America - St. Louis MO 1864 March

Erik Cullen sat in a dimly lit saloon in St. Louis. He had just washed down a glass of what he thought was whiskey. In this saloon, he was happy that it was not poison. He scratched the black stubble on his face and rubbed his eyes. For the past few years, he had been out in the great High Lonesome living as a trapper. This was his third year out in this unforgiving land. He was flush with cash, after delivering the last bit of pelts to the fur trading company. His trip to America had been one by choice. He was very eager to leave Edinburgh once his education was complete. Leaving was not hard at all. His family farm had many hands to look after it. He had many siblings to take care of his aging parents. His absence would be fleeting. He thought back to how many years ago he left home. It shook him for a moment, he honestly could not remember. That sort of information was trivial now. He enjoyed what he did for a living. Trapping these last three years, living as what these Americans called “Mountain Men”, was rather fun he thought. He had learned long ago to cut ties with his past. He knew even if he decided to go back home he would be nothing but a rumored name. Too much time had passed since he had been home.

He had come into town to get his usual mail from the postal master. He also needed supplies to take back with him into his village. He became friendly with the Shawnee chief and they had let him stay. The tribe adopted him as one of their own sons. He would bring back candy and trinkets for the children on his pack mule. He smuggled guns and ammo for the braves. Erik knew how hard it was for them to get any weapons into camp. He did this for them, right under the Army's nose. The tribe was rather peaceful and though they preferred not to use the white man's iron, he did not want them to be taken advantage of. He did what he could to make sure they could protect themselves.

He would also bring back something special for the chief’s daughter, Running Brook. She had adult children from another marriage, but her previous husband was killed off in a prior raid on their village. Erik’s lifestyle was a very adventurous one, since he had come to the Americas. He was very grateful for his journey and felt blessed for the wonders his eyes had seen. Looking on this rugged untamed land made him realize how small and insignificant man really was. He said his farewells to the local barkeep, then made his way to the livery. The street was caked with mud and horse apples as usual he thought to himself.

“How was your haul this year? You brought in some mighty fine pelts?” The livery man said to Erik.

“I catch what I need too. Buy what I need and I don’t over trap the area, that’s my secret.” Erik winked.

“The postmaster has actually been looking for you. He says its urgent.” The livery man began to get both the pack mule and Erik’s horse from the stables. Erik began to turn a little pale. It had been a very long time since he received anything that was a pressing matter. He had someone come find him a while ago. It was to let him know of Robert Joseph Lowery's passing and that eventually they were going to have to make arrangements for the next steps. He swallowed hard.

“I am headed there now. Thank you, sir.” Erik pressed the coins into the livery man’s hand then hastily made his way to the post masters office. He figured his business in town was complete, his supplies were loaded up on the pack mule for another season of trapping. He had gone to the saloon to quench the trail dust out of his mouth. Alcohol of any kind was banned inside the camp, fire whiskey made his brothers go mad. The Chief had prohibited any of his tribe to partake in the drink. Erik respected his Elders wishes and never brought any inside the camp. Hearing the news of something urgent from the post master was very unusual. He just wanted to get back to camp. Erik tied his horse and pack mule to the post outside the office. He hesitated for a moment before he walked up the worn, wooden steps of the post masters building. He knew no matter how long he stood there he was going to have to face what was coming. Deep down Erik had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what the news was. The steps creaked even though the building was not very old. The door opened with a chime from a bell.

“Ah, Mr. Cullen!” The post master exclaimed.

“Yes. You have a letter for me? The livery man said it was urgent.” Erik again swallowed hard.

“Yes sir! All the way from London too. Not many times I see something like this. Must have taken quite a while to get here as well.” The post master grabbed the letter and handed it to Erik. His heart sunk. He was right. He knew it was coming. He just had no idea when. He gritted his teeth and gave a smile.

“Thank ya kindly sir.” He tipped his hat and walked out the door to where he had tied his pack mule and horse, muttering under his breath the entire way. He slumped over his saddle on his horse.

“Dammit.” He said a bit to loud for people around him to hear. He looked at his horse as if talking to it and let out a great sigh. “I should get this over with.” He opened the letter gingerly and began to read the neat handwriting he had known all to well over the many years.

To Mr. Erik Cullen

I do hope this letter finds you well and in good health. Things are still settling down for now, there has been minimal activity here in Britain which we don't know to be promising yet or foreboding. We hope your endeavors in area and among the Shawnee people trapping have been plentiful. We concur that you are deep in your studies about the folklore of the area and tribes. With the great loss of Robert Joseph Lowery, a void of power has taken its place. We have received reports that despite our best efforts seals are trying to be opened. We have enough forces in place we are able to stop the activity. There have been no sightings in Egypt, or India despite the constant upheaval. Africa is being searched heavily, still nothing has come up. Our guess is, it might be in America somewhere.

With a heavy heart, I am going to be sending you Roberts's last living known sire, his grandson Anthony. Joining him will be his college mate, Flynn Martin. He is also from Scotland, I am hopeful the three of you will get along quite sportingly. We are hoping with your connections with the tribes, you are able to pass on what you have learned to the young scholars. Since I am writing this months in advance, I am still uncertain if they will have accepted the responsibility to take on what we are asking. We have been watching both of them closely. The two became friends at St Andrews. I have given Anthony everything Robert left behind. Hopefully it can unlock a bit more for us, to figure out exactly we are dealing with. Going off bits and pieces of stone tablets that are thousands of years old, all these years has been a bit frustrating. Nothing is to be mentioned at all about Azrael, Robert was the only human he trusted. I pray in time he will also grow to trust Anthony, If the boys accept this task, they will be arriving in New York in June or July. Please be ready for them. You know what needs to be done.

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Respectfully

Mr. Burke Esquire

Erik crumpled the piece of parchment, he almost ate it in frustration. He knew that it was part of his job to take the trip to New York. That was not so much of his frustration. He knew once he went to the village to tell Running Brook the news of his departure, she would skin him alive. He bashed his head against the saddle hard enough it made a red mark against his forehead. All he could think about was her skinning him alive, in the buckskins she had made him. Erik gritted his teeth and swallowed hard. He knew her temper. She was actually very vital to his work. She knew many of the other native tongues. Having her around was great company during his stay in the High Lonesome these three years. Her children were grown, and now warriors of the tribe. A crazy idea came into his head. With hopes of his skull not being bashed in by one of her many war clubs, and a fierce lashing of her tongue, it dawned on him she would not only be great company, but a great ally in his journey to New York. A twinge hit his heart deeply. How attached was she to her homeland? He knew the reality of it. Even if he could not freely say what was coming down the line. He would never openly speak of the true intentions the government had in store for the native people. To Erik it was very obvious.

He began to walk down to the general store with the weight of this journey heavily on his mind. If he was going to win her over, he had to do something grand. Running Brook would need some proper items for the trip. Erik had all his suits and items for the eastern world back up in the village. They were in a water tight suitcase wrapped up in deer skins for safe keeping. He just hoped that everything was still safe. He had a second case which the tribe had seen him with very often. He had shared these contents with them to gain their trust. It contained items about the stories of what they called the ‘Ghost walker’ or ‘Bound Ghost Warrior’ and a few other items. It had proven most lucrative, for while the tribe was sometimes friendly with the white men that came through. Rarely did they adopt grown men into the tribe. Running Brook needed to fit into the world, Erik had tried so desperately to forget.

He entered the general store, and the smell of crowed bodies immediately over took him. The smells assaulted him like a punch to the face. The store was packed with women doused in perfume. He could smell hard working men, coming in from a day’s labor to buy supplies for the farm. The worst were vagrants, who did not care to bathe except in the drink. They were known for begging for their coin on the streets, or robbed from the good folk of St. Louis. All walks of life were packed into this store. Erik remembered why he always came early in the morning hours. He hated crowds.

“Mr. Cullen is there something missing from your order?” the general store owner looked very concerned.

“No Bob, relax.” Erik smiled. “I am actually in need of your assistance. If you don’t mind?” The store keeper grinned.

“Of course. What can I help you with?”

“I need some shoes, and ladies’ things.” Erik turned red in the face. Bob burst out laughing.

“We have all that here. I say I think you would look lovely in red, may I be so bold.” He was laughing quite hard.

“Bob, you know darn well it’s not for me,” Erik gritted his teeth.

“Let me go get my wife. I have no idea either, but it’s always good for a laugh. She runs that department and orders fabric for the town women. I don’t bother with such things. Elaine!” He yelled loudly turning his head to the back of the store. A shrill voice came out from the back.

“Bob, I am in the middle of something so unless your dying can’t you handle it?”

“Elaine, I have Mr. Cullen who needs your assistance dear.” Bob chuckled. Elaine came out of the back room with her apron a bit dusty from flour.

“You know this man thinks I must have divine powers to get everything done. I swear!” She huffed. Then she smiled at Mr. Cullen. “Don’t mind me deary. Just lots to do, and never enough time to get them done. What can I help you with? I made sure I loaded ya up with lots of good sweets for all the youngsters’ in your camp. Bless your heart. I think it’s a wonderful thing what you’re doing up there. It would be an amazing thing if they weren’t such afraid of us and the other way around.” She said with a sad smile.

“I actually need some shoes and some ah,” Erik paused. “Lady things, like a dress and stuff to go with it.”

“Oh, you say it now like it’s such a dirty word. You mountain men are too funny. Ya have no problem taking on a grizzle bear. Yet one mention of a petty coat and under garments and you look like yer about to faint.” She giggled rather amused. She took his arm and lead him down a section of the General store that Erik had never been to. “So, you’ll have to tell me a bit more about this lady.”

“Uh, what do you mean.” Erik turned a shade of crimson.

“She’s from the village I am guessing. Do me a favor and point out to me someone in the store close to her shape.” Erik was very thankful Elaine was making this very easy for him. He pointed out a lady very close to Running Brooks height and shape. He told Elaine that he wanted to take her on a trip. “One dress will not be enough deary! She will need about 3 but I can help with that. I have one here that will be perfect for you to bring to her. Now with shoes and all, I can have some made myself in about 2 weeks. How does that sound, you just leave everything to me.” Elaine ran to the back room and brought out a beautiful green dress that was not on the shelves. She began to run around the store. Then picked out shoes that were flat and comfortable, as well as soft stockings. She then wrapped them all up in brown paper and tied it with twine.

“How much do I owe you.” Erik began to count out the coins in his hands.

“Only for the shoes and the undergarments. The dress is a gift. It was once my daughters.” Erik heard her voice crack in pain. “ I think it will be lovely for the lady you will be giving it too. Maybe bring us one step closer.” As she spoke her eyes glazed over. Erik felt there was something he was missing. He would have to look in on it one day but today was not the day. He paid up his bill and exited the shop thanking both shopkeepers for their hospitality.

He walked back to his horse with the garments. This was not how he thought his day was going to start at all. As he strapped all the packages onto his mule, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to prick up. There was a vile smell in the air that shouldn't be there. He watched the body language of his animals very carefully. Only his horse picked up on the uneasy feeling. He clutched his chest. There was no warmth either, whatever it was must be out of range. His gut clenched.

“Lets get back home,” he whispered into the ear of his horse. She whinnied softly in agreement. He then started to make haste, for the foul smell was getting stronger in his nose.