Page 9 of Sinistram
Donny wasn’t in sight when they headed into Mark’s living room. Mark offered drinks as Demon turned circles on his bed and settled down. Travis and Brent went for beer, Father Leo opted for a soda, and Mark tipped an ounce or two of whiskey into his cola before joining them.
“Grab a drink and come join us when you’re ready,” Mark yelled toward the back hallway, where Brent guessed Donny had gone. Minutes later, a lanky young man with floppy dark hair emerged, all human with sharp features like his malamute/husky side, with mismatched blue and gold eyes. He got a soda and took the chair closest to where Demon lay.
“What did you make of the service?” Father Leo looked to Brent and Travis in particular.
“Short and to the point,” Brent replied. “Works for me. I’m not much for ceremony.”
“Beats the heck out of a full funeral mass,” Travis answered laconically.
Father Leo laughed. “It might be heresy, but I fully agree.”
“Did those folks have particular ties to Al, or just the community showing up for one of their own?” Brent hadn’t noted any striking resemblances to Al’s photo, but he knew that in small towns, family links were common and convoluted.
“Bob, the guy who talked to you, was a cousin, if I remember right,” Father Leo said. “Fred and Jimmy, two of the other older men, often hunted with Al. I think they blame themselves for not being with him when the rougarou got him, but that’s how it goes.”
“Either Janie or Andi might be a distant relative, but I’m not sure,” Mark said. “They’re damn fine hunters. Al always stood up for them if anyone got snarky, either about women hunting or them being a couple. Like I said, he was a good guy.”
“Is the rougarou still out there?” Travis asked.
Brent understood the concern. Like lions or other normal predators, a carnivore that attacked a human lost its right to protection and was likely to kill again.
“No. The night we found Al, Bob called for a dragnet. We all went out moving in a grid. Got the son of a bitch. Nasty piece of work,” Mark replied, and Brent thought he saw a flicker of grief in his eyes from his own loss to a similar monster.
“Good,” Travis said quietly. Most of the time, hunters worked alone or with a partner, reserving such large, coordinated team efforts for particularly dangerous targets.
Brent sat back on the couch and sipped his cola. “If Al got killed by a rougarou, what makes you think someone is targetingthe hunters? It’s too bad he died, but it sounds like a normal hunt gone wrong. What’s different?”
“We haven’t had a rougarou in these parts for more than a decade,” Mark said. “So where did one suddenly come from?”
Travis leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “You think someone is herding or transporting monsters to up the stakes?”
Mark rolled his eyes. “I don’t think they’re being loaded into trailers and hauled here. But with the right magic, it seems to me they could be drawn to an area. Nudged, lured, whatever you want to call it.”
Brent frowned, thinking. “Seems like a lot of work. Why? What’s the goal?”
“It’s not just here.”
They all turned to look at Father Leo. “Our folks don’t usually go as far north as Erie or too deep into the center of the state, but I’m hearing that they’ve had a spate of particularly vicious monsters and hunter deaths, too. Pretty much our corner of northwestern PA, down as far as your area.”
Travis shifted in his seat, and Brent could guess his friend’s thoughts.That’s a pretty close overlap with the local chapter of Sinistram.
“Got any suspects?” Brent asked. “Pissed off a necromancer or a big coven? Riled up an ancient dark witch?”
“Not to our knowledge,” Father Leo replied. “And that kind of retribution would likely be more personal, maybe take out a particular hunter or team. This…it’s too targeted and frequent to be coincidence, but there’s a short list of who benefits from not having hunters do their job, and I can’t make the pieces fit.”
“We just faced off with CHARON, so I don’t think it’s them. They think they’re better than regular hunters, but they aren’t usually on the monster’s side,” Brent mused.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but the people and places aren’t usually on Sinistram’s radar,” Travis said. “They usually only concern themselves with situations they consider to be important—according to their criteria. Everything else is beneath them.”
“If they set that aside for…reasons. Could they do it?” Father Leo asked.
Travis’s gaze darted around the room, and Brent knew it was a sure sign he was searching his memories.
“Maybe. I guess so. Magically? I’m not sure what it would take to lure monsters from their regular territories over a distance. Too much sustained effort for one person, I’d think. And why would it matter if the hunters were killed in this area instead of back where the creatures were from originally? Dead is dead,” Travis replied.
“How about a stealth third party?” Brent tossed out. “A wild card. Are there other people or groups who might have juiced up enough to do it? Secret supernatural groups seem to be a dime a dozen.”
Mark sniffed. “You mean guys who are more hunter cosplay than the real thing? They watch some TV, cause problems at cemeteries, banish a couple of ghosts, and retreat to their clubhouse to drink and play poker. We’ve run into a few of them, but they’re more likely to be the next casualties than the masterminds.”
