The Devil's Daughter by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 18

The burial was held privately, with only immediate family present. Given Alina's behavior, and the suspicions of the young couple, Anca and Nelu thought it best to keep her inside, thus avoiding another emotional confrontation. But, the funeral was brief, and without a priest, there was no service to speak of. Now, the young woman, without her child, knelt at the grave, weeping loudly while clutching fistfuls of earth, as though grasping at the last of her baby's life. The rest of the village stayed indoors as well, silently grieving, but also trying to avoid the growing chaos of mourning, echoing off the surrounding slopes. Eventually, her husband picked her weakened body up from the ground and walked her back to their home, now empty of the presence that had given their lives so much joy. From a distance, Nelu watched as his heart grew heavy with guilt at the idea that his own family could be responsible for the gruesome evisceration of a new life. Walking back home, he sat at the dinner table with his head in his hands as Anca, also feeling the ache of this most recent tragedy, sat across from him.

“Are we responsible for this child's death?” he asked. Anca reached across the table, and grasping his hands, looked into his eyes.

“Nelu,” she began. “There is something in those woods, something devious and it will be found. You will find it. As far as Alina is concerned, she was here with me. And the idea that she could do something like this is unthinkable. She's just a little girl.”

Nelu looked down at the table while slightly tightening his grip on Anca's hands.

“I know that,” he replied. “But everyone thinks she has let something in or brought something evil with her, and I still think we should leave. I know it won't do any good, but these people are turning against us, and I do not wish for us to be forced out.”

Anca understood Nelu's need to retain his dignity, but like their previous conversation, she remained strong in her desire to stay.

“Listen to me,” she began. “You have always been a proud man, and I would be nothing without you. But, if you wish to keep your self-respect, then go out there, and bring that thing back. Bring honor back to this family. Show these people that our daughter is innocent. Please.”

Nelu, still feeling the weight of guilt, nodded in silent agreement. But beneath the guilt lay a storm of anger at something that seemed to be just beginning to bring the village to its knees, and thus far, proved itself to be quite elusive. Now, Nelu rose from the table and walking to a north-facing window, stood staring into the woods, his mind racing with the memory of what he had seen the night the priests' grave had been so gruesomely ransacked. There had been some in the village who said that Nelu's eyes had been fooled by the night, but he knew what he had seen. If he could bring down a buck from one hundred yards in the morning mist, with a single shot, he could be certain his eyes were not acting as the tricksters of his mind, during a moment when clarity was demanded. But given the crime that had taken place in woods that morning, Nelu was now convinced that what he'd seen was something dark and soulless, something intelligent, yet acting on a single impulse, and the village was mobilizing against it.

Nelu's anger suddenly gave way to a strength Anca rarely saw, and grabbing his rifle, started out the door. “Nelu!” Anca began.

Rushing towards the door, she took him by the arm. “Nelu, you can't go out there alone! Get the other hunters and go with them. I don't want to bury my husband! I have always admired your courage, but you cannot do this by yourself!”

Nelu set his rifle aside, as his anger, was replaced by common sense.

“You're right,” he said. "What would I do without you to temper my willfulness? I will organize our bravest men. We will keep watch every night until this...animal is killed. Then, we will have our village back.” He gently reached over and kissed her warm lips, and glancing over at Alina, who stood staring out the door, left to find those bold enough to carry out a plan that might, at least, keep their murderous visitor at bay. But his first step would be to meet with the elders. As one of the villages' skilled hunters, he felt the need to inform them of their plans as well, but saw the necessity in seeking their approval, and having sought their counsel, Nelu hand-picked the men he knew to be of high character and strong hearts. With twenty men, he organized them into five groups; each gathered around a large fire, a beacon of warning to something possessing no soul, nor fear of Godly consequences.

The fires were built, and wood was stocked for the night. They would be lit at the four corners of the village, as well as the square. That night would be the first of many, as the men sat as quiet sentinels, protecting their families, children and neighbors. The conversation was kept low as they watched the shadows and kept an ear to the windless night. Nelu accompanied those placed closest to the woods and talk of the creature soon began. “Nelu,” one of the men began.

His name was Ezekiel, and though he was a simple farmer, he was often seen as a man of great courage. One day before dawn, while inspecting the terraces, a wolf crept down from the mountains, and stalking him from behind, leaped upon his back, grabbing him by the neck. Having seen them watching from a distance, Ezekiel was armed, his senses peaked to detect the smallest movement, the slightest sound. Spinning around, Ezekiel sunk the butt of his rifle into the animals' abdomen. Landing on all fours, it attacked again, and although Ezekiel continued beating down the wolf, fending it off did not come without a price, displaying itself as heavy scars, torn into his face and neck. Now, sitting across from the fire, Nelu’s curiosity had been driven by the fear that gripped the village. “You saw this thing. Did it make any noise? Did it bark or howl?”

“I heard nothing,” Nelu replied. “It moved like a ghost. But it looked at me. I saw its eyes, pale, like the snow. Then it was gone.”

It sounded like a ghost story, with vivid words and haunting images. But, unlike fairy tales told to children, this was real, terrifying even the most courageous of men.

With the conversation behind them, the night, once again, lowered its dark silent veil over the small group. Occasionally, one would nudge another when sleep brought its hand over their weary minds. But, their senses were suddenly alerted when a frightening scream made its way down from the nearby mountains. The people of Gura Haith were familiar with the eerie howling of wolves, as they sought each other in the dark Carpathian mountain-scape. However, this was no wolf, and no other animal had ever been known to make such a sound. The men quickly rose to their feet, and lighting torches from the fire searched the tree-line. Soon, they were joined by those who watched at the other fires, all with lamps and torches. “Should we search the woods?” one man asked. “No,” Nelu replied. “The village would be vulnerable. Remember, this thing is cunning. It will outsmart us if we let it.”

Again, a distant scream drifted down the slopes and into the village. It was no closer but was terrifying, nonetheless. “Nelu, what was that?” another man asked. Everyone listened closely, but the air had, once again, become silent and still.

“I don't know,” Nelu answered.

They continued staring into the darkness, with rifles loaded, ready to fire at the first shadow to disturb the undergrowth. “Wait,” Ezekiel began.

He was suddenly struck with a question about what had made such a terrifying sound.

“If this is not an animal, could it be a person? Maybe someone was dragged off into the mountains?” Another of the hunters turned towards the group. “Split up again,” he said. “Check every house. Make sure no one is missing. Then return to your fires.” The village was shaken out of its slumber, as the men pounded on doors, asking if anyone had gone wandering into the woods. But, everyone was accounted for, leaving the village wanting an explanation for what it was that had made such a horrific sound.

By morning, the men were exhausted, and in desperate need of sleep. For the most part, the village was weary, as people found it difficult to perform the day's tasks, after the nights' fruitless search. But, the activities of daily life had to continue. Water and firewood had to be gathered, the sheep needed grazing, and in spite of the threat that loomed over the village, the people of Gura Haith could not afford to shut themselves in. However, they quickly learned daylight brought nothing fearful, and whatever had eaten both the living and the dead, seemed to move only under the cover of darkness, or close to the light of morning. While this realization did little to lessen their fears, it did make daily life, at least, bearable. Yet, without the support of the church, the village began to fall deeper into the belief that they had been abandoned, left by God to dwindle as ghosts, wafting about, whispering of what once had been, before the arrival of the Grozavie.