Mareritt: The Friar Tobe Fairy Tale Files Book 1

By Krisi Keley

As beauty lies sleeping... Four pretty, partying high school seniors, four strange and startling accidents the police believe the girls have brought on themselves. Do demonic nightmares and fairy tale visions bury a dark secret haunting the girls or is the past simply struggling to reach the light? Twenty-eight year old former novitiate turned PI, Tobias Berger, hired to discover who, if anyone, is threatening the four troubled young women, is about to embark on a wild “mare ride” to slay their dragon and uncover the truth. A dark fairy tale mystery with a touch of mystic light.

• Language: English
• Publisher: S & H Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781633200142

Krisi Keley

Krisi Keley was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and now lives in Chester County with her family and seven dogs. "On the Soul of a Vampire" is her first novel and is Book One in a planned series. A writer and artist with a degree in Theology and education in foreign and classical languages, she has always been intrigued with supernatural, paranormal and horror fiction and how these myths try to answer humankind's questions about the spiritual, good vs. evil and the nature of man. Pro Luce Habere Volume I, Book II in the On the Soul series was released in July 2011 and the author is presently working on Pro Luce Habere Volume II and Book III of the series, in which she hopes to share more new theories about both vampires and the human soul.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Shelly Lovell, distraught and embarrassed, flung pale hands upwards and outwards in a plea as apologetic as it was helpless.

I thought you… you might understand, she concluded with words that rang a little less true than the rest of her explanation.

Not that I can't forgive her, Tobias reflected in wry amusement, wondering which of the fine local boys in blue had recommended Friar Tobe. If Mrs. Lovell's level of discomfort was any kind of indicator, he figured it had been Detective Hershel, who, no doubt, sent her his way with a sneering quip as well, such as the observation that a problem like this would be "right up Friar Tobe's aisle." Quite the wit was Ron Hershel. Although, because Hershel didn't distinguish a religious order brother from a diocesan priest or, more importantly, because such trivialities had little effect on his universally blind antipathy, Tobias, in a rather unfriarly way, was more apt to call him by a synonymous designation, minus the starts-with-w adjectival prefix. Never aloud, of course; he wouldn't want to upset Hershel's prejudicial illusions of his holier-than-thouness.

I do, Tobias assured the desperate mother, and her watery blue eyes left her wringing hands and met his squarely for the first time since she'd opened the door to his office.

Perceptive, he decided, warming towards her further. He'd already decided that he liked her. It had been brave to come here realizing several in the town must hold an opinion of him not far removed from Detective Hershel's, if one less offensively expressed. And he was moved that she loved her daughter so much she would consider it possible that the kind of help he could give might be more beneficial to her than what the police had to offer. No matter that her ideas on this were based on false assumptions. That she loved her daughter enough to put aside her own beliefs or lack thereof, if required, showed she had a healthy maternal heart. But that she could also step outside herself and truly see others - pick up on minor vocal inflections or vague emotional flashes in the eye - that indicated a wider human empathy he admired even more.

Will Samantha talk to me herself, do you think? he asked her.

Um, well… Sam's not very, uh, religious, Fa-, Mr. Berger, Shelly answered. Another nervous fluttering of the hands suggested 'religious' was a word she had some issues with as well. However, his brotherly love of even an enemy not extending to the warm fuzzies for Detective Hershel indicated he wasn't one of those supernaturally happy, too good to be true religious people. This obviously rendered him more human; but still, caution with wording was always best when dealing with one of his kind.

Tobias, he said, smiling a little to imagine Mrs. Lovell's train of thought and pretending not to notice she had almost called him 'Father.'

Tobias, she echoed with a strained smile. "It's just that… well, you know, she's a teenager, in that 'seeking independence from parents and authority stage'…" She trailed off when Tobias nodded to release her from the requirement of coming up with more fudged justifications.

I'm a private investigator, Mrs. Lovell. I would only be asking Samantha questions that might be pertinent to a possible criminal case. I'm not here to judge her and she wouldn't be confessing her darkest secrets… He paused. Shelly Lovell was as aware as he that Samantha's darkest secrets may well be the most pertinent thing to the case, if indeed there was one. Though certainly not always, oftentimes it was the very secrets of the victims that inspired the criminal acts perpetrated against them.

I'm not a priest, he told her gently. Not even a brother. I left the order during my novitiate.

Yes, of course, she answered, and then hesitated. Why did you? Leave, I mean? she asked, blushing a little, Tobias imagined less over a fear the question was intrusively rude than over her sense that he suspected she'd asked the same question of Detective Hershel and gotten one of his typical responses. Something along the lines of I'm guessing he decided he liked sex with women better than with little boys. Hershel had implied that he believed this more an obvious truth than a sarcastic witticism to Tobias' face, after all, and with only slightly more euphemistic wording. One of many of the man's statements over the past two years that had told Tobias the police officer had no understanding of the difference between brother and priest and that it wouldn't matter if he did, because he had no love for the Catholic Church and thought ill of everyone associated with it. Most of the other residents of Elk Grove who bothered to pay attention to him or his life decisions didn't share Ron Hershel's hostility towards Catholicism or towards him. They just thought Tobias weird and superstitious. The vows of chastity during his temporary insanity weren't relevant to him being considered the man for this particular job, naturally, but the fanatical religiosity many assumed must provoke such mad ideas regarding sex most definitely was.

He smiled, not really bothered by Mrs. Lovell's curiosity, nor bitter in his conviction about how Detective Hershel had responded to the question or by the certainty that several of Elk Grove's citizens considered him a 'strange bird.' He'd made a bad choice in his life from time to time; who hadn't? But, neither the choice to join a religious order nor his eventual decision that this wasn't how he was called to serve had been one of them.

Sometimes the message just comes through loud and clear that you're needed elsewhere, he said simply.

This answer resonated with Mrs. Lovell, Tobias could tell. Her tread lightly in his presence demeanor relaxed completely and the first real smile to touch her lips since she'd arrived peeked out. Some significant resetting of course had taken place in her life, he guessed probably having to do with her children, or even Samantha specifically, and this final assurance that she could actually have something in common with 'Friar Tobe' at last put her at ease.

I think I could convince Samantha to see you, she said, her tone much more hopeful than it had been up to that point. She's very scared. She has been for weeks, even before what happened to Brynne… And after the way the police treated her so dismissively… I think, I think if I tell her that you're more, uh, open-minded, she'll be desperate enough to talk to someone who might believe her.

It was funny how you could be called to a completely different vocation and yet, your customers remained exactly the same, Tobias mused, not for the first time. No robe or tonsure, but it was still those seeking answers who came to him. And almost always when they were desperate, with nowhere else to go.

The police told you they didn't see any connection at all between Brynne's accident and what Samantha and the other girls have experienced?

Shelly began wringing her hands again. They didn't say that outright and I think they did consider a possible connection at first. You know, before she mentioned some of the more unusual things. While the smile that accompanied the word unusual was an impressive attempt at nonchalance, it rivaled some of the better grimaces of pain Tobias had seen.

He nodded thoughtfully at her words. The reaction of the detectives wasn't unexpected; it was even smart, as far as normal procedure went. It was also the response most every good modern rationalist would have. Eighteen year old Brynne Grady, a friend of Samantha Lovell's since childhood, lay in a coma at Elk Grove's Sacred Heart Hospital, a coma brought on by a near fatal drug interaction. Samantha and two others - including Brynne, the foursome a high school clique of popular girls - had also experienced odd accidents in the past several weeks, though none had been injured as severely as Brynne Grady. It was certainly possible that the four incidents were related and the result of attempted murder or, perhaps, the lesser criminal offense of assault and bodily harm. And the police may well have pursued this possibility, if Samantha hadn't broken down in tears before the officers questioning her, babbling incoherently about dreams in which demons sent to punish her tried to smother her in her sleep. That had turned the police in another direction - toward believing the accidents were just that, all four girls already being considered a bit wild. Samantha's fit of hysteria had only made the idea that the girls' own behavior had brought about all the trouble that much more plausible.

The dreams, the paranoia, you know, that's probably just a stress thing, Shelly Lovell whispered with some urgency. But the terror, that's real. I know my daughter. It's not a bid for attention or the fantasy of any hidden, long-term mental illness. She believes someone is after her, after all the girls. I just can't get the words she said in Brynne's hospital room out of my mind. 'I knew she'd never forget.' And that look of dread. She shivered, chilled herself by the recollection. But when I asked her what she meant, this, this veil fell over her face. She wouldn't tell me, pretended she hadn't said the words and had no idea what I was talking about. She paused, raking a hand through her dark blond hair. …Why? Why would she do that, Mr. Berger?

Tobias looked up from the pad he'd been doodling on while Mrs. Lovell spoke. Not a true doodle of inattention, but the name Samantha several times, and the words told by God. The meaning of the Hebrew name Samuel, actually, of which Samantha was the female derivative. That most likely meant nothing, of course. Tobias had always just been fascinated by languages and had studied them with fair intensity while with the order. But the dreams now… while they were probably a result of fear, maybe an effect of guilt over Samantha's sense that the girls had brought about their own accidents, that didn't mean they weren't significant nor did it rule out the possibility the girls were in danger. Which accounted for the other word he'd written. One from a different language and one that gave him a strange, almost familiar feeling, though he couldn't imagine why. Mareritt.

I don't know, Mrs. Lovell. But I'll do everything I can to find out. …I'll take the case.

CHAPTER TWO

"Rosamund, look."

Rosamund did. All around, swiveling her head from side to side in confusion. She was certain she'd been asleep when the voice had called to her, yet now she stood across her bedchambers, a dressing gown covering her chemise.

As her gaze traveled across the candle-lit room, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, she saw nothing at all, but small plays of light and shadow. Until her eyes flitted to the chamber's far corner where her bed rested. Then her breath caught at the strange sight, for she was still asleep there.

I do not understand, she whispered, clutching at the front of her gown. She wasn't scared exactly; she only felt an odd, somewhat detached sensation, though it seemed she ought to be very afraid indeed. She was here, near the room's doorway, yet she was also there, lying asleep, her own face clearly visible on the feather-stuffed pillow.

The body receives the visions, but it is the soul which transmits the sight, answered the voice that had called her from sleep. Yet, when Rosamund looked about again, there was still no one and nothing to be seen.

Come, the voice instructed, and the princess gave a start to feel a gentle hand take her own.

They're all asleep, Rosamund murmured as she gazed into the chamber of her ladies-in-waiting. In saying this, she realized she did experience some small and undefined fear. Enough that she'd barely noticed that she and her invisible companion had seemed not to walk the halls of the castle, but more to glide through them with unnatural, smooth rapidity. She did wonder, however, why her own words held a note of surprise. After all, she herself had just been sleeping, had she not? It was night and the castle was dark, only dimly illuminated by torches resting in iron sconces at intervals along the walls. The ladies, everyone, should be sleeping, as it seemed she still truly was, despite her soul's flight.

The curse has closed their eyes, her dream guide told her, and Rosamund turned in the direction of the voice in some alarm. The words invoked a dread she could not quite understand. This didn't leave her, but it was soothed slightly to discover that her companion was visible after all. A young woman, perhaps her own age, stood beside her, blond and lovely, and aglow with an inner light that Rosamund recognized as the true source of her beauty. The girl was familiar, though the princess could not place where she'd seen her. One of the castle's staff, perhaps - a cook's assistant or a seamstress?

Who are you? she asked.

A friend, the girl replied, a tender smile touching her lips.

What is this curse you speak of? The idea that something wicked had invaded her home and hung over her people was terrifying. Yet, this girl's presence at her side seemed to somehow keep the worst of her fear at bay.

All sleep now in a heavy darkness, waiting for the one who can bring back the light. Come, her companion repeated, gesturing towards the far end of the hall.

Look, the girl said when they stood before a window in the castle's southwest turret. Again their passage had unfolded with untoward ease and speed. Rosamund had ascended the steep and winding staircase to this room a thousand times throughout her youth, and the climb before tonight had always been an exerting effort indeed. Yet, this time she was not winded, nor could she precisely remember the twists and turns of their ascension.

Her gaze followed her companion's outstretched arm and she looked on the night beyond the window. The sky black as pitch flared a greenish-white as lightning zagged behind thick, smoky clouds. Thunder rumbled, and an even lower hum disturbed the unnatural stillness.

What is it? Rosamund gasped, her words a sharp intake of air squeezed through her tightening throat. But even as she asked, she knew she didn't need to. The beast every kingdom feared was coming. The heat heralded his approach and the next lightning strike that rent the sky was tinged scarlet with his fire.

Don't be afraid, her companion comforted. Already the prince sets out, and he is well prepared for battle.

CHAPTER THREE

"I knew she'd never forget."

Tobias mulled over the words again a little more than a week later while he sat at an oaken table in the courtyard of The Scriptorium, a local independent bookstore designed in