Life after Life Pinesburg

A sequel to Life after Life.

Disclaimer: This story takes place at a time and location when racial prejudices were prominent and certain derogatory words, ideas and remarks were common.  No offense is intended and the story is fiction, based in the facts of the time and setting.  If anyone is offended, please accept my deepest apology.

Isaac and Kiki (Origins)

Darkness.  The black of a moonless night and the cold wind of December rushes over the Allegheny Plateau bringing what promises to be another layer of fresh snow.  This will be the winter of 1839 and the predictions that it will be long and cold do not sit well with the locals of Pinesburg, PA.  The past short growing season and loss of crops in the deluge of the spring storms have wiped out half of all the local crops. 

This is a community of hard luck farmers and a budding mine industry; most families have been settled here for well over sixty years.  The new coalmines and the mills in Pittsburgh have drawn many of the young men away from farming. 

The road up from Pittsburgh is normally well traveled but not at this time of year and especially not at night.  It’s a torturous task on the deep snow as it ices in the cold and dark of night.  Four strong horses pull a heavy sledge up this rough-hewn road that follows the Allegheny River.  Two men with lanterns lead, testing the deep snow for soft spots, stop to and look for a safe location to camp for the night.  A lone figure sits atop the cargo on the sledge.  Wrapped warmly from nose to toe, wearing a short top hat, only his eyes exposed. 

“Why do we stop?”  His voice is a rich deep baritone and forceful.

One of the men came running back and held his lantern up to illuminate them both.  “The road sir, we may make a turn and lose it.  The snow will start again soon, we will go off the road and…”

“I have been here before and know the way, follow my guidance!”  He said forcefully, moving over to make room.  “You sit up here and have Smith lead the team, I will point the way!” 

Wilhelm only hesitated a moment and then mounted the step up to the seat.  He expected the boards that had just been vacated to bear some warmth, but they were ice cold.  He called out.  “Alfred, follow my orders, Mr. Crowley says he knows the way!” 

Alfred looked at the two lead horses and mumbled.  “Ich werde bald tot.”  Roughly translated means ‘soon I’ll be dead’

Mr. Crowley raised his left arm and pointed slightly to the left of the team of horses and the one truck caravan continued up to Pinesburg.  The town lies just beside the river with warehouses of coal and food surpluses and docking for the barges.  Crowley had passed through the town earlier that year and saw it as a lawless frontier village, not a town he expected to find twenty miles up river from Pittsburgh.

The wind has died down and snow falls in large flakes now, they had moved their load up the trail about five miles when Alfred looked up to see a fork in the path before him, the town’s dim lamplights were to the right.  “Gibt es, Pines-burg!”  Alfred yelled as loud as he could.

Crowley pointed to a road to the left.  “My home is that way.  Two miles!”  He turned to look at the drover, who was shivering.  “There will be hot coffee and food, you will have a place to dry out!”

Wilhelm pulled a pocket watch from his pocket and saw that it was close on nine o’clock.  Crowley has not been wrong so far, why not.  “Alfred, that way, lead them that way.”  He pointed to the left fork.  As the sled slowly broke free and started to move, Wilhelm jumped off and started to walk beside, he needed to move, it was freezing up on that board.  Don’t know how he can just sit up there and not freeze, he thought to himself.

Midnight, the caravan entered the open gate to an abandoned farm with a dilapidated barn and a broken window in the small farmhouse.  Wilhelm and Alfred approached the porch and looked in disappointment at the deteriorated condition of the place.  A small one or two room shack, with a large covered porch, the white washed finish was worn and spotty and there was a large field stone chimney poking out the middle of the roof.

Crowley leaped off his seat with the agility of an athlete ready to perform.  “Place the horses in the barn, there is feed, shelter and two coal oil heaters in there, I will prepare you a meal and have the fire going when you are through.”  He leaped up on the boards of the porch, opened the door and walked into the dark room.  The two men, cold and exhausted turned to perform their chores.  Isaac stood at the window with steely eyes he watched as the two men went about their tasks and unshackled the team.  He turned to his tasks and to prepare this shelter for them.

“Wilhelm, wann werden wir bereit?”  Fredrick’s hands were shaking uncontrollably.

“Be patient Fred, when he is relaxed and maybe asleep.  Then it will be time.  He has plenty of gold coin, I’ve seen it!”  The barn was as cold as the outside but it was dry, out of the wind and there was plenty of feed in the bins.  They found six empty stalls, a dozen or so large horse blankets and covered the horses.  They located the two stoves at either end of the barn and they lit them.  When they were done they trudged across the yard to the house, now bright with light and smoke billowing from the chimney.

As they were at the first step to the porch Wilhelm pulled out his skinning knife, Alfred did the same.  “We bury the body, eat, sleep and take the team back to Pittsburgh tomorrow.”

“Was ist auf der Schiltten?”

“We’ll find out later, ” Wilhelm was getting upset with Alfred’s constant jabbering. “Learn English.  ‘Lernen Sie Englisch!’”

They entered the room with their knives drawn.  Crowley had put a blanket over the broken window; the room was warm and cozy.  They could smell the rich aroma of the fire along with coffee and sausage warming on the stove.  It is a two-room dwelling, the front and rear rooms are separated by a huge walk in fireplace and two framed wood walls on either side.  The fireplace is a huge fieldstone edifies occupying a large part of the center of the shack.  Basically a vaulted cavity with two arched entries one to the front room, the oven and stove are set in this opening and the second to the back room. Once inside the shack, it was obvious that the shack was built around it, there is an opening at the peak of the cavity becoming the chimney.  A large fire behind the stove provided heat for both rooms and to cook with.

The two men stood at the open doorway with their knives down at their sides, looking about for Crowley, but he was not visible. 

Wilhelm stepped carefully further into the room and Fredrick closed the door as quietly as possible.  Wilhelm noticed two doors, one on either side of the fireplace.  He first walked over to look at the right door.  As he carefully moved, he heard what he thought was Alfred trip over something.  “Shush you fool, he’ll hear you.”  As quietly as he could Wilhelm opened the door.  It was a closet full of wine bottles.  “I’ll be damned, Mr. Crowley’s a wino.”  He grabbed one of the dusty bottles and ripped the cork out.  He upended the bottle and began to gulp as he turned back to see his partner.

Alfred lay on the floor, his body face down, his legs slowly twitching, but his head was twisted completely about so his face was strait up facing the rafters, blood was everywhere.  At that moment Wilhelm tasted the thick dark liquid and realized it was not wine.  Throwing the bottle into the fireplace and coughing up the foul sweet beverage, he started to run for the door, holding his knife out in front of him like a lance.

Isaac Crowley is in the doorway like a flash and Wilhelm drove the knife into his belly to the hilt. He stood his ground, Alfred’s blood still on his lips.  Wilhelm stepped back staring at the knife handle, there was seven inches of steel in the man, why wasn’t he down or screaming? 

Crowley grabbed the handle of the knife and removed the blade, followed by a small blob of almost dry blood.  “Just for you to know, you would have survived this had you just done your jobs and not planned on butchering me.”

It took only a moment and Wilhelm was lying next to his partner, his cold dead eyes starring at the ceiling.

Isaac Crowley has come to Pinesburg Pennsylvania. 

I look down on these two blackhearts “So you think it is easy?  Living off the innocent, taking what you will, taking lives and creating misery for the poor.”  I preached to the bodies still dripping their life’s fluid. 

The bodies are bleeding out slowly, I need to save this warm fresh nutrition it’s being wasted.  Moving both bodies to the wall and propping them so as not to loose a drop.  One at a time I carry each to the barn and hang them by their ankles, catching the blood in a metal water basin.  “I hate the taste of blood from one of these things.”  I kicked the tin bucket almost tipping it over with its precious content.

“Let’s be neat Isaac, clean up!”  I often talk to myself; as I have been alone for so long, I need the sensory input, the sound of my own voice is one of the small comforts of being a recluse.  “These fools thought they would destroy me?  I would have let them live had they not attempted to attack me!”

It only took a short time to finish the draining, I tear their bodies into smaller pieces and then I move them inside to the fire.  I watched the first part break down into burning fat and sinew.  I add more firewood and place another part on top.  It snaps and pops as the fat boils out of the flesh and flares into billowing black smoke, just as black as their souls.  Stripping to my skin I pile my bloodied garments on top of the whole thing and watch the shadows and flickering of the firelight.  Body part after body part I continue to feed the blackhearts on to the pile until there is only firewood left. 

While tending the fire I watch the logs burn down to embers, this will smolder and pop until after daylight., I need no heat, I need no light.  The drover wasted one bottle of my preserves I will need to refill the empties for later. After turning down all the oil lanterns and putting a bottle of blood near the dying embers to warm I decided to go out on the porch.  There is an old rocker lying on its side, I righted it and sit down. The moon had set leaving the snow and blackness, a world of black and white, good and evil; I exist in that unseen gray shadow of twilight.

Closing my eyes never brings sleep, just memories.  Reliving the memories helps me pass the hours, as an Eternal, passing time is part of my vocation.  When the first light appears I open my eyes, naked I sit here in this rocking chair watching the morning sun rise in the East, amused by the thought of the old myth about not being able to expose myself to the sun.

When the ancients battled, they hung the vanquished up in mocking display.  It was the custom of that time.  Among the bodies were those as myself, Eternals.  At mornings light their bodies would seem to burn and float away on the wind, hence the assumption that all Vampire’s burn in sunlight.  Ever since all those suspected of being “Evil” were dragged into the light of day and if they did not burn then it was proof positive of their innocents.

Now I feel I am the only one.  My last companion had enough and gave her self to the wind in 1799.  That was the last time I felt anything, it almost drove me to destroy myself.

I got up and went inside to get the bottle I had placed near the dying embers of the fire. In the cupboard was a dusty wine glass, I brought everything out, cleaned the glass with wet snow.  Sat back in the rocker, removed the cork and poured the tepid fluid some of it had congealed into small lumps.  “It doesn’t keep well!”  I gulped down the first pour and the next.  In about an hour the bottle was empty, I gathered a few other empty bottles and refilled them from the tin bucket corking them all and putting them back in the cupboard.

After cleaning up the embers and burying the little that was left, I unload the sledge.  I store what I was to take with me to the rear of the barn and the rest in the house, I brought plenty spares of everything.  The sledge that was so heavy that it required four horses is now empty.  Its structure, empty, weighs well over nine hundred to a thousand pounds.  I find it easy to drag it behind the barn. 

Still working in the nude, I break open one of the crates and pull out a fresh suit of clothing with a warm cape.  Holding the cape up, looking at it  “I assume its still cold out, I need to keep up appearances.”  From another crate there were two large saddlebags of paper currency.  In another crate are bags of coins.  I pack three bags into one of the empty travel cases and covered it with dirty laundry that had been lying on the shack floor. 

It took about another hour to pack up two of the horses and saddle the third. As I examined the fourth, it was a brown and white paint with sore tendons on three legs.  She is in very bad shape; the bastards probably knew it before we left Pittsburgh.  Now I need to do something that I always found to be repugnant to me.  If I let the paint go she’ll die, bringing her with me she’ll not survive.  I retrieve a sidearm and take her behind the barn, she was a beautiful animal but in pain, I ended her pain.

If anyone would have been watching they would have known that there was something radically different about me.  In the snow, naked, it only took a half hour to dig the hole and drag the carcass of the paint into it.  I covered the carcass with coal oil from the barn, and burned it. 

As the heat of the fire melted the surrounding ice and snow I washed myself in the cold water.  Again, to any normal person the sight of a naked man standing in an open snow covered field, washing his body with melted snow would be insane.

After changing into the clean cloths that I had put aside, knee high jack boots, putting on that cape and my top hat, I started out towards town.  As I lead the packhorses out of the barn and across the yard there was something we had not noticed the night before.  Lying on the ground in front of the shack was an eight-foot cross that was mostly covered in snow and ice.  It had been wrapped in swaths of scorched canvas and broken off close to the ground. 

It took forty minutes to amble into town with the two packhorses trailing behind me.  As I approached the town I could hear the chatter of voices.  There are times when my senses become so acute I can even read minds.  Eons ago my senses dissolved into an on and off condition of feeling nothing and at times everything. 

The town was simple; Main Street was a wide dirt road about a quarter mile long following the couture of the river.  Slavery was a part of every town along that river on the southern border of Pennsylvania and West Virginia and this town was no different.  The thin bog between the river and the backs of the buildings that faced the street was set-aside for the slave quarters.  The high side of town was on the opposite side of the street. All the buildings and shacks were covered in snow.  The snow on the street was so chewed up by wagons and sleds that it was more of a wet muddy bog than a street.  Two churches one at each end of Main Street, a bank, a few dance halls, two general stores, four stables and warehouses containing grain, coal and coal oil.  The surrounding area was dotted with homes that one day may become a real town.

There are two inns; one, The Manner Inn, is a two-story structure, very close to a church with a stable across the street.  I stopped at the Manner and tied the three horses to the hitching post.  One of the hotel bellboys was sitting in the sun on the boardwalk in front of the entrance.  All the businesses of Main Street have a young black man out front to welcome the patrons.  He wore a heavy scarf over his head, heavy jacket, a ruffled shirt and black trousers with boots.

I hold up a five-dollar federal gold peace, this is extremely extravagant as a tip.  “Unpack the horses, bring everything into the lobby and this is yours.”  I pull the moneybags off my horse and throw them over my shoulder, I ran my hand about my body to check the harness the held my many purses of gold and silver coin.  If any of the unsavory characters on this street only knew what I was carrying, they would be on me in a flash.  The young man said not a word and was upon the task.  “by the way what is your name young man?”

He stopped and put his hand to his head like a half salute.  “Willy sa.”

“Thank you Willy, when you’re done.  Bring my mounts over to that stable…” Pointing to the one across the street.  “I’ll give you another fiver!”  Five dollars was over two months wages for a freed slave, I sensed him to be just that.

There are six steps up to the boardwalk, they are well worn and a horsehair rug at the entrance to wipe my boots on.  The lobby is bright, strewn with leather chairs and couches.  A mustached bartender to the right of the front desk manned a small bar, a tight assed young white man in a crisp fitted vest stood behind the desk watched me approach. 

“May I help you sir?”  His hands were in white linen gloves.

“I am going to need a long term residence.”  Reading his mind was easy; he was not really listening to me.  Most of his job was easy; he never had to really think or work.  “I would like something with more than one room, maybe a suite with a sitting room?”

The sign in register was on a swivel, he turned it toward me to sign.  “Yes sir, we have two such rental’s in the front facing the thoroughfare.”  His eyes were down looking at me signing the book.  “One of them has a balcony. Both share the same privy and are twenty dollars a week.”

“Are they both available?”  I looked around and noticed that the bellboy had already finished unloading my belongings; it made a large pile behind me.  I flipped the coin to him and showed him the other one.  He smiled broadly at me and went back out quickly.  “And, is there storage space available to store my bags after they are empty?”

The young clerk looked around me, his eyes still seeing that flash of gold in the air.  Absently he continued.  “Yes both rooms are vacant right now and no, not in the room but we have a store room behind the bar, you can have them put there.”  He turned to the mailboxes behind him and picked up two keys from one of them and handed one to me.  He absently repeated himself. “Those rooms go for twenty dollars; in advance.”

His eyes were locked on my gloved hand as I placed four small five dollar gold pieces on the counter before him.  “I will look at both of them.” 

“Top of the stairs, walk around the balcony to the right, room number two.  FRONT!” 

“What is your name young man?”

“Oscar, I am the day clerk.  Marvin is the evening man.  There are call bells in every room, just pull the handle on the chain in each room and a boy will be there to assist you.”

He rang the bell twice impatiently and called out,  “Boy, Boy, Front please!”

I place a dollar on the counter.  “Thank you Oscar.” He quickly spun the register and read my name.

“Thank you Mr. Cummings.”

Cummings, I was very calculating in picking this particular name.  There was no family by that name any where near this town.  The family name was not well known and had died out two years before.  There would be no curious relatives snooping into my business.

A black bellboy appeared wearing a ruffled white shirt; they all wore that same style and dark trousers.  Oscar handed him the keys.  Slavery was still prevalent in this area.  Emancipation was still a dirty thought among the population, the Klan was more powerful than honest will .  I followed the man up the stairs weighed down by my baggage and his plight in life.  Of all the humans in the world, these are the ones I grieve most.  We walked around the balcony to the front of the building.  Everything was clean and well kept. 

He unlocked the room and pushed the door open.  “Dares is a common privy and bath b’tween your room da numba two next doe.”  The sitting room was large with windows on the left side of the room that looks out over the roof of the building next door.  Drapes adorned an archway to the sleeping quarters.

“Yur Bedroom!”  Sun streamed in through the two windows that looked out over Main Street and the stable across the street.  He opened another door to one side of the bed that leads into a long room that separated this unit form the next.  The only forms of illumination are a stained glass window facing the street and two oil lamps.  A large porcelain bathtub adorned one end of the room and a one-hole privy with a short privacy door at the other.  There is a table with a washbasin beside the privy.    I walked over to the toilet and lifted the cover.  There was a large cleaned empty bucket.

“We cleans dat tree times a day.”  He stepped back to the bathtub,  “Do ya prefer a man or woman servant to assist in ya bath sir?”

“May I see the other room?” 

Hi opened the connecting door that opened into the other sleeping quarters.  Again there were two windows but there was a set of French doors between the two windows that leads to the porch type balcony.  I stepped out and looked down at my horses being guided into the stable.  The man followed but stopped at the open door.  “What is your name?” 

“Sir?  My name is Mark.  Mark Allyson sa.” 

Turning toward him I tossed a five dollar gold piece.  “Mark.  You will assist me when I need assistance I want no one else.  Call me Isaac, or Mr. Isaac.”  Reaching in my other vest pocked, I pulled out a twenty-dollar coin.  “Bring this to the front desk and tell Oscar I am taking both rooms!  And. Bring up all the keys to both rooms when you bring up the rest of my things!”

Eyes as big as pools he was still turning the two coins in his hand.  “Yay-sa Mr. Isaac.  I’ll bring up ya things sir.”

“Put them in this room, I will use this room as the store room for now.”  I looked intently at him.  “There is a special case, it’s wood covered in leather and has a padlock.  When you bring it up put it beside this bed!” 

“Yay-sa” He turned in a circle, almost didn’t know which way to go. 

While unpacking I came across my Union service revolver and holster.  Packed along side was two four shot derringers with shoulder holsters.  This does amuse me, I do not need any of this, but if I don’t carry it, I become an automatic target of bullies and thugs.

After finishing my tasks, I don the armament and proceed down to the front desk.  Oscar looked like he was sleeping, head down, eyes almost closed.  I almost made it to the bell when he raised his head.  “May I assist you Mr. Cummings?”

“The Pinesburg Federal Savings.  Which building would that be in please, I did not see a sign when I rode into town.”

“Let me get the buckboard out for you, it is located at the other end of town.”  He rang the bell.  “They just moved to new quarters.”  Willy appeared from a room behind the bar.  “Willy, get the rig out.”

“No.  No buckboard, I’ll walk.”  I dropped a dollar coin on the desk.  I turned to leave handing Willy the fiver I promised him.  Oscar’s eyes popped out of his head.  Then I added a twenty in gold and an additional hundred note in Willy’s outstretched palm. “Willy, please give this to the proprietor of the stable, tell him to take good care of the mounts and outfit the two pack horses with saddles and bridles”

Willy smiled and quickly preceded me out the front door.  The air was clear and, except for me, everyone’s breath was visible in the icy cold crisp air.  I kept a scarf about my mouth to hide the fact that I didn’t breath properly.

Whatever snow and ice there was on the broken boardwalk had melted in the warm sun.  It was just under a quarter of a mile when I looked over to the south side of the street and saw the makeshift sign painted on a canvas remnant and stretched over the front window of a store front.  ‘P.F.S. Bank’

My boots sank deep into the mud as I crossed over the street.  By the sun I estimate it is close to two in the afternoon, to one side of the bank is a dance hall and brothel.  They’re just opening up for the afternoon.  The barkeep and two of his girls are out on the porch opening the shutters that normally cover the large windows.

The bank has a similar frontage as the dance hall, except there are bars on the windows and door.  A bell chimes when I pushed the door open.  It is a simple room, wood floor, two teller cages and a short wall housing the clerk’s desk.  Two young women were busy gabbing and flirting with one of the tellers; they turned to look at me when I stepped into the room.  They both wore wide hoop skirts and white blouses with jackets to match their skirts.  One wore a bright red satin and the other blue; the hems of both skirts were badly soiled by the mud.  The clerk stood at the desk leading to the rear of the office space. 

The uniformed guard sitting beside the entrance extended his short-barreled rifle to stop me.  “You must surrender your weapons before entering sir!” 

I pulled out my forty-four and put it down on his small table along with the two derringers and Wilhelm’s neatly cleaned knife.  “Is Mr. Elliot Samson in please?”

The guard looked to the rear of the office and pointed to a rather large man just going through a door in the back wall.  “That’s him!”  He called to the clerk.  “Quigley. Gentleman wants to see Mr. Samson.” 

The clerk opened the half door and invited me in.  Samson, a very portly person stopped at his office door and waited for me to approach, “Mr. Samson, my name is Isaac Cummings.  You must have received my communiqués regarding the old Crowley farm?”  I extended my gloved hand and we shook.

“Please come into my office Mr. Cummings.”  He closed the door behind us. 

It is a good-sized room with a number of wood file cabinets against one wall, a small coal fired iron stove behind his chair and to one side of a window.  His large desk is in the center of the room with three guest chairs before it. 

A large oil painting hung behind the desk depicting what I only could describe as hell.  A landscape of flat rocks, men and women all in some form of tortured contortion were depicted on each stone.  The nearest central figure is a black woman, being forced to endure being whipped, while being penetrated by an axe handle.

I paused for a very long time looking at the painting.  “Mr. Cummings.  I see you are admiring my art!”

You painted that?  It is different” As my eyes struggle to see all the figures, many are very small, I notice the majority, if not all, are colored.  “What do you call this work of yours?”

He smiled and chuckled a little.  “Bin thinkin’ on that for a while now, may-be ‘The Darker Side Of Life’?”  He had swiveled his chair around to admire his own work.  “What’ya think?”

This man deserves to be flogged to death, “Not being an art lover or expert, I really can not express my opinion.”

We both sat and he thought for a moment, “Yes.  Let me see?”  Then dug into one of the desk draws. “Yes, I think I have it here.”  After a moment of thumbing through folders he had the papers on the desk, reading the top page he started with.  “I see you should have a money transfer.”

I pushed the document across the desk toward him.  There was a point where we both were touching the paper at the same time.  Even though I could not feel cold, this was cold.  A real evil emanated from him, I could not sense why, but he was not what he seemed to be.

He quickly opened the document.  “Ah yes Mr. Cummings, this is just what we needed.”  He pulled a handle attached to a chain, I heard a bell chime just outside the door, a moment later the clerk poked his head in the door    “Quigley, we need a document of property transfer, a deed registration form and a bill of sale form.” 

The clerk only took a few seconds to gather the forms and have them on Samson’s desk.  It took me many years, but I taught myself to change my signatures dramatically from one identity to another.  I’ve had plenty of practice; there have been many hundreds of identities. 

After signing I passed the documents back to Samson.  He counter signed the bill of sale.  “When our county clerk registers the transaction I will provide you with your deed and here is your bill of sale.”  I folded the paper and tucked it into the inside vest pocket of my coat.  He placed everything he had in an envelope and sealed it with the wax from a candle on his desk.  He looked at me with curiosity,  “No one has lived out there in quite some time.  Understand it was a terrible event.  Whole family done in, in one night I understand.”

“Yes, thieves I was told.  What could they have wanted with a poor farm family?”  I tried to probe him.  There were thoughts of a dark night, I sensed lust and greed in his heart, but then he’s a banker.

He leaned back in his chair and locked his fingers together across his large belly.  “It was horrible, they hung the man and boys from the porch rafters then ram shackled the buildings.”  His lips curled in a slight smile.  “You’re lucky they didn’t burn the place down.  You’d have to rebuild from scratch.”

“What ever happened to the women?  They kill them too?” 

“The stories abound, but as I believe it, they raped the woman and her two teenaged daughters.  Dragged em’ through the woods; if they survived that, I don’t know what happened to them?  I believe they left town.”  He was lying; I had a clear vision he knew exactly where they are.

“Well there are always mysteries that may never be solved.  If they went through that much sorrow, maybe it would be better if they had not survived?” 

“You know he was a white man livin with a half white, half colored whore the name of Samantha Woods.  She was a real looker for a nigger.”  His eyes unfocused for a second, as if he was trying to visualize her, he smiled.  “He had those kids by her.  That’s what happened to them!”  Now besides the obvious prejudice I sensed his deep-seated hate stirring up.

“Yes.  Terrible, just terrible what a man will do!”  The chair scraped on the wood floor when I rose.  “It will be very nice, doing business with you Mr. Samson.” 

“Call me Eliot, may I refer to you as Isaac?”

“Yes that would be fine.”  I smiled at him and removed my glove.  When our hands touched grotesque pictures of pain and suffering appeared in the back of my mind but somehow he was not the perpetrator of these deeds.  They seem to be totally unrelated to the Crowley farm.  He participated and witnessed it but did not lead in it.  “I’m staying at the Manner Inn and for a while will be receiving my guests and mail there.”

He got up and walked around to my side of the desk opening the door.  We started to walk together to the front of the building.  “We hope your stay in our village is pleasant; I’m sorry to say we do not have many forms of entertainment here.  Although the dance hall up the street, it’s the Oriole, does have a bawdy stage show every so often.”  He smiled with a glint in his eye.  “If that is your pleasure?”

“I will look into it, thank you Eliot, see you soon.”  I wish he would go back to his desk but he continued to follow me to the exit.  “How do you feel about this new Confederacy movement Isaac?”

“Don’t get into politics; too many blood suckers, too much thought and not enough money!”  This made Eliot chuckle.

We stopped at the guard and I retrieved my weapons.  Eliot picked up my forty-four; he examined it carefully and broke it open.  “A six shot.  Not Military issue, percussion caps?  This is very new, where did you get such a piece as this?”  He closed it and handed it to me.

“Custom made, my own design.”  Holstering the weapons, I had one more opportunity.  I grabbed his hand again and started to shake it, he had a very firm grip.  The vision of a cellar, bodies hanging from rafters, moaning, screaming, laughter and the sound of a whip snapping against flesh.  There was a little panic in his eyes, maybe it was my very cold hand or maybe he knew that I could look into his black heart, he let go and pulled his hand back.  “I will see you soon, thank you again.”

Eliot Samson is the key and he will lead me to what I want to learn.  There were only two ways for him to know what happened that night, if he was there or he had contact with a participant in the crime. 

The buildings shaded the boardwalk on this side of the street; there were fewer people here.  Most of the soiled snow has melted or was melting: leaving the street a slick bog of mud and deep puddles.

As I passed the Carousel Dance Hall, just next door to the bank, I looked in through the two windows.  There weren’t many men in there at this time of day.  A number of the girls were playing cards at a table just inside the first window.  They all looked up and smiled at me, two had missing teeth.  When I passed the second window I could see deeper into the darkness and another very lovely young girl sat reclining at a table alone.  She was leaning back in the rear two legs of the chair, her bare feet, crossed at the ankle were up on the table and legs fully exposed.  Her striking figure made me stop to gain a better view and she noticed me.  She pouted her lips to form a kiss and ran her gloved hand over her ample breast, then waved me in.  I waved back and continued to walk.

This is the most difficult part, interacting in public.  If I eat, I do not digest and the food just rots in my stomach and is later regurgitated.  I’ve done this to keep up appearances, but it is a foul thing to do.  I can only digest blood, that’s it; water, coffee; nothing will stay down for long and alcohol will come up right away. 

In Europe I discovered a dish called Steak Tar-Tar.  Very lean beef is ground into almost a pudding texture; it is seasoned and served raw.  Being raw meat it bears the flavor of fresh blood and I can keep this down for a longer time.  The problem is, it’s not a common dish here, but there are places where I have introduced it and most humans do like it. 

The two women from the bank are following me down the street.  Moving slower, I step to one side to allow them pass.  Looking at me, and then one another, they giggle girlishly and hurry on down the rickety wooden path. 

There’s a small shack just up ahead, the girls go inside.  As I approach I discover it’s a cobbler and boot black.  I look down at my muddy boots and out over the sea of mud in the street.  There is no point in stopping and having them cleaned. 

I approach the shack and glance in.  The girls are busily speaking to the proprietor.  They’re both short about five feet tall, very attractive, maybe in their mid teens, well dressed in satin and lace.  I have paused looking in long enough to attract their attention, they snicker again as I tip my hat to them.

After taking a few more steps I look across the street and there is the Oriole Dance Hall.  All of the buildings are either one or two stories, all built of rough-hewn boards or logs.  It seems the original structures were log cabins and the new ones post and beam construction.  A frontier town comes to mind, not an eastern village near a growing industrialized city.

There must be a sign maker who does all the advertising for this place, there is another canvas scrap hanging in front of the Oriole that says ‘Show Tonight”, it is tattered and ripped in places, the paint is fading.  There was a slight commotion behind me and I turned just in time to see the two girls start to cross the street; one had plopped down, her bright blue hoop skirt billowing up around her showing her petticoats.  She seems to have just gone flat down on her buttocks into the mud.  The other girl looked panicked, and helpless.  I proceeded to backtrack.

“May I be of some assistance?”

The other girl in a bright red satin frock, the one still standing looked in my direction.  “Bet yer buttons Billy.  Yea, you kin help!”

Between the two of us the girl was up and walking again; the back of her dress soaked in brown mud.  I stood and watched them begin to walk off.  The girl in red stopped for a moment and turned.  “Come to the show tonight, yall get a free-bee!”  They continued in the direction of the Oriole.

“I will!  Thank you!”  Knowing what these places were like, there was no way they belonged in that establishment.

When back in the room I undressed and looked at myself in the full-length standing mirror.  Another myth, this is the one concerning not casting a reflection in a mirror. Every good Inn of the day provides a full-length mirror in every private room. 

Looking upon my nakedness, I bare the marks of my mortal existence.  Born in 1210 of a British nobleman, I was 37 when I was turned, I can still admire my youthful physique.  The four marks on my body are age-old scars from wounds long ago; they read like a biography of my life.  I can remember every incident clearly. 

I touch the long thin line that extends across my left chest.  That was my first sword fight the year was 1229.  I can still remember the burning sensation of his blade as it tore through my shirt and pierced my flesh.

The wrinkled patch of scar tissue on my right shoulder; it was a major conflict during the crusades; I had been captured and was tortured for information.  Information was something a young soldier of 20 years did not have and when they discovered that I didn’t know anything my fate was set.  That was the summer of 1230.  Saved by an act of religious faith my adventures in the holy lands were finished.  I decided to reside in France.  At that time the relations between my island homeland and the French was stable, although there were provinces that did not agree with this political balance.

I liked France and the French people; life was simple in the countryside.  I met and married a wonderful eighteen year old and had two children by her.  Then the local populations attitude towards the British changed.  I tried to meld into the locals, get along, work side by side, I spoke the language fluently but my accent always gave me away, everyone knew what I was.  I isolated myself from my family not wanting them to come in harms way.  I became an outcast, destitute and in that day and age, it meant death.  They flogged me for stealing food.

Turning slightly to my right, the marks of the flogging will always be visible, skin was torn out of my back.  The wounds had become infected, I crawled out of town and sneaking back to my wife.  She tended to me, washed my back with salts and clean water.  It was 1235.

I lived the life of a hermit with her and our children.  Never going out when strangers were present but one-day, children playing with my son saw me in the house and informed their parents of the stranger in their friends home.  The neighboring families became curious and soon we had been exposed.  Our home was seized, our children placed in the local orphanage.  They sheered the hair from both my wife and myself.  Stripping us in the public square then dragged us naked through the streets. 

My wife…my wife died when she struck her head on a stone.  They threw me in prison, naked and broken, most of my injuries healed while I festered in that cold common cell with over twenty other outcasts.  It was 1242 when they deported all of the political prisoners back to their homelands; most of us were English.

Father had died before I left for the crusades, while gone my brother gambled the family into ruin.  My families name had gone into disrepute, the titles and lands removed by the crown.  Whether it was shame or heartache, mother died soon after my brother did in debtors’ prison.  My sister married and moved to the northlands never to be seen again.

My heritage gone and penniless I had to start over.  For five years I struggled to regain a life.  Working menial jobs, living in shacks and saving every penny.  Finally I began to prosper, a decent dwelling and good income. 

After giving myself a night out I was staggering home; it was a moonless night on a quiet side street in London.  With much, too much grog in me; I staggered into a situation, a man was being attacked.  I had trouble focusing, and then realized that it was two men being attacked by some form of animal.  It was ripping out their throats.  As the black figure raised itself over the second body I discovered it wasn’t an animal but a man in a long black cape. 

I was in no shape to fight but I attempted to pull my sword when he came at me.  He moved like a wind blown shadow on the wall, he was upon me with his hands on either side of my head; there was a sudden sense of calm that came over me.  Time stood still.  Darkness overcame me.  I didn’t know how much time had passed, I awoke to vigorous exertions in copulation, we were in an old abandoned castle, and many women lounged about, all seemed to have been with me at some time and there was blood, all of us were saturated in blood.  Two weeks later I roamed the streets of London with him.  I never needed to worry about scars or dying again.  In those days we struck indiscriminately, we attacked whenever the Lust was upon us. 

I flexed my muscles and admired my youthful physique; not bad for a six hundred year old young man, I wrapped myself in my robe. 

The door to the hall was fitted with a hollow pocket for dirty laundry and a box to hold a pair of boots for polishing.  I stuffed my soiled britches and boots into the door. 

The blood of the two blackhearts last night is wearing off and my need is beginning to wear on me again.  The largest case, leather bound wood box, in the spare bedroom is the heaviest.  With no effort at all I tossing it upon the bed, opened the padlock with a key that is hung from a gold chain about my neck.  Removing the lid exposed a large cash of pint-sized flasks each neatly wrapped in a red linen napkin.  They were all clustered around a dainty wood block, hollowed out, lined in felt containing a Champaign glass.  Removing one of the flasks and the glass, I pulled the stopper from the flask pouring a quarter of its contents into the Champaign glass.  I swallowed it down hungrily; hopefully that will hold me for a few hours.  Replacing the stopper I put the flask back in its place.  I wiped the glass clean replace it, relocking the case and putting it far under the bed.  This has been and will be my routine forever, unless the opportunity for a fresh meal crops up.

Now comes the lonely time again.  The time to wait, I cannot interact without doing everything that humans do.  I cannot drink or eat and that seems to be the only things they do for entertainment.  They smoke, now that I have been able to handle.  Sitting by myself in a room or outside on an open plain is my preference, I’ve also enjoyed presentations, the theater and entertainers but that brought me in contact with people, with the desire.  Unless totally satisfied I find controlling my desires insurmountable at times. 

Darlene would control me when this happened, but she left me.  If there was a life’s partner for me she was the one.  With her, time passed, as it should, we spoke the same tongue; we were the same age and had experienced all the same things.  Her needs were more than mine; she still felt desires of the heart that many times, most times, I could not fulfill.  My libido is now fleeting. There were times that she quenched her desires with others but the guilt she felt tore her apart.  Rarely did I indulge and even then there is a strong need for me to be in total control of myself as I will harm my partner if the hunger and the urge strikes together. 

I dream of her, not sleeping, I never sleep, but I can recall our total existence together, from the day I turned her to the day she made me terminate her.  It was early morning, just before daybreak at our beloved Hayden estate just north of the Smith Estate on Long Island.  She had left our bed as she had done many times before.  I arose as was my custom and followed her to the docking area were we kept two small Cat-Ketch.  She was small in stature, even though she was well endowed; her figure was still well proportioned, with long legs and bright red hair.  She had been begging me to end her existence for well over a year.  Then she threatened to end herself.  So, that morning we kissed for the last time and I drove a dagger deep into her chest.  Unlike the grotesque human finally, she quietly closed her eyes and became limp.  It was over; she died at age thirty-three after living for one hundred and forty-four years.  As is our custom, I removed all of clothing and hoisted her body to the top of the mast by her ankles; at daylight she was no more giving her body to the wind.    I daydream of her for hours, now that she is no longer at my side.

At the setting of the sun I again dress and have decided to go to the Oriole dance hall.  Opening the special, locked, case and finish the opened flask.  It’s not as good as fresh but it quenches my appetite.  After leaving and locking the room I can feel a set of eyes follow me around the balcony to the stairs, the clerk.  At the lobby there is a new face behind the desk, he eyes me and stares intently.  There is strangeness in his manor. Then raising one finger to attract my attention.  “Mr. Cummings, I have a note for you.”

I walk over and take the envelope from him.  I feel his desire; he thinks my tastes are of the male persuasion.  “Thank you!”  My response is curt and succinct.  His preferences were obvious, how this man has existed in this town without someone ending him is a puzzlement.

“Mr. Samson’s boy asked that you read it right away!”

I stared back into his deep blue eyes as I broke the wax seal and unfolded the note. 

Before reading it I leaned over the desk and he leaned forward, I whispered in his ear. “Go back to your little boys and play child.  You do not interest me!”  I watched his fire go out, the anticipation drain from his look quickly replaced by a disappointed pout.

Samson was inviting me to his house for a late night, light dinner and some parlor games. He suggested I arrive about nine and ask the Inn for the use of their buggy, as his home was a quarter mile up the River Road.  He had included a little map at the bottom of the note.  “Is your Surrey available?”

Marvin looked up.  “Ah, Yes!”

I looked at my pocket watch and then at the large wall clock between the bar and the desk, it read a quarter of six.  “Is that accurate?”  I wound my watch and set it to the wall clock.

“Yes sir, never a minute off!” 

“I will be back at eight, could you have the wagon ready with a driver, Willy or Mark will be fine.” 

“Yes sir!”

The weather seemed to be holding, it was a clear night, no clouds to obscure a large half moon on the horizon.  It illuminated the snow-topped buildings in a soft bluish glow.  There seemed to be more people out now, loitering about the wooden sidewalks, very few women and those that were out were scurrying about to get back inside somewhere. 

As I sauntered up the street towards the Oriole I passed one of the brothels.  As is the case, my senses become keen at all the wrong times.  The stench of filthy bed cloths, body odor and human waste permeated the air to the point that it even triggered me to move on more quickly.  How could anyone even think of going in there?

Walking further, soon I could hear the sound of a piano playing, singing and people laughing.  At night, eight large oil lamps brightened up and illuminated the front of the rather dull structure.  Inside was very bright also, with four oil lamp chandeliers and candles on every table.  My senses being awakened by passing the brothel, now I could smell the sawdust on the floor, the beer, the perfume of every woman and there were many women there. 

As I stood at the door and panned across the room I recognized the girl who had flopped in the street.  She was sitting on the bar, her legs resting, one on each shoulder of the old man standing before her.  I could just make out his hand on the bar between her legs and at the sweet spot.  She was swaying back and forth, her eyes half closed, while talking with him and with two others who stood one to each side of her and leaning on the bar.  Her costume was skimpy at best, her top buttoned all the way down the front, her bottom tied with strings.  There was a bowl on the bar beside her, as each man dropped a coin in the bowl she would allow him to touch her wherever they wished.  She must have been one of the more popular girls as there were many others sitting by themselves, each one with her own bowl.  I counted nine men and fifteen bar girls. 

The bartender stood like a guard in a prison, his arms crossed across his chest, watching the three old men becoming more aggressive with every coin they dropped.  He also refilled her glass with whisky every time she drained it. 

I moved slowly around the obstacle course of tables towards the bar.  As I passed, one of the girls reached out with one leg and blocked my path.  She held up her bowl and tucked her other hand in her dress, cupping one breast.  I pushed her leg out of the way and continued toward the bar and passed the next table where the girl and her customer got up, arm in arm and ambled through a curtained doorway to the rear of the building.  I reached the bar and put my foot up on the rail, the bartender placed a glass on the bar.  “What’s yer pleasure?”

I turned to look around the room again, not seeing what I was looking for I pointed at the girl sitting on the bar, “Her girlfriend, they were out to the cobbler earlier today.”

As the men groped her she looked at me with dead eyes, I know what intoxication looks like and she was drunk.  One was unbuttoning the front of her bustier exposing her small breasts. The two other men were egging him on, “Ok Benny, lookit then things.  She gotta be a cherry!”  They were tossing nickels into her bowl for every button he unbuttoned. 

“That would be Margo, she’s busy right now, should be out in a little while.”

Again pointing, “And what is her name?”

“Kit, but she’s busy too!”

Neither of these girls belongs in here.

“I can see that!” I looked at the man in front of me, his hand still on the glass waiting for my order.  “Is this all the entertainment?”

“Pretty much, later their all bare assed and giving it away for quarters.”  He looked a little impatient.  “You drinkin or not mister?”

“You got any Burgundy or just red wine?”

“Never had any call for that shit here.  Beer or whisky, that’s it!”

I put three one-dollar coins on the bar, “No.  I’ll just observe thank you.”  I turned my back to him and leaned against the bar rail.

The three had Kit’s top down to her waist now, all three were groping and pinching her, leaving red marks and she still had that far off look of boredom.  She came alive for a moment to bring them in line.  “Pay th’ kitty or Kit don’t play!”  And they all kept chipping nickels into the bowl. 

Finally the one who had been playing between her legs, rubbing his beard on her thighs and pushing his fist against her crotch stepped back and pulled a bright gold coin from his trousers tossing it into the bowl.  She looked down at it and pushed the other two drunks back away.  He was old but in good physical shape, he lifted her legs and removed her shoes tossing them behind the bar.  He then picked her up off the bar and set her down on the floor. 

She pushed the bowl of coin over to the bartender who emptied it into a bin under the bar.  The old man had very broad shoulders and towered over her small frame; he grabbed her arm roughly and walked her through the draped door.  She was almost falling down drunk, her clothing had been pulled down to her hips.

Kit was one of the youngest there, could not have been more than fifteen, I estimated the oldest at about nineteen and every one of the girls was almost falling down drunk.  I turned back to the man behind the bar,  “My name’s Isaac, just visiting your village on business.  May I inquire your name sir?”

He eyed me with a suspicious look, not knowing where I was going.  “Sam.  Sam Hargrove, so what is your business… Isaac?”

“Well, I was buying property near by, but this looks like a very lucrative concern Sam.” 

Just then Margo appeared behind the bar wearing a thin robe, the way it hung open in the front, it was obvious she was wearing nothing underneath.  She bent over and grabbed an empty bowl and an empty drink glass that Sam immediately filled.  She pushed past Sam and out from behind the bar staggering over to the two men that had been molesting Kit.  She dragged both of them over to a table, let the robe fall off her shoulders and opened up shop. She had small non-existent breasts and even through her obvious drunkenness she showed a very pretty adult face. 

  “Actually you’re doing a land office business.  You just work here or owner, partner?”

“Eliot Sampson owns it with Earl Walters the Constable.”  He pointed over to the opposite side of the room, a table in the darkest nook.  A man with a black hat sat with two young women.  “That’s Earl over there.”  He smiled,  “Why don’t ya just go over an say howdy?”

He obviously was trying to set me up.  “Think I will, thank you Sam!”

Earl had his arm around one girl who was scantily dressed; the other was entertaining him under the table.  The girl at his side was a bit older than the rest and was rubbing her body against him as she nuzzled his neck.  There were no bowls in sight, guess he was getting freebees.  Now I forced my senses into high gear.  I could hear the girl under the table moving in a rhythmic motion; Earl was rolling his head as the other ran her lips all over his neck. There was a muffled grown from under the table. 

I could hear the sound of his hand move as it grazed the material of his shirt.  The click of the hammer as he cocked his sidearm, the distinct rush of metal tearing out of leather, I caught the glint of his ring as he pushed the girl away from his left side and saw legs and bare butt fall to one side under the table.  I raised my hands; my coat hung open exposing all my holstered weapons.  “Good evening Constable Walters.  I come in piece!”

The young light skinned black that was giving him oral sex sat on the floor, scrambling to get out of the way, while the other one was already out of sight.  Earl stood there with his pants open holding both his weapons trained on my nose.  “Anybody ever tell you not to approach a man in the throws of pleasure?” He quickly holstered the less lethal of the two weapons and buttoned his pants.  “What’s ur business Mr. Dude?”

“Just curious, my name is Isaac Cummings, I bought the old Crowley spread, it is about two miles nor…”  My hands still in the air, weapons still locked up in their places.

“Yea. Yea, I know where his place is, what’s ur question?”  He slowly holstered his sidearm.

“Any idea what happened to the women?”  I watched his reaction with intent.  He raised his pistol un-cocking it and put it back on his hip, he hesitated as he sat back down.

“Why, You interested in Fuck’n em?”  He became more casual; still cautious, he waved me into an empty chair.  “Could be arranged!”  He gave me a big broken toothy smile.  He also waved the two girls back to the table.  “Wanna nigger blow job?  She’s good!”  He pointed at the dark brown naked girl; she was young, short, heavy set with large pendulous breasts.   

I grinned at him, ignoring his statement.  I tried to be as congenial as I could, lying through my teeth,  “Actually I already had the old lady when I lived in Pittsburgh, I would really like a taste of the youngins!”

The expression on his face turned to total surprise.  He was in shock.  “You’re kiddin right?”

I lean in over the table,  “Crowley worked for me, I fucked his black bitch many times, I think that’s why he moved out here when he did.”  I grinned again.  “His daughters were becoming ripe for the pickings you might say.”

Earl leaned back.  He was becoming cautious again.  The nude girl was on her knees looking at the two of us with wide eyes.  He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her under the table again.  “Give Mr. Cummings a blow job.”  With a little fire in his eye he continued,  “I’ll be highly offended if you don’t accept!”  I saw his hand go back to the handle of his sidearm.

He needed to test me.  If I flinch and didn’t do it he would try to kill me, and all of this would be for naught, I’d never be able to retrieve Sam and the girls alive. 

Her hands were busy undoing the buttons on my trousers.  I felt her touch me and bring my flaccid manhood out of the trousers; she was working it to arouse me, I have not been aroused in forty years. 

I put both my hands under the table and grabbed her head on both sides.  I projected that I have an erection into her mind.  I could read the terror of her thoughts; in her minds eye she saw my huge member erect in front of her, she could feel its girth filling her mouth, she even could taste it but there was nothing there.  I controlled the motion of her head, moving it up and down and pretended enjoying the penetration strait through to my simulated conclusion. Earl watched my expression intently and seemed to be satisfied that I was.  Because it all took place under the table and between my legs, no one saw that it was all put on.  Even the girl thought she had performed the act even though she hadn’t..

She crawled out and went back on her knees again.  “Yes boss he do it, he be big one boss!” She wiped the sweat off her face. 

“Yea Bitch, he no bigger’n me, now get down here and finish me off!”  She timidly crawled under the table.

As I buttoned my trousers, even though it was not real, the experience aroused other needs; I had to get out of here soon. 

“I am invited to Eliot’s tonight, would it be possible to bring Crowley’s women over and maybe I could play tonight.”  I pulled a hundred dollar federal note out of my wallet and laid it on the table,  “Sure am hungry for some really young brown meat!  Wouldn’t mind the old lady too, for old time sake.” 

Earl’s eyes opened wide at the bill lying on the table, “Need to talk to Eliot first, maybe tomorrow.  If I can locate them; that is!”  I put another hundred on the table, showing the bankroll in my wallet.  “I could send a messenger tonight?”

His cold eyes looked into mine for a long moment. “The niggers mom didn’t make it.  Gotta talk to Eliot about why.  But I kin vouch for the fact that the other two bitches pussy work just fine.”  He smiled that broken toothy smile again.  “They ain’t gonna last long, the boys ar’ usen em’ up; they gittin tired of um’”

“In the mean time, I’d like to have Margo and Kit cleaned up, by cleaned up I mean give them a bath, dressed and send them over to the Manner Inn, room one, by eight thirty sharp.”  I placed another bill on the table.

Earl was quick to put his hand down on the three bills and drag them over to his side of the table.  “Kit’s busy with the Judge later, I kin give ya Margo, tho.”  He folded the three bills and put them in his shirt pocket.

I looked at my pocket watch, it was seven thirty,  “You got just an hour.”  I got up and started for the door.  In the reflection of one of the windows I could see Earl give another man, a gunman the high sign.  The gunman slowly drew his weapon and raised it towards my back.  The exchange was fast as lightning, but I am always faster.  The gunman lay on the floor; my bullet had passed through his left eye. 

I looked over at the constable who seemed impressed, “Self Defense!  I pointed at everyone in the room.  I have witnesses!”  Holstering my forty-four as I pushed through the heavy rough-hewn doors. 

I began to walk quickly down the boardwalk toward the Manner.  The thought of the women of this town, and the conditions they have to endure.  I’ve come here on a mission of mercy, Crowley was my friend and I could not be here to save everyone, but I will get his women out, maybe Margo and Kit too. 

The two emotions, joy and anger are the few that I have left to exorcise my spirit.  In this town I have only experienced anger.  At this point I wish I had a partner or two to do this with me I would not have to resort to subterfuge and being evasive.  I flashed through the lobby and up the stairs.  I sat in my room and fumed until there was a knock, my pocket watch read a little after eight.  Margo stood there in that same Red dress and hat as she wore earlier in the day.  As she walked past me I could smell the strong aroma of body odor. 

After closing the door she stopped and turned towards me.  “Earl sez y’all gotta go ta Eliot’s place a little later.  Day ain’t gonna be ready till nine thirty.”  She started to undress,  “Y’all wanna fuck?”

I stopped her after she shed her red jacket.  “No.  Not just yet, just sit over there by the table, would you want something to drink?  Tea or Coffee?”

She looked lost for a moment, she looked around the room.  “Where’s the bed, this room’s got no bed?”

I pointed at the arch and the drawn drapes.  “It’s in there.  I noticed, I think you…  Would you like to freshen up, there is a tub in the privy.  I could arrange for a bath.”

Her eyes lit up.  “Oh yessa, that wudd be grand.”  Got up and started to undo her buttons again.

“No.  Wait, wait a moment.  Undress in here, then put on my robe, and wait for the bath to be ready.”  I guided her into the bedroom, the aroma of alcohol on her breath meant she was still high, I handed her my robe.  She had already removed the top of her frock and was working on the hoop skirt.  I noticed she was wearing the same type of undergarment Kit was wearing earlier; while sitting on the bar, it may even have been the same one.   

Looking at my watch I determined there was time, I rang for Mark.  He and four other men brought up eight buckets of heated water, putting about five inches in the tub.  When Mark left for more, Margo finished disrobing and was in the tub. 

Mark returned and would not go into the privy while Margo was in the tub. I knew that if he were caught looking at a white woman in her bath he would be punished severely. 

I grabbed a spare sheet from the foot of the bed and entered the privy.  Steam was rising from the tub, and she was all the way down trying to cover herself with the little water that was there.  She was surprisingly unashamed and boldly displayed herself to me.  I guessed her to be about fifteen, just beginning to develop, promising to be a beautiful young woman one day.  After tossing her a bar of soap, I unfurled the folded sheet and draped it over the tub concealing her from view.  She poked her head out from under the sheet tucking it under her chin and giggled.

When I opened the door the other three men had arrived with the rest of the water.  One at a time they came into the room and poured the steaming water through the sheet and left.  I thanked each of them tipping a dollar to each.  I picked up all of her clothing from the privy and bedroom floors, gave them to Mark and asked to have them cleaned by morning, then handed him another dollar coin.  Margo watched me and was not happy.

“Well.  When I finish this here bath juss what-do-ya think I’m gonna do.  Prance around all night in my skinny?”

“Finish washing and I will show you!”  I closed the door and sat reading one of the local papers that was left in the sitting room. 

She called in from her tub very loudly, loud enough to be heard down stairs.  “We Gonna Fuck Lat-er?” 

“We’ll do what we do, first you will accompany me to the party then we will see.”

She appeared in the archway between the sitting room and bed room, bare as the day she was born, some soap scum on her shoulder, posing, she was a very young girl, her breasts really had not formed yet.  “And I juss have nuttin to wear!”  She giggled, brazenly pranced across the room and flopped on my lap, throwing her arms about my neck and went to kiss me.  Then pulled back.  She held my head and ran her hand around my neck, into my shirt and against my chest.  “You ‘r’ cold.  ‘u’ sick or sumtin?” She ran her fingers over my forehead.

“I’m just fine, I have a surprise for you.  Come with me.”  I led her through the rooms to the other suite where my bags were laying out on the floor.  I picked up a large carpet covered trunk and opened it.  She squealed in delight when she realized it was full of fancy frocks and women’s accessories.  These were Darlene’s things.  She was just about the same size except for her bosom; Margo would do well in stuffing something in there to fill it out. 

“By the way, how old are you?”

She stopped for a moment and leaned back, stretching her body and extending one leg out to the point of her toe.  “It’s not nice ta ask a lay-dee her age.”  She ran one hand down her body.  “Old enough ta know what ta do wit dis.”  At that posture, she was flat chested.

“Twelve?” I said trying to goad her.

“Am not, I’s fourteen, I git my blood every month now!”  She seemed very proud of it too.

She put my robe back on and rang the bell.  When Mark showed up she asked him to start the two stoves, she reprimanded him for letting them go out.  Actually it was I who let them die. 

She spent a while laying out the frocks on the bed and prancing around in the nude, making a show in front of me, I assumed she was trying to arouse me, finally she selected a black and red taffeta. 

It has been forty years since the urge to copulate has struck me, then it was something that came over me in a moments time and the ability stayed with me for about a week before it subsided again. I watched, as she got dressed, acting out like young girls of her age did.

“Where’d ya git all these thangs?”  She was just finishing.

“I was married once, she died, never could part with them!”  This was a lie I had used and practiced for almost forty years.  It almost came off my lips like lines from a bad play. “It’s coming time to leave,” I opened another trunk and pulled out a short, black horsehair jacket.  “Just put it over your shoulders. It will keep you warmer.”  That was how Darlene wore it.  Then she also didn’t feel the cold winds either. 

Willy was at the reins when we came out front.  They had affixed runners under the wheels of the surrey, there were two horses and the canvas flaps were down around the passenger seat.  Martin held the flap open for Margo and myself to enter.  I handed the note over to Willy as I stepped up and pointed to the small map that was drawn at the bottom.  “We’re going there.”  I pointed.

His eyes widened in surprise and fear.  “Ya-sa I knows where dat is!”

“You must wait for us and be prepared to come back quickly!”  I sensed his overwhelming fear and smiled assuredly towards him.  “It’ll be ok!”

The path to Eliot’s house was less traveled and in better condition, it took less time than was estimated.  The property was set back off the main road by about a quarter of a mile, the access road went through a wooded area and opened into a large pasture in front of his house.  Close to the house were a number of surreys and two buckboards. 

The structure was a very large log cabin.  It had been expanded upon a number of times, including a second floor.  I listened intently and could make out someone speaking then crying and then laughter, a number of male voices and laughter.

We pulled up in front and a number of men came forward to assist us out of the carriage.  The carriage stopped on cobblestone, the snow had been cleared and the surface dry. Now I could hear ruckus laughter and the sound of someone being slapped, the sound of whimpering. 

Lights, candles and oil lamps, illuminated every window and the front porch of the structure.  Eliot had, I guessed a slave doorman who opened the front door for us as we topped the four steps to the front deck. 

It opened into one large room, filled with stools and chairs, Eliot sat in a large ornamentally carved and stuffed chair, beside the stone fireplace, he wore slippers and a satin robe with broad lapels.  Margo rushed in shedding the jacket and handing it over to one of the servants, and then she ran across the room and landed in Eliot’s lap. 

“Evenin Isaac, understand you got a taste fur dark meat?”  He wasn’t being cordial, sort of matter of fact.  Margo twisted her head toward me, surprised.  “We may have just wat yer looking for.”

“I like all women Mr. Samson.  Just curious to have Crowley’s, that’s all!”  I noticed all sorts of icons embroidered on his robe.  Then the symbols started to make sense.  He was the one I was looking for, the leader of the local Clan.”

He started to play with Margo, moving his hand under her billowing skirt.  “They ain’t that much to talk about Isaac, the older one’s fifteen and the youngin is ten.”

“What about the old lady, she was good!”  From the number of wagons outside there should be at least twenty people here.  I can hear laughter and whimpering but not get a direction.  One of the servants came over and took my coat.

“She ain’t no more.”  He kissed Margo on the cheek and she started to squirm as he continued to move his hand under the skirt.  The servant did not leave just stood there.

“Very sorry to hear that, what happened?”  Still cannot locate where it’s coming from.

“Mr. Cummings, Rufus is waiting for your side arms.”  Margo flinched; he must have hit a tender spot.  “We don’t carry our weapons in the house sir.”  She flinched again, he was now hurting her, I could sense it.  He smiled with a broad grin as he continued to make her jump and twist her tiny frame on his lap.

“I’m sorry, just have something on my mind.”  In a moment all my weaponry was laying on top of my coat and Rufus went away.  Eliot removed his hand from under her skirt and wiped it on her cheeks leaving broad swaths of dampness. 

He smiled at her, “Now open up!”  She opened her mouth and licked his fingers.

He pulled down the loose fitting front of her top and looked in side.  “One day you may fill that out.  Now take it off and meet us in back.”  She got up and disappeared through a door behind his chair. “Always good to have a white woman who knows her place!”  He rolled his fat bulk out of the chair, more like a throne and picked up a bottle of whisky from the table next to him.  “What’s your pleasure Isaac?” 

“I’ve had enough tonight, thank you.  You have one.”  I notice that there was cold meat, hard boiled eggs and bread lying on the table also.  I pick up a piece of very rare roast beef and tucked it in my mouth.  It was still bloody.  I swallowed almost without chewing; I knew it would be coming back up later.  “So where are those two black morsels I’m waiting for?”

“They’re here.  We’re just tenderizing them for ya!”  All I need to know is where they are you son of a bitch, then this subterfuge will be over. “We belong to an organization, you know?”  He was twisting a large gold ring with a symbolic triangle and cross.  “You know the society?”

“I am aware of it, where I come from it is not very big.  But, yes I did belong, a while back.”  I heard a loud crack, like a whip.  More muffled whimpering.

Margo stuck her head in from another door on the opposite wall,  “Mr. Samson we’re ready.” She was rapped in a silk scarf that covered her from her armpits to her knees.

“Shall we go inside then?  He led me over to Margo and we started up a staircase ending in a short hall with a door at the far end.  Still heard the voices and some laughter.  The small door opened into the attic with a high ribbed ceiling and horizontal rafters. 

Four small oil lanterns hung from the rafters illuminating two young light skinned colored girls.  They were nude, standing on tiptoes on top of two small barrels in the middle of the room.  There were fifteen or twenty men sitting and standing around the periphery in the shadows. 

The girls hands were tied behind their backs, ankles tied together, blindfolded and the ropes around their necks were pulled tight enough to force them to stand on their toes.  Both were sweating profusely; small stains of sweat darkened the wood at their feet.  They shivered and did a little dance on the barrelheads to keep their balance.  The younger girl was crying and whimpering, tears streamed down her cheeks. 

The men were throwing walnuts and small stones at the girls and laughing.  Heard one man say. “Jimmy how long you think they last before one of em falls and hangs itself?”

Eliot moved off to my right to greet one of his friends, to my left was Margo her jaw dropped open, I heard her make a sound like a squeak, she was swallowing a scream, she was terrified.  She backed up and having no clear path back the way we came she quietly sneaked into the open knee wall, she curled herself into a ball where the roof meets the floor boards.  I don’t think she knew what she was getting into.

A few of the men who were standing, every so often would walk over to kick at the barrels and slap, touch, poke or in some way try and make them lose their balance.  I saw bruises, scars and burns all over their bodies. 

“Hello ladies.”  I said it loud enough so everyone heard it.  Everyone turned his head in my direction, but being in the back of the crowd, I was sure no one would ever identify me. 

Eliot walk into the lit area, “Gentlemen, and ladies too, we have a guest here, he says he wants a piece of these two niggers.”  He walked over and stood between the two barrels, he stretch his short stubby arms out on both sides and grabbed each girls butt.  “Mr. Cummings, which one you like better?”

“This tittless wonder.”  He did something to the younger girl that almost knocked her off the barrel; she screamed and caught her balance.  “Or.. This lovely young fifteen year old filly?”  Letting go of the young one Eliot brought his hand to between her legs jamming his fingers between her legs and against her vulva.  “I had this piece o’ meat and she prime pussy Isaac!”

The older girl spoke softly in a choked voice.  “Cassandra, don’t cry baby, they only want to make us cry, don’t cry baby.”  Cassandra must be the ten year old.  I saw that they had looped ropes around the tops of the barrels.  One rope extended to the opposite side of the room from where I was, and the other to a man sitting six feet to my right.  Both men were seated and ready to pull at any moment. 

Another man walked up to Cassandra and slapped her across her butt with a large wood paddle; the same symbol as was on Eliot’s ring was in the center.  “Momma, help me momma!”

Someone in the darkness called out. “Yo Mamma Dead Nigger.  You Be Dead Soon Too.”

I thought to myself; this is enough, this ends here!  It was my anger that supplemented my already enhanced speed.  They did not notice me flash past the center of the room and stop in front of one of the men holding the rope attached to one of the barrels.  I broke his neck and twisted his head in the opposite direction.  The other man holding a rope was on the exact opposite side of the room.  He must have noticed his counterpart go down and I saw Cassandra’s barrel roll away from under her.

The snap of her neck was loud enough that everyone in the room heard it, her feet kicking uncontrollably as she hung there.  I sensed her life force leave her.

I always carried this little hooked knife in a special case on the back of my belt.  Before anyone could do anything to the older girl I cut the thin rope that was her noose.  Two men came out of the darkness, one with a pistol the other with a two by four.  In no time I was at one and slit his throat, then the next and the stud fell to the floor.  They were all moving now and so was I.  I took down one after another; they did not know where I was coming from. 

The old man Elliot stood confused.  He had no concept of what was going on.  They didn’t know who was attacking them.  The girl just realizing that she was free and not knowing her sister was hanging dead beside her, her toes still shaking.  She stood on the unsteady barrel not knowing what to do.

In a matter of less than a minute I fended off two more attempts at her life and eliminated six more of the clan.  Not knowing how many, I did see a number of shadows exit the door we had come in from.  Finally my enhanced senses started to kick in, I was coming into my real Blood Lust, it must have been all the exertion.  Now I could make out all the living from the dead and there were only two at the back of the room behind an overturned table.  One was small and of slight build, the other fat with narrow shoulders.

I called out, “Margo, I will not hurt you, you can leave.”  I watched as she got up.  She came around the table, she walked cautiously over the dead; she dropped the scarf as she passed me then continued strait for the door.  “Get dressed and meet me with Willy in the surrey!” 

I cut Cassandra down and laid her body on the floor, then lifted the soul-surviving sister off of her perch and put her down on the floor, I asked her name.  “Wanda.” she whispered in my ear.  First her bindings then the blindfold, now she was really freed, “What of my sister?”  She was looking closely into my eyes.

I pointed to the floor, her body was still now, she would never move again. “I am sorry I could not save her!”

Wanda turned her head and gazed at the floor, then started to cry out loud. “Cassandra, Cassandra, Damn them, Damn their souls to HELL!”  She fell to her knees and clutched her sister’s body to hers.

“Eliot, Mr. Grand Master.  Knight of the Klan, come out and meet your end.”  I could hear a few of the wagons moving outside.  “Your friends have left you.”  I squatted down beside Wanda and tried to comfort her, I found Margo’s scarf, it was thin but it was some sort of cover.  “Don’t worry about him, I will take care of him, he won’t hurt you any more..”

“KILL HIM. PLEASE KILL HIM!  If I could see well enough I would do it myself, Please Kill that Evil thing!”  She took the scarf and instead of putting it on herself she put it over Cassandra.

In the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Eliot trying to sneak out around the room.  He shouted out loud when I appeared before him.  He was holding a derringer, a two shot.  Without hesitation he raised it and fired both rounds; one went through my cheek and the other my shoulder.  No blood, no pain and no effect, he was in shock staring at the two holes in me and I didn’t flinch.  I regurgitated the piece of meat I had earlier and spit it down in front of him.  Then I had a real meal, I took my time and let him feel his life pour out into me.  I let him fight me, let him struggle, as his strength waned I drank slower to elongate his misery until he struggled no more.  My Lust for the Blood was satisfied.  Wanda was still grieving her loss when I came back to her.


“You must leave with me, you cannot do any more for Cassandra. We have to leave now!”  I ushered her out the door and down the stairs.  If I’m lucky, they won’t even know it was me that attacked them; it was dark enough that they didn’t see my face, as far as they know, I am one of the bodies laying up there.

The front door was open and Rufus stood by the door not knowing what to do.  He saw the blood on my face with the bullet wound still there, but it was already healing.  I had Wanda under my arm; she didn’t want to leave her sisters body.  “Rufus, would you have a cloak for Wanda?”

He disappeared for a few seconds and returned with something so large that it must have been Eliot’s.

“Sir, Please take good care of her, she is a special little lady.  Thank ya Sir!”  He helped me wrap her in the material and I carried her out like a bundle of rags to the carriage.  “Willy.  When we get back take us in at the back of the Inn!”  I looked around at all the black servants, “Your master is dead, do as you wish, stay or leave, but if I were you, I would leave!” 

As Willy raised the whip, the carriage sled bolted forward.  I looked around and watch two or three of the servants run off into the field and the rest go back into the house. 

The girls looked at one another, “Margo, this is Wanda. Wanda meet Margo.  You know how cold I am and she needs warmth, so..”  I moved Wanda over beside Margo and wrapped them together with Eliot’s enormous cape.  Margo’s eyes were wide and she stared at the head of Wanda just beside hers.  Wanda closed her watery eyes and rested her head against Margo’s shoulder.

I looked into Margo’s eyes with a steely look. “You Will Keep Her Warm!”  I looked at the two of them white and black, both about the same age comforting one another and thought; this is how it should be. 

We made it back into town in about twenty minutes; it was close to eleven in the evening.  Willy brought us up a path that took us behind all the buildings along the north side of Main.  I had him stop behind the Oriole. 

“Willy, I’ll be right back.”  I jumped out and not finding an unsecured rear entrance, walked around the building to the front.  I stood beside the door and knocked as hard as I could.  The front wall of the building shook.  “EARL.  EARL WALTERS!  COME OUT HERE YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

I heard a shot and saw wood splinters shower the deck in front of the door, then another and more splinters.  The door opened slowly.  “C.Come on Earl.  I. I’m wa-waitin fer-ya” 

He stuck his head out looking for a body or who ever was coughing up blood.  Grabbing him by his throat, he was easy to pull out into the street and pinned him in the snow.  He fired his gun twice more, hitting nothing, as his life force became mine.  I also let him struggle to his end.

Soon we were back and going up the outside back steps of the Manor Inn, to the balcony of my second room.  Inside the second bedroom I told the two girls to sit on the bed.  They had not drained the tub yet so I stripped off my bloodied things and quickly bathed.  The water must be freezing cold.  There was a small valve beneath one end of the tub I opened it and drained the tub, there was a pipe that led somewhere, where ever the waste water was supposed to go. 

Margo had to make a remark when I returned to dress.  “Well Gawd all mighty, you-ar really hung, fer be-in a White man!”  Wanda was lying down on the bed wrapped in the cloak. I finished redressing under the watchful gays of Margo and her never-ending stream of chatter.  I picked up Wanda, she barely stirred, and carried her into the other bedroom followed by the chatterbox. I went back through the privy and locked that connecting door. She continued to talk through the whole thing.

“When me n’ Kit lived in Pittsburgh, we wasn’t as free as we r’ hea’”  She was toying with the hem of her skirt. “They giv’s us ten cent on da dolla at da Ori-ole.” 

I thought for a moment and calculated that Kit, on that one sitting with the three old men, had made about seven dollars in the bowl.  Works out to be about two dollars per person, the girls get twenty cents a head, literally.  “Margo did you really like that job?”

“Yea. Free drinks, an’ it paid ok!”  She smiles at me.

“Did you ever figure out how much you were actually getting for each man you, ah. ….entertained?” I could tell she was still a little drunk.

“Well..”  She thought for a minute swaying a little.  “No. You know?”

I bent over and looked her in the eye, “twenty cents a man!”

She sat staring in my eyes for a moment with a blank expression on her face.  “Twenty Gawd damn Cent?”  She looked down at herself and back at me.  “Twenty damn Cent a head, shea-it.  We cudda gone ta  Pittsburgh…“

“Do you want to go back to Pittsburgh, or how about Philadelphia, would that be better?”

After another minute of her wrangling it around in her mind.  “Kin we take Kit with us?”

“How about Wanda, Kit, you and me, we all go to Philadelphia?”

“Yea, dat would be fine by me!”  She lay back against Wanda and closed her eyes.

I pulled the call chain, I knew it was late but I needed to prepare.  To my surprise Marvin knocked on the door.  “Where is Mark?  I asked only to have Mark take care of my personal needs.”  Marvin looked in past me and saw Margo’s legs hanging off the bed and her leaning against another person behind her. 

“If you have over night guests, it will be another…”  He started to be creative.  “Five dollars a night, Sir!”  I turned my back to him and walked over to the bedroom.  Came back with a twenty dollar gold piece.  “That should cover it for two nights.  Now please send up Mark or Willy, I don’t want to see you again!”  I shut the door in his face.  Wonder how much he would have charged if he knew there was a colored in the bed.

It took about a half hour, Willy showed up with a bucket of hot water and half dressed.  “Sorry Mista Isaac I was sleepin.”

I pulled him into the room and closed the door.  He started to go into the bedroom to deliver the water.  “No, Willy, listen, I have a job for you tomorrow morning.”

He looked on the bed, both girls were asleep.

“Here’s twenty dollars, put it away for yourself.  Tomorrow morning early, before breakfast, when it’s still dark.  Go over to the stable and saddle all three horses.  Remember saddle; don’t set any up for bags, three saddles.  Bring them over to the hitch in back, near where you dropped us earlier.”  I was a little foggy myself,  “You get all that Willy?”

“Yea-sa, moanin befoe light I put saddles on da three mounts, brings’m round ta the hitch in back and da twenty is mine.  Ya-sa I got it!”

I sent Willy down to fetch dry food from the Inn’s small kitchen along with a pitcher of drinking water.  Then I sent him off for the night.  Waited and watched the two girls most of the night.  Wanda stirred at about three in the morning, I got her out of bed and she sat and ate. 

“My name is Isaac, I am a friend.  Sorry I could not save your sister, Eliot said you are fifteen, is that true?” 

Her big eyes looked into mine, I felt she saw more than the normal human. “Yes it is true, I turned fifteen last August.”  She continued to stare at me, expressionless.  “When is your birthday?”

“Didn’t expect that question, October 30th.  Do you have a problem seeing Wanda?”

“October?  What year, how old are you?”  She looked down at her bread.  The way she moved her head, it was like she had a problem focusing on everything. 

“I was born..” did a quick calculation.  “1802, you didn’t answer my question, you have a problem seeing?

She looked at me again and it seemed she was only focusing one eye.  “They hit me with a hammer on the back of my head about a month or two ago when I tried to run away.  I went blind for a week and then I could see from this eye.”  She pointed at her left eye.  “You’re older than that?”

“What makes you think so?”

“My momma told me I was special a long time ago.  I can see things other people cannot see.  You are different, it’s like you’re not here, but you are. Who was helping you back there, you couldn’t do that all by your self?”

“I’ll answer your questions another time, we have to get out of this town in the morning, first thing.  Do you know how to ride?”

“Yes,” she reached out to touch me and I backed up just far enough so she missed me.  “Let me see how tall you are.”

She stood up and the cape fell away revealing her burned and scared body.  I stood up beside her; she was a shade taller than Darlene.  “You will wear one of my shirts and coat.  I have a short pair of britches for you and.. “  I looked down at her feet, and thought I don’t know if I have anything for her feet.

“I don’t need shoes, her girl friend Kit should have something I can wear.”  She read my mind.  She must have read Margo’s mind also to know that information.

“Yes I can read thoughts.  And you are not thirty-seven, you are much older.  Why are you always so sad?”

All this time she stands before me, I can visualize her without the scaring, her body would be perfect, there is a stirring in my loins that I have not felt in so long.  I am also feeling the blood lust again. 

“Should I fear you?  I am getting strange messages, cold and deadly feeling of need?”  She knelt down and retrieved the cape, covering herself again.

“No child, there is nothing you should fear from me.  Come in the other room and I will cloth you and then you can rest some more.”  In about twenty minutes she lay back in bed fully clothed except of her feet. 

I started to unbutton Margo’s dress and she woke up.  “Hey watcha doin’ Billy, tryin’ fer a freebee?”

“You are going to change into trousers and one of my shirts. Then we go and get Kit.”  She looked out the window and it was still pitch dark.  She took over and quickly stripped off her things.

.”Kit gonna be sleepin!”  Down to her under garments she started to take them off also, I stopped her there. 

We found trousers and a shirt and a pair of Darlene’s shoes fit just fine.  “Where does Kit stay at night?” We left the Inn by the back staircase and walked behind the buildings to the back door of the Oriole, it was now open.  The back rooms smelled of body odor and onions.  I wish my senses would be more selective about when they work. 

Margo led me deep into a maze of small cubbyholes behind the bar, each was just big enough for a bed, they had no floor space and all the openings were covered with sheets.  She stood beside one and moved the sheet to look inside, then let it go and went to the next.  She shook the occupant awake, “Betty, where’s Kit?” 

I listened in also.  “She’s gone with the Judge.” 
“Where?” 
“I think they took her to the Jail, I don’t know. Go to sleep Margo.”  I heard her roll over.

Margo looked at me and started to relate what was said and stopped when she saw I wasn’t listening and moving out of there.  “Where is the Jail?”

“Back here.”  After leaving the back door we started to climb one of the steep roads that led out of town.  It was warm enough that the snow was still soft and had not completely iced over.  “Next street up!”  I looked ahead and saw the only lit building.

“You go back to Wanda I will bring Kit there in a short time!”  She shook her head no and started to pass me.

I put my hand on her forehead and put a need in her mind to be with Wanda.  She turned and went back.

The Jail also was a wood structure and from the looks of it was new and cheaply made.  Through the windows in front I saw no guards or deputies in the front office.  The constable is no more, so where is everyone.  I listen at the window and hear voices and heavy breathing.  I bet I know what’s going on.

Around the back there are two windows high on the wall.  A trick I learned a long time ago, I leaped up and grabbed on to the roof rafters. Nothing in this cell, but I can hear her groaning. I drop down and leap up again and again look in to see three men, one with his pants down and having sex with Kit.  I didn’t think it was consensual.  She was tied to the bunk and he was not being gentle with her. 

I looked around the yard and there is a woodpile with a number of big logs that were not split yet.  I picked up one that was about three feet diameter, easily tossed it through the wall at the corner of the building.  It went through like a cannon ball take out the corner post of the wall. 

In a flash I was up against the building near the opening I just created, the first man to stick his head out, lost it.  The other two ran out the front and came around the building from both sides.  I jumped up and hung in the roof rafters again until they both were in back of the building and looking around the yard.  I dropped down on one of them and broke his wrist; the gun fell to the ground, then grabbed his head and twisted.  The third man was the one that was raping Kit; he turned in time to see his partner fall with his head in my hands.  He opened fire at me striking me very close to my heart.  Immediately I felt the wound, it must have grazed my heart.  With the last vestige of my speed and strength I got to him in time to crush his larynx and drive my other fist into his groin, breaking the pelvic bone and pushing his tentacles up his ass. 

It was the first time as an Eternal that I closed my eyes and became unconscious, I lay there in the snow for close to thirty minutes; this was one of the worst injuries I had ever received.  An injury that close to my heart was almost lethal to me.  The old myth of a stake through the heart is true, but it does not necessarily need to be a stake, any object that penetrates the heart will end me. 

Time is meaningless when unconscious; I did not know how much time had passed.  When I am able to get up I find Kit still tied spread eagle to the bunk.  She is shivering terribly, the opening in the wall let out all the heat and she must be freezing laying here without clothing and in a damp sweaty mattress.  My hooked blade made short work of her bindings and I wrapped her in two blankets.  She was shivering uncontrollably the whole way back to the Inn. 

Wanda and Margo started to heat some water on the coal stove and wrapped Kit in more blankets.  It was coming close to the time to leave.  I felt that an alarm of some kind had been rung because there was a lot of activity on Main Street.  I hoped Willy would be ok and could move the horses without being seen.  I began to think it was a bad idea to bring Margo and Kit along.

Wanda was looking at me as I glanced at her; she was shaking her head no.  “You’re doing the right thing.”

Main Street was becoming very busy for five in the morning, every ten minutes another pair of horsemen would pass in front of the Inn.  Then a well dressed man on a tall horse road up to talk to a pair right in front of the Inn.  I called Margo over, “Who is that, is that that Judge I heard about?”

She shook her head yes and ducted down when he looked up in the direction of the second floor. She whispered, “Yea dats him.”

I walked over to Kit, she had stopped shivering.  “Kit, why did the Judge and his men take you to jail?”

She looked at me and asked me. ”Did you have anything to do with all those dead men tonight?”  her voice was still quivering. 

I put my head down and did not want to answer.

“They were looking for Margo and some Black Bitch cause there was fifteen Klan dead tonight.  They gonna hang one black man every hour on the hour startin this morning and until someone comes up with who did it.”  She started to cry.  “They was gonna start with hangin me, cause I know Margo and Samson’s butler Rufus together at six in the morning.”

Now this is damned screwed up rescue.  Save three and lose everyone else. 

“Give yourself up!”  Wanda stepped forward.  “Go out on that balcony and give yourself up. Then shoot yourself in the head, let them bury you.  The three of us will hide somewhere until later.”

Margo and Kit shouted “No!”  Almost loud enough to be heard outside. 

I thought about what she said and it made sense.  I looked in her eyes and thought.  How did you know?

“I figured it out.”

“Are you two nuts, how are we going to survive out there.”

“Wanda, take Margo and Kit with the horses that Willy leaves behind the building, back to your old homestead.”  I touched her head with my two hands, and thought, the rest of my message to her.  ‘There is plenty of food in the back of the barn, clothing too.  Don’t make a big fire, use only the dried wood from the barn, it won’t smoke too much.  I will be there in less than a three or four days.’

“Clear as a bell Isaac.”  She smiled at me. 

I went into the spare bedroom and opened a gun case with two old single shot weapons.  Loaded them and brought them back to where the girls were.  I looked out and saw Willy moving the three horses across the street and up the ally to the back of the Inn. 

He was wise enough to wait until the last patrol had just past.  It took only two minutes and he was tapping on the windows leading to the balcony.  I gave the saddlebags to Wanda, a number of small purses with gold coins to the other two.  I opened the French door just enough to allow the three to pass through.

“Thank you Willy,” I gave him a purse full of single dollar coins, “I wish I could give you more.  But I know you will be in trouble if you’re seen with too much money.  Spend it wisely.”

“Gawd bless ya sa!”  He disappeared down the stairs with the three girls. 

From my vantage point I could not see if they got away.  I waited for a half hour and noticed that the Judge only came by every fifteen minutes.  The next time he came down the block I would be ready.  I opened the leather bound case once more and drained three flasks. Slipping two more in my trouser pockets. 

I heard some commotion down the street; it was three men attaching a long beam to the flat roof of the Oriole, it extended out beyond the porch.  I knew it was to be their gallows.  It was time to go out on the balcony.  I stood waiting for that damn Judge, I looked down at the Oriole and they arrived with Rufus on the back of a buckboard.  I had one weapon holstered and the other in my right hand.  I carried a large lit candle in my left hand.  The Judge was out front of the Oriole to greet them; I stepped to the edge and called out.  “I guess you are looking for me Judge.”

A shot rang out and I felt the mini ball go through my left shoulder.  I twisted and staggered as if it did real damage, they must have snipers out there.  The Judge road up to the front of the Inn looking up at me, “You, you’re the Fuck that killed fifteen good men with a knife?”

Without giving any warning I raise the first weapon and fired one mini ball down and through his head, it must have logged somewhere in his neck.  His head went down to his chest and he slumped over in the saddle and to the muddy street, the horse bolted and dragged him out of town.  Two more shots rang out but neither one hit a mark, I dropped the spent handgun and drew the other, put it to my temple, cocked it and pulled the trigger.

They found me laying on the balcony, in a pool of very dark blood.  A large gash in my skull, covered in blood, blood all over my left shoulder.  They didn’t notice two small empty flasks near the French doors.

I guess it was a warning to anyone thinking they could go up against the Klan, they hung my body by my ankles and paraded me through town on the back of a buckboard.  I opened my eyes just long enough to see them hang a canvas sign over me, ‘Killer and Nigger Lover.’

I hung there for two days; blood thick on my shoulder and temple, never opened my eyes.  My thirst was tearing me apart on the morning of the third day.  When were they going to bury me?  It was that afternoon they cut me down and put me in a canvas bag.  Dragged me out of town, I guess behind a horse and up a hill, I still do not remember where.  They poured something liquid over the canvas bag, it was coal oil,  I could smell the flames out side, I waited until the threads of the seams began to pop and the bag started to come apart.  I guess they were not looking at that moment because they were burning a empty bag. 

A little ways up the road was a shack, a farmhouse, and a small barn.  I snuck into the barn and found a goat.  It was the first blood in three days, not as good as human blood but it held me. 

Even with my speed, I needed to keep low and out of sight.  I reached the Crowley farm late afternoon.  The girls were tucked away in the shack, warm and happy to be alive.  Kit screamed first when I came through the door.  The other two sat and looked at me in shock.  Then I realized what was wrong.  I reached up and pulled that large wad of wax from the left side of my head and small patches from my shoulder and right temple.  “Sorry ladies, I had to make it look real.” 

Margo picked up a small bucket of water and poured it over my head to clean off the blood. 

“Wanda told us what you are, is she right?”  Kit looked at me strange, not knowing how to react to me.

“”I’m afraid so.  Margo, you first noticed something wrong when you went to kiss me.  Wanda has an ability to read my mind and that gave the whole thing away in the end.”  Kit stepped forward, she ran her finger over the scar on my chest, she put her ear to my heart and pressed her head against my chest. 

“He has no heart beat?”  She pulled away.

Margo came forward and gripped my penis.  She held it hard, “Is this dead too?  That would be a dam’ shame!”

I looked over at Wanda, “How about you, do you have anything to say?”  She was very solemn.

“I went back to see you the day after!”  The other two girls stepped away and went about their business in the stove area.  “I saw you hanging in that wagon, I saw them sticking knives in you, your eyes closed, blood all over your body.” 

“It’s ok I didn’t feel a thing, your idea was brilliant.  You’re safe now, in a day or two we can …”  She put her finger against my lips to quiet me.

“They hung eight people that day, starting with my mom’s brother Uncle Rufus.  My mom’s whole family is gone.  Even my little cousin Molly was six, they raped her and hung her along side the rest of the family.”  Tears were pouring down her face.

I reached out and enveloped her in my arms; I wrapped her in a couple of warm blankets and carried her out into the sunlight.  I sat in the rocking chair on the porch and held her till the sun went down. This pain would never go away, she felt guilt that she survived and in doing so she facilitated the death of her entire living family.  We would go back there some day and take our revenge. 

In the darkness her eyes almost glowed, “We will come back together!”

“Yes honey, you heal up and get stronger, you will need to be as strong as you can be!”

“No, we will come back as equals, you will give me your strength and powers!”

“You don’t know what you’re asking. You could never know what it’s like to be like me!”  You cannot imagine what the need is like and what you have to do to quench that awful thirst. 

“Then teach me, let me experience it, let me touch you when your are at that time.  Let me experience your pain and needs.  Then let me decide.” 

I looked again down in those brown eyes.  Has any of your vision come back?  I was now thinking to her and she speaking to me.

“A little, I am good during the day, at night it’s difficult.”

I picked her up and walked into the house.  There is one bed in the back room, I carry her in there.  The other two are in the front room preparing food, “You two ok with sleeping out here, I think there are a couple of cots in the barn?”

They shook their heads and went about their business.  Once in the bedroom I put her down on the bed and thought.  Take off all your cloths, and lay beside me in the bed, I want you as I found you when we met.

I watched her remove everything, as I did the same.  She was on her back; I rolled her away from me and cuddled her from behind.  We were in as close a body contact as I could think of. 

Now sleep little one.  Sleep and be safe, for when I begin the blood lust you will feel it, when I rage at my feelings and cannot subdue my desires you will feel it.  You will also feel the nothingness in my stomach and my lack of need, the boredom that comes from being an Eternal. 

The three of us entered Philadelphia four months later, late April.  We all had the Blood Lust, we all drank from the same cup.

Next Chapter

Life after Life after (Pinesburg)  (XGC) The saga of the Eternal's continues. #1612417 by Rogue Writer