat in front of her mirror, studying her reflection. The time since her marriage date was visible in the lines on her face, around her mouth, and the corners of her eyes. Her skin no longer appeared young and fresh but rather reflected the stress she experienced daily. Since learning of the babe, a sense of dread filled her every waking hour, and she wondered how exactly her husband would react. He always wanted an heir and if they played the situation just right, they might be able to pull it off... Unless the child is female. If that happened, she gave the two of them a fifty-fifty chance. The word would already be out that Penfry and Olive Chattoway were expecting. Maybe a baby will be enough to reignite the fire they initially shared. A sad smile floated across her lips as the memory of their courtship and the first year of marriage ran through her mind's eye. Penfry's passion surprised her the most that first year. He practically burned with it, but after the third miscarriage, he drifted away; more interested in business than making babies. The last few years were lonely for Mrs. Chattoway. She could admit it now, but at the time her affair begun, she would have used words like bored, disinterested, and plain tired of being ignored. It was about this time that John Roberts began to work for her husband. Mr. Chattoway decided the company needed to expand, and he pulled away to be at the office more and more. John became his messenger, relaying information for the company and more importantly to Mrs. Chattoway. Their interaction began harmlessly at first, sharing tea or a light lunch while discussing the general goings-on at the company or passing word to or from Mr. Chattoway. A fondness grew, first from Mrs. Chattoway but soon from John as well. Heat rushed to her face, and she studied the deepening blush on her skin as she remembered the first stolen kiss, the caress of his hand, and the passion that inflamed them both. A passion she had not experienced in some time with her husband. Afterward, she tried to distance herself, ashamed and alarmed at her actions, but the need to feel John's touch...anyone's touch, overwhelmed her and soon they found themselves in each other's arms frequently. Mrs. Chattoway placed her hand on her belly and took a deep breath. Yes, if played correctly Penfry will be overjoyed and a most wonderful father. If what John said earlier was true, Penfry knew of the affair; knew and approved. Olive shook her head in disbelief. The man she married would never approve of such behavior from his wife. But John spoke calmly and was very clear, her husband was happy she had found something to occupy her time. Olive's cheeks darkened again, from shame and embarrassment, not passion as her earlier thoughts had provoked. To think her husband was not enraged by another man defiling her made her angry. Am I no longer worthy of his desire? Should he not want me to be his and his alone? The thoughts fueled the heat that churned in her belly and flushed her skin red. Closing her eyes, Olive sighed. And what if I'm not? He has not betrayed our marriage... I have. But if that betrayal delivered the one thing Penfry so desperately wanted, maybe she would earn his forgiveness. For that, the true father had to be kept secret, with all signs pointing to Penfry. "Tonight I will speak with my husband," she spoke aloud to her reflection. "I will lay out the truth and hope for the best. I will have our baby and one day, Penfry will thank me for it." In the mirror, Olive noticed the door open a crack. The door's movement paused a moment, before swinging open and exposing a massive African man, dressed similarly as her husband with a high collared shirt and a double-breasted vest under his dark frock coat. A gasp slipped from her lips. She had never been so close to a black man, and she shrank away. While her husband was not a proponent of slavery, he had no use for the Negro and refused to offer them any chance at employment. The man flashed a wicked smile and stepped closer to allow for space to close the door. Standing over six feet tall, he towered over her, and she stood to step farther away, stopping only when her back hit the wall. "Who are you?" she asked in a whispered voice. "And where is Pence...or Sara?" He studied her face a moment before stepping closer. Reaching into his pocket, the man produced a huge folded razor, his smile widening. "I am a messenger," he replied in a booming voice with a slight slur. His fingers gripped the back of the blade and opened the razor. "Well...what is your message?" Olive tried to keep her voice level but it shook from the fear filling her belly. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, hunching over to protect the life growing inside her. His eyes flashed as they widened, and he said, "You will be, my dear lady...once I'm finished of course." Chapter Fourteen Zona studied Ephraim as he sipped his tea. She pushed the plate of biscuits closer to him and tapped the china until he glanced down. "You need to eat," she said. "I'm not hungry," he replied in a hollow voice. "Even more so then," Zona said tapping the plate again. Ephraim sighed but picked up a biscuit. He sniffed it before shoving it into his mouth. After swallowing the first one, he began to shovel the remaining biscuits into his mouth, barely pausing to swallow. "My God man," Livingstone exclaimed as he followed the food's path into Ephraim's mouth. "No doctor, this is exactly what he needs," Zona said, a smile on her lips. If she could get him moving in the right direction there was still hope. Hope they could finish whatever her brother started last night. "Are you sure?" Livingstone asked. Zona bit her bottom lip to stop from laughing at the incredulous expression on the doctor's face. There was no chance she was going to explain why Ephraim needed the substance. Doctors rarely understood the ways of spiritualism. "I'm just hungry," Ephraim mumbled through the wad of food stuffed in his mouth as crumbles sprayed outwards with each word. The clock on the mantle chimed four times and Zona stood. "Gentlemen, we should visit the others before business ends today. I'm quite confident we shall find Mr. Devitt and Mr. Stanbury still at their office if we hurry." Ephraim gulped down the rest of his tea and followed Livingstone to the front door. Mary met them holding their coats and hats, handing each to the correct person. Ephraim and Livingstone nodded their thanks as Mary helped Zona into her coat before pinning her hat back in place. The three entered the carriage after Zona told the driver where to go. The driver cracked his whip as Ephraim pulled the door shut. He fell back into the seat with a whoosh of air leaving his chest. Zona studied him a moment longer before turning her attention to Livingstone. "So doctor," she said, "you said you know Devitt but what about his partner, Stanbury?" Livingstone shook his head after a moment's pause, "I don't think so but until I see the man I won't know for sure." Zona nodded, not happy with the answer but understanding it. Her brother stated all that were invited had a connection but that doesn't mean it covered partnerships...of course, it doesn't not mean it either. Her brother played that night close to the vest and in the end, it cost him his life and quite possibly all theirs as well. She simply couldn't decide the best course of action. "So we must follow the clues," she said under her breath as the carriage came to a stop. "I'm sorry...did you say something?" Ephraim asked his attention focused through the carriage window. Zona shook her head before speaking, "Nothing important...simply reminding myself to follow the clues" She held her breath, waiting for either man to offer a comment but both stayed quiet. Ephraim nodded and leaned forward before turning his head. "I recognize a man out there. He's been following us for the day at the very least." "A man?" "Yes, a rather immense black man," Ephraim replied, his attention switched back to the others in the carriage. "He's tall, still shorter than your brother, but tall...dressed as a gentleman with a grand top hat." Livingstone leaned forward and glanced out the window. "I've seen him as well...outside the morgue to be exact." "Interesting," Ephraim said glancing at Zona. "Have you seen him?" Zona sighed before peaking past Livingstone and after a moment shook her head. "I've never seen him before but that doesn't mean he's not a part of this." "Perhaps we should ask," Ephraim said slipping from the carriage and marching towards the man. The crowd flowed around the man as he stood a few steps off the main street in front of a row of businesses. A few small children moved back and forth, offering matchbooks and flowers for sale to everyone who passed by. Ephraim weaved his way through the throng of people until he stood in front of the man. "Are you following us?" Ephraim asked as he studied the man. His suit was immaculate; his hat made from fine silk stood added almost 8 more inches to his already impressive height. Although the man's dark skin contrasted starkly with the white collar of his dress shirt, the rest of the suit was only a shade lighter than skin color. He rested his weight on a tall wooden cane, carved with strange symbols and shapes, and a thick silver handle. "Shouldn't there be more of you to be an 'us'?" the man asked with a voice smooth and deep. There was a slight accent that betrayed the man as not English born, but Ephraim could not place his exact origins. As he opened his mouth to speak, Zona and Livingstone both appeared and slipped next to him. "Ah, now I see." "And yet you haven't answered my question," Ephraim said. "So I ask it again...are you following us?" The man smiled and Zona gasped. His teeth ended in sharp points, filed with some abrasive substance so the man had a mouth of fangs. His tongue slithered out of his mouth, split in the middle like a serpent's, to lick his lips. "No, I am not following you. This is a simple coincidence, Mr. Godwin," the man said with a wink before turning and slipping into the foot traffic. They watched him stroll away and Ephraim shook his head as if waking from a trance. He burst forward, slipping through and around the crowd to catch the man. He kept his eyes locked on the tall dark hat as he made his way through the throng at a maddeningly slow pace. With his eyes locked on the hat, Ephraim placed his foot down in a glob of muck and slipped. He stumbled forward; bring his eyes down and waving his arms to capture his balance. As he regained his footing, Ephraim glanced up and saw the man pull the hat from his head. For a moment it appeared like the man was shrinking and then suddenly a hefty dark crow burst into the sky. Ephraim pushed through the last group of people and stooped down, snatching the silk top hat from the ground before it was trampled. The man was gone, but he may have left some clues. Chapter Fifteen "Well?" Zona asked as Ephraim reappeared. "He...disappeared. This was all that was left behind," Ephraim said holding out a silk top hat. Zona reached out and took the hat. She gasped as a cold darkness slithered from the hat and up her arm to her chest. With wide eyes, she followed it in horror as the darkness covered her entire body in seconds. The darkness slid over her face, cutting off her scream for help and filling her mouth with its thick oozing slime. Her eyes bulged as the darkness cut off the air and pushed its way down to her stomach. The darkness tightened around her arms, pulling them tight against her body and finished covering over her face, blinding her with its inky black sludge. Her body pulsed with electricity as the darkness filled her from her toes to the top of her head. Zona's whimpers were muffled, and she fought to regain her breath, so she could cry for help. Her body rocked back and forth before a jolt forced her rigid and a flash of light shocked the darkness from her eyes. She stood in a meadow on the top of a hill; below she could see the smoldering remains of a village. Bodies of women and children lay scattered on the ground like discarded tin soldiers. As Zona moved closer she could see those not shot, had their heads split open like ripe melons. Blood soaked into the ground, and she wondered how she would be able to make it through the village without slipping in the muck. As Zona walked through the massacred villagers, each victim's name popped into her head and tears ran down her cheeks at the loss of lives. She prayed to the spirits of their ancestors hoping the newly dead found their way to the other side. As each step took her closer to the center of the village, she spotted random women's bodies pulled into huts, their clothes torn or removed. Looks of horror and disgust frozen on their faces as deep gashes exposed their insides. Bile rose in Zona's throat as the smell of death hung heavy in the air. A sense of urgency gripped her chest, and she pushed forward, attempting to ignore all the butchery around her. The buzzing of flies grew more intense as she stepped to the middle of the village. The only home not touched by flame stood there. Zona swallowed and ducked into the hut. Falling to her knees, Zona's scooped up the mangled body of a young boy, her memories telling her no more than five. His throat was slit and blood dried on his chest like some obscene painting. The boy's eyes were open, staring at nothing and Zona cradled the boy to her chest, rocking back and forth. Huge sobs ripped from her throat as she held this child for the last time. Eyes blurry with tears studied the room and red-hot anger filled her chest as she took in the utter carnage in this hut alone...the hut she lived in with her family. The boy slipped from her hands, and she crawled to the next body, a girl barely into her teens. She studied the face, drinking in the beauty that had been there in life, afraid to look any closer...afraid to discover what those men had done to her little girl. Zona's lips quivered as she kissed the girl's forehead. She crawled to the next body, and the next, each time pausing to kiss the dead and offer a prayer to protect them in the afterlife. Zona stood and stepped over to the last body, pausing when her reflection caught her attention. A gasp escaped her lips as she stared at the face of a young African man. His eyes were swollen and shined with tears. She studied the man as he reached up and touched his face gingerly as if discovering it for the first time. "I know you are there," he spoke to his reflection. "You can see what was done and why I will have my revenge. Edwin Roberts is a devil and I will make him and his men pay for this evil." Zona immediately felt dizzy as the room began to spin. The man bent down and held his wife in his arms. Zona's vision blurred once again as the man's tears rushed out. The room faded to black and Zona woke in the carriage with both Livingstone and Ephraim hovering over her. "What...what happened?" "You appeared to get lightheaded and you fainted," Livingstone offered with a tired smile. "Yes, fainted but abruptly spoke in a voice not your own in a language, Livingstone assures me is African," Ephraim said patting her hand as he let go of it. "A rare dialect I heard only one other time," Livingstone said. "It's my understanding the tribe no longer exists and the language is lost forever." Zona nodded as she struggled to sit up. Ephraim helped her to one of the bench seats. She offered a smile of gratitude and took a deep breath. The vision was beginning to fade but the feeling of dread hung heavy in her chest. She wondered if that would ever leave. "Where is the hat?" "We put it away," Livingstone replied, motioning with his head to the back of the carriage. "I imagine that is for the best. When I touched it I experienced a vision. It showed me a village massacred in Africa where I was...with the lone survivor. He vowed revenge on the men responsible." Ephraim studied Zona's face and reached out to test her pulse. It seemed quicker but not abnormally so. She glanced at his hand on her wrist before turning her attention to Livingstone. "Doctor, do you know a man named Edwin Roberts?" Livingstone frowned and wiped his hand across his brow. "I haven't heard that name in a long time. He was...yes, I'm sure of it...the missionary I spoke of last night. He was the man allegedly responsible for wiping out an entire village once he couldn't convince them to convert, but really all he wanted was their gold." Zona grimaced as the memory of the bloody ground flashed through her head and lingered. They needed to move quickly if they had a chance of stopping this mad plan for revenge.

Chapter Eleven Although warned of the carnage, Dr. Livingstone was unprepared for the amount of blood in the room. Taking a deep breath, he entered the room, stepping lightly to avoid the larger pools of blood. His destination was the middle of the room, where the body of a man lay on the autopsy table. As Livingstone moved towards the body, he examined the room. Pools of blood lay all over the floor and bloody tracks of different shoes crisscrossed over the off-white tile. On the far wall, bloody handprints created a large circular eye. The excess blood ran down giving it the appearance of bloody tears. Livingstone paused halfway there and closed his eyes. While unsettling, the butchery was not unique. He had witnessed such terrible slaughter more than once on the Dark Continent. However, the eye was unique. Livingstone remembered seeing the symbol once before in a tiny village; a tiny village that no longer existed. "Sir, are you all right?" Inspector Kimbell said after a moment. Livingstone opened his eyes and glanced back at the inspector. "Sorry, this just reminded me of something." When no other question was asked, much to Livingstone's relief, he moved forward to the body. The head was gone. No, that's not right...it's crushed flat. He assumed that specific violence is where most of the blood splatter came from. Leaning close, he identified bruises on the neck, and he only hoped the poor man was already dead when the rest was done. The morgue attendant's chest was open, the flaps of skin and muscle held back with long pins inserted through into the body. Livingstone studied the opening before sticking his hands into the man's chest. "He is missing his heart, liver, and it appears...his spleen." He glanced back at the inspector with a frown, "Whoever did this was quite tall and very strong." "Why do you think that?" Livingstone stood. He laced his fingers behind his back continuing to stare at the body. Releasing a deep sigh he shook his head, "The top part of the eye is quite a ways up there. I suspect only a tall man reaching without help and I spot no stool or ladder. Hard to tell exactly but I'd say taller than six feet." Kimbell sighed and motioned to an overturned box in the corner. As Livingstone approached, he recognized the bloody remains of Mr. Whitlock's white dress shirt. "So the killer took Mr. Whitlock's body and everything but his shirt?" Kimbell nodded, "Lord knows why?" Livingstone nodded and moved to return to the body when a sparkle caught his attention. He stepped to the box, grabbing the shirt, and began to look it over. He grunted in satisfaction and turned to the Inspector. "What is it?" Livingstone held up a blood-caked metal amulet about the size of a schilling, "It's the eye of Horus." *** The carriage ride was uncomfortably quiet. Except for the occasional sob from Mrs. Chattoway, no one made a noise. Zona glared at Ephraim, who in turn stared out the window and watched London pass by. Why is this my fault? He simply suggested they take Mrs. Chattoway home since Zona's carriage was nearby. If looks could kill...he shuddered remembering the heat in Zona's eyes as the words left his mouth. Ephraim chanced a glance at the two ladies across from him. Mrs. Chattoway with her face buried in her handkerchief didn't appear to detect the rage rolling off Zona in waves. Ephraim offered an innocent smile before turning his attention back to the street. Better give it some more time. The carriage came to a stop and Ephraim hurried to exit. He waited, holding his hand out to help first Zona and then Mrs. Chattoway from the hackney. Mrs. Chattoway offered her thanks and led them into her house. Ephraim nodded to the butler as he led them to a sitting room. Mrs. Chattoway excused herself and Zona went to stand by the window. Ephraim sat by the fire and studied the flames. "I'm not exactly angry with you," Zona said as she crossed the room to be closer to the fire. "But we don't have time to waste taking a jilted lover home and holding her hand." "True, but you weren't going to solve anything simply by looking at a body, and we need to know her connection to this. I couldn't bloody well bring her home by myself." Ephraim glanced up and breathed a sigh of relief at Zona's smiling face. True the smile was small, but he would settle for anything this side of pleasant. "You are correct," Zona said slipping into the chair next to him. "Plus you really shouldn't get too far away from me for another day or two." Ephraim opened his mouth to question that last statement when a throat clearing announced Mrs. Chattoway was in the room. Her face freshly washed and a change of clothes almost gave her a relaxed look, but Ephraim recognized the grief with the pinch around her eyes, the flush of her cheeks, and the way her mouth fought to turn down into a frown. He rose and after a moment, Zona followed suit. They studied her as she moved through the room to the third chair by the fireplace. She offered a timid smile and sat. Ephraim paused, waiting for Zona to sit before following. He hoped she would begin to ask questions, so he could study Mrs. Chattoway's responses. After a sideways glance at Ephraim, Zona asked, "Mrs. Chattoway are you all right? Is there anything we can do for you?" She stared at the fire biting on her lower lip, the silence stretched out but finally, she said, "I will be fine. Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking today. I thought I might speak with him at the office, but when I spotted him in the street...well, emotions got the better of me." She offered Zona a sad smile. Ephraim studied Mrs. Chattoway as she spoke. She carried herself with all the dignity and poise of someone of the upper class, but on occasion her old life poked its head out and spoke of her true heritage. "How long have you been married to Mr. Chattoway?" Ephraim asked quietly. Mrs. Chattoway blinked as if just noticing him sitting in the room with them, "Ah, three years this May." "And this man we just witnessed you...speaking with, he works for your husband?" Mrs. Chattoway studied Ephraim's face as if trying to calculate how much to share with this relative stranger. He offered an encouraging smile. If not for the séance last night, he wouldn't dare ask, but they were old friends now. "Yes, he is a clerk and may soon be given a promotion." Ephraim nodded his understanding. Zona glanced between the two, as if not sure what just passed between them. "Did Dr. Bent give the baby a clean bill of health after last night's scare?" Zona asked to fill the silence. Mrs. Chattoway nodded and turned her attention back to Zona, "Yes. I was worried all the excitement might have caused undue stress to the babe, but when I awoke this morning everything was fine." "If you don't mind, what is the father's name?" Ephraim asked. He let his gaze linger on Mrs. Chattoway as he waited for an answer. "Oh, I guess you can find out easily enough. His name is John Roberts." Ephraim stood and motioned to Zona that he was ready to leave. "Thank you for your time Mrs. Chattoway...oh one more thing. Did you recognize anyone last night?" She bit her bottom lip once again and studied the fire a moment before replying, "No... I knew no one. I came because I received an invitation from Mr. Whitlock to attend." Chapter Twelve "I don't believe her," Zona said as Ephraim entered the carriage. "And neither do you." He nodded his agreement and stared out the window at the Chattoway's estate. While the home wasn't large by any stretch of the imagination, it still struck Ephraim odd that so few servants worked there. Other than the butler, he had seen no other person although he assumed there was at least a cook or maid hiding somewhere. "You are distressed," Zona said more than asked. Ephraim turned his attention to her and offered a sad smile. "I was thinking how lonely Mrs. Chattoway must be in that house. She most likely is fifteen to twenty years younger than her husband and is no longer allowed to fraternize with her friends and family as it would be an embarrassment to him. However, no one in his social circle will ever accept her, especially when news of the babe comes out...well, I understand why she sought comfort in the arms of another." Zona sighed, "If what you say is true then it is tragic...but I wonder how you picked all that up in the short time we spent with her?" Ephraim waved the question away and glanced once more out the window. Even with the little he was able to glean from the visit, Ephraim found himself stumped. He still had no idea how she fits in the puzzle and why they all found themselves at the séance the night before. Maybe Livingstone was having more luck. *** Livingstone stood on the sidewalk in front of Zona's house as the carriage pulled up. He opened the door and helped Zona down. Ephraim followed seemingly lost in thought. Zona slipped her arm through Livingstone's as they made their way to the front door. "My dear lady... I don't know what to say," Livingstone admitted as they stepped inside. Mary appeared and took the men's coats and hats before disappearing into the kitchen. The three made their way to the room where the séance was held and took seats. Zona patted Livingstone on the back of his hand and smiled. "Thank you for your concern doctor, but we must cut through the niceties and get to the meat of the issue." "Well, then simply put...it was exactly what Kimbell related when he found us in front of the café. Someone killed the morgue attendant and stole your brother's body." "And?" Ephraim asked, his attention fully on Livingstone. The man fidgeted a bit before exhaling a large huff of air. "Well, I am fairly confident the man was strangled." Ephraim raised an eyebrow and continued to stare at the doctor. "But afterward, the killer removed his spleen, heart, and liver. He also bashed his head flat. There was quite a bit of blood and gore decorating the room; in fact, the killer left a rather large eye on the wall." Zona gasped and closed her eyes. Livingstone's heart tightened at the flash of devastation on her face but found her spirit inspiring. He remembered how wrecked he was after his wife's passing. Weeks passed before he found the resolve to push forward and here Ms. Whitlock was in the thick of it the next day. "And do you have anything to add to Inspector Kimbell's story?" Ephraim asked, "Something useful?" Mary appeared and placed a tray down. She moved to start pouring the tea but Zona shook her head. Mary offered a curtsy and a nasty look at Ephraim and left the room. Livingstone wondered what happened the previous night to get such a look from another person. Ephraim shrugged and moved to pour the tea in everyone's cup. "I've seen the eye before...in a village a long time ago. Oh, and there was this," Livingstone said as he patted his pockets until he found the amulet. He held it out for Zona who grabbed it, her eyes large. "Where did you find this?" "Whoever took his body, also took his clothing except for his bloody shirt. The damage was too extensive and I found this pinned to the left pocket." Ephraim glanced over and hummed, "Hmm, The Eye of Horus?" Zona nodded, wiping the blood from the silver amulet and studying it closely. "Nothing is missing, but I wonder why it failed?" "Failed?" Livingstone asked before sipping his tea. Ephraim set the pot down and stirred in some milk in his cup. "Her brother wore it for protection... I assume." "And like the circle, failed to protect us. Nothing should have made it over so strongly...or stayed." Livingstone shook his head. If he hadn't witnessed amazing spiritualists in Africa, he would dismiss Ms. Whitlock and her talk of mumbo-jumbo as the thoughts of a hysterical woman. But up to and right after his dear wife passed, he witnessed things that made him a believer. The world contained things that man simply can't explain. "Any idea how?" Ephraim asked draining his cup afterward. He seemed disappointed with the choice of biscuits Mary provided, but it didn't stop him from eating them all Livingstone noted. Zona stood and moved to the window. She stared out quietly for a long moment. Livingstone fought the urge to fidget, or stand and instead focused on Ephraim's face. He looks tired...no, exhausted and half-starved. Livingstone had seen plenty of men starving in his travels, and they had the same hollow look around the eyes and cheeks. He wore the same clothes as yesterday, slightly wrinkled but clean. Livingstone wondered if he would notice or even care if they weren't. "Honestly, I have no idea," Zona said finally. "The number should have stopped someone from entering the circle fully, and the amulet should have allowed Zachariah to send them away as soon as he wanted them gone. We are dealing with something powerful to override that." Livingstone shuddered. If someone skilled in these arts failed so completely, what hope did they have? © 2020 Naked Cat Press. All Rights Reserved

Monty Python member, Terry Jones died on January 21st, 2020. He had been diagnosed with Primary Progressive Aphasia, a type of dementia. This disease erodes the brain's ability to use language and eventually, speech becomes impossible. While not as visible as some of the other Python members, Jones was an integral part of what made Monty Python work. With the ability to play the straight man in a way that highlighted his costars and added a level of sophisticated humor to any skit, Jones was helping Monty Python push the boundaries of comedy in his day. But he embraced the silly aspect of Monty Python as well, often playing the female in many skits or taking a simple funny idea and pushing it to the absolute boundaries of the absurd. However, maybe one of his finest roles in not only Monty Python but as a pioneer of comedy was that of director and writer. All members are credited with writing the Monty Python shows and movies. However Jones put his stamp on their feature films by co-directing or directing their hits; The Meaning of Life, Life of Brian, and The Search of the Holy Grail. He also wrote and directed the underrated Erik the Viking starring Tim Robbins and guest staring many of his Python partners. And while he is a pioneer of comedy, near the end he began to write, direct, and produce documentaries on Rome, Egypt, Medieval Life, Barbarians, and the History of love and sex. Below I've attached a few of my favorite scenes Terry Jones was a part of...

Chapter Eight Zona stood next to the couch staring at the slow but steady rise and fall of Ephraim's chest. She couldn't explain to Livingstone that Ephraim had no choice but to stay at the house close to her. Sighing, she moved across the room and fell into the matching armchair. Zona offered a sad smile to the sleeping Ephraim. So far everything her brother prophesied came true...Down to his death. Zona replayed their argument for at least the twelfth time in her head. Zachariah sitting at the table, holding her hand, and speaking with that dry as the grave voice. His words making no sense then and barely any at all now, Zona argued and finally swore she would do what was needed to do to protect him. He gave her a knowing smile, squeezing her hand, and nodding his agreement. "Of course you will," Zachariah said with no disbelieve or belittlement. He always spoke to her with the same steady and level tone. "Damn you," she said glaring at Ephraim. He was the catalyst. Zachariah practically named him such, when he told Zona who all to invite. No matter what the others said, she was to make sure Ephraim would arrive. Little did Zona know who Ephraim Godwin was at the time, but now he would always remind her of her brother's death and for that she hated him. *** Ephraim knelt in a field of the dead. His horse's cries filled the air, but he barely noticed. The scent of death hung heavy in the air. Ephraim stared blankly ahead, the smoke from cannon fire and rifled-muskets hovered on the field like a morning fog. A sudden flutter of red caught his attention, drawing him from his stupor. Ephraim stood, locked on the slash of color and stumbled towards it. He was careful to avoid stepping on the bodies of his fallen comrades, although it was difficult as the field lay thick with bodies. Shaking his head, he wondered how leadership failed to take into account the absurdity of a frontal assault on such a well-defended position. A gust of wind blew over the field and Ephraim wondered why the smoke thickened instead of clearing away. He stopped walking, slowly turning in a tight circle. The thick gloom darkened the field obscuring everything farther than a foot or so in front of him. This must be a dream. Strengthened by the thought, Ephraim continued to move forward, no longer trying to pick and choose his steps. With each step, the gloom thinned until he could see a tunnel that led to a woman kneeling by a young soldier. Although she was familiar, Ephraim didn't know why. She held the soldier's hand, stroking the hair from his forehead and speaking softly. Where did she come from? Ephraim raked his memories, but couldn't recall a woman being anywhere near the battle. As he stepped closer she became clearer to him. She was a tall woman, with shoulder-length dark hair and wearing a blue dress. He was surprised to find her without a hat, but then there was no sunshine. Still what self-respecting woman would be outside without a hat? The woman glanced up and smiled. "So you are an ass in both the waking world and this one it seems," Zona said dropping the now deceased soldier's hand to stand. "What in bloody hell are you doing here?" "I told you we are now linked," she replied stepping closer. "This is a side effect. I will have to train you in defending yourself from visitors but for now you will have to make do with me." Ephraim stared into Zona's green eyes and wondered just how hard he hit his head. Although truth be told he didn't mind seeing Zona in this particular dream, her beauty took his mind off the horror of that day. Her cheeks flushed red as Zona tilted her head to the right. "The first thing to learn will be to shield your thoughts," Zona replied with a sly smile. Ephraim nodded and reached out placing his hand on her shoulder. "As much as I appreciate the distraction, this is no place for a woman," Ephraim said, his face slack with sadness. Zona held his gaze for a moment, drinking in the emotions this particular dream fed Ephraim. He broke away first, closing his eyes with a sign. "This led to you selling your commission," Zona said softly taking his hand from her shoulder and holding it tight. "This is your second greatest regret." "Yes," Ephraim whispered. The betrayal he experienced when it was learned leadership sent them to the wrong artillery battery still rang true. "All those British lives wasted because of simple miscommunication and incompetence." Ephraim opened his eyes with a shudder. Many thought they knew why he left the Cavalry and called him a coward and a traitor to the Crown. He ignored the slurs and whispers and left the continent as soon as possible, racing to get home to his wife and son. Zona placed her hand on his cheek, "You need to rest now. We have a busy day tomorrow, and we can't afford you fainting all over the place." The world around him began to darken, and he slipped away from the battlefield. The last thing in his vision was Zona's sad smile and sparkling eyes. CHAPTER NINE Ephraim woke with a start. The last thing he remembered was speaking with Zona about the war but that couldn't be right. He never spoke about his time in the Cavalry. He decided after he sold his commission that it was easier to simply ignore that time of his life and move forward. Moving forward was short-lived for when he returned he found his family gone. "I was just about to wake you," Zona said from the hallway. "Would you like some tea or coffee before we meet Dr. Livingstone at the café?" How did she know I was awake? The thought lingered a moment, attempting to drum up a memory before he finally shook his head. "Tea, if you don't mind. I'll be there in a moment." Ephraim listened to her light steps move away from the door and sat up. Dull light filtered in through a dirty window, reminding Ephraim of the fog from his dream. Again a memory scratched at the thought, but Ephraim stood and moved to a dresser on the other side of the room. A pitcher and basin sat next to a towel. He poured the still warm water in the basin and splashed it on his face. Under the towel he found a bar of soap and quickly washed his hands, arms, and face, before patted himself dry. His stomach grumbled as he buttoned his shirt up and slipped on his jacket. Scanning the room, he found his shoes by the door. After a cup of tea, he hoped Zona would be ready to answer some questions. As the door shut behind him, Ephraim wondered if he was prepared to hear them. *** Zona stared out the window her hands resting in her lap. Ephraim had just finished brushing his teeth and was searching for his jacket and shoes. He would be down soon, and she wasn't ready to answer his questions. Not yet. It would be easier when they met up with the doctor. She didn't want to repeat the story, not so soon after her brother's death. She sighed. After last night's discovery, Zona no longer felt the burning hatred towards Ephraim she experienced before entering his dream. Such a sad man...sad and lonely; we will make quite the pair. She frowned at the thought. A throat clearing pulled her attention from the window. "Good morning," Ephraim said motioning towards the empty chair. Zona nodded and studied the man as he sat. He was tall with a long torso, and limbs to match. He still wore his hair in the classic military cut and his bearing was that of a soldier used to being in command. While still fit, Ephraim seemed thinner than she would have expected, and she wondered how much weight he lost after his return to England. "Good morning. I hope you don't mind waiting until we arrive at the café to ask your questions." Zona smiled sweetly at the look of surprise on Ephraim's face. His eyes narrowed a bit but he said nothing. An older woman appeared with a tray and placed it on the table. "Thank you, Mary," Zona said. "I think Mr. Godwin and I can take it from here." Mary offered a curtsy and disappeared the way she came. Ephraim's eyes followed her until the door swung shut before turning his attention to Zona. "You may call me Ephraim if you like." Zona moved to pour him some tea. She shrugged before saying, "I have no feeling either way so Mr. Godwin it is." She fought the urge to smile as he frowned. Ephraim took a sip of the tea, studying Zona as she prepared a cup for herself. Zona ignored his gaze and stirred some milk into the brown liquid. They drank their tea in silence. Ephraim helped himself to a crumpet Mary had prepared for them. A clock gonged from another room and Zona stood. Ephraim stuffed the rest of the crumpet into his mouth and followed. Gliding from the room, Zona stopped to pin a feathered hat to her hair and slip on a jacket that matched her green dress. England was no longer under winter's spell, but the days were still chilly. As they moved to the entryway, Mary appeared holding Ephraim's overcoat and bowler from the night before. Zona waited as Mary helped him slip on the overcoat. He thanked her and placed the bowler on his head with a tip towards both ladies. Zona shared a look with Mary before leading Ephraim outside to the waiting carriage. *** Zachariah's cold body lay on a steel table. A bloodied white sheet covered his unusually long body to the knees but the rest of his legs hung out. The morgue attendant glanced at the body for the third time this hour. Everything about the man's remains unnerved him which Jones found strange since he'd been working there coming on ten years. The first few months, Jones had been a tad jumpy but after the first year nothing bothered him anymore; except the man brought in last night. He removed the clothing and covered the man, as best he could, in such a hurry his heart practically burst from the activity. Jones couldn't remember the last time he moved that quickly. The clock told him three hours to go before his replacement came in. Three hours in the same room with that man. A chill ran down his spine at the thought. Jones buried his nose in the latest yellow-back edition of Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. Although he would never admit it, Jones would never read any of the darker works for fear of his imagination running wild in the morgue. Defoe was perfect for moving the time along, at least until another body arrived. As he turned the page, motion just on his peripheral caught his attention. He ignored it, immersed in Defoe's writing. Again movement fluttered off to his side. Sighing, Jones slipped his finger into the book to save his place and glanced over. The book slipped from his grasp as he lurched from the stool he sat on; the table was empty. The white sheet lay on the floor and the body was simply gone. Jones stumbled forward, staring at the empty table. How is this possible, have I fallen asleep? He pinched his arm. Winching from the pain he decided he was indeed still awake. "Where are you?" Jones asked not expecting an answer. His blood froze when he received one in a deep, gravelly voice. "Behind you. Now may I ask where are this body's clothes?" Jones turned slowly, pointing with a shaking hand to the box where he left Zachariah Whitlock's belongings. Icy fingers wrapped around Jones' throat and squeezed. Three hours, the thought echoed in Jones' head as he stared into Zachariah's dead eyes. CHAPTER TEN The carriage pulled to a stop and Ephraim stepped down, holding out his hand to help Zona. She took it after a moment and exited with a slight nod of thanks. The carriage pulled away as they entered the café. Dr. Livingstone stood and waived. Zona led Ephraim to the back table and Livingstone took her hand. "My dear, again I am so sorry for your loss." "Thank you, Doctor," Zona said slipping into the chair next to his. "I've taken the initiative and ordered some tea and cakes," Livingstone said motioning to the tray in the center of the table. "Thank God," Ephraim said grabbing a few of the cakes. "For some reason when I woke, it was as if I hadn't eaten in days." Zona poured tea for herself and Ephraim before topping off Livingstone's cup. "Thank you Ms. Whitlock," Livingstone said. "Now I hope we can get to the bottom of what happened. I mean we witnessed a murder last night unless I've completely lost my senses." Ephraim nodded his agreement, afraid if he spoke pieces of cake might fly out. His stomach grumbled and churned, as he finished the second cake and picked up a third. Hope no one else wants extra. There were three left on the plate, so he would take one more and wait. Zona glanced at Livingstone and then to Ephraim. Her eyes rolled at his puffed cheeks causing them to darken as he tried to swallow the whole mess in his mouth. It wedged halfway and he stopped moving for a moment. He tried to clear his throat, and when that didn't work he snatched the teacup and gulped the hot liquid. Nothing happened for a swallow or two but then the blockage cleared and Ephraim sighed in relief. Zona flashed her teeth in what Ephraim hoped was a smile. "Slow down Mr. Godwin. You will not starve." Livingstone tried to hide his smile behind his cup as he sipped, but Ephraim caught it and offered the man an injured look. Last thing I need is both of them teaming up against me. Looking to change the group's attention he agreed with Livingstone. "Oh, we witnessed a crime all right." Zona hesitated but eventually nodded her agreement. "No use in trying to call it anything else. Although Mrs. Chattoway wasn't the murderer, she was the murder weapon." "I'm sure the weapon was the gun she discharged," Ephraim commented as he grabbed his third cake. Zona glared at him. "I mean Mrs. Chattoway wasn't herself when the shooting occurred. She is as much a victim as my brother. Since that is the case, we can't just go to the police and declare the crime. We were lucky that Inspector Kimbell is the one that showed up to investigate. He has a history with my brother and I. A history that stops him from asking questions as long as we keep him in the loop. At the end, once we have this solved, we can offer up to him the killer." "Solve the case?" Ephraim asked sharing a look of bewilderment with Livingstone. "Yes," Zona replied sipping her tea and studying the two men. "Well...how?" Livingstone finally asked. "Stop," Ephraim said holding up a hand to Zona. "Before you continue with that insanity, I want to know what you wouldn't tell us last night." Livingstone nodded and turned his attention to Zona to Ephraim's satisfaction. Maybe with both of us united we can get somewhere. As the men stared, Zona took measured sips of her tea and sat quietly. Ephraim fought the urge to reach over and snatch the cup from her hand. Instead, he studied her face, she was quite lovely and her eyes were captivating. Her dark lashes were long, and combined with the downturn nature of her eyes, gave them an exotic shape of a feline. Although she appeared fine, Ephraim could tell from the puffiness around her eyes that she had taken the loss of her brother hard. "Yes, I have," Zona said, peering at Ephraim with a sad smile. "But we must continue, if not for my sake than to save you two. My brother told me that everyone who attended last night was connected in ways they would not know, even if there was a specific reason for their seeking us out." "Well we know Livingstone and Devitt are connected, but the rest?" Ephraim asked grabbing another cake since no one else showed interest in eating. "I have no idea," Zona said with a sigh. "My brother didn't share if the spirits told him the connection or not. His only provision was you. He said without Ephraim Godwin all would die, including he and I." Ephraim chewed the last bite in silence. He wasn't sure how much of this was just for show but a man was already dead. "But he was there," Livingstone said, "and your brother still died." Ephraim nodded, swallowing the last bit of cake and waited for Zona's reply. "Yes but everyone else is very much alive, and yet we have a serious problem on our hands; something came over and stayed gentlemen." "What does that even mean?" Ephraim asked, weary of all the talk of supernatural forces. Give me a rifle and a target any day to this nonsense. "It means," Zona replied, "We have to find it and send it back before it causes more chaos than just my brother's death." "And how do you propose we do that?" Livingstone asked. Ephraim closed his eyes, suddenly aware of where this meeting was headed. He had enough of all this spiritual nonsense and wanted some quiet time to think about the things his wife said...if that was her last night. "We need to go and speak with the others there and find out the connection to see where the spirit is most likely to strike first." Ephraim's groan was interrupted by a loud commotion outside the café. The three stood as Livingstone dropped some change on the table to cover their breakfast. Zona took a few steps ahead of the men before turning her head back and flashing a triumphant smile. Ephraim could only wonder at the woman's sudden excitement. "Well, I'll say," Livingstone exclaimed pointing at the café window. "This will be easy if they all come to us." Standing in front of the café was Mrs. Chattoway and a man in his early to mid-twenties. He was of average height, with brown hair, and most likely brown eyes Ephraim surmised. His suit was the kind a banker or clerk might wear. He held his bowler in his hands, nervously working the hat through his fingers. Although it appeared to Ephraim to be a discussion or argument, he was sure Mrs. Chattoway was the only one speaking. Ephraim and Livingstone followed Zona from the café, donning their hats and stepping off to the side. "I'm telling you this is yours," Mrs. Chattoway said in exasperation while holding her stomach. "And I'm telling you I don't care. Good day," the man said slipping on his hat and storming off. Mrs. Chattoway hung her head as tears ran down her cheek and her body shook from her sobs. Zona made a tsking noise and moved to the woman, slipped her arm around her waist to navigate her off to the side and out of the way. Mrs. Chattoway froze for a moment but after recognizing Zona, allowed herself to be moved. "Oh how embarrassing," she moaned before resting her face on Zona's shoulder. She cried a bit longer while Zona patted her gently on the back. Ephraim and Livingstone hung back, not wanting to intrude or cause any further embarrassment to Mrs. Chattoway. A loud voice drew their attention and they turned around. Inspector Kimbell rushed towards them from the Police Station across the way. Livingstone glanced at Ephraim who offered only a shrug as he had no idea who the man was running at them and waving his arm. "That's the detective...on Mr. Whitlock's case," Livingstone whispered just before the man slowed and stopped in front of them. "Dr. Livingstone and...," Inspector Kimbell said, snapping his fingers and pointing at Ephraim, "the fainting man." "My name is Ephraim Godwin." The Inspector nodded and stuck out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, I'm Inspector Joseph Kimbell. Stroke of luck finding you all here." He glanced at the women and tipped his cap before continuing. "Another murder, this time at the morgue and whoever did it stole the body!" "What body?" Zona asked as she pushed past Ephraim to get in front of the Inspector. "Why your brother's of course," he replied with a huff. © 2020 Naked Cat Press. All Rights Reserved