The Twins of Noremway Parish by Eric R. Johnston Read Free Book Online

of wheels on the uneven dirt–and the faint howls of wolves that seemed to be growing louder with each passing minute. The wolves , Decon thought, that are in the process of ingesting their latest meal. But then his mind wandered to the lovely parochial vicar with the head of flowing red hair…and those piercing red eyes; one of a kind, a unique portrait of beauty. With the thought of the beautiful Teret Finley, nothing else seemed to matter; not the wolves, not the Watermans; not the continued itch at the back of his mind of something that had been forgotten.
    “ Sister Teret,” he said under his breath, betraying the secrets of his thoughts to his passenger.
    “ Aye. She’s a beautiful woman,” Plague said, acknowledging the Friar’s tone. “Great teacher too, according to Nora. She comes home from school every day talking about ancient cultures and astronomy—which happens to be her favorite, you know…and Teret seems to know a lot about it.”
    “ That she does.”
    “ Aye, I hear you. You’re so supportive of Sister Teret. Good to see you defend her against Rita Morgan. At least someone around here stands up to her. Sister Teret’s incredible.”
    “ Nora is open to new ideas. Easy to build a relationship around that,” Decon said. He didn’t respond to the comment about Rita because, simply, he couldn’t say anything about it that hadn’t been said before.
    “ She wants to study the stars. That’s all she ever talks about.”
    “ Good for her–encourage that. It’s rare in a child so young to have a passion like that.” He gave the darkening sky a cursory glance, briefly noting the sun had made its final farewell as they spoke.
    They knew they were getting close to the house when the wolves’ howls grew louder. When they pulled onto the Waterman land, he stopped the carriage in front of the house. “You got your knife, Bart?” he asked, pulling a long blade from his cloak.
    “ Always, Decon; can never be too safe with these wolves about.” As if to make his point several wolves howled out in the field. “Methinks the wolves out there are still feasting on their prize.”
    “ Agreed, mate–the Watermans, no doubt.” Somehow, he knew this to be the case with absolute certainty, but he didn’t know why.
    He pulled two lanterns from the back of the carriage, lit one and handed it to Plague. Then he lit the other. “Alright, come on. Hope for best, but it sounds like we should expect the worst.” They crouch-ran into the field, ducking low under the cover of the tall grass, completely ignoring the house as if unseen. The smell of blood was strong, but he didn’t have the keen sense of a wolf to track it. No matter: his ears would lead them right to the wolves as they continued their incessant howls. “Sounds like we’re going to be coming up on them soon. Be ready.” They continued stalking into the field.
    Suddenly Decon’s foot came down into a slippery mess. Looking down at what he had stepped in he saw chunks of bloody sinew and flesh. The metallic scent of blood was strong, and on closer examination there looked to be a finger lying within the gore. He fished it out with the toe of his boot. A ring gleamed in the moon light, a ring that Lynn Waterman often wore. “Bart, I think our worst fears are true.” He motioned the doctor to take a look. “Lynn’s ring; sages be petrified!”
    Plague gave him a strange look. “Was that supposed to be a curse?”
    “ What? I don’t usually say things like that.”
    “ Aye, but leave the cursing to me, alright? You don’t seem to have a knack for it.”
    A trail of blood led further into the field. The low howl of the wolves grew louder, more frequent, and a bit agitated, as if they knew they had company. They likely did. The human scent—sweat from the heat of the night—was very potent.
    The howls became more frequent as the number of wolves increased. Plague and Decon stood together, lanterns raised and knives ready, as wolves