The evening took the village while Alius brooded in his manor. He watched as best he could from his upstairs window. Jarrod had been tasked with rallying the villagers into action, having them toss the grain seeds about their doors. “You think you have the best of me, demon.” He sneered, drew the tattered fabric across the glass, and sat back in his chair.
Jarrod was fending off Mr Potter and Jimethy as he shuffled about the village and helped the folks to understand Alius’ plans. “Come now, Mr Potter, iffin you hadn’t been so brash Alius would be down here helping too.”
“This is his new plan? Grain? That’ll stop the killer?”
“He says it will help.”
“He says a lot of things, Jarrod, I think it’s time we got a new captain,” Jimethy interjected.
Jarrod's eyes flashed, “And just who might that be, Jimethy? You?”
Jimethy’s eyes lowered and he inclined his head towards Mr Potter.
Mr Potter cleared his throat. “I think I would be best suited.”
Jarrod adjusted his waistcoat, huffed haughtily and waddled up to the larger man. “David.” Jarrod addressed Mr Potter with his forename, a rare informality. “You have just lost your dear wife, do you not think such a duty would add more strain?”
David sucked in his lower lip. “Alius lost his wife and his mind. Do you believe grain will stop a murderer?” He folded his arms across his chest and glowered back at Jarrod.
Jarrod shook his head, jowls flapping as he waved his hands. “Mr Potter, I have faith in our captain, he is the reason we are all here, he made us independent. Now you turn your back on him.” He wagged his stubby finger at the two men. “Now you seek to toss him to the side, throw stones at him. Your cobbler business was on its knees in Old Town.”
Mr Potter shook his head. “He’s a man at the end of the day Jarrod, we were as important to him as he was to us. His leadership has expired and there is no shame in stepping down.”
Jimethy nodded along with David. “Mhm, absolutely, Alius looks as if he needs a break.”
“He needs a break from you lot!” Jarrod snapped and stamped his foot. A rare moment of fury bubbled over and frothed away. The red in his cheeks faded and he continued calmly. “Look, I will speak to Alius and discuss a temporary replacement, so he may rest. Though I doubt anything in this world would stop him, apart from a good lynching which you lot seem hell bent on administering.”
Mr Potter opened his mouth to riposte but thought better of it. “You are right, I was…enraged, I did not mean to threaten his life.”
Jarrod bowed his head lightly at the admission. “You are a good man to admit such, perhaps you would be suited as captain…when Alius is ready to step down.” He bit his lip.
“It doesn’t change the fact he thought my dead wife was a creature and drove a stake through her heart.” Mr. Potter reinvigorated his disdain for Alius at that moment. “I will speak with Alius, not you, Jarrod…we will come to an agreement on the future of this village.”
Jarrod pursed his lips and turned away from the men to continue helping the villagers prepare for the coming night.
Alius had made his way out of his manor and into the light breezy evening air. He marched further up the hill to speak with the mortician who would have Esmeraldas’ body on the slab by now, preparing her for burial in a week. He pushed through the heavy enforced door of the stoney structure. The air was cool and the smell of death prickled Alius’ nostrils.
“Good evening Slyvester.”
The short man grimaced and looked up from the slab where Esmeraldas' body lay. He removed his gloves and carefully placed a jar to one side. “Evening, Captain Alius.”
“How goes?”
“Alius, the formalities bore me, what do you want?”
Alius stepped further into the room and stood across the slab from Sylvester. “I wanted to ask–”
“You wanted to know if there was any movement, twitching, biting from Mr Potters's poor wife?” Sylvester sighed. “No. No there was not.”
Alius nodded softly and looked around the room to steer well clear of Sylvester's icy glare. “This is good news.”
“Not so much for Mr Potter, or the fact that you hammered a stake through her heart, I imagine you want this returned?”
“It’s one of the reasons I came by, yes.”
Sylvester knelt, lifted the splintery stake and inspected it for a moment. “A crude implement.”
“It stops them coming back.”
“So you say Alius, yet, no body has awoken with or without this driven through their heart.”
“No body that you know.”
Sylvester narrowed his eyes and tossed the stake to Alius who caught it against his chest. “Tell me, on that matter, where might be the body of your wife?”
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“That is none of your concern.”
“As the mortician, it is my primary concern. It is also a secret I have guarded from the village for much too long.” He raised his eyebrows. “I am complicit in this little charade of yours, Alius, and I’d not like to receive the wrath of the villagers when your house of twigs burns down.”
Alius gritted his teeth. “I am still the Captain, I am still the leader here. The business of my family is my own.”
Sylvester sneered. “I heard about the little rabble outside your manor. They are becoming restless. How long do you think it will be before you’re chased out of your own village?”
Alius wandered about the cold room, inspecting jars of arsenic and pickled limbs casually. “Not long I am afraid.” His face seemed more pallid than ever and one would think Alius was a corpse that stood and walked from his deathbed.
Sylvester watched Alius with curiosity. “Esmeralda had the bite marks on her throat, like Angela…and you claim your wife was the same.”
Alius touched his fingers to the wound on Esmeralda's neck. “Indeed, this is the work of a vampire.”
“Or someone who has lost their mind, Alius. You are fitting that description quite well as of recent.” Sylvester pulled his gloves on once more. “Good luck with your investigations and good eve.”
Alius tossed the stake in the air and caught it as he turned to leave. “Good evening, Sylvester. I shall be on watch tonight, do keep safe.”
Sylvester raised his head to glare at Alius. “I’m well armed, Alius. Do try to remember that.”
The night conquered and the whistle of the wind cut through the surrounding trees. Old lanterns illuminated the streets and a few men had gathered in the middle by the village square. Mr Potter and Jarrod seemed to be engaged in another discussion.
Alius made his way to the gathering and nodded at folks kindly as he walked by, approaching the group as if nothing had transpired earlier that day. “Are the preparations complete?”
Mr Potter scoffed. “Your grain? Many of the homes have done it, not I, already lost my wife, thanks.”
Alius frowned. “About what happened earlier.”
“There is nothing to discuss.” Mr Potter nodded. “It got out of hand.”
“Indeed it did, and I hope we can make amends.”
Mr Potter chuckled and stepped off the stone slab that circled the old willow in the village centre. “Amends? Yes, I have thought about that too.”
Jarrod waved his hands. “I couldn’t change their minds, sir, forgive me.”
Alius half smiled and raised his hands. “Change their minds how?”
“You are no longer Captain and leader of this village, Alius.” Said Mr Potter.
Alius looked around the small gathering of folks, their faces forlorn with darkened stares. “Is that what you all want?”
“You will also be imprisoned.” Mr Potter smiled ruefully.
“Isn’t that a bit much?” Jarrod stepped between the group and Alius. “Alius has done his best for this vill—”
“Enough!” Mr Potter bellowed.
Two scraggy villages grabbed Jarrod and dragged him out of the way, holding him back. Alius stood firm and looked Mr Potter in the eye.
“As acting captain, I will take night watch, you will be jailed. Your house will be searched.”
“Why do you wish to search my house?” Alius barked.
“For your wife, her corpse.”
“Her corpse is with the mortician.”
“Thou shalt not lie.” Mr Potter waved his finger. “Sylvester has revealed the truth to me.”
“When did he tell you this?” Alius’ heart was throbbing and his knees were weak. Another villager gripped him tightly and he hadn’t the strength to struggle. He watched Mr Potter's face take upon a prankster's glee, that smile revelling in his downfall.
“Earlier today.”
“Bastard.” Alius’ hissed.
“Indeed, Alius. You are a bastard, a murderer and you shall be hanged. I’ll make sure the proof is undeniable for your trial, which I will preside over.”
“You must believe me, search my house when I am dead…these murders will not stop and you’ll be no better than he!” Alius struggled some now but was easily overpowered.
Another villager dashed toward the group and handed Mr Potter a shiny flintlock. “Thank you, Terry.” He pointed the flintlock at Jarrod who writhed in the grip of the two men and tried to turn his face from the barrel. “What to do with his accomplice though?”
“I am an innocent man!” Jarrod screeched.
“Sure you are. Holding me back while he violated my dead wife. Hanging about that manor. You’re a pair of deviants and degenerates. You are both in on these murders together.” He cocked the jaw of the flintlock with a satisfying click.
Jarrod wriggled harder.
“What’s the matter, porky? Don’t like having guns pointed at you?”
“Leave him alone!” Alius snapped.
“Hm.” Mr Potter nodded. “Jarrod will come with us, I wanted to see his face when we expose his precious captain.” David waved the flintlock at Alius who was kicking out now. “Take him to the cell by the butcher, keep an eye on him.”
Alius was apprehended by a second villager to be carted off to the old cell. He dragged his feet and struggled. His protests sounded like nothing but the maddened howls of an insane asylum patient. Vampires, walking corpses, grain, garlic. His imprisoners were more sure than ever that Alius was the culprit.
The cell was windowless. The corner had a bed pan and the other side had a thin hide roll to rest on. Not the four-poster bed he was privileged to, though sleep was not something he partook in much these days.
Alius’ mind was plagued with regret. Doubt crept in like a gnarled hand to caress the back of his neck. Thoughts of murder and blood. He could see Esmeralda’s sleeping body. Her neck shone like fresh fruit from the orchard in the hot sun. Prickly heat clawing and bringing forth a thirst for the nectar soon to ooze from the delicate skin. “No!” He shook his head and curled into a ball. “These are not my victims, you will be revealed demon!”
His jailors watched him and traded glances. “He has lost all his senses.”
Alius flew from the corner of the cell and gripped the rusted iron bars, his mouth frothing in a repugnant fury. “Your faith is lost!” he spat at them, forcing them to back away despite the bars that divided them.
Jarrod was shoved up the hill toward the manor house that kept the now-jailed captain. “Easy does it, David have him calm would you?”
“Captain Potter.” Jimethy corrected and shoved the pudgy man once more.
“Are you going to hang me too?” Jarrod glanced over his shoulder at Mr Potter before he was pushed to his hands and knees.
“That depends, Jarrod.”
He clambered to his feet and stumbled forward to avoid another shove. “On what?” He caught his breath as he stood by Alius’ door.
“Open.”
Jarrod nodded and fondled for his key. It took too long so instead he was shoved through the door. The old hinges gave way against the rotten frame and he fell on the board with a hefty slam. “Oof!”
“Up now, Jarrod. Let’s see what this maniac is hiding.”