Skull Moon (25 page)

He couldn't have been more wrong.

On a whim, he stopped by the church.

He didn't like to think that Lauters had killed the reverend. It was the last thing he wanted to believe, but, as Marshal Longtree had pointed out a few days before, the sheriff was entirely out of control. And Reverend Claussen
was
missing.

In the church, much to the doctor's surprise, he found Claussen at the altar, reveling in something. He soon saw what. The altar had been destroyed. It was smeared with excrement and worse things. Everything was destroyed and defiled.

"Good Christ," Perry said. The church smelled like an abbatoir.

Claussen turned. "Do not profane in this house, sir," he said.

Perry was speechless. The reverend's face was bruised and swollen.

"What happened to you, man?" he demanded.

"Baptismal under fire," the reverend laughed.

Perry went to him, but the reverend pulled away. "I don't need your help, sir."

"Tell me who did this."

Claussen grinned. "Oh, I think you know."

Perry sat down on the first step of the altar. Claussen was right, of course: Perry did know.
Lauters.
The sheriff hadn't been lying to Perry the night before when he'd said he hadn't killed the reverend. He hadn't committed murder, he'd merely assaulted the man. Perry had always known Lauters to be a bit heavy-handed and particularly in the past few years--there'd been more than one feisty prisoner he'd had to stitch up and set--but never nothing to this degree. A beating of such magnitude could never be blamed on mere self-defense except in a lunatic's brain--this was a crime and the man who had committed it, a criminal.

"When did this happen?" the doctor inquired. "Did he do this, too?" He indicated the altar, the jackstraw tumble of pews, the shredded tapestries, the ravaged statues.

"Hardly."

"When?"

"In the dim past."

The doctor took a deep, pained breath. "You'll have to press charges, of course."

"Nonsense."

Perry just stared at him. He wanted nothing more than an injection right now; nothing else could hope to sort this mess out.

"Lauters will face punishment, yes, but not by the law," Claussen said with abnormal calm, "but by His hand."

"God?" Perry said without knowing he had.

Claussen smiled again: It was awful, like a cadaver's grin.
"God?
Yes, perhaps, but not the one you mean, not the one I've thrown my life away on."

Perry stroked his mustache. "Easy, Reverend." He had a nasty feeling Claussen had lost his mind. "I'd like you to come back to my home with me," he said, picking his words carefully. "You've been through a shock, you need rest. I can see that you get it. I'll have Deputy Bowes and Marshal Longtree come by."

"For what possible purpose?"

"To arrest the man who did this."

Claussen laughed softly. "I don't need them, Doctor. None of us do. You see, there's only one law now--
his
law."

"Who are you speaking of?"

"You know, you know very well. You borrowed my books--"

"I didn't read them," Perry lied. "There hasn't been time."

"Much to your disadvantage, then, I would think." Claussen went back to the wreckage of the altar. "When
he
takes command, when
he
assumes his throne, he'll need educated men like you and I to help him sort out affairs. But you must read the books, you must know of
his
past..."

Perry just looked at him.

Claussen grinned. "You see, Doctor, he is a king. He ruled this land once. When our relations came from Europe, they brought European gods with them. This was a mistake. They know nothing of this land, its history, its needs, its course."

"Yes, well--"

"The Indians know they weren't the first race here, that there were older races." Claussen smiled at the idea. "So wise, those people...and we call them savages." He shook is head. "No matter. The old race were called the Lords of the High Wood. When the Indians first migrated into this land countless thousands of years ago, the Lords were still here. Not many still survived, but some. Enough, I would say."

"What does this have to do with anything?" Perry wanted to know.

"I'm instructing you, Doctor, on the new religion which is actually quite old. These are things you'd do well to remember." Claussen touched a finger to his chin. "Now, at present, our lawmen are hunting a beast, a creature that is slaughtering people. But this creature is not new, in fact it is very old. It is a direct descendent of these Lords, the Kings of the Hunt. You see, in ancient times, the Indians worshipped these creatures. They were gods. They made sacrifice to them, offered them virgins to breed with. Eventually the Lords died out--oh, due perhaps to changes in climate, destruction of their habitats--but a few survived."

"You're insane," Perry told him.

"On the contrary, I'm probably the only sane person left," Claussen said, stabbing a finger at the doctor. "I told you once of the Skull Society. Do you remember? Well, this Skull Society is an ancient cult. At one time they were priests of the order that selected sacrifice to the Lords. They were the law-makers, holy men of a cult of barbarity."

Perry sighed. "Are you trying to tell me one of these...
things
still exists?"

Claussen massaged his temples wearily. "Yes, exactly. Most of these Lords, these gods of old died out long ago, but a few survived into modern times. Certain tribes believe until quite recently."

"Stop it, Reverend. You--"

Claussen silenced him with a look, lost in his new religion. "Do you know what are meant by the 'dog days,' Doctor?"

Perry nodded. The dog days referred to the pre-horse period of the tribes when all activities were accomplished with canine assistance: camp moving, hunting, etc.

"Many of the tribes, our own Blackfeet included, believe a few of these Lords survived into the dog days--which, would mean within the last four or five-hundred years or so."

Perry's back was aching fiercely now. Claussen explained all this with such cold, compelling logic, it was hard not to believe him. But it was fantasy. Had to be. Perry was something of a naturalist himself and he didn't doubt for a moment that the earth had been populated at various times by bizarre animalistic peoples and nameless beasts. But they were all extinct now. To accept, even for a moment, that some primordial horror had survived...

"Nonsense," Perry maintained.

"Is it?"

"Of course. Even if there were such creatures, they are long gone."

"Not at all, Doctor," Claussen said as if he were addressing a child. "One has survived."

Perry just stared at him. It was insanity; there could be no shred of underlying truth in this.

"Read the books, Doctor. It's all there. What we know comes from legend, tribal memory, but legend is the only glimpse we have of those ancient times and ways."

"You need rest," Perry said weakly.

"The Blackfeet call him Skullhead."

"Why?"

"Because his head is like a huge skull. The Skullheads, you see, wear their skeletons on the outsides of their bodies like insects. Throwbacks to prehistory, Doctor. Lords of the High Wood. Beings whose savage appetites can never be satisfied." Claussen grinned ghoulishly.

It was all madness; Perry did not want to hear it. Claussen had kept his left hand stuffed inside his coat the entire time. Perry had not wanted to ask why. But now he did.

"That doesn't concern you. When the time comes..."

Perry stood up and began walking to the door, silently.

"He's here to feed on us," Claussen gloated. "To destroy all we've built, to take back his lands. And to breed. Blood is his wine...give unto him..."

Perry said, "The church has been wrecked. Claussen is out of his mind."

Longtree heard him out and did not like any of it. Lauters had assaulted the man and he had now gone quietly--or not so quietly--out of his mind. That much was true. Lauters needed to be put under arrest.

Perry just shook his head. "He's raving, Marshal. He believes this creature is some sort of god and he is its priest."

"Did he call it by name?"

"Yes." Perry swallowed. "Lord of the High Wood. Skullhead."

Longtree paled. "Maybe he's not as crazy as you think."

Perry just stared at him. "What do you mean by that?"

So Longtree told him everything he knew. Told him in detail even though he didn't really have the time to do much explaining. But it was important that the doctor know.

"Like some sort of ogre," was all Perry said. "A monster from a story book."

"Yes," Longtree admitted. "But far worse."

An hour later, the carnage at Sheriff Lauters' farm was discovered. And as the fates would have it, Lauters discovered it himself. He was sober when he rode out to the farm, his hurt arm bandaged and aching. He knew something was wrong when he'd rounded the little hill that overlooked his spread.

I had a funny feeling,
he said later,
a tickle at the back of my neck...

He'd paused up there on the hill. What he saw was a cold, unnatural stillness enveloping the grounds. The boys weren't out tending to things. No chickens squawked, no pigs squealed, no horses whinnied. No trail of smoke issued from the chimney.

What he found was slaughter. His family murdered.

Longtree could pretty much put together the rest. Lauters had rode into town and informed everyone, before collapsing with hysteria. He was now at Dr. Perry's, sedated. Perry said he'd sleep until evening.

Longtree toured the crime scene, his stomach in his throat. The remains of Lauters' eldest son, Chauncey, were discovered in the barn, mixed in with those of several pigs, two horses, and a blizzard of feathers from the chickens. In the house, a body ripped like a bag of meat and cast about was thought to be what was left of Lauters' wife, Abigail. Upstairs, were the headless corpse of Abigail's cousin Virginia Krebs and a collection of pitted bones thought to belong to Jimmy Lauters. The youngest boy, Jo Jo, was nowhere to be found. The window to the children's room was broken outward, so it was thought the fiend leapt out with the three-year old in tow. Bloody, inhuman footprints nearly covered by snow wound out into the distance.

Alden Bowes was, for all purposes, the sheriff of Wolf Creek now. He knew Lauters' family well and none of it was easy for him. But he had a job to do and do it he would.

"I can't believe this," Bowes kept saying. "What kind of animal does something like this?"

"No animal," Longtree said.

Bowes narrowed his eyes. "These people had nothing to do with that lynching, Marshal. I think...
this
puts your little theory to bed."

Longtree frowned. "Not at all, Deputy. It couldn't find him, so it went for his family."

Bowes paled and walked off, joining Spence and Perry as they examined the atrocities in the barn. Longtree didn't blame the man for how he felt; the other victims were bad enough, but this...this was
obscene.
No other word could be applied here. Women and children. Longtree had seen plenty of killing in his time. Enough to turn most men sick with the awful potential of their fellow man. But never had he experienced the aftermath of such gruesome savagery before.

Longtree joined the others in the barn.

Perry was examining a human femur stripped of flesh. There were huge indentations in it. "Teeth marks," he said in disgust. "This thing must be incredibly powerful. I've seen the leftovers from a grizzly's meal...but never anything like this..." He coughed then, fighting against tears.

"It must be insane," Wynona Spence said, "this beast. Even a pack of hungry wolves stop...they fill themselves and let the scavengers have the rest. But this thing...by God, it eats and eats. It kills for pleasure, for the fun of it."

Longtree lit a hand-rolled. "You better get a posse together, Deputy. You get some men and tracking dogs on that thing's trail, you might find it. Trail's still fresh."

Bowes nodded. "You coming?"

"I'll join you later. Something I have to follow up first."

Bowes got on his horse and rode off.

Longtree pulled Perry aside. "I hate to add insult to injury, Doc, but when this is wound up, I may have to arrest the sheriff."

Perry didn't look surprised. "Why?"

Longtree told him about the masked gunman. "I figure you dug a bullet out of Lauters' arm last night, did you not?"

Perry nodded grimly. "Just wait until this is over, son. Do that for me. I suspect the sheriff is guilty of a great many crimes around here." He looked back at the litter of bodies. "God help him," he sobbed. "Oh, Jesus, Marshal, the children..."

Longtree watched him walk away stiffly, wondering just what the doctor knew and what he didn't know. And feeling for him, this entire town, a great compassion.

Skullhead, the last of the Lords of the High Wood, was far away from Wolf Creek by the time the posse was organized and dispatched. He was watching the Blackfeet camp in the hills, his stomach growling. He'd slept off last night's feast in a shelf of rock a half mile from town. He woke just after dawn, realizing he'd fallen asleep, bloated and gassy, while in the process of eating the child. The boy's innards were strung around him like a threadbare blanket. They were quite frozen and unpalatable.

He left the remains for scavengers.

After his long walk up into the hills, he was famished. He still had one more of the white men to kill, but no law stated that he couldn't take his sacrifice before they were all dead.

He approached the camp carefully, being silent as possible. Once the dogs started barking, he'd have to kill them. Too bad there wasn't some way he could simply slip in there and twist their necks without being noticed. But that was impossible. No longer able to contain his lusts, he moved into the camp.

The dogs began to bark.