The Seer and The Skull

By Kimberly Davidson

When there has been a great crime committed, one may pray to God for strength and guidance. Others may pray for revenge… Thus the wrath of God is called upon. The cursed one will make herself known and enjoy the punishment she was summoned to inflict. Hated and almost murdered by her mother as a child, Isabeau’s father rescued her and made her into a fierce warrior. A native to Scotland, Isabeau lost her only child. She believed a wolf had killed her son. Enraged with hate, she went forth and slayed every wolf she came across. One night on the hunt, she killed what she thought was a wolf. What she didn’t realize was she murdered a lycanthrope cub. The mother of the cub hunted Isabeau all throughout the land. When the two finally met, the lycanthrope cursed Isabeau by turning her into the very thing she killed. When cursed and turned into a lycanthrope, Isabeau became tied to the church for the rest of her life. Now Isabeau has been summoned once again. However this time, it is the church that needs her help. An unknown pair within the church has set out to steal the red skull. A crystal skull that holds all that is dark and evil in the world. With the help of a few comrades, Isabeau must set out on a deadly path to seek a seer to locate and hide away the red skull. Only a seer can possess the power in which to harness the skull’s dark forces. With the power the red skull possesses, Isabeau’s trust in those around her will be tested. Can Isabeau gain the respect of the lycanthrope council and be accepted by those who cursed and despise her? Will she break her curse and be rid of the life she had lived for centuries? Follow Isabeau on her journey to save all mankind with The Seer and The Skull.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781640271869

Book preview

Dedication

I would like to thank my husband,

author Paul L. Thompson and Erica for their help and support.

CHAPTER ONE

Red Baker stood behind his bar, as he had done for the last thirty years cleaning the same bar glass or so it seemed.

He looked up from his menial task to see the walls full of the normal bar paraphernalia, neon beer signs, and mirrors with Pabst Blue Ribbon, Miller, Heineken, and so on.

Red inhaled deeply, closing his eyes, he stopped. His past echoed thru his head. He remembered all the good times that were had in this small bar. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see Brad, sitting in the front booth.

He was sitting sideways in the booth with his leg up, reading a book and nursing a tepid beer.

Red looked all the way to the back, to the dimly lit pool table. He remembered how his wife had hated that pool table.

She thought it was too much, too big for a small bar like Red’s. He had to take the back booths out just to make room for that table. His wife thought it would break them. Now, that musty green table was the only thing bringing anyone in.

He smiled, images filled his mind, all the people smiling and laughing, the numerous parties or simply to celebrate that it’s Friday night. How blessed I have been. A tear came to the corner of his right eye.

Shouting from the back quickly snapped him from his memories. He wiped the tear away with the cuff of his sleeve and looked to the back. There were two men at the pool table arguing. It was so loud it echoed throughout the bar. Red yelled to the back, What in the hell are you two doing back there?

Ralph Belemy was the first to respond to Red’s hollering. If you looked up old coot in the dictionary, Ralph’s mug would be the example. He was somewhere around sixty years old and only shaved once in a great while. He always had horrible hard stubble, and he bore a scar on his left cheek, which he had gotten from a boy trying to do a man’s job. That is the way he would tell it. You couldn’t tell if he had hair because he never took his cap off. He smelled of b. o. and oil. In spite of his poor hygiene, everyone thanked the good Lord he’d come to the harbor. Ralph could take any engine apart and put it back together blindfolded. He alone kept the harbor moving.

Ralph bellowed back at Red, Joe is a goddamn cheater!

Joe Cary responded with an astonished look, How the hell do you cheat at pool, you old fool?!

Joe wasn’t much cleaner than Ralph, although he did have a wife to contend with. If you examined him closely, you could tell he’d been a good-looking man at one time.

Joe’s story was the oldest story out there. He got his prom date pregnant, and that was the end of his after high school plans. He always wore his bright orange and gray overalls. He was a fisherman by trade, and at the end of the day, taking them off was a chore. The problem was, the overalls carried the faint smell of rotting fish.

Ralph bellowed at Joe, You shot when I was drinking my beer! Holding his cue in one hand, Joe shot back, Are you deaf?

Ralph answered contemptuously, Hell no, I’m not deaf.

Joe countered, If you weren’t deaf, you’d of heard me shoot, you old fool.

Ralph stood at the end of the pool table leaning on his cue, he grunted, Just play the damn game.

Ralph leaned in for a shot and under his breath said, And no more damn cheating.

Red laughed at the friendly banter. He shook his head thinking they were the two best customers and friends he ever had.

He yelled, Anyone needin’ another round?

In unison, they responded, We’re good, thanks. The two men turned back, intent on their game.

Red turned his attention to the only other person in the bar.

His name was Brad Brill. He and his parents moved to the village about eighteen years back. He was thirty-five to forty years old, Red guessed. His black hair had small flecks of gray. He was tall and of average weight. Brad always wore a tweed jacket, the kind with leather patches on the elbows. They called him professor because of his jacket.

Red always thought, He’s a good-looking kid. He must be very shy. If he wasn’t shy, why didn’t he have a girl with him, or one waiting for him at home? Maybe it was the way things happened to his folks.

Brad’s family moved to the village from Spokane. His parents cashed their pensions in and bought the old campgrounds on the edge of town. The campground had a few small cabins and some graveled slots to put up tents. His parents had worked hard and really fixed up the place. The village even started having its Fourth of July celebrations there. About ten or so years later, his mother suddenly got sick and passed, sadly his father went two months later.

Red felt it was such a shame. They’d been good people.

Everyone thought the boy would sell out and move to the city, but Brad stayed and kept the property. He didn’t keep the place up like his folks did. Now it was run down and spooky. All the trees were overgrown, the cabins were in disrepair and most of the grass died. The whole area was covered in weeds.

The first summer after his parents died, a dozen or so campers showed up. Some folks had started saying Brad was standoffish and didn’t seem to want them there. Gradually, each year after, less and less people came. Then after a few years, no one reserved a cabin or a tent slot. Brad didn’t seem to care, the forest slowly but surely reclaimed the grounds.

If it hadn’t been for the money he’d gotten when his folks died, he would have gone bankrupt or been forced to sell a long time ago.

Red mused, How strange, both his parents appeared to be hardy stock yet suddenly, they were both gone.

The townsfolk figured he stayed because it was too hard to let it go. He was their only child, and he’d never lived away from them.

A couple years back, he started coming into the bar three or four nights a week. He would sit in a booth, read a book and sip his beer.

Red saw the title to one of the books, How to Tan Hides, another time it was Practical Taxidermy. Brad never went hunting or fishing, not that Red knew of. He thought that was odd, but that was Brad, just plain weird. Everyone in the village thought he was strange but harmless.

That is except for Phyllis, Red’s wife. She hated Brad and was forever telling Red that, He’s just not right, I don’t trust him. Red did not have it in him to hate anyone. He figured the kid was just lonely. He never seemed to bother anyone.

Red looked at the clock, almost eleven, time to start closing. He began his nightly ritual when a horrendous bang echoed through the bar. The front door had blown open, and the doorway was empty. The noise startled Red badly. He was shaking. He hurried around the bar to close the door. By the time he got to the end of the bar, there was a girl standing in the frame.

She was tall at least 5’8". She looked thin, maybe 110 pounds, if she was soaking wet. Her short blonde hair looked as if she’d just gotten out of bed. Her skin was porcelain white.

Red was surprised at how white her skin was. Her lips were full and red as a ripe Washington apple. Her eyes were an emerald green.

She looked lost or maybe she knew where she was, a nowhere, nothing town. She wore a jean jacket with a black dress shirt that buttoned in front. She had on plain faded jeans and wore no jewelry that Red could see.

He looked down. Her sneakers were soaked. Well, hello, young lady! Red said in a startled voice. As he walked back behind the bar, he inquired, Where did you come from?

Before she could answer, Boy, do you look like you need a drink.

The girl looked right at him. She slowly turned and shut the door. Turning back, she scanned around the bar, her eyes stopped on Red.

He put a big smile on his face. Come on now, have a seat.

The girl walked over to the bar and sat on the stool right in front of Red. She studied the wall behind the bar. In the middle of the bar clutter, she saw a mirror with three pictures there were lit candles in front of them. One picture was a woman in her fifties, maybe older. The other two pictures were of a girl. The girl as a small child, the other as a young woman, maybe fourteen or fifteen.

Red looked at the skinny blonde for a few moments. Well, what can I get ya? She looked up. Do you have something hot?

He smiled. I’m sorry, honey, the only thing I’d have hot is if I put a beer in that microwave thing.

She smiled and said, Well, how about a whiskey, the cheapest please.

You got it, little lady. He turned to fill a glass and chose the good stuff. She looked as though she could use a good belt. He filled the glass half full, turned and put it down in front of her. She asked, How much?

Red grinned. Well, as you can see, it’s a busy night, don’t worry, it’s on the house.

She smiled sweetly. Please, Mister, I can’t let you do that.

Red stared at the girl for a long time. He snapped out of it and said, No, no, please. Then in a soft sad voice, You remind me of my daughter. Red pointed to the photos behind the bar.

The girl asked, How old is she? She could tell the question saddened him more.

His mind went away again for a few seconds. The girl leaned over the bar saying, Sorry… I didn’t mean to pry.

He looked at her with pure sorrow in his eyes. No, that’s okay. You see... Well. He paused again and finally said, My daughter.

You could feel the tension coming from the two men in the back. They had stopped shooting pool, just listening. They had seen the girl come in and heard everything that was said between Red and the girl. They knew Red had a sad story to tell.

Red’s eyes started to well up. My daughter... She fell from the cliff and died.

‘‘Oh, I’m so sorry." The girl frowned sympathetically.

There were parts of this story Red would never tell. The part that his wife never believed she fell by accident. Red’s wife thought she was pushed from the cliff to cover up her kidnapping and murder.

In the last ten or so years, five young girls had just disappeared. Wendy (Red’s daughter) was the fifth.

The parents of those missing girls had to admit their kids had hated living in Oak Harbor. Just like every kid who lives in a small town, they all talked of leaving as soon as they got of age. Some of the girls even had boyfriends from bigger towns.

The police had no hard evidence of foul play. They and everyone else just thought it was the same old story, bored girl runs away for bigger and better things. In a fishing town like the harbor, it seemed to happen all too often. It just wasn’t a girl’s dream to be a small business owner or a fisherman’s wife. Nowadays, girls wanted to be movie stars, singers or both. People thought they would hear from their girls when they were needed or in other words when something very bad happened.

Not Red’s wife, she was sure this was no accident. It might have been because Phyllis had trouble getting pregnant, and Wendy was their miracle. Everyone else had at least three kids. Phyllis knew her girl, knew her baby, and no way would her only child not come home. The only way that could have happened is if she was not able.

When Wendy disappeared, Phyllis looked everywhere. For weeks finding their daughter was all she could think of, it consumed her life.

She knocked on doors and sent out fliers. She would call the police station three or more times a day. Phyllis wanted every inch of the town searched. She did not sleep for two weeks. She seldom ate and only stopped crying long enough to ask if anyone had seen her Wendy.

The body of a young girl was found at the bottom of Deception Pass.

It had been badly beaten by the waves hitting the rocks. It was so bad. Every bone was broken. The crabs had gotten to it. The coroner said it had been there for more than a week.

When word got out an unidentified body had been found, Phyllis knew it was their precious Wendy. She also knew it was murder, and no one could talk her out of the idea.

The coroner could not determine how she died, so it was put on the death certificate she had fallen to her death. The townspeople just accepted the report, not Phyllis, in her heart, she knew better.

Her girl had the island in her soul, just like her mother. Wendy was born and raised on the island. She played as a small child all along those cliffs. Phyllis knew this was no accident. But with no proof of foul play, there would be no investigation.

Phyllis spent the next year in church. She would be there day and night praying for revenge. Praying the monster who killed her only child would find the wrath of God, or better yet, the wrath of God finds him.

On the one year anniversary of finding Wendy’s body, Phyllis went into her only child’s room and took enough pills to kill three people.

After her death, a black cloud formed over the harbor, like an impending storm that never dissipated.

Because Phyllis had insisted foul play, people started to look for their kids, but not one girl could be found. One family hired a private investigator who couldn’t even establish a trail. They had all just disappeared.

Red looked up from the counter and saw the girl was talking to him, so he started to pay attention. He thought to himself, Stop thinking about things that can’t be changed and came back to the present.

I’m sorry, what did you say? Red said, shaking off the thoughts in his head. The girl looked at him. I said, is there a bigger road than the one I just came off of? I didn’t see one car on that road. It was a long walk.

You’re not hitching, are ya? Red asked with a frown.

Before she could answer, Ralph and Joe came from the back. So what’s the damage tonight? Joe asked. Red handed them the bar tab. They started their nightly ritual of fighting over who had three beers and who had the other four.

The girl put her hand on Reds. He turned and looked her in the eye. With a comforting smile, she said, Thank you. I have to get going.

It surprised Red at how warm her hand was. She looked as if she was freezing.

The two from the back were still bickering back and forth in front of him. Red was in a rush. He closed his eyes, put his pinky fingers in the edges of his mouth and whistled so loud he startled them silent. When he opened his eyes and looked at the two men in front of him like they were his children. Now that he had their attention back, he said, All right you two, Ralph, you had four, and Joe had three.

Joe gave Ralph an I told you so huff and got his wallet out.

Red wanted to give the girl a ride, he had the time. He looked up and saw the door closing. She was gone.

Damn it you two! That girl is out there alone.

Ralph looked at the door then back at the top of the bar and asked Red, So I see she’s not going to drink her drink, can I have it?

Red looked down at the glass. She hadn’t even taken a sip. He looked up toward the door again and started scratching his head.

Brad broke into the conversation. He looked over at Red and said with a very large smile, I’ll give her a ride.

Are you sure? Red asked.

Brad scooted out of the booth gathering his thing together and walked over to the bar. He pulled a ten-dollar bill out of his pocket, slapped it on the bar and said, It will be no problem. Then with a weird glistening in his eyes said, I would love to help that girl.

Red thanked him, as he got Ralph and Joe their change from the register. He started to think of how far Brad’s place was from the main road and turned to give him his change. He looked up to see Brad practically running out of the bar. He laughed to himself. Of course a young man like Brad was in heaven, a pretty girl like that needing a ride.

He looked back to his best customers and said, Well, I guess I’d better start closing, and you two need to get home.

CHAPTER TWO

Brad got into his two-door Toyota Corolla and started looking for the old rag he kept for checking his oil. He knew it was there somewhere. He’d just used it the other day. He found it under the passenger seat.

He sat back in the seat and thought to himself how he wished this girl would just go home with him. He knew from experience