"The Wandering Night Cactus"
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dochermes"The Wandering Night Cactus"
A Trom Girl Mystery
7/12/2006
I.
The Arizona State Trooper looked like a kid to Archie. Maybe it was just that Trooper Steiner was a bit under average height, had a babyface and didn't seem to be able to produce more of a mustache than some upper lip fuzz. At six feet three and topping two hundred and fifty pounds at the moment, Archie McAllister loomed up imposingly over the much smaller lawman. The fact that Archie seemed as always to need a shave and some sleep, as well as his outfit of rough corduroy pants and flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, didn't help the contrast. He seemed surly and tough when he wasn't at all.
"The evidence has been removed, I'm afraid," the trooper said, walking them around the side of the old-style ranch house. "But to be honest, the crime scene guys told me they didn't expect to get anything useful. Right there is where we found the deceased. You can see the bloodstain where his head was."
Stepping around from behind Archie, Megan Salenger crouched down over the spot without placing her hands on the ground. The Trom Girl was not much over five feet tall, not much over a hundred pounds, and her quick alert expression gave her a foxlike quality. She had propped her mirrored aviator's sunglasses up into her tousled black hair. Expecting dry heat, the Trom Girl was wearing white sneakers, snug jeans and a plain blue T-shirt with an open denim vest over it. "Interesting. He took four steps away from his home and was facing toward the rear. He had no useful weapon at hand.Was the light over the front door turned on when your people arrived?"
"Yeah. There was a flashlight on the kitchen table but he hadn't taken it with him."
Megan straightened and tugged her vest down where it had ridden up. "So it seems he heard something but did not take it that seriously. Here was where the cactus was lying. You can see the impression it left in the dust. Why was it removed, officer?"
"Ummm, you'd have to ask the forensics guys. They don't always explain to us peons but seems to me like they sometimes simply round up everything that could possibly be informative." He was watching Megan with more than professional interest, but then he was young and she was definitely cute in her inquisitive way. Archie caught the stare but shrugged it off, being secure enough in his relationship to not feel threatened.
"I do want to be certain on a few details," Megan said. "Mr Clausi was killed by blows from an arm of a Saguaro cactus. The blunt force trauma was damaging enough to be fatal but two of the spines penetrated his right temple and entered his brain. Is that correct?"
"Yes, miss. Those cactus spines are sharp and hard as steel knitting needles. More than one Indian tribe used them as weapons or tools back in the old days. They're no joke."
"The bleeding caused cerebral edema in the unconscious man, causing his death within a short time," Megan continued. "It's difficult to imagine why someone would choose such an unwieldy makeshift weapon, officer. We passed an unlocked tool shed on the other side of this house that has hammers, pickaxes and shovels clearly visible. Breaking the arm off a cactus seems impractical."
"Miss, if I may say so, the criminal mind don't always make that much sense. Maybe it was a spur of the moment, heat of passion attack over an argument and the killer grabbed the first item to hand. Or maybe the perp was completely psychotic with some sort of, I dunno, cactus fixation?"
"Yes. Those are possibilities. Archie," she asked, swinging around to face her partner, "Do you have any thoughts to offer?"
The big mechanic took a few seconds to reply. Archie's bright blue eyes gave away his innate gentleness and now they were nearly closed. "Well, yeah. Something seems off. I don't know much about cacti, but they're plants so they should have roots right?"
"Yes, sir," said the Arizona Trooper. "Usually, the roots are shallow but cover a wide area. It's one reason why high winds often knock cacti over."
"Where the cactus was lying, right there? Look at the ground. I don't see any sign of roots that got broken off from under it, do you?"
II.
Returning to where their vehicles were parked, Megan and Archie finished up with Trooper Steiner. "My orders are to cooperate with you folks," he said amiably. "The governor's office says you're highly recommended for events like this. Not my place to question." They thanked him again for showing the scene, asked him to tell his commander that they would be promptly reporting anything they learned and watched him drive away on the access road that led to Route 191 and San Manuel.
Leaning up against their cherry-red Jeep Cherokee, Archie said, "I saw you taking readings on your Link, hon. Anything interesting?"
"Eh? Oh, yes. A series of circular depressions in the ground, too deep to have been made by a human being. Those areas were pressed down under a weight of five hundred and eighty pounds. I doubt if the CSI analysts will reach my conclusions." She glanced over at him. "Would you mind driving, dear? I want to run parallel calculations."
"You bet." The big mechanic swung up behind the wheel and waited for his partner to buckle into the passenger seat. "We have three days. The boss wants me back Wednesday morning, so I need to keep that in mind. Unless of course we call Unicorn to come get me in your Mach-plus stealth helicopter."
Megan blinked and looked over at him. "Really? I had never considered that contingency plan."
"Aw, just kidding, hon. Although Ashley would insist on staying here instead and helping out with this 'Trom Girl Mystery."" He started up the motor, swung the Jeep around and rolled up the access road. After only a half mile, Megan placed a hand on his sleeve and indicated he should stop.
Vaulting lightly out of the Jeep, the Trom Girl dropped to her knees beside the road where the dirt had been torn up. Broken bits of tough plant material were scattered about. Megan made a non-committal noise in her throat, took a few readings on her device and was walking back toward their Jeep just as Archie had decided to go to where she had been.
"Honey, we've discussed this before," he said. "When you make some mind-boggling or horrifying discovery about a case, you should mention it to me."
Megan reached over to hug him gently. "You are quite right. I do not know if my manners will ever be what you would call polished, but I am trying. This area is where the cactus had been rooted. The tracks toward the crime scene begin there."
A choked off little snort escaped Archie, then suddenly he was laughing out loud. He caught himself, chuckled a few more times and wiped his eyes. "Oh man."
"Archie, there are many times I do not understand your reactions..." Megan began.
"Aw, honey, it's like this. When I first started going with you on these 'Trom Girl Mysteries' as we call them, I was expecting to expose a lot of phonies. Hoaxes. Old men with rubber monster masks trying to scare people away. Frauds faking the supernatural to bilk people of their last cent. Instead, we've hit the genuine Midnight War one time after another."
The Trom Girl was still leaning up against him, she sighed. "Where is the humor in this, dear?"
"I don't know if I can explain," Archie said. "It's like enjoying new music. Or getting sentimental when you're reminded about old friends you don't know where they are. Maybe our feelings doesn't make sense."
As he stopped talking, Megan prompted, "Try to help me understand."
"You just told me that we are going to be tracking a killer cactus. A cactus, of all things! It struck me as funny for some reason." He squeezed her hard, lifting her feet up off the ground and swinging her from side to side in a way she greatly enjoyed. "Megan, I know you were brought up by the Trom but you're as Human as the rest of us. We can't explain why we act the way we do, so I don't think you ever will, either... and you know what?"
"No."
"I'm glad. It's better that way." He put her back down and exhaled heavily. "Whew. Okay, back to the monster hunting, little lady. What's your next step?"
"I believe we should return to our hosts for the moment. The Castillos offered their help and we should inform them of what we have seen."
"Fair enough." Climbing up into the driver's seat, Archie gave one more chortle before settling down. "You know, I don't tell any of the boys at the cycle shop about these cases. I mostly say we go sight-seeing and take photos and chat with locals. I figure it's better that way."
Megan made only a non-commital sound, being rapt in studying the screen of her Link. Archie knew she was lost for the moment, so he headed south and after twenty minutes was passing through a neighborhood of old white-plank houses widely separated by extensive yards. At a black metal mailbox marked THE CASTILLOS 17166, he swung up a paved driveway and parked behind a white Dodge Ram. Excited voices greeted them as the screen door opened.
III.
Archie and Megan were swept into a kitchen bubbling with tempting aromas. Seated at a round table, they had china plates piled high with black beans and sticky rice forced on them. Archie as always could eat as if he had just crawled out of the desert and Megan had skipped breakfast so could keep up. Henry Castillo dropped down opposite to join them. It was only when she was sure her guests had been set up properly that Luisa fixed her own plate and sat down next to her husband.
They were a handsome couple. Henry was a sturdy, outdoorsy man about fifty, deeply tanned, with greying hair and a white mustache. At least twenty years young, Luisa was heavyset and friendly, with a warm smile as if seeing people eat was the greatest joy life could bring.
Bottles of beer were cracked open and quickly drained. As they came up for air, Henry began, "I do not think I ever explained the debt we owe your captain, Jeremy Bane."
"Not in so many words," Archie admitted. There were small side dishes of sliced mango and cucumbers on the table, and he worked on them as well.
"It was twelve years ago. I was living further south, near Rio Miguel, and everyone was terrified to go out at night. Even now, I should not say too much but as you were driving at night, you would see a thin brown form racing alongside your car. On two legs, like a man, but built like a starving coyote. No matter how fast you drove, the shape kept up with you. There was a crash that killed the local doctor and his son."
"Terrible, terrible," Luisa said, crossing herself. "We do not speak the name."
"Then this strange man dressed all in black arrived from New York City. Jeremy Bane, the Dire Wolf. He had eyes the color of steel. He asked a few questions and began driving the roads as soon as it got dark. I had offered to go with him, and he said I was very brave, 'muy hombre' but this was his job. Luisa and I had only been married a few months. The next morning, I found him lying in front of my door."
"Terrible," repeated Luisa, taking plates from Archie and Megan to fill them again.
"Mr Bane had blood on his hands and face, his shirt had been ripped open, but he himself was not seriously hurt. In one hand, he clutched a silver-bladed fighting dagger so tightly I could not take it from him. Luisa and I cleaned him up, gave him cold clean water to drink and a fresh shirt. In a few minutes, he had recovered enough to promise us there would be no more trouble."
"That sounds like my captain," Megan Salenger offered. "He has been protecting people from the creatures of the night all his life."
"Ah, that is not all," said Luisa. "Naturally, everyone for miles around cheered him. We took up a collection to repay him. But your captain, the Dire Wolf, would not take the money. He made us donate it to the local library to start a children's room. Instead, he had a strange request he asked of us."
"Let me guess," the Trom Girl said. "Jeremy wanted you to keep an eye out for anything weird or supernatural in the area. He gave you a number to call if the Midnight War flared up here again, and he promised to return."
"That is exactly right," Henry said. He pushed a crust of bread over his plate to sop up the last bit of juice. "No more food, my darling, please," he added to his wife, "My belt buckle is straining now."
"That was when our faith in mankind was strengthened," Luisa said gleefully. "He came here to face danger and help strangers without being asked, he turned down money and asked only to be called again if he was needed. What better knight ever rode to a slay a dragon?"
Seeing that the meal was drawing to a close at last, Archie accepted another bottle of Coors Banquet without hesitation. "Well, Jeremy is alive and well, I'm glad to say. But he's somewhere in Northern China chasing bandits right now, so my partner here hopes she can fill in."
"I am a knight of Tel Shai and a member of the Kenneth Dred Foundation, as Jeremy is," Megan added. "I promise to do my best."
Studying the young Trom Girl, Luisa nodded and clapped her hands together softly. "I see strength and courage in you, little one. But most of all, I see a sharp, restless mind that never stops until it has brought light into the darkness. We have information that may help you."
Pushing back his chair, Henry Castillo took his own bottle of ale. "Let us step outside, please. The sun is low and it is a sin to miss these sunsets." They followed him to a screened-in porch and settled down in wicker chairs. The sky was streaked with red and gold on thin cirrus clouds as if to justify his words.
"That strange death. The cactus. It is very bad," Castillo said. "Cactus have a certain, shall we say, unsavory reputation. The Saguara live for hundreds of years and grow forty feet high. They see generations of men come and go. Do you know they are hard as trees?"
"No, I hadn't thought of it," Archie admitted. "It thought they were kind of like watermelons."
"They have ridges inside like oak. A sort of skeleton, if you will." Castillo sipped his beer, then sighed. "There are many strange tales of this land. Before the white men, even before the red men, civilizations rose and fell that are not even suspected today of having existed. And there are still things out there in the night that are not natural beasts as we know them."
"We have encountered a few of them ourselves," Archie said without enthusiasm. "Not just the Skinwalkers, but something that makes a noise like a crying baby to lure unsuspecting people out into the darkness. Or the spiders big as rats that jump down out of trees to land on the back of your neck, brrrrr."
"It is not wise to discuss these things because it may draw their attention," Henry Castillo said. "But ask any old-timer who has lived here long. When the sun comes up, Saguara are found in a different spot than where they had been growing the day before. People look up at night to catch frightening shadows moving past their windows."
Megan interrupted, "Excuse me. Have you heard of any newcomers to the area who are secretive, or who seem sinister? Are there any local, well, witches or warlocks?"
"Los Brujos? Oh yes. Absolutely. The living shame of this county is that we suffer someone like Ghuldur to live."
"He is a filthy old man," Luisa spat with unexpected intensity. "He looks as if the flesh has been stripped from under the skin of his face. Where he comes from, what he wants, no one knows. But no animals are even seen near his adobe, not even rabbits or stray cats. Nothing grows for a mile around. There has been talk of driving him away once and for all, but once you are near him, his stare makes your heart pound. If anyone has the Evil Eye, he is that one."
"And of course he hated Peter Clausi," added Castilo. "Peter would not deliver goods from his store to where Ghuldur lives. Not after the driver suffered such nightmares."
Archie pushed back away from the table. "Well, I'm not the genius of this team," he said. "But it seems like we should be able to wrap this up right quickly."
V.
Even before they got out of the Jeep, Megan and Archie had felt the booming thump of the drums in their chests. It was coming from the rear of the tiny adobe building. The Trom Girl swung open her door and sniffed, "I do not recognize that aroma, Archie. A variety of sandalwood but more bitter perhaps?"
"Phew. It's nasty whatever it is," he swung around to take in the scene. The white-washed adobe house was a single story, almost an exact square, with a cylindrical pipe protruding up from one corner of the roof. A few feet away was a ramshackle shed without a door, inside of which could be seen tools such as rakes, shovels and a gas-powered chainsaw. An auto engine sat on a tarp, leaking oil, but there was no sign of the car itself.
The two small windows of the house itself were dark, but flickering illumination from around one corner hinted at open flame. Between the pounding drums and heavy stench and uncertain lighting, this yard was not inviting.
Megan Salenger unclipped the beam projector from her belt and adjusted her dials. "That is Nekrosan ceremonial music," she told Archie, having to raise her voice. "This Ghuldur is likely to have significant knowledge of forbidden lore."
"I see a crowbar in that shed," Archie responded. "Let me get that ready if a head needs cracking."
"Wait." She looked up into his worried face. "Please remain here with the motor running. I will investigate first." With that, she strode quickly toward the building and around it edge while Archie cursed under his breath.
Megan drew on her discipline but even so it was surprisingly hard for her to concentrate. The drums, the stench and the flickering light distressed all her senses in a way she had thought she was above being affected. The Trom Girl raised her beam projector and swung around to confront a bizarre scene.
A rock-lined pit six feet deep was filled with white-hot coals and scraps of burning wood, sparks rising up into the night air. Whatever had been added to the flames produced a thick choking stink. Sitting on the ground, leaning back up against a wall of the house, was propped a man who showed no signs of life. The thumping drumming was coming from an old-fashioned reel-to-reel machine with a cord stretching back into the house.
Ghuldur had been a Nekrosan. The grotesque skull-like face was unmistakable. Hairless even to lacking eyebrows or lashes, the face looked like yellowish dry skin stretched taut over bone, with only a stub for a nose. Under the protruding brow ledge, the deepset eyes were closed. The Nekrosan's body rested back against the adobe, thin hands folded together, gaunt body wrapped in a coarse burlap robe.
Megan took in the scene in an instant. This was Midnight War magick originally derived from the Darthim. Adepts could project their lifeforce into suitable objects for animation. Servants of hollow leather or metal plate were called Targhul, servants of solid stone or clay were golems. But to make a plant stir, to make a plant break loose of its roots and to move about freely, was something she had never heard of.
The Trom Girl was choking from the incense and herbs burning in that fire pit. The throbbing drums made her head hurt. Concluding that Ghuldur's lifeforce was out of his body at the moment, she bent down and snapped off the music tape. Even as silence returned, her ears caught an ominous creaking noise right behind her. The impact across her upper back would have broken stone.
VII.
Too battered to rise, Megan Salenger propped her upper body up off the dirt on her right elbow but couldn't reach her beam projector. If not for the silk-thin armor under her clothing, she would have been killed from multiple internal injuries. As it was, even with the Trom film-layer dispersing impact over its entire surface, she diagnosed herself as suffering two broken ribs and a cracked shoulder blade. Her mental discipline enabled the Trom Girl to ignore the pain for the moment, but the damage was real and could not be ignored.
She raised her head enough to see the Saguaro lurching toward her. It was a surreal sight. Every move the cactus made produced a creaking noise like wood being pulled apart. Nine feet above the ground, the top knob of the monster showed darkened depressions that looked like eyes, deep pits which pointed down at Megan as if literally seeing her. One arm swung up and back with that unearthly grinding sound, preparing to descend on her unprotected skull. Even facing imminent death, the Trom Girl's mind raced to find any possible action which would help save herself but came up empty.
Brilliant against the gloom, white headlights fell directly on the creature. The Saguaro stiffly swung around, not turning its body but simply moving one leg to the side as the Jeep Cherokee smashed into it at seventy miles an hour and ran right over it. The monster flipped upside down, leaving the desert floor entirely. Shifting into reverse, Archie backed the Jeep up and pinned the cactus face down under the right front wheel.
For a long breathless moment, the big man glared down at the creature but it soon became evident that the cactus' supernatural strength was not enough to lift the Jeep. The cactus remain pinned down with its arms and forked legs moving feebly and ineffectually
Archie jumped down from the driver's seat so frantically that he fell and had to scramble back up to run over to Megan. He dropped to his knees and placed a hand on her shoulder but hesitated. "Honey, I don't want to risk moving you. I might make it worse if you have a back injury."
By this point, the Trom Girl had inched her other hand under her and was raising her upper torso off the ground. "I do not seem to have any spinal damage, dear. No symptoms of concussion. Two left upper ribs have hairline fractures and there is a three centimeter split on the anterior surface of my left scapula. Internal bleeding is minimal but I will be bruised."
"Jeez, I'm glad you're taking this so well," the big man said. He squeezed her hand. "Should I help you up?"
"In a few minutes, Archie. Thank you. The enhanced healing is starting to take effect. The longer I wait before rising, the better." She managed to gift him a wistful smile. "You rescued me!"
Archie McAllister snorted. "Damn straight. No crummy cactus is gonna beat up on my girl. Looks like the Jeep is heavy enough to hold him down. Bet that tire's going to be flat, though."
"Ouch. Everything hurts. I would not admit it to anyone else but I am in severe discomfort right now. That will pass. Archie, we need to destroy that construct as thoroughly as possibly."
"I've been thinking about that. You saw the barbecue pit behind the house. In the tool shed is a Black & Decker chain saw. This is one monster I'm going to dispose off until nothing is left but a bad memory."
"Ghuldur is already dead," Megan said. "If you would give me a hand..?" With Archie's help, she got up into a seated position leaning up against his reassuring solidity. "The pain is easing. Give me another few minutes, dear, and I will help you."
"Take your time, hon." He gave the feebly twitching creature under the Jeep wheel a cold stare. "That Saguaro isn't going anywhere."
4/12/2020
A Trom Girl Mystery
7/12/2006
I.
The Arizona State Trooper looked like a kid to Archie. Maybe it was just that Trooper Steiner was a bit under average height, had a babyface and didn't seem to be able to produce more of a mustache than some upper lip fuzz. At six feet three and topping two hundred and fifty pounds at the moment, Archie McAllister loomed up imposingly over the much smaller lawman. The fact that Archie seemed as always to need a shave and some sleep, as well as his outfit of rough corduroy pants and flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, didn't help the contrast. He seemed surly and tough when he wasn't at all.
"The evidence has been removed, I'm afraid," the trooper said, walking them around the side of the old-style ranch house. "But to be honest, the crime scene guys told me they didn't expect to get anything useful. Right there is where we found the deceased. You can see the bloodstain where his head was."
Stepping around from behind Archie, Megan Salenger crouched down over the spot without placing her hands on the ground. The Trom Girl was not much over five feet tall, not much over a hundred pounds, and her quick alert expression gave her a foxlike quality. She had propped her mirrored aviator's sunglasses up into her tousled black hair. Expecting dry heat, the Trom Girl was wearing white sneakers, snug jeans and a plain blue T-shirt with an open denim vest over it. "Interesting. He took four steps away from his home and was facing toward the rear. He had no useful weapon at hand.Was the light over the front door turned on when your people arrived?"
"Yeah. There was a flashlight on the kitchen table but he hadn't taken it with him."
Megan straightened and tugged her vest down where it had ridden up. "So it seems he heard something but did not take it that seriously. Here was where the cactus was lying. You can see the impression it left in the dust. Why was it removed, officer?"
"Ummm, you'd have to ask the forensics guys. They don't always explain to us peons but seems to me like they sometimes simply round up everything that could possibly be informative." He was watching Megan with more than professional interest, but then he was young and she was definitely cute in her inquisitive way. Archie caught the stare but shrugged it off, being secure enough in his relationship to not feel threatened.
"I do want to be certain on a few details," Megan said. "Mr Clausi was killed by blows from an arm of a Saguaro cactus. The blunt force trauma was damaging enough to be fatal but two of the spines penetrated his right temple and entered his brain. Is that correct?"
"Yes, miss. Those cactus spines are sharp and hard as steel knitting needles. More than one Indian tribe used them as weapons or tools back in the old days. They're no joke."
"The bleeding caused cerebral edema in the unconscious man, causing his death within a short time," Megan continued. "It's difficult to imagine why someone would choose such an unwieldy makeshift weapon, officer. We passed an unlocked tool shed on the other side of this house that has hammers, pickaxes and shovels clearly visible. Breaking the arm off a cactus seems impractical."
"Miss, if I may say so, the criminal mind don't always make that much sense. Maybe it was a spur of the moment, heat of passion attack over an argument and the killer grabbed the first item to hand. Or maybe the perp was completely psychotic with some sort of, I dunno, cactus fixation?"
"Yes. Those are possibilities. Archie," she asked, swinging around to face her partner, "Do you have any thoughts to offer?"
The big mechanic took a few seconds to reply. Archie's bright blue eyes gave away his innate gentleness and now they were nearly closed. "Well, yeah. Something seems off. I don't know much about cacti, but they're plants so they should have roots right?"
"Yes, sir," said the Arizona Trooper. "Usually, the roots are shallow but cover a wide area. It's one reason why high winds often knock cacti over."
"Where the cactus was lying, right there? Look at the ground. I don't see any sign of roots that got broken off from under it, do you?"
II.
Returning to where their vehicles were parked, Megan and Archie finished up with Trooper Steiner. "My orders are to cooperate with you folks," he said amiably. "The governor's office says you're highly recommended for events like this. Not my place to question." They thanked him again for showing the scene, asked him to tell his commander that they would be promptly reporting anything they learned and watched him drive away on the access road that led to Route 191 and San Manuel.
Leaning up against their cherry-red Jeep Cherokee, Archie said, "I saw you taking readings on your Link, hon. Anything interesting?"
"Eh? Oh, yes. A series of circular depressions in the ground, too deep to have been made by a human being. Those areas were pressed down under a weight of five hundred and eighty pounds. I doubt if the CSI analysts will reach my conclusions." She glanced over at him. "Would you mind driving, dear? I want to run parallel calculations."
"You bet." The big mechanic swung up behind the wheel and waited for his partner to buckle into the passenger seat. "We have three days. The boss wants me back Wednesday morning, so I need to keep that in mind. Unless of course we call Unicorn to come get me in your Mach-plus stealth helicopter."
Megan blinked and looked over at him. "Really? I had never considered that contingency plan."
"Aw, just kidding, hon. Although Ashley would insist on staying here instead and helping out with this 'Trom Girl Mystery."" He started up the motor, swung the Jeep around and rolled up the access road. After only a half mile, Megan placed a hand on his sleeve and indicated he should stop.
Vaulting lightly out of the Jeep, the Trom Girl dropped to her knees beside the road where the dirt had been torn up. Broken bits of tough plant material were scattered about. Megan made a non-committal noise in her throat, took a few readings on her device and was walking back toward their Jeep just as Archie had decided to go to where she had been.
"Honey, we've discussed this before," he said. "When you make some mind-boggling or horrifying discovery about a case, you should mention it to me."
Megan reached over to hug him gently. "You are quite right. I do not know if my manners will ever be what you would call polished, but I am trying. This area is where the cactus had been rooted. The tracks toward the crime scene begin there."
A choked off little snort escaped Archie, then suddenly he was laughing out loud. He caught himself, chuckled a few more times and wiped his eyes. "Oh man."
"Archie, there are many times I do not understand your reactions..." Megan began.
"Aw, honey, it's like this. When I first started going with you on these 'Trom Girl Mysteries' as we call them, I was expecting to expose a lot of phonies. Hoaxes. Old men with rubber monster masks trying to scare people away. Frauds faking the supernatural to bilk people of their last cent. Instead, we've hit the genuine Midnight War one time after another."
The Trom Girl was still leaning up against him, she sighed. "Where is the humor in this, dear?"
"I don't know if I can explain," Archie said. "It's like enjoying new music. Or getting sentimental when you're reminded about old friends you don't know where they are. Maybe our feelings doesn't make sense."
As he stopped talking, Megan prompted, "Try to help me understand."
"You just told me that we are going to be tracking a killer cactus. A cactus, of all things! It struck me as funny for some reason." He squeezed her hard, lifting her feet up off the ground and swinging her from side to side in a way she greatly enjoyed. "Megan, I know you were brought up by the Trom but you're as Human as the rest of us. We can't explain why we act the way we do, so I don't think you ever will, either... and you know what?"
"No."
"I'm glad. It's better that way." He put her back down and exhaled heavily. "Whew. Okay, back to the monster hunting, little lady. What's your next step?"
"I believe we should return to our hosts for the moment. The Castillos offered their help and we should inform them of what we have seen."
"Fair enough." Climbing up into the driver's seat, Archie gave one more chortle before settling down. "You know, I don't tell any of the boys at the cycle shop about these cases. I mostly say we go sight-seeing and take photos and chat with locals. I figure it's better that way."
Megan made only a non-commital sound, being rapt in studying the screen of her Link. Archie knew she was lost for the moment, so he headed south and after twenty minutes was passing through a neighborhood of old white-plank houses widely separated by extensive yards. At a black metal mailbox marked THE CASTILLOS 17166, he swung up a paved driveway and parked behind a white Dodge Ram. Excited voices greeted them as the screen door opened.
III.
Archie and Megan were swept into a kitchen bubbling with tempting aromas. Seated at a round table, they had china plates piled high with black beans and sticky rice forced on them. Archie as always could eat as if he had just crawled out of the desert and Megan had skipped breakfast so could keep up. Henry Castillo dropped down opposite to join them. It was only when she was sure her guests had been set up properly that Luisa fixed her own plate and sat down next to her husband.
They were a handsome couple. Henry was a sturdy, outdoorsy man about fifty, deeply tanned, with greying hair and a white mustache. At least twenty years young, Luisa was heavyset and friendly, with a warm smile as if seeing people eat was the greatest joy life could bring.
Bottles of beer were cracked open and quickly drained. As they came up for air, Henry began, "I do not think I ever explained the debt we owe your captain, Jeremy Bane."
"Not in so many words," Archie admitted. There were small side dishes of sliced mango and cucumbers on the table, and he worked on them as well.
"It was twelve years ago. I was living further south, near Rio Miguel, and everyone was terrified to go out at night. Even now, I should not say too much but as you were driving at night, you would see a thin brown form racing alongside your car. On two legs, like a man, but built like a starving coyote. No matter how fast you drove, the shape kept up with you. There was a crash that killed the local doctor and his son."
"Terrible, terrible," Luisa said, crossing herself. "We do not speak the name."
"Then this strange man dressed all in black arrived from New York City. Jeremy Bane, the Dire Wolf. He had eyes the color of steel. He asked a few questions and began driving the roads as soon as it got dark. I had offered to go with him, and he said I was very brave, 'muy hombre' but this was his job. Luisa and I had only been married a few months. The next morning, I found him lying in front of my door."
"Terrible," repeated Luisa, taking plates from Archie and Megan to fill them again.
"Mr Bane had blood on his hands and face, his shirt had been ripped open, but he himself was not seriously hurt. In one hand, he clutched a silver-bladed fighting dagger so tightly I could not take it from him. Luisa and I cleaned him up, gave him cold clean water to drink and a fresh shirt. In a few minutes, he had recovered enough to promise us there would be no more trouble."
"That sounds like my captain," Megan Salenger offered. "He has been protecting people from the creatures of the night all his life."
"Ah, that is not all," said Luisa. "Naturally, everyone for miles around cheered him. We took up a collection to repay him. But your captain, the Dire Wolf, would not take the money. He made us donate it to the local library to start a children's room. Instead, he had a strange request he asked of us."
"Let me guess," the Trom Girl said. "Jeremy wanted you to keep an eye out for anything weird or supernatural in the area. He gave you a number to call if the Midnight War flared up here again, and he promised to return."
"That is exactly right," Henry said. He pushed a crust of bread over his plate to sop up the last bit of juice. "No more food, my darling, please," he added to his wife, "My belt buckle is straining now."
"That was when our faith in mankind was strengthened," Luisa said gleefully. "He came here to face danger and help strangers without being asked, he turned down money and asked only to be called again if he was needed. What better knight ever rode to a slay a dragon?"
Seeing that the meal was drawing to a close at last, Archie accepted another bottle of Coors Banquet without hesitation. "Well, Jeremy is alive and well, I'm glad to say. But he's somewhere in Northern China chasing bandits right now, so my partner here hopes she can fill in."
"I am a knight of Tel Shai and a member of the Kenneth Dred Foundation, as Jeremy is," Megan added. "I promise to do my best."
Studying the young Trom Girl, Luisa nodded and clapped her hands together softly. "I see strength and courage in you, little one. But most of all, I see a sharp, restless mind that never stops until it has brought light into the darkness. We have information that may help you."
Pushing back his chair, Henry Castillo took his own bottle of ale. "Let us step outside, please. The sun is low and it is a sin to miss these sunsets." They followed him to a screened-in porch and settled down in wicker chairs. The sky was streaked with red and gold on thin cirrus clouds as if to justify his words.
"That strange death. The cactus. It is very bad," Castillo said. "Cactus have a certain, shall we say, unsavory reputation. The Saguara live for hundreds of years and grow forty feet high. They see generations of men come and go. Do you know they are hard as trees?"
"No, I hadn't thought of it," Archie admitted. "It thought they were kind of like watermelons."
"They have ridges inside like oak. A sort of skeleton, if you will." Castillo sipped his beer, then sighed. "There are many strange tales of this land. Before the white men, even before the red men, civilizations rose and fell that are not even suspected today of having existed. And there are still things out there in the night that are not natural beasts as we know them."
"We have encountered a few of them ourselves," Archie said without enthusiasm. "Not just the Skinwalkers, but something that makes a noise like a crying baby to lure unsuspecting people out into the darkness. Or the spiders big as rats that jump down out of trees to land on the back of your neck, brrrrr."
"It is not wise to discuss these things because it may draw their attention," Henry Castillo said. "But ask any old-timer who has lived here long. When the sun comes up, Saguara are found in a different spot than where they had been growing the day before. People look up at night to catch frightening shadows moving past their windows."
Megan interrupted, "Excuse me. Have you heard of any newcomers to the area who are secretive, or who seem sinister? Are there any local, well, witches or warlocks?"
"Los Brujos? Oh yes. Absolutely. The living shame of this county is that we suffer someone like Ghuldur to live."
"He is a filthy old man," Luisa spat with unexpected intensity. "He looks as if the flesh has been stripped from under the skin of his face. Where he comes from, what he wants, no one knows. But no animals are even seen near his adobe, not even rabbits or stray cats. Nothing grows for a mile around. There has been talk of driving him away once and for all, but once you are near him, his stare makes your heart pound. If anyone has the Evil Eye, he is that one."
"And of course he hated Peter Clausi," added Castilo. "Peter would not deliver goods from his store to where Ghuldur lives. Not after the driver suffered such nightmares."
Archie pushed back away from the table. "Well, I'm not the genius of this team," he said. "But it seems like we should be able to wrap this up right quickly."
V.
Even before they got out of the Jeep, Megan and Archie had felt the booming thump of the drums in their chests. It was coming from the rear of the tiny adobe building. The Trom Girl swung open her door and sniffed, "I do not recognize that aroma, Archie. A variety of sandalwood but more bitter perhaps?"
"Phew. It's nasty whatever it is," he swung around to take in the scene. The white-washed adobe house was a single story, almost an exact square, with a cylindrical pipe protruding up from one corner of the roof. A few feet away was a ramshackle shed without a door, inside of which could be seen tools such as rakes, shovels and a gas-powered chainsaw. An auto engine sat on a tarp, leaking oil, but there was no sign of the car itself.
The two small windows of the house itself were dark, but flickering illumination from around one corner hinted at open flame. Between the pounding drums and heavy stench and uncertain lighting, this yard was not inviting.
Megan Salenger unclipped the beam projector from her belt and adjusted her dials. "That is Nekrosan ceremonial music," she told Archie, having to raise her voice. "This Ghuldur is likely to have significant knowledge of forbidden lore."
"I see a crowbar in that shed," Archie responded. "Let me get that ready if a head needs cracking."
"Wait." She looked up into his worried face. "Please remain here with the motor running. I will investigate first." With that, she strode quickly toward the building and around it edge while Archie cursed under his breath.
Megan drew on her discipline but even so it was surprisingly hard for her to concentrate. The drums, the stench and the flickering light distressed all her senses in a way she had thought she was above being affected. The Trom Girl raised her beam projector and swung around to confront a bizarre scene.
A rock-lined pit six feet deep was filled with white-hot coals and scraps of burning wood, sparks rising up into the night air. Whatever had been added to the flames produced a thick choking stink. Sitting on the ground, leaning back up against a wall of the house, was propped a man who showed no signs of life. The thumping drumming was coming from an old-fashioned reel-to-reel machine with a cord stretching back into the house.
Ghuldur had been a Nekrosan. The grotesque skull-like face was unmistakable. Hairless even to lacking eyebrows or lashes, the face looked like yellowish dry skin stretched taut over bone, with only a stub for a nose. Under the protruding brow ledge, the deepset eyes were closed. The Nekrosan's body rested back against the adobe, thin hands folded together, gaunt body wrapped in a coarse burlap robe.
Megan took in the scene in an instant. This was Midnight War magick originally derived from the Darthim. Adepts could project their lifeforce into suitable objects for animation. Servants of hollow leather or metal plate were called Targhul, servants of solid stone or clay were golems. But to make a plant stir, to make a plant break loose of its roots and to move about freely, was something she had never heard of.
The Trom Girl was choking from the incense and herbs burning in that fire pit. The throbbing drums made her head hurt. Concluding that Ghuldur's lifeforce was out of his body at the moment, she bent down and snapped off the music tape. Even as silence returned, her ears caught an ominous creaking noise right behind her. The impact across her upper back would have broken stone.
VII.
Too battered to rise, Megan Salenger propped her upper body up off the dirt on her right elbow but couldn't reach her beam projector. If not for the silk-thin armor under her clothing, she would have been killed from multiple internal injuries. As it was, even with the Trom film-layer dispersing impact over its entire surface, she diagnosed herself as suffering two broken ribs and a cracked shoulder blade. Her mental discipline enabled the Trom Girl to ignore the pain for the moment, but the damage was real and could not be ignored.
She raised her head enough to see the Saguaro lurching toward her. It was a surreal sight. Every move the cactus made produced a creaking noise like wood being pulled apart. Nine feet above the ground, the top knob of the monster showed darkened depressions that looked like eyes, deep pits which pointed down at Megan as if literally seeing her. One arm swung up and back with that unearthly grinding sound, preparing to descend on her unprotected skull. Even facing imminent death, the Trom Girl's mind raced to find any possible action which would help save herself but came up empty.
Brilliant against the gloom, white headlights fell directly on the creature. The Saguaro stiffly swung around, not turning its body but simply moving one leg to the side as the Jeep Cherokee smashed into it at seventy miles an hour and ran right over it. The monster flipped upside down, leaving the desert floor entirely. Shifting into reverse, Archie backed the Jeep up and pinned the cactus face down under the right front wheel.
For a long breathless moment, the big man glared down at the creature but it soon became evident that the cactus' supernatural strength was not enough to lift the Jeep. The cactus remain pinned down with its arms and forked legs moving feebly and ineffectually
Archie jumped down from the driver's seat so frantically that he fell and had to scramble back up to run over to Megan. He dropped to his knees and placed a hand on her shoulder but hesitated. "Honey, I don't want to risk moving you. I might make it worse if you have a back injury."
By this point, the Trom Girl had inched her other hand under her and was raising her upper torso off the ground. "I do not seem to have any spinal damage, dear. No symptoms of concussion. Two left upper ribs have hairline fractures and there is a three centimeter split on the anterior surface of my left scapula. Internal bleeding is minimal but I will be bruised."
"Jeez, I'm glad you're taking this so well," the big man said. He squeezed her hand. "Should I help you up?"
"In a few minutes, Archie. Thank you. The enhanced healing is starting to take effect. The longer I wait before rising, the better." She managed to gift him a wistful smile. "You rescued me!"
Archie McAllister snorted. "Damn straight. No crummy cactus is gonna beat up on my girl. Looks like the Jeep is heavy enough to hold him down. Bet that tire's going to be flat, though."
"Ouch. Everything hurts. I would not admit it to anyone else but I am in severe discomfort right now. That will pass. Archie, we need to destroy that construct as thoroughly as possibly."
"I've been thinking about that. You saw the barbecue pit behind the house. In the tool shed is a Black & Decker chain saw. This is one monster I'm going to dispose off until nothing is left but a bad memory."
"Ghuldur is already dead," Megan said. "If you would give me a hand..?" With Archie's help, she got up into a seated position leaning up against his reassuring solidity. "The pain is easing. Give me another few minutes, dear, and I will help you."
"Take your time, hon." He gave the feebly twitching creature under the Jeep wheel a cold stare. "That Saguaro isn't going anywhere."
4/12/2020
