“Fantastic,” Onsie grumbled as he climbed a tree so he might jump to her roof, and then down to a high window that he knew was easy to jimmy open because Arlene had had him do it once when she’d locked herself out. He pried the window open and then slid himself through, calling Arlene’s name all the while, half fearing he might give her a start, but even more afraid that he might see Arlene in some state of undress.
He was in the hallway outside her closed bedroom door when he suddenly got the shivers. Something felt very wrong in that house, and for a moment, Onsie Best even thought about turning and running straight out the front door, but he knew he’d never live it down, so he swallowed his fear and opened the door to Arlene Blessing’s bedroom.
Even from a hundred yards away, Rowan could hear his screams.
Turning to Emily, her body stiff with fear, she grasped the other girl’s hand. “It’s happening again,” she said.
Rowan dashed off in the direction of Arlene’s cottage, Emily fast on her heels. When Rowan reached the porch, she nearly crashed into Onsie Best rushing out, his face twisted in horror.
“She’s dead,” he said, with lips that were turning pale blue. “It’s the most awful thing I’ve ever seen.” And with that, he promptly fainted.
Emily, who had just reached the porch, breathless, crouched down and propped the boy’s head up on her knee, keeping an eye on Rowan. “Don’t you go in there.”
But Rowan knew she had to. Without a thought for her own safety, she ran into Arlene’s house. She flew up the stairs and rounded the corner to Arlene’s room, but in the doorway she stopped abruptly.
“Goddess,” she whispered, making the sign, and for a moment, she feared that she too might faint. Steeling herself, she moved to the body. The corpse was stark white, like a spider’s egg sac. An enormous bite had been taken out of what had once been Arlene’s neck.
Stepping away from the body, Rowan surveyed the bedchamber. The windows were closed and bolted, the room undisturbed. It was as if Arlene had not had time to even put up a struggle.
Suddenly the nape of Rowan’s neck prickled, and she had a terrible thought: what if whatever had done this was still in the house? How stupid of her to dash up there alone. Her eyes fell to the bath chamber, and for a second, she felt sure she heard breathing coming from inside. Holding her own breath, her heart beating like mad, she slowly backed out of the room, one foot behind the other until something grasped at her shoulder.
Screaming, she turned to find Goi Tate glaring down at her.
“What might you be doing here, little Rowan?” But then he saw the body and took a step away.
Dr. Temper rounded the corner and upon taking in the sight of the room was moved to cover his mouth.
“Oh, good Goddess.”
Goi Tate, suddenly on his guard, moved about the room like a cat. He peered in the bath chamber and then out the window.
“Rowan, did you see anyone?” he asked.
“Just Onsie Best, who found her.”
“Right,” he said, clapping her on the back. “This is no place for womenfolk.”
“But,” Rowan said, trying to contain a sudden surge of anger, “I’ve every right to be here that you have.”
Goi Tate didn’t seem to hear her. “Run along and fetch the duke, and then tell the elders another funeral will need to be arranged.”
The strange thing about Arlene Blessing’s body was that something had drained it of most of its blood. Her neck had been torn, her carotid artery severed, but aside from that, she bore no injuries. Of course, these things weren’t said aloud. Such things never are. But Dr. Temper shook his head and said it was beyond his ken, and wouldn’t it be best if Mama Lune had a look?
That was the day that the panic began. What had happened to the men on the hill, what had happened to the foreign girl who had wandered out into the woods, those were anomalies, inscrutable animal attacks suffered by people who were not truly members of the community.
But this was different. Not only had Arlene been struck down within the village boundary—within her own home as she slept behind a locked door—but Arlene Blessing wasn’t some stranger. She had taught the little ones to mend and sew. She had helped teach new mothers to care for their babies. She was a kind woman, and when her husband had died, everyone had felt not only a deep sense of loss but also a fear that Arlene might follow in his footsteps, as aged widows are sometimes wont to do.
She was the sort of woman one wanted to die quietly in her sleep, surrounded by friends and family. She was the last person one would expect to die a violent death. At first no one discussed it outright. It was almost as if the truth of the matter was too horrifying to confront directly. Rather, it needed to be approached from the side. She was dead, and it looked like an animal attack, and therefore it probably was an animal attack. But everyone knew that no animal could have entered Arlene’s house like that—walking through a locked door, only to escape through a high window it somehow managed to shut behind itself. And yet surely no human could have created that bite mark on Arlene’s neck. No, it was best not to look straight at the truth of the thing. Only sometimes, truth has ways of revealing itself.
10. THE HANGED MAN
“YOU’RE GOING TO do it, then?” Emily asked from her perch on the counter.
“Should you be sitting up there, really?” Rowan asked, arranging the flowers for her blessing wreath.
“Who’s going to stop me?” she snorted. “They’re my counters if they’re anyone’s. Answer the question. You’re really going to do it? You’re going to get married and leave me?”
“Don’t make that pouty face,” Rowan said. She was trying to seem strong for Emily, when inside she wanted to cry. “You’ll be happy to be rid of me. Besides, it’s not like I won’t be visiting every day anyway. Also … also, it’s not like I have a choice—not really.”
“You could talk to your father. Get him to change his mind.”
Rowan shook her head, trying not to blush. She hadn’t told Emily she’d already done that and her father had refused her request. Revealing as much, even to Emily, would be too painful. “Why? Don’t you like Tom?”
“Of course I like Tom. Who doesn’t like Tom? And considering everything that’s happened—Arlene and whatnot—I should think it’s good to share a bed if at all possible. You’ll have built-in security.”
“Emily,” Rowan said, embarrassed by the warble in her voice. “What do you think it is? What do you think is happening?”
“I don’t know, Ro,” she said. “I wish I did. A beast, I expect, like they say.”
“But what kind of beast stalks the forest and mountaintops, eviscerating men like it’s nothing, and then tiptoes into an old lady’s house, leaving no sign behind but a bite on the neck?”
Emily shook her head. “Rowan, you keep this up and I’m not sleeping tonight. Let’s get back to Tom and boys and weddings and such. That’s beautiful, by the way,” she said, pointing down to the wreath, her legs now swinging wildly. “He’ll be blown away for sure.”
Rowan nodded and concentrated on her work. Maybe it was the act of weaving the flowers, or maybe it was seeing Arlene’s body—looking directly into the face of death—that was changing something inside her. Maybe these really were dark days. Maybe she should simply be happy to be alive.
Emily and Rowan’s father walked with her over to the tavern to present the blessing wreath to Tom. The duke and Merrilee were invited to come to the festivities, but the duke did not seem enthusiastic. In fact, it seemed to Rowan that he had been avoiding her since her wrist had been bound—as if now that she was to be married, she was no longer of any use to him.