Nightingale's Nightmare (Cassadaga Book 4 (20 page)

“
Next thing I know, I slammed the rake at his head and then again. Maybe again. Don’t know…Manure went all over him when he fell. Then I left with the rake...I’m really surprised no one saw me.”

Nightingale was shocked to hear such information as she sat on the ground. This was all so bizarre.

“Would you take the blindfold off of me, Ralph? Please?” Nightingale thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

“Okay, I guess it doesn’t matter anyway.”

Ralph untied the dirty rag from around her head. It felt good to be released. Nightingale blinked a couple times until her eyes adjusted to her surroundings. What she saw appeared to be a small barn with a dirt floor. And then she noticed the skulls.

“Holy shit! Ralph! What’s with all the skulls?”

Nightingale was surrounded by skulls and black candles and it creeped her out.

Ralph didn’t act like he wanted to answer, so he walked between the candles and skulls to another area.

“Ralph, what’s all this?” she demanded.

“It’s for a ceremony.”

“You mean like in Palo Mayombe?”

Ralph fell silent, then spoke.

“You know about such?”

“I’ve been doing research.”

Ralphed eyed Nightingale cautiously.

“Yeah, this is my version.”

“Where did you get so many skulls?”

“I lived out west for a time, collected them. Then a friend had some he wanted to unload
, a practicing Palo Mayombe. So I took them. I have a good collection, you might remember.”

“Yes, I remember hearing about your skulls, but I had no idea you had so many. So many…
skulls.”

Nightingale’s eyes skimmed around the circle, registering that she was in a very bad situation.

It looked like she was
about to be sacrificed.

Thirty

Bill sat in front of Nightingale’s computer, scanning the last sites she had visited. He located several where he concluded she must have been doing research on religions using ceremonial acts, especially that of Palo Mayombe. How that could have gotten her abducted, he didn’t understand, but it certainly gave him room to think in other directions beyond dissatisfied clients. Skulls were used, he read, which made him think about all those skulls they had found around the bookstore. This was growing more bizarre by the minute.

Someone knock
ed at Nightingale’s door as he closed one site, so Bill rose to answer the knock. It was Helen.

“Hello, Helen. How are you today?”

“I’m just fine, Bill. Where’s Nightingale?”

“I guess you haven’t heard, but she’s missing.”

“My stars! That’s just dreadful!”

“I’m looking at her computer for any clues as to where she might be or what happened.”

“Mercy me!” Helen looked quite upset as she stood in the doorway, holding a paper bag. “I was going to ask her to walk with me to Ralph’s place. I’m not too steady on my feet lately. I have another skull for Ralph.”

Helen held the paper bag up in front of Bill.

“May I see the skull, Helen?”

“Certainly. It’s a bit damaged, but the fella at the flea market assured me it was the genuine article. A real skull.”

“That’s right  Ralph collect skulls. I’d forgotten.”

“He sure does. I saw them on the shelves. He has quite the collection.”

“Really? Do you know why he collects skulls, Helen?”

“Not really. I guess he just likes them.”

“Yes, that would make sense, wouldn’t it?”
Bill paused as he looked at the elder lady for a moment. “Do you know where Ralph is, Helen?”

“
He’s probably doing some gardening. He usually does some planting of seedlings and such out of the sun  during the hottest time of the day. Otherwise, you’d probably find him in his yard or working at someone’s house.”

“But you
said you were going to drop off this package for him?”

“I thought I’d leave it at his house if he wasn’t around, on the porch. Then I was going to get my mail, if my legs held out.”

Bill smiled at Helen. “Well, I’m sorry Nightingale isn’t here to assist you with your plan.”

“I hope you find her. You will find her?”

“Yes, Helen, I will definitely find her. And very soon.”

“Okay, well, I’ll be going now. You take care, Bill.”

“I will, Helen.”

Bill closed the door. He needed to talk with Ralph.

~~

Poppy and Stephano were walking by Ralph’s house as Bill was exiting from his vehicle.

“Ah, Bill, my friend,” Stephano greeted. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Bill, nice to see you.” Poppy smiled up at Bill, obviously happy to see him. “You should come join us for dinner. You and Nightingale.”

“Poppy, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Nightingale is missing. She’s been gone since early this morning, if not during the night sometime.”

“Oh, my god, what happened?” Poppy was alarmed over the news, covering her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide with fear.

“I don’t know yet. Sheila noticed her front door open and called me. It looks suspicious.”

“Bill, I am so sorry for this news. Please let us know if we can be of any help,” Stephano said, reaching out to shake his hand. “Anything.”

“I’ll do that, thank you.”

Poppy just stared at Bill with her wide eyes
as they left.

Walking up onto the porch, Bill knocked on the
front door. No one answered, so he walked around to the back of the house. He didn’t know what he was looking for, but he sensed something was here.

“You looking for Ralph?”

Bill turned around to see Margarite standing near the alley that ran beside the house.

“Yes, I am.”

“He might be at his barn.”

“What barn?”

“There’s an old dilapidated barn back in the woods there.” Margarite pointed with her finger in the direction she meant. “Been there forever. I’m not sure anyone really owns it. Ralph keeps his gardening stuff in there. His shovels and wheelbarrow and such.”

“Wheelbarrow? Ralph has a wheelbarrow?”

“Yeah, he uses it for all his gardening. I mean, he is ninety-one, you know. He needs it to carry stuff.”

“Of course he would.”

“Then again, he could be working over at Jeanette’s house. She’s been wanting him to clip her hedges.”

“Okay, thank you, Margarite.”

The woman turned to walk away, then turned back again.

“Be careful. The spirits aren’t too friendly right now.
I feel danger around you.”

“Thank you, Margarite. I’ll be careful.”

Bill wondered what she sensed, but didn’t ask. Maybe he didn’t want to know. He walked into the woods, alerting dispatch along the way about his intention.

“I’m not sure anything is here, but I’m walking into the woods on a hunch,” he said into his phone. “There’s supposed to be an old barn back here.
”

Bill tramped through the woods, dodging the tree limbs that hung low.
He steadily progressed around the stumps, downed limbs and rocks in his path. Then he saw the barn.

Margarite had been right; it was a mess. The windows looked like they had been long broken out
and the roof was beyond repair. Holes no doubt allowed the rain to enter regularly. It didn’t afford much protection from the elements.

As he approached the barn, he listened. Hearing nothing unusual, he stepped up to one of the broken out windows. Inside he saw Nightingale sitting on the ground in the center of the building with her back towards him. What alarmed him were the skulls and candles that were placed around her.
He had never seen anything like that in his entire life and the woman he loved was sitting in the middle of the circle. This had all the earmarks of a sadistic ceremony from his limited knowledge of such things.

Bill reached for his phone just as he heard the snap of a twig behind. Turning around with the phone to his ear, he saw Ralph wielding a shovel. The old geezer slammed the shovel into the side of Bill’s head, sending him to the ground in a heap. For good measure, Ralph smacked him again
on the head and gave him a few whacks to the body.

“That’ll do
ya.”

Ralph took the phone from where it had landed on the ground and tossed it into the bushes. He’d deal with the body later. First, he had a ceremony to perform.

Thirty-one

“Would you consider cutting this stuff off of my wrists?” Nightingale felt like her wrists were being sliced. The gardening twine was eating into her flesh. Blood was visible on her ankles and wrists. “I still won’t be able to run, but it would be more comfortable if you could do that.”

Ralph gave her the fish eye.

“Really? You think I’m going to cut you loose?”

Ralph went about the business of lighting the black candles. One by one, he ignited probably thirty candles. Every time he lit one candle, she felt her stomach jump and the lump in her throat gr
ow larger. It seemed to take an eternity to accomplish the task.

“Ralph, please, why not let me…”

“Shut up. I’m tired of your whining.”

He rummaged around
through a drawer in his red metal tool chest and drew out a roll of electrical tape. Pulling a length of tape from the roll, he cut it with a pair of scissors, then slapped the tape over Nightingale’s mouth. Ralph nodded his satisfaction.

“That’ll keep your trap shut.”

Through wide eyes, Nightingale watched Ralph as he started chanting some foreign invocation. He waved around something in a clay pot that smelled a little like sage. From what she knew of ceremonies, which wasn’t much, Nightingale didn’t think he was doing a very good job. Ralph appeared to be an amateur. But amateur or not, he was capable of doing harm.

Ralph began bringing select skulls closer, placing them at her feet, knees and hips. A circle within a circle. Next, he relocated some of the black candles, singing something in a language she didn’t understand
. Ralph replaced the candles an inch from her body and legs.

As the candles were inserted into the sand, Nightingale looked pleadingly at Ralph, making indistinguishable noise
s of protest under the tape. Ignoring her pleading eyes and silly noises, he began to dance as best he could for his age. Around and around he spun, feeling proud of himself.

Tears formed in Nightingale’s eyes and traced down her cheeks with no particular destination. Ralph took one last leap into the air and fell to the ground
, right at Nightingale’s feet. His eyes were glazed and open as he lay on the ground, half on his side. One arm was outstretched with a candle in his hand, its flame just touching the hem of Nightingale’s robe.

The hem began to smoke and turn black, then the flame ate at the cloth in its higher pursuit. Nightingale looked panic stricken at Ralph. She shouted his name, but he didn’t hear
the sounds with her mouth taped shut. He couldn’t hear anyway. Ralph was dead, she suspected. He would never hear again. No one could hear her cries for help.

Nightingale watched the flame climb higher, growing closer to her body. She was going to burn to death
if she didn’t do something. Then a thought came to her:
Where was Bill?
Why hadn’t he found her? Surely, he knew she was missing by this time.

Trying to bounce her legs to smother the small flame
before it grew into something much larger, she felt the bite of the fire and slicing of the garden wire into her ankles. Wincing in pain, she managed to stop the fire from spreading.

Nightingale nudged her hips to the side, pushing the candles next to her over into the sand. She repeated this action on the other side.

Now what should she do? How could she escape from here?

Movement caught her eye. It was then she noticed that fire from one of the candles had ignited the
rotting wooden building. Flames were licking upwards and out. Orange knives of destruction had begun to climb and would surely feast on the old wood of the barn. Nightingale had to get out before the barn collapsed or the fire toasted her in its hunger.

But Nightingale was bound handily by the garden
wire. And her mouth was taped shut. Where was her Bill? Why hadn’t he found her?

~~

Margarite was walking back from the post office. Along the way she’d stopped into the Hotel to chat with Lollie. By the time she was passing Ralph’s house for the second time, an hour had passed. She noticed the obvious white police vehicle still parked out front. Immediately, Margarite sensed something was seriously wrong.

Pulling out her cel
l phone from the pocket of her jeans, she spoke calmly to the dispatch operator who answered her 911 call.

“The car’s still here and Bill isn’t anywhere that I can see. He was going back to the old barn in the woods. I think something’s happened to him.”