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Mitch held Sheba’s hand as they walked between the two towering cedars. He kept a tight hold on the penlight, but he didn’t turn it on. The full moon shone brightly through the briefly parted clouds.
The darkness of the cemetery didn’t bother him, but entering the manor without a flashlight frightened him. He wanted to conserve the batteries until they reached the rundown building and only use the light as a last resort. He’d hate to be inside the dark manor and lose light due to weak, dying batteries.
“We should probably wait until morning,” she told him.
“We’ve come this far. There’s no reason to turn back.”
Sheba stopped walking. “Yeah, but the clouds are getting thicker. The moon will disappear again. It will become much darker.”
“You told me the darkness doesn’t bother you.”
“Normally, it doesn’t.”
“But here it does?”
Her wide eyes searched his. “You have to understand what I lost here.”
Mitch nodded. She had lost more than just a friend. Part of her courage and her innocence had died as well.
The manor was less than twenty yards away. “I understand, but look at how close we are.” He pointed. “Stand here and I’ll go check it out. Shouldn’t take me more than ten minutes.”
“Shit, no! I’m not standing out here by myself.”
“Then come with me.”
“When it’s daylight, I’ll go,” she said firmly.
The dark makeup and clothing she wore to act tough was a thin shroud over the timid girl hiding beneath them. Her soft eyes revealed the scared child she fought so hard to shelter. The cemetery had stripped it all away and he pitied her. He regretted taking her so far into the cemetery.
“I’m sorry,” Mitch said. “I’ve lost family and friends before. Never as brutally as you have, so I can’t say I fully understand your loss. But, if we’re going to get to the bottom of what really happened here and what happened this past week, we need to go to the source.”
Sheba swallowed hard. “You think it’s there?”
“Don’t you?”
She shrugged her narrow shoulders.
“Had other murders like that occurred before your friends disappeared?”
“Not that I know of.”
He pulled her close and hugged her. In spite of not being a close friend and still very much a stranger to her, she melted against him with the tenderness of surrender.
“I promise I’ll keep you safe,” Mitch said, pulling back and gently lifting her chin. “Let’s go as far as the outside of the building. If there’s no reason to go inside, we’ll leave and come back in the morning.”
“How do I know you can protect me?”
“I’ve been inside worse places. Trust me.” He pulled back his jacket and revealed his gun. “Nothing will harm you.”
Sheba nodded.
Mitch took her hand and walked to the front of the manor. Water dripped from the metal roof. Fog billowed in wisps that floated like restless ghosts. He clicked on the penlight.
“Where’s the cellar door?” he asked.
“On the other side of the building.”
Mitch studied the old building as they made their way to the other side. The penlight revealed sagging boards, rusted nails, and the fact that no one had ever worked to restore the manor. The rotten doors to the cellar were collapsed like she had said. He could still read faint red letters that once painted a warning for people to stay out. Everything Sheba had described was eerily close to detail. He had no reason to doubt her depiction of the events that had occurred. He just feared what they might awaken should the caskets still be in the cellar.
Near the cellar door, large paw prints were pressed in the mud. Some appeared fresh and trailed out the cellar into the cemetery.
“Will you be okay if I leave you here for just a minute?” he asked. “I want to see what’s down there.”
Her fingers tightened around his. “I’ll go, too.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I need to.”
Cobwebs hung from the overhead floorboards. The light made a small arc as he peered around the cellar. The floor was loose soil. Dog tracks and smaller rodent tracks littered the dirt. Rusting garden tools were propped along the wall near the cellar door.
“Where are the coffins?” he asked.
She pointed to the left. “That way. Back in the far corner.”
Mitch brushed spider webs out of his way as they cautiously stepped farther into the cellar.
“The police told you there weren’t any coffins?”
“Yes,” she nodded.
He stopped where the overhead flooring had collapsed, which blocked the path to the corner. He handed the light to Sheba and pushed several boards aside. Once the boards were cleared, the penlight revealed what she had said existed.
A circle of coffins.
“They didn’t see these?”
“That’s what they told us.”
Mitch took the light. The center coffin was crafted from dark wood, perhaps mahogany. As he came closer, the wood looked freshly polished. Smooth. The outer twelve coffins were covered with thick dust and cobwebs. He slid his hand across the top of the center coffin.
“Should I open it?” he asked.
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “That’s what killed Gloria.”
Mitch thought of what she had said about the police denying the existence of any coffins in the cellar. It made sense. The police were somehow involved in the murders and the cover-up. No wonder they hadn’t offered to reveal any information about the two people killed the week before. They wished to conceal the recent murders as well as the past ones.
Opening the caskets might give a clue as to what happened to Gloria and the boys as well as shed light on the two mauled, mutilated victims. The evidence could give Sheba the chance to no longer be a social outcast in Salem. She might have a new life and the city would be safer.
Mitch’s curiosity forced his hand to unlatch the lid. As he lifted, he shone the light to where the head should be if someone was inside the casket. The hinge creaked. Raging growls rose behind him. Before he turned, something slammed against him and dragged him to the ground and across the earthen floor.
He turned the light. Claws slashed his chest. He fought to get the creature off, but it was too strong and quickly overpowered him.
“Run Sheba!” he yelled. “Get out of here. Get help!”
He struggled as he pushed his attacker. Sharp teeth gnashed at his face. The dog tracks, he remembered, outside the cellar entrance. Apparently the cellar housed stray dogs or a den of wolves.
Mitch swung his fist into its gut. It yelped in pain and then angrily growled. With his other hand Mitch flashed the light into the creature’s face. He wanted to know how big the dog or wolf was. He gasped in horror when the light revealed his aggressor. The light was knocked from his hand. Sheba tore at him with long claws. She wasn’t human. She was part wolf, part human.
The gun.
“I told you not to open it!” she growled.
Mitch yanked the gun from his belt. Fumbling to get his finger on the trigger and releasing the safety, he fired. The bullet missed her and struck the floorboard above. Sheba gnashed her teeth and bit his wrist hard. Blood seeped from the teeth marks. He cried out in anguish and dropped the gun on the dusty floor. Her strong claws were fierce and lengthened. They shred through his clothes and sliced into his flesh. The fiery wounds bled.
He screamed for help. His panicked voice echoed through the dark cellar. Sheba raised her fist and hammered downward with a solid punch. She struck him harder than any fighter could have hit. Everything turned black.