Twas the Season

Collinsport. The small village’s Christmas decorations in the light of day seem, drab, materialistic, more like mere attempts at heightening the Christmas spirit. But at night, brightly lit, they take on the aspect for which the few municipal employees had worked so hard to achieve – a festive wonderland. Only, the weather has not decided to co-operate as snow has yet to fall. Amidst this season, a small group of individuals are aware of the forces of darkness that are gathering – as well as the knowledge that some other form of “Starry Wisdom” slouches its way toward Collinsport. Nicole Collins has felt the blade of this Wisdom and Esther Friedman, the possible loss of a friend. Her regeneration complete now from the attack sustained in a narrow Bangor alley, Nicole Collins finds her mood, like the town’s decorations, alternating now from light to dark.

The silveryblue moonlight filtering through the bare branches of the trees illuminates the night as Nikki slowly makes her way up the slight incline. She’s returning now to what Esther calls their Fortress– the Old House. She had felt the need to get away, to once again become one with the night, to wander through the woods, along the path of winter deaden vegetation, to the cut that leads to the clearing wherein the dim vista of the cemetery first comes into view. It had been sometime since she had felt drawn to visit the dead. In fact, she had not been to Eagle Hill cemetery since that night she had Rhyaad and her mother had confronted the brass hued metallic creations of Joseph Albert Steinman. The little girl in the blood-stained dress.

Perhaps it was the season, the bright lights, the decorations, the wreaths and holly, the presents, wrapping paper and bows, the Christmas tree she had put up – tis the season, but not for her as she was haunted by the fact that for her there was no salvation. Of course it had not helped that she had risen to put on Patti Smith’s Horses in order to listen, over and over again, to Patti’s stark intro into Gloria that “Jesus had died for somebody’s sins, but not mine”. With warm glass of deer blood in hand, she knew her sins were her own – they belong to me—me! Yes, she would pay for her sins – if she had not started already. For as nourishing as the deer blood was, she so longed now for that wonderfully heady taste of human. There before the windows, looking out into the night, she could not break the obsessive thought of going out and finding a young woman—yes, a sweet young thing – the smell of her hair, the slight trace of her perfume, sweet lips, with a smooth, satin flesh to caress, and a long and lovely neck – the jugular a rhythmic pulse of a heart grown excited from the her drawing ever nearer, her lips apart, feeling the young woman’s rush now from the thrill of anticipation, her breath on her throat . . . expecting, wanting a kiss from her plum glossed lips, before she opens her mouth, and sinks her fangs in, deep, to feel the hot, warm rush of blood flood into her . . . No – she did not need to be out and about and among the populace. She needed to be here, alone, among the dead. There’s no blood here to covet.

“I feel the night, I am a part of it – the dark mystery where nocturnal creatures come out to prey.”[/b] Her father had written that, it lingers still in her memory. When she first read it she had been what, twelve or thirteen, curling up in her bed, appalled at the thought of what it meant, and of what followed – only now, she knows how true it is. God I am f**king morose tonight – she thought to herself, wandering amidst the tombstones. Dogs howling – aware of what she was thinking.

Nikki takes a glass from the cabinet, and much too vampirically sauntering from the kitchen, glass in one hand, bottles of blood and vodka in the other, watches now with keen interest as Esther lights the middle candle. The flame bright and haloed with multicolours to [i]her eyes.

“ . . . ashaire kidishanu bamitzvatov. Vitzivanu, lechadlichnay . . . “

She walks over to the sofa, places the vodka bottle heavily on the glass top of the antique table, removes the cork from the strange green bottle and pours the dark red liquid into the glass. Adds a splash, and then, another of vodka. Tries to put out of her mind the fact she can hear Esther’s heart beating.

“Schell~ Channukah.”

“Amein.”

And with the amein, Esther replaces the shamas in its place. Nikki glances at her sideways.

Walking back toward the parlor, Esther says, “Right. Now. I have something for you tonight, and if you don’t like it, you can always return it.”

Esther goes and gets a brown box from the side of the room and hands it to Nikki,” Happy Channukah.”

Nikki looks at the box – a simple box, and yet, seeing it in her hands, her perfect sapphire eyes brighten – and she smiles, “Oh, Esther, thank you. I am certain I will love it.”

“Go on. Open it.

Nikki looks at the box and the corners of her mouth hint of a child at Christmas, as she opens it – inside is a digital camera and a tripod system.

“Esther!” Nikki’s eyes turning brilliant blue, “Oh this is wonderful!”

Esther smiles nervously, “I figured that, well you didn’t have a camera as far as I could tell, and it can be a good way of not only snapping photos, but also taking evidence. I’m glad you like it.

“Oh, it is wonderful!” Nikki rises and walks over toward her and gives her a very big hug! She wants to cry – the evil in her – oh God the evil in her had listened earlier to the beat of her heart.

Esther at bit self-consciously hugs her back – as she feels as if Nikki is about to . . . break down and cry for some reason—she rubs her back to comfort her. What is wrong, she wants to say, but doesn’t.

Nikki then walks over to the tree and gracefully stooping she reaches under and removes a wrapped package for Esther and hands it to her, “I have a little something for you.”

“Again? Isn’t Christmas over for you yet?” She smiles.

Esther notices a look on Nikki’s face, “Esther.” And she pauses for a moment; “I want you to know . . . I don’t think I would have made it sane this year without you!” Nik’s in a mood – been in one since she walked in the door. And there is a glint of a possible red tear in her eye, “Now—I am not sure if you will like it or not.”

“Bah . . .”

“And I saw it and thought it would help with investigations also.” Nikki touching the corner of her eye, and hides the fact her fingertips come away crimson. “Open it!”

“Don’t tell me it’s a digital camera!” Esther smiles as she takes the package and rips at the wrapping paper.

Inside is an iPod2, 64gb, with Cell access.

“Now, you have a computer on the go!”

“Oh my!” Esther puts her hand to her mouth.

“I figure with our luck, you will need access from who knows where?”

Esther gives her a very sly smile, “I wonder if the pits of hell have cell reception . . . thanks Nik!” And Esther quickly embraces her friend.

“Well—” Nikki having already contemplated the pits of hell earlier in the night—the pit into which she must surely be cast at some point, down along with all the other depraved demons and vile monsters, “I would say, if anyone’s going to find out about Hell’s cell reception it will no doubt certainly be . . . Collins Investigations.”

Esther takes the wrapping paper and balls it up, sits down and starts working at the impossible to open plastic seal. “Heh. They sure do make these things hard to open,” she takes out her knife and cuts the hard plastic liner and then quickly replaces the knife. She seems to pause for a brief second as she notes the serial number: 12-12-1586.

Nikki takes a sip of her drink. “I also got the Geek Squad protection plan for it, since electronics are a dice game as to whether they work or not.”

“Thanks. I know my way around electronics like I know my way around New York. Not at all.”

“Oh, I know.” Nikki says, “I had to have one of those guys explain it all to me, I mean, if it doesn’t work when I touch the app – I’m lost! But I had them make sure it was all connected, data plan and everything – I mean, what with going through portals and ending up in London, we need some computer on hand.”

Esther takes the iPod and the cable out of the box and plugs it into the wall. “Portals. Oy. I can’t tell you what a number that did on my stomach.”

“Well I didn’t say anything . . . “ Nikki says watching Esther returning to her chair, “But the strangest thing . . . I heard voices during the transition”

“Voices?” Esther asks as she returns to sit in her chair, “What did they say?

“It was very odd – like some crazy poem: Through sight and sound and faceless terror – One door leads to . . . “ Nikki says, looking down into the contents of her glass, “And then a voice saying – I know this sounds crazy, but a man’s voice said, “Be careful Nicole it will seem like the right way – but it is not.”

“Huh . . .”

Nikki shrugged, “I have no idea what it means.”

“Either ya conscience has a man’s voice, your crazy, or your telepathy was picking something up . . . “

“I had this vague image of a man with blue eyes, a very handsome man, with long side-burns.”

“ . . . somthin’ SO far above my head I don’t have a clue. Weird.”

“Then . . . ” Nikkki laughs, “I swear, I heard a Beatles song. Lucy in the Sky.”

Now Esther looks skeptically, “I’d be careful with the portals from now on.”

Nikki nods, “Maybe it is the way they say hello in London when you come through a portal.”

Esther shakes her head, “I din’ hear any song, or see any face but, I do know something about crazy poems. Have you had a chance to look at Noah’s “map”. I translated all the words, but they make no sense, the map-lines look nothing like any part of New England on the maps you have at the office. And I’ll be d****ed if I know what a sweetfish river is.”

“Sweetfish River?” Nikki said leaning forward, “You would know New England far better than me.”

“Well. . . it’s all in Hebrew—but . . . there are no vowels, you see. Now a vowel in Hebrew ain’t like a vowel in English. It’s not a letter, but more of an accent. Possible to read, but difficult if you’re not used to it.” Esther takes out a copy of the poem and unfolds it to lay it on the old wooden, antique coffee table, “I have what I translated, but there is no way it can be right..

“Well, let’s go over what you have.” Nikki takes a sip of her drink, moving to sit on the edge of the sofa to look at the translation.

“I mean—it sort of makes sense . . . but not really. The map is of an Island, but not one locally.”

“Is there any reference at all to the Starry Wisdom cult at all?” Nikki asks.

“No. But there is a drawing of some shape in the corner that I assume is the trapezoid or whatever it is.”

“Ah the Shining Trapezohedron – “ Nikki nods as she reaches over to turn the page toward her so she could look at the work Esther had done on the translation, “I did some research based on the information you gave me earlier and supposedly the Trapezohedron was done away with. From what I can gather, a Dr. Dexter, an Ambrose Dexter – a friend of Robert Blake, who found it at that old church on Federal Hill, chartered a boat, and seeking the deepest point possible, dropped it into the Narragansett Bay.”

“Well,’ Esther says, “this is what it translates to:”

My beloved hometown, the sweetfish river running through it.
You who seek the Golden Land, follow its path downstream and seek the key.
If you follow the river downstream, you will find a village.

The Witch will praise the wise, and should bestow four treasures.
One shall be, all the gold from the Golden Land.
One shall be, the resurrection of the souls of all the dead.
One shall be, even the resurrection of the lost love.
One shall be, to put the Witch to sleep for all time.
Sleep peacefully, my most beloved witch, Beatrice.

“Now I’ll be F***ed if I have any clue what it means.” Esther admits with a wave of her hand, “Who this Beatrice is? It’s written out phonetically from English. It is entirely possibly that I translated parts of it incorrectly.” Looking up at Nikki, watching as she studies the page, “Any ideas?”

“None. I mean, The Golden Land, the Sweetfish river, the key . . . the key, which is apparently sleeping . . . whatever that means, and, if one were to find it, this key, it sounds as if those seeking the key will have to eventually kill some members of the party searching for it . . .”

“Ritualistic murder?”

Nikki looks up and nods, “Yes. And, as to I Beatrice? Thinking poetically, was she not the one who sent Virgil to guide Dante through the Inferno?”

“Dunno . . . never read that one.”

“But, it would appear that the Witch is part of the search – only after it is found putting and end to the witch is a reward.” Nikki studies the poem with a frown. She takes a sip of her vodka and blood, “ Do you have an extra copy? I will have to go through some of my father’s books, I fear.”

Esther hands the page over to Nikki, “Have this one. And honestly, I think I translated some of it wrong . . .”

“Wasn’t Noah in contact with someone just before he disappeared—do you think they might have a look at the translation?”

Esther sits back in her chair, “The cantor. And I’m sure he translated it too. I mean…he IS a cantor.” Suddenly Esther’s sits up, “Wait a minute . . . River . . . “ reaches over and takes the sheet of paper back from Nikki and stares at the word.

“I’ll be right back!” and suddenly she gets up and rushes over to the stairs and dashes up them and into her room. She goes over to her chest and takes out the scroll and laying it on her bed, opens it in order to examine the original.

When Esther goes to sleep – it would be so easy to slip out . . . find . . . Nikki shivers. NO! She pours more blood and vodka into her glass. It is so, so hard not to—

“OF COURSE!” Nikki can hear her from upstairs in her room.

Esther flings her door open and races back down the stairs, “How could I be so dull! Don’t answer that, “ She points down at Nikki, “Of course it makes little sense. It isn’t Hebrew at all! It’s Aramaic!”

From the foot of the stairs she rushes back over to sit in her chair, “You know what this means Nik!?”

“What?”

“It means, we are right back where we started. I don’t know Aramaic.’ She sits back in her chair, placing her fingers to her mouth, “Who do I know that knows Aramaic . . . F***all no-one!”

End of Episode Cue Music