A Tapestry of Witches: Ode to the Warriors

By Tracy A. Squire

When Snr Sgt Alan Barkley kissed his wife goodbye and headed to work, he did not expect flooded inlets, a dead body and two serial killers to land on his plate. Nor did his constables expect an increase of outrageous events to occur while on routine inspections and visits.
Margot Jensen and best friend, Jessica Raynor, were excited about a road trip and the prospect of getting a puppy. Neither aware of what bizarre events awaited them. Abigail Christianson still reeled over last night’s news, concerning her fiancé’s killer. Her psychic neighbour, Trina McAvoy had picked up on some disturbing energy while her husband, Simon prepared for their guests. Nurse Sally was anxious to get home after a perplexing double shift. Phoebe Lattross sat at home, awaiting her ride. She is the only one aware of what lies ahead. Can she bring her lost family together, convince them of who they really are and ready them for this seething darkness, a malevolence so evil, it will take all their combined strength if they wish to defeat it?
This is the cold heart of winter, and this is the battle that must be fought. Can our warriors find the strength to defeat this ancient wrong? Or will their souls be lost forever?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press AU
• Release date: Dec 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781504320054

Tracy A. Squire

Tracy A. Squire has always had an interest in Natural Therapies and has forever been intrigued by the supernatural. She grew up in Brisbane, Australia, but now resides on a secluded 20-acre block with her dogs and various farm and bush creatures.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

early thirteenth century

The golden sunset had all but faded beyond the lush, treed mountains. A cooling breeze rolled in to welcome the full moon that will soon illuminate the night. The men were wrapping up after a long, strenuous day spent on the small schoolhouse in their village. While the younger men tidied the site, Raphael and Marco, boss and foreman, best friends and brothers-in-law finished up; with the front door finally in place.

‘Tools down lads.’ Marco cried out. With a cheeky grin he winked to Raphael and yelled,

‘Last one to Jim’s Tavern shouts the first two rounds.’ It was followed by a hardy laugh as they watched the young lads hightail it towards Ye Olde Jim Muldoon’s Inn. Marco could already sense the first two rounds would be on Raphael. The older men stepped out onto the road leading to the Tavern, sharing a laugh as they thought of that much desired ale.

‘Just because you are older, brother of my wife, does not necessarily make you the boss.’ Marco said. He was about to run off and leave Raphael to fit the drinking bill.

‘Wait brother! Do you hear that?’ Raphael asked. The thought of whetting their whistle was interrupted by the sound of horse’s hooves thundering across the cobblestones. The men looked to the west and could make out two horses on approach; one without a rider.

‘Looks like young Joseph Flagmont’s horses.’ Marco assumed.

‘And they are not slowing down, brother!’ Raphael stated. He reached his arm across to prevent Marco from a fatal step into the path of the horses; at full gallop. As the mounts roared past, they threw up dust and small pebbles. Suddenly, as abruptly as they entered the village, the horses pulled up at the water trough in front of Benny the Blacksmith’s shed. The men hurried and could only watch in addled wonder as the young man fell, lifeless from his steed.

‘Sweet Louisa!’ Marco cried out. He picked up the pace, with Raphael right behind. Young Joseph Flagmont, the great-grandson of the founder of the neighbouring village, Flagmont, laid still on the ground. They knew he lived in the small township with his parents and two sisters and were concerned for the person who belonged to the other horse; for it was dressed to carry a rider, not packs.

As Marco and Raphael approached, Benny the Blacksmith attempted to calm the rattled horses. He tried desperately to get to the lad that had fallen between them; fearful the boy might be trampled. Without delay, Marco helped Benny hold the horses while Raphael reached down and scooped up the lad. In an even motion, Raphael then carried the young Flagmont boy into the shed. He was passed by the blacksmith who emptied a bench where Raphael could gently lay the lad down. He cleared the hair and dirt from the boy’s bloodied face.

The concerned blacksmith, Benny, who was like the gentle giant of the village, disappeared without a word; mostly because he was mute, however, the other men did not notice the big fellow slip away. Benny headed up the street to get the doctor and to alert the sheriff who resided another two doors up.

‘We have quite a lot of blood here, my brother, and neither steed is injured.’ Marco declared. After inspecting the horses, he joined Raphael. They shared the concern of the mysterious blood that covered the saddles, and then dripped onto the hides of the steeds.

‘What do you think happened?’ Raphael asked.

‘Nothing good, we can be sure of that.’ Marco replied. The men jumped back with fright when young Joseph Flagmont sat bolt upright and started to scream.

‘They’ve killed them, they’ve killed them—help—’, his eyes looked wildly into Raphael’s as he gripped tightly onto the older man’s shirt. The lad started to choke on his fears before he burst into uncontrollable sobs.

‘Easy son, you’re safe now.’ Marco declared. The men attempted to console the lad when Benny returned with Doc Winterstein. The doctor administered something magical that immediately calmed the young Joseph. Raphael and Marco stood to the side to discuss what had spilled from the boy’s lips. It had them as confused as they were concerned, and their concerns were correctly weighted, for when Joseph was ready, he told them his story.

And it went like this,

Several masked men, all heavily armed, had ridden into Flagmont. Their only mission was that of death. They slew everyone in their sites, women and children encompassed. Joseph had tried to flee with his baby sister, Leila, but they were ambushed. In the flurry and confusion, Joseph had not noticed his sister fall from her horse as he drifted in and out of oblivion. By some miraculous intervention, the lad managed to stay aboard his own mount.

Raphael’s heart sank, for his wife’s widowed aunt and her three daughters lived in the village of Flagmont; as did the families of most of his and Marco’s friends and colleagues.

They helped get the lad back to Doc Winterstein’s house and took Benny with them to the Tavern. They walked in just as the sheriff had broken up a brawl. Immediately, they informed Sheriff Gordon Fletcher, who they all fondly referred to as Fletch, of the alleged misfortunes at Flagmont. Fletch then gathered everyone together, and the men further explained the lad’s horrific tale.

‘It is a good day’s ride, so we will all need to get some sleep. This could be a dangerous mission, lads, so bring your wits and your courage.’ Sheriff Fletcher announced. He looked to the room with solemn, a two-day growth sprouting from his weary face and whiskey on his breath.

‘I’ll see you in the morning, brother.’ Raphael said. He shook Marco’s hand, followed by an embrace. All men dispersed to their homes where the women of the village busily prepared food and weapons for their husbands, brothers, uncles, sons and fathers; despite the women’s concerns.

After the three-mile trek home, Raphael unsaddled his trusted steed, Mantra, and ensured he was fed, watered and rested for the long day ahead. When he exited the small stable, he looked towards his cottage. In the doorway stood his beautiful Genevieve. She held a small candelabra in her hand. Its radiant light showcased her flowing, white dressing gown and her long, auburn hair that was picked up by the breeze. She waited to greet her beloved husband.

Alongside Genevieve stood their overly excited pet, Kane. A very large, and mostly friendly, wolf. And the big animal wore his heart on his furry sleeve when it came to how much he loved his master. Several seasons earlier, Kane had fallen foul to a dug-out trap. Numerous wooden stakes, all sharpened to points, looked up from the ground; designed to severely maim with a preference to kill. Fortunately, Kane was just a pup at the time, small enough to have dropped between the critical stakes. So, apart from a few scratches and bumps, the little fella’s only dilemma was, he couldn’t climb out. And that is how Raphael found him, a whimpering puppy stuck down a hole. The man could only assume the skinny little pup had either lost his mother to one of those barbaric traps or he was the discarded runt of her litter; either way, the pup was on his way home with Raphael. So, for Kane, luck favoured his brave little soul, and he has proven more than once to be the most loyal guard to his master and mistress.

Once inside the small cottage, that sat cosily amidst the thick woodlands, Raphael was greeted by an elaborate display of food spread across the large wooden table.

‘And just when I thought I could not love you more, my beautiful Genevieve, you surprise me with this.’ Raphael said. He slipped his arm around her waist and gently enticed her near. He kissed her lovingly on the mouth and around her neck.

‘Now, now Raphael’ Genevieve said. She unwillingly pushed him away.

‘Firstly, you need to bathe! Then you need to eat and then sleep, for I have a confession—’, She began. Raphael looked inquisitively towards his wife.

‘A confession?’

‘Yes, your sister, Catalina, stopped by earlier. She was on her way home from the markets when she overheard rumours from the other wives. They spoke of Flagmont, and of your quest tomorrow. Is it true?’ Genevieve asked. She then watched in empathy when her husband bowed his head. She brought her hand up to her mouth and drew in a distressed gasp. Her husband’s actions confirmed the tragic tale. And for a short moment, Raphael had forgotten of the rumoured massacre; he even managed to smile at the thought of how quickly the women of the village could get word around; as if by magic. Before he could clarify the situation, Genevieve said,

‘I know you must go, my love, as much as I wish that you did not.’ She said. She took a step towards her beloved Raphael. She held his face in her hands and occasionally kissed his lips as he spoke.

‘You really should not be concerned, my Genevieve, for there will be many men from the village that I will ride with. And most of these men also have family there.’ He said. He held her hand and began to walk toward the door. When Genevieve’s arm was fully stretched Raphael gently kissed her hand. He graciously backed away, spun around and headed outside to wash up.

After his fill of food, Raphael could not help but make love to his beautiful wife, and then sleep beckoned. Accompanied by forgotten dreams, he slept through until the dawn’s earliest light. He was aroused by the cockerel’s alarm; and the moisture of Kane’s tongue on his face. He gave his wolf a pat and a tired smile then headed outside to wash up. Once dressed, Raphael stood beside his bed. He stared lovingly towards his elegant wife as she slept. He leaned over, kissed her soft skin and whispered, ‘goodbye my love’, then walked from the house.

Before he headed to the stable to saddle his charge, he reluctantly tied Kane to the large stump beside his kennel. Once the saddle was dressed with water bottle, sword, rope and freshly made hog-jerky, Raphael then climbed aboard his steed and rode off into the misty morning. His lungs filled with the cool, clean breeze that blew down through the mountains.

Almost to the village, Raphael noticed that something followed stealthily behind. He stopped under the pretence of ignorance, when suddenly, out from the leafy brush bounded an overly enthusiastic Kane. It was far too late to turn back and take his friend home, so he invited the grateful hound to walk beside him. Raphael knew Genevieve would have awoken, untied the grieving Kane and sent him to faithfully chase after his master. He smiled as he thought of his concerned wife.

Raphael and Kane soon entered the south end of the village and were greeted by Marco and many men; more than Raphael expected. They were readily armed with anything from handmade clubs, large knives and swords to crude firearms; compliments of their Chinese chef. There were also several large dogs. After a short deliberation, the men headed out; all prepared for battle.

The tired light of the late afternoon fell upon them just a few miles from the small village. The men in the front raised their arms when their dogs began to lowly growl at something in the distance. Quick to dismount, the men attempted to heel their hounds. They watched as a shadowy figure emerged from the brush. Fear he may fall prey to the troop’s vigilant dogs, the figure cowered with fright. Suddenly, the largest of the hounds bounded forth to protect the innocent man.

Raphael dismounted, praising Kane for shielding the already distraught villager. The other men were ordered to keep their dogs under control. When all seemed safe, the injured man began to speak of the horror that befell his village.

‘They dragged all of the women from their homes, and my wife, my beautiful Mary—we were helpless against them—’, the man broke down and sobbed. Raphael gestured for two of the youngest lads to stay with the wounded man. The rest of the troupes continued to the town.

Two by two, the men approached the village. Cautiously, they rode the cobblestone streets, horrified by what they witnessed. Bodies were strewn, and blood muddied the unwelcoming path. There appeared to be no soul left alive. The men had to dismount in fear they would trample the bodies. Raphael stood with Marco at one side and Kane the other. They tethered their steeds and Raphael commanded his dog to stay. Without explanation, the men separated. They took their own route.

Raphael disappeared down a lane and entered one of the dwellings; the home of Genevieve’s aunt, Katherine. With sword drawn, he cautiously looked around before calling out her name; there was no answer. He called for her daughters, his heart sinking a little deeper with each unanswered name. Only the distant cries of the other men, his echo, and then an eerie silence.

Suddenly, alarmed by the unusual clamour of Kane’s bark, Raphael ran to the back entrance. There, where his dog stood and whimpered, horse in tow, laid the bodies of all four family members. Genevieve’s aunt Katherine and her three daughters, Elizabeth, Claire and the youngest, eight-year-old Caroline. They were reduced to a bloodied pile of mangled bodies; the older girls only recognizable by the individual gowns Katherine had made for them; for the bodies were without their heads. Raphael fell to his knees, eyes closed in contemplation and prayer. When he opened his eyes, he noticed something on the floor. Engraved into the wooden boards beside the bodies were the words that read,

Muerte a las putas de la magia

(Death to the whores of magic)

‘Kane, come! We must get home!’ Raphael said. There was a strange quiver to his tone. He knew who sent such a message, giving him grave concerns for his wife and her family. He retrieved blankets and gently threw them over the bodies of the women; shaking his head in disbelief. He then grabbed the reins of his steed and met up with Marco, Fletch and the other men. They all shared the same grief, for all family members were slaughtered or gone. They also shared Raphael’s concerns for where these marauders may have headed, prompting them to trek home; grateful for the men who stayed behind to bury the dead.

They had by-passed a small village to get to Flagmont, and a few men suggested they via off to check on its dwellers; the men split up. Fletch led one group to the other village, but the majority followed Raphael and Marco back to their own township.

With the aid of the full moon, the regiment raced through the night. Sunrise was almost upon them as they split up and rode down their own streets. The clapping of hooves on the cobblestones were all that could be heard. The village was silent. Frantic, the men dispersed to their homes.

‘Kane!’ Raphael cried out. He spun his horse around and gave him a boot in the side. Immediately, Mantra found full gallop with Kane on his tail. Raphael headed them home.

As suspected, the masked bandits had doubled back, and they had gone via the small settlement where Fletch and the other men rode to. And to their anticipated horror, it resembled Flagmont, with bodies strewn and blood soaked into the ground. And then, the marauders ascended upon Raphael and Marco’s village.

Just moments from home, Mantra skidded to a halt, and then reared with fright as a young girl staggered out onto their path. After almost falling from his steed, Raphael gathered his composure to notice they had come within inches of the fallen body of a child. Quick to dismount, he knelt beside the unconscious girl. Kane whimpered and sniffed at her, and then stood aside to allow his master full access to the injured lass. Only several strides from home, Raphael swept the girl into his arms and carried her to his cottage. Mantra and Kane followed.

Gently, he laid the girl on a rug in the front room and commanded Kane to stay. Raphael then ran through the house. With the sunken heart he had carried from Flagmont, he called out for his Genevieve; his cries answered only by the hush of the evening. He carried the overwhelming mass of the eerie quiet upon his back as he strode up the stairs; he then entered their bedroom.

Kane looked to the ceiling when a loud noise caught his attention. It was followed by an equally loud bellow, so loud it caused Kane to bark, but he did not leave the young girl. The noises were made by Raphael when he fell to the floor. He had discovered the decapitated bodies of his beloved Genevieve and his beautiful sister Catalina. He roared and roared in pain. Eventually, something inside his soul shattered,

like a crystal chalice hitting the rocky road.

He would soon learn that the younger women from his village had also been raped, murdered, and beheaded. The elderly women, which included Genevieve’s grandmother, were tied to large stakes and burnt alive. With no time to lose, Benny the Blacksmith had hidden Joseph Flagmont and Raphael’s baby sister, Grace inside his underground tool shed; where they remained safe. And, apart from Leila Flagmont, nobody stood a chance. The bodies of young children were found days later in the thick shrubbery outside of the village; where they attempted to hide. The village was broken; along with its men.

Several grief-stricken months had passed, and while he cared for the young girl as if she were his own daughter, Raphael plotted his heartbroken revenge. And, when it came time to execute, he found he was surprisingly good at it; as was his younger brother, Nathanial, and his best friend Marco, who took a long time to find his coping mechanism after the loss of his bride, Catalina.

So, with his loyal hound, Kane by his side, and his brother’s in arms, including Fletch, their mostly sober, yet faithful to a fault sheriff, it was Raphael and his men’s turn to be the marauders; and this evil King’s turn not to stand a chance.

1

ChapteR

The present

T he gentle, soothing rain was no more, for it had been replaced by a relentless, thrashing downpour. The noise resembled wild animals as they stampeded across the plains of Africa. Margot Jensen, however, did not mind one bit. She just turned the volume up on the TV and nestled in cosily on the couch. After she let out a long, relaxed sigh, Margot took her first sip of the luscious, steaming mug of hot chocolate. And just as the movie resumed, after what seemed a longer than normal ad break, the unspeakable happened; the doorbell rang .

‘Oh, shit!’ Margot cursed. Her startled movements caused hot chocolate to spill down the front of her pyjama top.

‘Who the hell? Seriously, it’s nine freaking thirty at night.’

She placed her mug on the coffee table and looked down at the mess she had made to her top. Following a huge, disgruntled sigh, Margot climbed out from under the warm, snuggly blanket, slipped her sock-covered feet into the awaiting slippers and reluctantly headed for the front door; grumbling under her breath the entire way.

As she turned on the outside light, Margot tried to peer through the spyhole to see who was there, but it was too fogged up. She quickly opened the door, however, when she heard a familiar and frantic voice cry out,

‘Margot?’

‘Jessica, what the far—’

‘It’s freezing, that’s what. And, you are not going to believe what just happened. Oh, you’ve got something on the front of your top.’ Jessica Rayner blurted. Margot and Jessica have been best friend since the first and third grade; Jessica, the younger. Plus, they grew up next door to each other, so, that made them best neighbours too. Jessica dropped her umbrella upside down on the small porch and gently barged past her friend.

‘Please, Jess, barge on in,’ Margot stated. She shook her head and had all that is sarcastic going on with her expression.

‘Did I mention it’s freezing out there? Oh my God, is that hot chocolate I can smell?’ Jessica asked. All said in her usually enthusiastic manner. She removed her gloves and boots in the foyer and made a beeline for the lounge room.

‘Yes, Jess, it’s hot chocolate. I’ll make you one’, Margot said. She entered the kitchen.

‘So, why are you—?’,

‘Please, tell me you are watching the news.’ Jessica butted in. She had picked up the remote for the TV and proceeded to flick through the programmes.

‘Well, no. I was just in the process of watching a movie. And, I guess I am not going to see it right now. So will you please just tell me what the hell is so important it couldn’t wait?’ Margot cried out. From where she stood in the kitchen, she could clearly hear the inaudible sounds of the TV as it was forced to zoom through the channels.

‘Do you remember that woman and her daughter, the pair that tried stealing your purse a few years back when you were shopping for your nan? And the daughter punched you in the mouth so hard when you grabbed at her that you needed stitches?’ Jessica yelled.

‘Yes, of course I remember. A bit hard to forget.’ Margot answered. She ran her finger down the slight scar, barely visible below her bottom lip. She soon returned with Jessica’s hot chocolate and placed it down on a coaster on the coffee table. As Margot sat down, she shot her friend a concerned frown. She could only shake her head in wonder as she watched Jessica frantically, and a little obsessively, flick through the multiple stations.

‘Where is it for crying out loud?’ Jessica complained. With her smile upside-down she looked to the television set; while continuing to press away at the buttons on the remote.

‘What are you looking for, Jess?’ Margot asked. She was ultimately concerned for her friend’s sanity, coupled with a little pissed off that she had missed a potentially great movie.

‘Well, remember when the old hag and her daughter were killed in that house fire?’ Jessica asked. She sounded a little overly happy about the incident.

‘Yeah, I remember. That was bloody terrible. Of all the things to come and remind me about, you chose that! Why? A little bit depressing, don’t you think?’

‘And then, there was that disgusting pig, Arno—’, Jessica began. She ignored Margot’s question of why?.

‘Yes, there was! And, I prefer not to think about it, ever, but thanks.’ Margot said. She shook her head, having no idea where Jessica could be heading with this; special consideration towards the latter of whom Jessica spoke. The reference was to Arnold Barret, a middle-aged, unbearably disfigured man who had beat the absolute crap out of Margot when she was only fifteen years old.

Fortunately, on that day Margot’s neighbour had the afternoon off. He noticed something unusual, the front door of the Jensen’s house was left wide open. So, he felt it his due diligence to investigate; he was, after all, a police officer. If he had not followed his instincts, Margot doubted she would have survived that terrifying day. She even accumulated a small, distant crush on the young, single police officer.

It was only a few months ago when the body of Arnold Barret was found face down on the muddy banks of the Herbert River. He was riddled with, what the police described as, a lot of stab wounds.

‘I know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to open old wounds, but—oh my God. Here it is.’ Jessica said. She turned up the volume.

A reporter declared,

‘The gruesome discovery of the mangled bodies of Forrest Beach couple Amanda Corsica and her husband, Geoffrey Corsica, has the small community reeling with shock.’

‘Oh my God! No freaking way. Corsica, she’s that bitch—that thing that tried to—or should I say did—steal my identity.’

‘I know, right?’ Jessica replied. She gave her friend a nudge.

‘She stole my credit card, driver’s license, spent all of my money and not one thing was done about it. Sorry, ma’am, but we just don’t have enough evidence to prove your theory the police tried telling me. Huh? Theory my butt. So, what do they think happened to them? I’d hate to say karma, but karma?’ Margot said. She snatched the remote from Jessica and turned the volume up; even louder.

‘Police are unsure at this time as to what caused the horrific injuries to the couple; however, they are not ruling out an animal attack.’

‘Animal attack. What the—? How uniquely bizarre is that?’ Margot muttered. Involuntarily, she let out a slight chuckle. She did not really mean any disrespect; or did she?

‘Zach, my neighbour—the one I told you about, the cop—said they think it was a home invasion and that the invaders must have brought their dog, because the Corsicas had their insides ripped out—like their guts, gone.’ Jessica said. Singing the last part may have sounded a little over the top for such a tragic event. Or maybe not, it was Jessica after all, and she was always singing and laughing, about everything; good and bad.

‘Jesus, Jess! This is like worse than awful. But why? Why have you come all the way over here, in the freezing, pouring, freaking rain, just to show me this crap?’ Margot said. She started to feel a little sick and unimpressed that her wonderful night of warmth, hot chocolate, and movie bliss was interrupted with such confounded news and unpleasant reminders.

‘Don’t you get it, though? Everyone who has done the wrong thing by you, ends up dead. D-e-a-d dead.’ Jessica construed. She spelled and enunciated just how completely dead these people ended up.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. They were just three random events stretching over—what? —almost two decades. And besides, they all died so differently. It’s just a coincidence. That’s what that is.’ Margot said. Though she was unconvinced of the irony. Her mind started to wander.

and wonder.

‘Really, I bet there’s more.’ Jessica assumed. She tried to entice her friend by using a strategically raised eyebrow. And when that didn’t seem to work, Jessica picked up the mug of hot chocolate and hummed with pleasure as she sipped on it. As she held the mug to her lips, she would peer over the top to glimpse the invisible cogs grinding away inside her friend’s brain.

Margot didn’t even look to her friend before she disappeared down the hallway. She reappeared shortly after with her laptop in hand. While still hidden behind the mug, Jessica’s smile began to beam.

‘Who are we looking up first?’ She asked. Excitement pinging from her aura.

‘Marie Cooper!’ Margot said. She held a sour expression of distaste.

Marie Cooper was a burr in Margot’s side, all through high school and beyond. She would spread ridiculous lies and horrible rumours about Margot. It got to the point where several of Margot’s not so loyal friends turned against her. One of these so-called friends, Charlotte Sampson, went so far as to use Margot as a punching bag one night after roller skating. Then, several months after the skating incident, Marie and her friend Charlotte did the same to the daughter of a police officer, leaving the girl bloodied and bruised. The very next day, when confronted by detectives, the wily pair stated, without hesitation, that Margot Jensen did it.

What?

Following a daunting arrest and months of being dragged through court, the truth of Margot’s innocence came to pass. But not so much for Marie and her friend, who would spend several months in a home for wayward girls.

What creeped Margot out the most was, she believed that Marie Cooper, who knew Arnold Barret, may have arranged for that despicable creature to pay Margot a visit on that horrifying day. The attack took place nearly sixteen weeks after the final court hearing, around the same time that Marie Cooper and Charlotte Sampson were released from the detention house. It made a lot of sense to Margot, that this Marie Cooper would associate with the likes of Arnold Barret—two stinking peas in a rotting pod. There was one thing that eluded Margot though, why did this Marie girl hate her so much?

‘Shit, no way! Jess—?’ Margot began. She pushed herself away from the computer screen.

‘Holy sheet-meister. See, I told you!’ Jessica replied. She gasped a little after reading the headlines.

‘But what the far—?’

‘Eww, oh well, Cooper was the right bitch, so I suppose that’s bitch-karma.’ Jessica stated. She let out a low-lying laugh. The news report revealed Marie Cooper had died over four years ago.

‘Ha yeah, but decapitated. How the hell does that happen?’ Margot asked. Spook induced goose bumps spread up her arms. She looked to her friend with shock. Jessica went on to read the rest of the news report.

‘She was decapitated when, allegedly, hit by a cane train or bin hauling tractor. Her friends, who were with her at the time, said they were all drinking and playing on the swings in the school grounds after leaving a party that night. They were then frightened by a large animal. They believed it was stalking them. Suddenly, the animal bounded towards them, snarling and growling like a wild dog. When interviewed by police, they all denied having taken any hallucinogens. When they all ran from the alleged dog, they lost sight of their friend, Marie Cooper. It was not until late the next afternoon when a local cane farmer found the grisly remains of the thirty-four-year old’s body; in two separate locations. They assumed she had been hit by a cane train or bin-hauling tractor in the early hours of the morning. There was no forensic evidence, however, to support such a devastating theory, that a human body had contacted any of the trains or tractors that moved through the area at that specific time. It then became a cold case mystery as to what did cause such horrendous injuries. Wow, a cold case mystery.’ Jessica declared. Margot could only stare at the screen and shake her head.

‘I don’t remember hearing about any of this.’ Margot said.

‘Me neither, probably because all we do is work and sleep, work and sleep. Maybe we need to get a life. Oh well, let’s do another one.’ Jessica said. She even clapped her hands. It almost appeared Jessica’s enthusiasm would jump right out of her skin and form its own independent entity. Margot shook that weird thought from her head.

‘I don’t know, should we? Because this is freaking me out a little. Why are they all dying? Maybe it isn’t a coincidence.’ Margot said. Her voice calmed to almost a whisper as tears welled in her eyes. She had, after all, just relived some of the worst moments of her life.

‘I am so sorry, and so stupid, stupid, stupid! We should just stop now.’ Jessica said. She slapped her forehead with each stupid. She should have realized how painful this would be for her friend.

‘But you’re right, as ridiculous as that sounds out aloud. Everyone that has pissed me off has turned up dead. Okay, let’s do one more.’ Margot said. She sniffled, wiped at her tears and bit down gently on her lip. Holding a determined look, Margot recalled who would be next. She jokingly called upon her Mystery Solving alter ego for this one. As a natural therapist and herbalist, Margot does a lot of research and is always on the hunt for specific herbs for individual and, or, difficult clients. And although some herbs are extremely rare, and very elusive indeed, Margot would find them. She was now on the hunt for a very elusive and awfully despicable creature.

‘I just want you to know that I love you with all of my heart and you are my best friend forever, and who are we looking for now?’ Jessica asked. She tried to wind down the excitement, but still ended her sentence in a crescendo.

‘Trevor White!’ Margot said. With fearless resolve, Margot typed in his name, hoping this bastard, out of them all, was dead, D-E-A-D dead!

‘Ooh, dear, dear.’ Jessica whispered. The kooky grin disappeared from her face.

Trevor White, a senior from Margot’s school, was the vilest, most horrendous of all narcissistic bullies. He would drag naive younger girls into the emptied toilet blocks and have his equally vile piers line up to do unspeakable things to these innocent, unsuspecting female students. He would time it to perfection, and with the janitor at the other end of the school grounds, it gave him ample opportunity to drag the first random girl that walked by into the cold, damp concrete-block room; where his eager mates awaited. They would tape the victim’s mouth shut and one by one, each of the foul creatures would savagely rape their helpless victims.

Miraculously, and forever unjust, Trevor White and his three demonic friends managed to get away with their torturous acts for almost an entire year. It was accomplished by threatening each of the girls, and their families, with death if they were ever to mention what happened.; the epitome of low-life manipulators. White and his friends left school just prior to the years end, but not before performing their swan song.

On her way to the library after school, Margot’s baby sister, Carly, had become their final target. This time, however, something went horribly wrong. All four boys got violently carried away. They beat the slightly built twelve-year-old girl beyond recognition; while they continued to rape her. A cleaning lady discovered the small body. She was lying face down in a pool of blood; half naked and unresponsive. Scarcely alive, she was rushed to the nearest hospital. Due to the cleaning lady’s inability to identify the girl because of her substantial injuries, it took the Jensen’s several hours to locate their baby daughter. Thanks to photos supplied by the parents, and once they had Carly stabilized, the surgeons began the gruelling task of putting