Riverwatch

Chapter Two: Legends

Fingers flying across the keyboard, Samuel Travers watched the words appear in neat lines of glowing green script on the screen in front of him with a deep sense of satisfaction.

He’d been writing since nine o’clock that morning, a steady five hours of work. At first it had been difficult, every sentence leaving him unsatisfied. Nothing seemed to fit, nothing had sounded quite right. The first half hour had been completely wasted, with nothing to show for it but half a pack of cigarette butts in the ashtray beside him. In desperation he’d tried an old writing exercise, copying names out of a phone book to stimulate creativity, and suddenly the words he’d been trying to summon together with such difficulty moments before had flashed into his mind as clearly as if they’d been etched in stone. He’d given a whoop of delight, swept the phone book onto the floor with a swing of one arm, and plunged into his tale with reckless abandon.

For the last four hours, his mind racing, his fingers trying desperately to keep pace with his thoughts, he’d been too absorbed in the crystal storyline that was flowing out of his head to pay attention to anything else.

The creative stream was starting to finally wind down. The flood had become a weak trickle and he knew it wouldn’t be much longer before even that went dry.

It was just about time to call it quits for the day.

What he had written today was good. Damn good, he thought. Now if I can only keep it up until it’s finished. Taking a long drag off his cigarette, he cast a silent prayer to the Nine Muses to let him do just that.

Tipping the scales somewhere around 170, Sam stood just under six feet, with short curly hair that was slowly receding across his brow and eyes and hair the color of used motor oil. Sam had taken the less traveled road after college, going to work as a writer for a company that produced fantasy role-playing games. Having been in love with the strange and fantastic for as long as he could remember, the job allowed him to stay in a world where demons, ghosts, and things that go bump in the night were a reality, at least on paper. While enjoyable, the hob didn’t pay that well, so Sam was forced to supplement his income with a second job at a nursing home in Glendale.

As he sat staring at the pages of the fantasy tale he was in the midst of writing, his thoughts turned to the latest session of Swords and Sorcerers that he had scheduled for Jake and Katelynn later that night. It had been a week since his friends had ventured into that underground maze beneath Zolthane Mountain that Sam, the adventure’s writer, had created and named the Crystal Caverns. Katelynn and Jake often acted as an unofficial test group, working through his latest creations for their strengths and weaknesses before Sam sent them off to his editor for production. As usual, Sam was anxious to return to that fantasy world of imagination. Last week had seen Chelmar the Wizard and Alganea the Warrior-Maiden trapped in a dead-end cavern by a pack of flesh-hungry ghouls. Despite the week they’d had to ponder the problem, Sam still couldn’t see how Jake and Katelynn were going to get their characters out of their deadly predicament.

Looks like you might’ve made this one just a hair too difficult, he thought to himself. If they can’t find their way out of the maze, you’re going to have a lot of rewriting to do.

A quick glance at his watch told him it was just after two. He had agreed to take a day shift in order to free up one of his evenings later in the week. Doing so also allowed the perfect opportunity to take Katelynn to work with him that afternoon so that she could interview Gabriel Armadorian, one of the nursing homes’ patients and Sam’s friend, for her thesis. Knowing he had to be there by three-thirty, Sam decided he had just enough time to grab a quick shower and a bite to eat before going to pick up Katelynn. He saved the fresh text he’d written on his computer, and then wandered into the kitchen, trying to hunt up the fixings for a sandwich or two, his thoughts wandering through the details of that night’s adventure.

He didn’t know it then, but before the night was through, Sam would find himself wrapped up a situation beyond his control, one that would make those he faced in the twilight realm of his imagination seem positively dull in comparison.

Across town, Katelynn Riley was anxiously awaiting her friend’s arrival. As was her habit when nervous, she checked through her book bag once more, assuring herself that she had everything she needed.

Notebook? Check.

Pencils and pens? Check.

Tape recorder? Check.

Tapes and extra batteries, just in case? Check.

That’s everything, she thought with satisfaction, and relaxed back into the chair by the front window where she sat watching for Sam’s car. He had promised to take her to St. Boniface’s today when he went in for his shift, to introduce her to Gabriel Armadorian, the nursing home’s oldest patient. He had assured her that the old man was still lucid and in complete possession of his mental faculties.

From the comments that Sam had made, Katelynn was fairly certain that Gabriel was privy to a good deal of information that she was unable to find elsewhere on Sebastian Blake, the man who was the subject of her thesis. She was eager to sit down with Gabriel to discuss the issue at length. What a coup it would be for her to uncover and support information that not even Dr. Hemington, her mentor, had previously seen.

A horn sounded from outside, snatching her from her musings. Seeing Sam’s car in the drive, she quickly slipped into her coat, snatched up her pack and hustled out the door.

"All set?" Sam asked as she settled into the passenger seat.

"Sure am. Thanks a lot for this, Sam." She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

He smiled at her in return. The two had known each other for several years, having enrolled at Benton University at the same time. A chance introduction had blossomed into a deep friendship that had lasted well past college. At times Sam found himself wondering just why it was that they’d never been more than just friends. Wasn’t friendship one of the most important pillars in the foundation of a relationship? It wasn’t that he didn’t find her attractive; he certainly did. She kept herself in shape with daily workouts of swimming and aerobics, toning her body without losing its soft feminine curves. Her hair was the color of chestnuts and curled at the shoulders. Katelynn had a wonderful laugh, a beautiful smile, and a pert little nose that reminded him of an elf. Sam knew from past experience that she was kind, caring, and generous. So why hadn’t they fallen in love? Sam figured it was just one of the great mysteries in life and left it at that. Sometimes it didn’t pay to look too closely at such things. They were friends, and that was what was important. At least that was what he told himself.

Suddenly, Katelynn interrupted his thoughts. "Tell me about Gabriel, Sam."

He thought about it for a moment, and then said with a laugh, "I’m not sure I can."

Despite all the time they’d spent together, Gabriel was still pretty much an enigma to him. He had the feeling that the old man would remain that way no matter how well they got to know each other.

Sam remembered the day they had admitted Gabriel to the nursing home. The stretcher attendants were wheeling him in, his stroke too recent for him to be mobile, and as they’d passed the nursing desk were Sam was stationed for the night, the old man had opened his eyes, looked at him, and said, "Come pay me a visit sometime, Sammy. I think we’ve got a lot to talk about." It had taken Sam a minute or two to get over his shock, and by then the group had passed through the double doors and down the hall to the guest rooms. He’d wondered how the old man had known his name, and then decided he’d simply read it off his nametag. But when he’d been changing in the locker room after his shift, he’d discovered he’d forgotten to put his tag on that night. There it was, sitting right where he’d left it the night before, on the top shelf of his locker, the white letters of his name staring him in the face. Once the shivers had gone away, he’d convinced himself that one of the attendants must have been playing a joke on him. Knowing his interest in the supernatural, they’d convinced the patient to go along and try to give Sam a scare. He’d had to admit it had worked beautifully, and he’d left it at that. But the incident hadn’t left his mind all weekend, and when he’d gone back to work the following week he’d done just what the man had asked, went and paid him a visit.

From that night on, the two of them had been friends.

Knowing Katelynn was patiently waiting for some kind of answer, he struggled to describe how he felt whenever he was in Gabriel’s presence.

"You ever notice how they portray grandfathers on television? Nice old guys who always have the right answer, who can always give the kid who’s the star of the show the right piece of advice?"

Katelynn nodded. She knew exactly what Sam was talking about; her own grandfather had been just like that. He’d always known when something was bothering her and had always managed to cheer her up with just a few words. When he died a few years ago, she thought she’d never be able to stop crying.

"Well, that’s Gabriel. He makes me feel like a kid all over again, awed and amazed at everything he says. He can take an everyday object and turn it into something miraculous, just by having you look at it in a different way." He grinned sheepishly. "Sounds pretty corny, doesn’t it?"

"Not at all. Keep going."

"He seems ancient to me. Totally at one with nature and the world around him, peaceful, serene, as if nothing could ever faze him. And he’s an incredible storyteller. Sometimes, when I’m working the late shift and he can’t sleep, I’ll sit in his room and he’ll tell me old legends, tales filled with wonder and magic, good and evil, tragedy and happiness."

They left the town limits and headed west on Route 3, heading down the side of a mountain to where Glendale lay at the base, fifteen minutes away. They crossed the covered bridge that spanned the Quinnepeg River, and a few moments later drove into the town of Glendale. It was bigger and more industrial than Harrington Falls, less quaint and more seedy. St. Boniface’s, the nursing home where Sam was employed, was on the far side of town and it took them another fifteen minutes of fighting the afternoon traffic before they arrived.

Once inside, Sam had Katelynn wait in the lobby while he ran downstairs to the locker room, changed into his uniform, and clocked in his time card. When he returned he led her upstairs to the third floor. Mr. Armadorian was in room 310, at the end of a long L-shaped corridor.

Outside the door Sam said, "I told him you were coming, but just in case he’s asleep why don’t you wait here a sec and let me go in alone."

Katelynn nodded and stepped back to comply, but a voice called out to them from inside the room. "Are you two going to stand out there all day, or are you coming in to keep an old man company?"

Sam grinned, shrugged his shoulders, and led Katelynn inside.

The first thing Katelynn noticed were his eyes. A clear robin’s egg shade of blue, they seemed to gaze out at her with the open wonder of a child. They were eyes she’d often read about but never actually encountered; mesmerizing eyes, eyes that seemed to see right through a person. If it wasn’t for the obvious kindness that poured out of them in waves, their impact would have been quite frightening. As they were, they made her feel warm and welcome.

Once she could tear her gaze away from Gabriel’s, she noticed his skin was a burnished shade of copper, his face so lined with cracks and creases that it reminded her of a well-worn piece of leather. His hair was long and white, flowing over his shoulders in a long snowy mane, receding only a little despite his obvious age. He smiled at her scrutiny. "Sammy," he said, reaching out and clasping his friend’s hand in greeting with both of his own. "I’ve been waiting for you, just like we agreed." Gabriel let go and turned to face Katelynn. "And this must be the young lady my friend has been telling me about lately."

"Katelynn Riley," she told him, turning to shake hands. His hand was thin and seemed fragile, but his skin was rough with years of hard work and his grip was still surprisingly strong. She noticed that he was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a blue chambray shirt that hung loosely on his thin frame. His feet, propped up on the end of the bed, were clad in a pair of soft suede moccasins.

"Please, sit with me, here by the window," he said, indicating several chairs that had been set up by the large window that formed most of the wall in front of the bed. "I was just enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun."

Having been there countless times, Sam had already taken a seat, but Katelynn paused a moment to look around, taking in the austerity of the man’s living space. She had glanced into several other rooms on the way up, and she knew that this was not the normal decor. The only furniture in the room besides the bed and chairs was a nightstand that appeared to have been hewed by hand from one solid piece of wood. It was rough and unfinished, but its very simplicity seemed to give it a wholesomeness that a perfectly stained piece would never have possessed. The walls were plain white plaster, unpainted, unadorned except for an intricate macram? design that looked to her like some kind of bird rising out of a fire.

When she turned away from the wall hanging, Katelynn found Gabriel watching her. She smiled shyly, and he gestured with one hand, indicating with a smile of his own that she should join Sam and him at the window. The three of them sat together in silence for a time, letting the heat of the sun warm the chill from their bones. Eventually Gabriel turned to her and said, "Sammy thinks that I may be of some help to you?"

"Yes," she replied eagerly, leaning forward in her chair, anxious now to get down to business. "I’m employed as a teaching assistant while I work toward my doctorate in sociology at Benton University. I’ve been doing a thesis on the dynamics of communities that arise from one central, familial influence. The impact of the Blake’s family fortune on the rise of Harrington Falls has been a perfect model. Sam tells me that your family had some association with the Blakes in the past and I thought you might have some information that might add some local color to my work."

He nodded, a curious expression on his face. "I’d be delighted to help if I can, but most of what I know would be second or third hand information."

"That won’t be a problem. I’ve been focusing lately on the figure of Sebastian Blake, including the circumstances that surrounded his final disappearance from this area. Anything you can tell me about him would be a great help, since I’ve managed to uncover next to nothing." As she spoke, Katelynn delved into her bag for her notebook and pen, while at the same time surreptitiously turning on her tape recorder. She left the recorder inside the bag so as not to make Gabriel uncomfortable. When she straightened, she found the atmosphere in the room had changed, the air suddenly charged with tension. The old man was staring at her intently, a strange look on his face. This time she could feel that his expression was one of fear.

"Why would a pretty young woman like you want to know about a man like him?" Gabriel asked in a soft, quiet voice that somehow carried far more force than his earlier exuberance.

A sudden thrill went through Katelynn, the one that told her she was on to something. Easy girl, she told herself, not wanting to ruin things by being hasty. Mindful of the old man’s reaction, she answered carefully, "Well, the Blake family has had a tremendous affect on the development of this region. Since so much has been done on the other, more notable members of the family, particularly Elijah and Nathaniel, I wanted to stay away from them and choose a lesser-known figure. My early research uncovered very little information on Sebastian, Elijah’s younger brother, and so I decided to find out why. The more I looked, the less I found and the more curious I became."

"And now, like a child with a lost treasure map, you just can’t seem to put it down," Gabriel said gently, almost remorsefully, in reply.

She nodded in agreement.

He turned away, staring off into space, as if considering whether or not he was going to help her. His hands, idle until now, were suddenly in motion as he began wringing them together in an outward expression of some internal conflict. This went on for several long moments as Katelynn and Sam each sat holding their breath wondering what had so upset the man. Finally, he seemed to return to himself and looked over at them. Turning to Sam he said, "Shut the door, Sammy."

Katelynn watched as Sam complied, and on his face she could see an expression of bewilderment that probably matched her own. Her feeling of excitement was growing. The old man was acting as if he was about to impart national security secrets, and that could only mean that he knew something good.

Gabriel waited until Sam had resumed his seat and then addressed Katelynn. "There is no way I can turn you from this course and suggest you choose another?"

Katelynn shook her head. I’ve done too much work now as it is, spent too many hours combing dusty works in the back shelves of the library, all to no avail. Now, when I finally stumble onto something, he wants me to give it up? Not a chance!

He nodded again, as if her answer was what he had expected. "Tell me what you know," he said.

Katelynn took a deep breath to hide her excitement and began. "Besides the general facts like his parentage and where he was educated, not much. I do know that he was a loner, almost the exact opposite of his brother Elijah, and he got into trouble with the authorities on more than one occasion while he was growing up. He left Harrington Falls to attend school in Boston and then spent many years overseas."

"Sounds fairly normal to me," Sam said.

"To an extent," Katelynn agreed. "He returned some years later a changed man, however. The wild attitude of his childhood had been replaced by an intense studiousness that seemed to please everyone. He’s mentioned several times in historical documents of various types after his return, attending a town meeting here, appearing at a dinner engagement there, just as you would expect from a wealthy member of one of the town’s founding families. But soon after that, the world seems to have lost track of him. Right up until the spring of 1760 he’s a fairly prominent figure, but then there’s nothing. After 1760, there isn’t a single mention of him anywhere I looked." She sighed in exasperation.

"The various family histories seem to ignore the question of what happened to him as well. I couldn’t even find a record of his death.

Unconsciously, she shivered. "It’s as if he fell off the face of the earth and no one noticed that he was gone."

Next to them, Sam listened to her litany, fascinated. It was all news to him. He’d heard the man’s name mentioned once or twice in the past and seemed to remember something about there once having been a statue of him in the town square that had been torn down for some reason. He was beginning to feel the same sense of mystery that had infected Katelynn.

It was obvious that Gabriel was troubled by what she was saying. Sam had known the man too long not to recognize the subtle clues; the changed look down in the depths of his eyes, the nervous tick of his little finger. He was upset, and for a moment Sam was certain he wouldn’t tell them anything. Then Gabriel turned and looked out the window, gathering his thoughts. Sam had seen the same expression whenever the old man was getting ready to tell one of his tales of the mystical past.

"Sebastian Blake," Gabriel said softly, as if tasting the words on the tip of his tongue and finding them bitter. "I haven’t thought of him in many years. And with good reason; he was not the type of man one allows into his thoughts lightly." He turned to face them, and they both saw that a sadness had descended over him, a blanket of weighted sorrow that for the first time made him seem old in spirit as well as body.

He went on, "The natives of this country believe that when the Great Spirit made this world, he populated it with many strange and wondrous creatures, some good, some bad. One of these was Coyote."

Katelynn glanced over at Sam, and by the look on her face he could tell she was wondering what on earth this had to do with Sebastian Blake. Gabriel had his own way of telling a tale, and Sam had learned long before that it was no use trying to hurry him along. He’d tell it his way, in his own good time, and that was that. Besides, Sam reflected, he always said things for a specific reason, and what at first seemed trivial was often important later in the tale. He calmed her with a subtle motion of his hands.

Gabriel was still speaking, and Sam refocused his attention. "Coyote is one of the great spirits of the Indians. According to legend, he taught man many things; the use of clay to make pots, the way to make mats from the reeds that grew by the river’s edge. The arts and crafts of the People that have been preserved from the beginnings have all been taught to them by Coyote, according to their beliefs. Yet, Coyote had two faces, and it wasn’t long before the People realized this. At heart he was a bullying, greedy trickster. He would roam among the People in a form none could see, and he would wreak havoc whenever he found the opportunity."

Gabriel looked directly into Katelynn’s eyes, and for a moment she was frightened of the old man, so forceful was the strength of his gaze. "The man you speak of was much the same way, but it took those who lived beside him much longer to recognize him for what he truly was."

It took her a moment, but she at last found her voice. "So he wasn’t the Mr. Nice Guy that he appeared to be when he returned from Europe?"

"Outwardly, he was. But it’s not what a man is on the outside that divines his essential nature, but what he is in here," one long thin finger touched the center of his chest, "that makes him who he is. In the heart of Sebastian Blake, there was nothing but darkness."

The sun went behind a cloud then, as if echoing Gabriel’s words. Sam was struck by the uncomfortable feeling that it was hiding, not wanting its precious light to be sullied by what they were saying. The old man must have felt it, too, for he looked toward the sky, and then nodded, as if the sun’s behavior was entirely appropriate to the moment.

"My great grandfather used to speak of him when I was a boy, passing on tales he had learned from his father before him. A wise man was my great grandfather, wiser than I can ever hope to be, I suspect. From him I learned many things about the true nature of the world. But of everything he ever taught me, the most important was this: evil walks in the world, under many faces and many forms, in sunlight or in darkness." His gaze lost its focus, as if he had turned it inward, down a road neither of them could see. "I don’t think I ever really understood what he meant, until I met Sebastian Blake."

The last was said in a near whisper, and it took a moment for Katelynn to realize just what it was that he had said. When she did, she spoke without thinking. "Oh, come on! Met him? That would mean you’d have to be over two hundred years old!"

The tone of her voice brought Gabriel out of his reminiscing with a start. He appeared confused for a moment, and then smiled gently. "A figure of speech, of course. Knowing about him was as close as I would ever want to come to meeting him, I assure you." His grin widened, and he winked at her. "Then again, maybe I am over two hundred years old. But I bet I don’t look a day over seventy-five, right?"

Katelynn grinned back to acknowledge the joke, and relaxed. For a minute she’d thought the old man wasn’t nearly as lucid as he seemed.

"Blake was a man who searched for forbidden learnings, for knowledge that was best left far from the eyes and ears of man. Instead of embracing the philosophies and teachings that had brought Man out of the Dark Ages and into the modern world, he sought after ancient beliefs and legends, delving into areas of darkness, seeking the company of the Dark Ones."

"You mean the Devil?" Sam asked excitedly.

Katelynn cast him a sour look. She was here to do some serious research for her thesis, and she didn’t want to waste time indulging Sam’s love of the fantastic. If he wanted to think that devils and demons and things with a thousand legs haunted the dark and forgotten places of the world, that was fine, but she didn’t want it interfering with what she’d come here to accomplish.

He didn’t seem to notice her look, and neither did Gabriel, for he turned to reply to the question.

"Not exactly, Sam. At least not in the way that you mean. You’ve got to remember that this was in the early days of this settlement. The people who had come here had fled the Old Country out of a desire to escape religious persecution. For them, belief in God and the Devil was not just something to indulge in when they felt like it, as so many of today’s religions have become. For them, it was a question of eternal salvation or damnation. But Blake wasn’t interested in that limited view of the universe. He looked beyond that, to an older and darker view of the universe, and sought to recapture the power that the ancients supposedly had through their rituals and ceremonies."

Katelynn interrupted him before he could go any further in his explanation. "Wait a minute!" she said sharply, her mild irritation at Sam’s question having rapidly grown into annoyance with Gabriel’s response to it. "Are you trying to tell us that Sebastian Blake practiced witchcraft?"

"Dark Magic might be a more appropriate term for it, but yes, that is what I am telling you," he answered simply, the congenial expression never leaving his face.

"Cool!" Sam exclaimed happily. When he’d agreed to bring Katelynn in to see Gabriel, he’d expected to sit through a long conversation about a guy who’d long since turned to dust and who’d led a life so boring that no one even remembered him. Now all of a sudden they were talking about something that was right up his alley; a real, live warlock, right here in his own town!

Katelynn, however, was far from thrilled at the news. "I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe that," she said.

"Why not?" Gabriel asked, a playful smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eye.

His expression just served to aggravate Katelynn further. He was a nice old man, and probably pretty lonely most of the time. This was why he liked making up stories to tell Sam while Sam worked the late shift, only the two of them awake so late at night. He’d probably misunderstood how serious she was, and having no real information that could help, had decided to invent some story along the lines of the ones he told Sam, thinking that this was what she wanted to hear. She’d come here looking for solid leads to help her, and talk of rituals and black magic was just going to put her in a foul mood. How gullible did he think she was?

"Why don’t I believe it?" she answered him, the smile on her face as false as a three-dollar bill. "I’ll tell you why I don’t believe it. Because there is no such thing as black magic."

"Are you so sure of that, Katelynn? Has someone actually proven that such a thing does not exist?"

"Of course not. No reputable scientist would bother with such an experiment. The idea of magic completely defies what we know of modern physics. It just can’t happen."

"Ahh, but remember what we are talking about here. We’re not discussing modern ideas of reality, but the views of those people who created this town in the late seventeen hundreds. Belief in witchcraft was a way of life back then, and in just about every small town you could find some man or woman who was considered a witch or warlock. Having these individuals run out of town or put to death by angry mobs in the middle of the night was not uncommon, especially here in the back woods of New England. Just look at Salem. Do you really think these people didn’t believe in magic?"

Grudgingly, Katelynn had to admit that he was right. When delving into the past, one had to remember that modern beliefs and attitudes just didn’t belong. You had to adopt the beliefs of that particular era, or you would arrive at incorrect conclusions, just as she was doing now. But what did all this have to do with Blake?

Gabriel was more than happy to let her know. "Blake believed that he could gain power through the use of black magic, and much of his public demeanor was just an act, designed to deceive the townspeople into accepting him back into the fold while his research went on behind their backs. He scoured every reference he could find, tome after tome after tome, searching for just the right ritual that would put him in touch with the dark entities that he believed existed amongst us, hoping to make use of their power to elevate himself into a position of dominance in the community."

"Then, in the early months of 1762, the killings began. The townspeople at first thought they were accidents, for they had been cleverly disguised as such. A wagon accident here, a sudden fall from a horse there, a child lost in the woods and found frozen to death the next day. But as the year passed, the killings became more frequent. And more violent. Random accidents could no longer account for what was happening, and the ravaged conditions of the corpses made the people begin to suspect that something out of the ordinary was going on. Then, late in 1763, the killer was discovered."

Katelynn was listening with a skeptical look on her face, but Sam was completely engrossed in Gabriel’s tale, his belief in every word etched clearly on his face.

"An anonymous tip sent the local authorities to a small shack on the woods of the Blake family estate, and there they discovered Sebastian in the midst of one of his foul rituals. A small child was laid out on an altar before him as some kind of sacrifice to the powers with whom he had fallen in league. Before their very eyes, he plunged a knife into the young one’s chest and cut out his living heart."

The old man shuddered, and Katelynn found herself involuntarily replying in kind. One thing she had to give him credit for; Gabriel was a great storyteller. Whether what he had to say had any basis in fact was another issue altogether.

"The townsfolk saw no need to wait for a formal trial. They formed a lynch mob and hanged him on the spot."

"So how come there is no record of any of this?" Katelynn asked, trying to trip the man up.

He had an answer ready for that as well. "Not wanting to beseech the Blake family name, or to create a reputation for their newly prospering town, the village elders agreed to wipe any reference of the event from the records, and forbade the papers from printing anything concerning the story, which wasn’t difficult, because they were owned by the Blakes."

"So how am I going to prove that this actually occurred?" she asked him.

Gabriel sat back and spread his hands, palms up. "I don’t know. You’re going to have to figure that one out for yourself. I’ve told you all that I know."

Throughout the story Sam had been quiet, but he spoke now. "They couldn’t have gotten to everyone, Katelynn. There’s bound to be someone who recorded the events. A merchant, or a traveling minister, maybe even one of the families of the victims. At the very least you should be able to document the number of deaths that occurred at that time, right?"

Katelynn thought about it for a moment, and then agreed. The town records should show the death certificates for those years, if they were still around. If she could substantiate that, she might be able to find another lead to help her prove the rest. She smiled to herself, surprised that she was seriously considering the story she’d just heard. The idea that Blake was consorting with the devil was absurd, but proving the man had been some kind of a serial killer was not beyond her ability.

She focused her attention back on Gabriel. "Could you tell me any more about the people who were murdered?" she asked hopefully.

The well of information that Gabriel seemed to possess had apparently run dry. He didn’t know the names of any of the victims, or the dates on which they had been killed. Nothing except for the fact that it had started in early 1762 and ended in late 1763. "I’m sorry I can’t help you more," he said.

"Oh, that’s okay. You’ve given me a beginning, anyway. I’m not saying I believe it, but maybe it’s worth looking into."

He smiled at her, and she gave him one of her own, the skepticism she’d felt earlier in the conversation having dissipated.

They chatted for a few minutes more, and then said their good-byes. Sam had to start his shift, and Katelynn had to prepare a lesson for the class she was teaching in the morning. They told Gabriel they’d be back to see him soon, and stepped out into the hallway.

"What do you think, Katelynn?" Sam asked, as they headed for the nursing station at the other end of the hall where he was assigned for the duration of his shift. "Do you think he was telling the truth?"

"I don’t know, Sam. It could be that this guy actually was running around, sacrificing people in the mistaken belief that it could give him supernatural powers. This was the seventeenth century, after all. Then again, Gabriel could’ve just been making it all up in an effort to please you. It’s obvious that he likes you, and if he felt that was the type of story you were looking for, he might just do it. He’s certainly intelligent enough to pull it off."

"I don’t know, Katelynn. Gabriel’s never lied to me before and he certainly understood how important this is to you."

"Only time will tell. Maybe I’ll turn something up with a little more research. In the meantime, I’d better get going."

Sam handed over the car keys. "Pick me up at nine and we’ll drive to Jake’s together, okay?"

"Sure thing. See you then," she replied, and headed off down the hall, throwing one last smile in Sam’s direction to show that she didn’t think the whole afternoon had been wasted.

Sam grinned in return and turned back to begin the day’s work, but his mind was on that long forgotten evening in 1763.

At the other end of the hall, the one calling himself Gabriel sat staring into the distance, his eyes unfocused and dreamy. The voice of the beast was in the back of his mind, as it had been throughout the interview, whispering to him all the awful ends it had devised for him in its long years of confinement. It had been easier to ignore it when he had his two young friends in the room to talk to, taking his mind off what the beast was saying, but now with them gone, it was harder to shut it out. He listened closely for a moment, trying to gauge if it had grown any stronger, but being unable to do so, he tuned it out. He didn’t want to listen to that vile voice any longer.

He was worried. He was no longer the man he’d once been. His power was waning quickly, his body at last had grown old and tired. He’d assumed the Nightshade’s prison would hold him indefinitely, but in that he’d been wrong. He should never have had that much pride in his own abilities. The beast was awake, and before long he knew it would be free as well.

Then it would come for him.

He had no doubts as to what would happen when it did.

He had one last hope, however. The seeds of his plan had already been planted. Sam was a good listener, and mixed within the stories he had been telling were grains of truth. He trusted that the boy would be smart enough to tell one from the other when the time was right.

The girl was a different story. He could tell she was skeptical of the tale he had told, and it would be questionable whether she would be able to overcome that skepticism in time to help Sam with what needed to be done. But overcome it she must, for Sam could not face this alone.

Gabriel decided to nudge her along the right path.

Rising from his bed, he crossed to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. Beneath several old sweaters was a locked strongbox. He removed the box and placed it on top of the dresser.

Inside were the odds and ends that he had accumulated over the years; mementos of special moments and personal interests. One of these was a necklace of gold from which hung a crimson stone, wrapped in a piece of soft cloth. It had been fashioned years before by his enemy’s ally and Gabriel had taken possession of it following his victory over them. It was a communication device of sorts, for the right kind of individual, and Gabriel had little doubt that Katelynn fit the mold.

Gabriel reached for the phone. His first call went to directory assistance where he obtained Katelynn’s address. His second call was to a courier service, with whom he made arrangements to have the necklace picked up and delivered.

If he was right, it wouldn’t be long before Katelynn was involved in his plan whether she wanted to be or not.

It was unfair, but necessary.

With each passing day the beast was growing stronger, coming that much closer to escaping.

Gabriel knew it would not be long.

His task finished, he began to pray.