The Twins of Noremway Parish (27 page)

“
Oh Mother, you have always been too…what’s the word I’m looking for? Closed-minded! That’s it! Open your mind to new experiences.”

“
But Abby, your head. You’re dead, and your head is sitting in your lap.”

“
And I’ve never felt better.”

“
But your head!”

“
You really need to lighten up.” Rita put her head back into her arm and sobbed some more. What was she going to do? She had this devil in her home, disguised as her naked, headless daughter. “I’m free now, Mother.”

Rita let out another sob. Then she started crying uncontrollably. Her daughter stood up from the rocking chair, put her head under her arm, and walked over to her mother, as naked as the day she was born. “What about Father?” she asked.

In her hysterics over her daughter’s death and headless resurrection, she had completely forgotten about James.
What about him?
she wanted to ask. She really didn’t know where James was or what he was doing. She had completely forgotten about him.

“
Doesn’t he love me, Mother?” Abigail asked. Despite not being attached to her body, the head was oddly expressive.

“
He loves you, dear. He loves you very much.”

***

Urey smelled something awful when he went behind the house, and he soon discovered what it was as flies lead him right to it. An even more bloated than usual James Morgan was hanging from a tree branch in the fruit orchard. Flies covered his face. He was fully clothed (which was a blessing), but his considerable gut protruded over his belt. The gut had grown as the gases from his decomposing innards pushed it outwards. Urey held his cloaked sleeve over his face as he examined the corpse.

Suddenly, he was tackled from behind. He whipped around to face his attacker as he was wrestled to the ground. “Mica Jones?” he asked, instead of fighting back. Mica Jones, nearly 100 years old, and by the far the oldest person living in Noremway Parish, had him pinned to the ground.

She smelled of rotting meat, and as he noted this fact, a chunk of flesh fell off her face. She was strong and held his shoulders pinned to the ground as she straddled him. Her teeth gnashed, and her eyes blazed with an angry fury. “Get off me!” he cried, but to no avail.

The only sounds she made were inhuman.

But then a voice spoke, pleasant and thoughtful. “Mica, dear, let the chancellor go. He’s with us.” She released him and jumped up from the ground in a move of absolute grace, and turned toward the man who had spoken. “Come, my dear.” She walked toward him and Urey watched in amazement as the man grabbed her head and yanked it off with a forceful tug. Her body fell like a sack of old bones as her body expired.

“
What?” Urey cried out. It was all he could manage.

“
Seems like the old hags are killed more easily than the young, pretty ones.” The man turned Mica’s head over in his hands as he examined it. “No. The old ones just…die.”

“
Who are you?” Urey asked.

“
Oh I’m sorry. Where
are
my manners? The name is Zuriz Falcon. I am happy to be of service.” He smiled, a sly grin that spelled that he could not be trusted. No, not this one. Not one bit.

“
Service? You just tore off an old woman’s head!”

“
One who seemed to have you beaten and pinned to the ground; or did you miss that part? Besides, my days of helping old ladies cross the street are far in the past; long gone.”

“
So now you just rip off their heads?”

“
Aren’t you a clever one? No, Mica Jones was already dead. She’s been dead since yesterday, much like our good friend James Morgan hanging in the tree; and much like you, if I’m not mistaken. Except you aren’t like them. No, you’re the leader of wolves now. The Great Wolf of legend.” He paused, his eyes shifting up to the swinging body in the tree. “Left you a meal; I didn’t think to give him eternal life–thought you’d be hungry.” Then he laughed, grabbed his nose, and waved his hand to wipe away the stink. “Sure does reek, doesn’t it? Wonder how long it’ll take Rita to realize her husband had a heart attack right beside her when they found their poor beheaded daughter yesterday.”

“
Beheaded? Her daughter is dead?”

“
I didn’t say she was dead; maybe
un
dead, if that sounds right. Yes, that sounds right. We had a name for it back when I was alive before. We called them the devil’s servants. I suppose it would be a fitting name for them now since they do my bidding.”

“
You’re…the devil?”

Falcon released a loud chuckle. “Am I the devil? No, no, no, man; I am not the devil, but I’ll tell you a secret.” He leaned in close and cupped a hand over Urey’s ear and whispered, “I am the purest evil you will ever know.”

Then the man in the gray and green cloak vanished, leaving Urey alone with the headless corpse of Mica Jones lying by his side.

He could feel it again in his gut; the transformation into a wolf, or a werewolf, or whatever he was, would soon be upon him. The head in his hands, and the bodies around him, now smelled strangely delicious.

***

“
Mother, please. Do you love me?” Abigail was back in the rocker. Her head was again in her lap, covering the secret ecstasy of woman beneath the long brown hair. She was starting to rot, but Rita didn’t notice the stench. She still didn’t realize her husband was dead and rotting from the large apple tree at the back of the orchard; and she also didn’t notice the giant werewolf devouring his body.

Had it been a dream? Was she still in a dream? She couldn’t tell. She was too busy crying. But it wasn’t like her to cry, was it? No. The last time she remembered crying was the day she and James had received word from Abigail saying that she wasn’t coming home…ever. That she didn’t want to risk raising a family in a place where Rita’s influence could undermine everything she wanted to do as a mother. “
And what would that be, my dear?
” Rita had written back. “
You are hateful, spiteful, and full of all things evil. My children will have nothing to do with it,
” came the response. “
These are my grandchildren we are talking about,
” Rita wrote. “
Yes, but they are my children.
” That had been the end of the correspondence, and she had sulked off to bed for the night, James by her side: not holding her, just there. Like always, he was
just there
.

She had lain awake all night, shivering in the cold: tossing, turning, crying out. Her daughter had rejected her.
She will one day regret rejecting me
, she thought. She was sure of it, just as Rita regretted rejecting her own mother so many years ago. When her mother had died, she realized she had always loved her, but just didn’t know how to say it.

Rita’s mother had taken a liking to Teret Finley, her little protégé. The former mayor’s wife Feriss Urey, aunt of the current chancellor and acting-mayor, was also the mother of Rita Morgan, nee Urey. Feriss had groomed Teret in the trade of parochial vicar, teaching her everything she needed to know, as was one of the duties of a mayor’s wife. Mayor Sanders wife, at least, the mayor before that abomination Tomias Waterman. Even though Rita would never admit it, the fact that her mother had chosen
Teret
was the main issue she had with her. She felt rejected in favor of this pretty little girl. Her mother had often accused her of rejecting her, but was that right? Who rejected whom? She never really knew, but when Teret became parochial vicar, the sorrow from this loss became quite clear to her: she wasn’t good enough, so her mother had chosen Teret Finley instead.

That was one of the roughest parts of being who she was. She was a failure. She operated the largest orchard in Noremway Parish, but was this something to be proud of? You would think so, but the community rejected her now. Her mother had been dead for ten years, and as soon as the widow of the former mayor had ascended into heaven, Rita was battered and bruised with a parish full of rejection.

Rita would say the rejection came as the opportunity arose; everyone would say she had brought it upon herself. That wasn’t to say she didn’t have a following within the parish; there was a large segment of the population that wanted to go back to the “old ways” and the “old teachings.”

Suddenly, back in the present, a roar came from outside; something vaguely familiar, like something she had heard in a dream. Rita ran to the window and saw a giant wolf-like man tearing into the flesh of a human being. “Oh my God, is that…James! No, please!” She cried in uncontrollable hysterics. The beast ripped through the body, which expelled a green, noxious gas, the fumes of decay. The creature didn’t seem to mind. In fact, if anything, the smell of decay only strengthened its appetite. Rita screamed again, but for the time being the beast either ignored her or didn’t hear her wailing cries; he continued devouring her husband’s body with a single-minded hunger.

***

They were so
delicious!
So delicious indeed. He couldn’t think about, let alone stop, what he was doing, but the taste was something he registered quite well. He was vaguely aware of the physical changes that had overtaken his appearance, but those were peripheral to the change in his thinking. What was to others the foul smell of rotten carcass was to him the sweet aroma of a parish delicacy.

***

She couldn’t take her eyes off the beast…or her husband. “Mother, aren’t you going to do something?” Abigail asked. “That beast is killing Father!”

Rita was speechless. There were no words to sum up her thoughts. Her feelings were a helter-skelter mess of reactions. She wanted to run out and pelt the monster, but she knew her husband was already dead; the copious amounts of flesh in the creature’s mouth attested to that.

Luckily, as she watched, transfixed by the sight, the giant humanoid wolf seemed to be too intent on the food to notice her in the window. If it had noticed her, would it have come charging?

She continued watching, unable to think or move. But then something happened that tore her out of her trance, and sent her moving outside.

***

“
Don’t be eating my daddy,” said the head resting in the crook of the naked woman’s arm. Urey looked up, confused at the sight of this unwelcome intruder. Her breasts were large and round, and the head in her arms stunningly beautiful. The lust, the hunger, the deliciousness of it–he wanted to eat her; and he would because now he no longer had any interest in eating the man. He had a new meal on his plate.

He rushed toward her and tore the head from her hands, and holding it by the hair, raised it above his large wolf’s snout, and started tearing into the neck with his teeth. The head began to scream uncontrollably while her body ran toward him and tried to yank the head from his mouth.

He smacked her away like she was a pile of grass, knocking her down, but she quickly got back up and sprinted toward him and began tugging on her hair again.

***

Oh no, my baby
, Rita thought and, without thinking, rushed outside. “Help me, help me!” the bodiless head cried. Abigail’s voice was becoming ever more frantic as the wolf’s teeth dug deeper and deeper into her neck. “Help!”

Rita now stood with them in the orchard, but could not muster the courage to confront the wolf. She stood and watched in horror as it devoured the rest of Abigail’s head and then proceeded to eat her body.

When it finished, it ran deep into the orchard, never having seen Rita standing roughly thirty feet away.

Part Three

Separation

Chapter 18

Nearly a week later, it was time for the surgery. Plague had all the preparations done, including mapping out exactly how it was to be performed, where to make the incision, where to clamp the arteries, how much blood should be on hand for a transfusion if needed. The organs that were to be implanted into the one twin were already altered for insertion into the infant. Quite an amazing team of nurses Plague had, especially Laura. He was proud. Decon and Teret were certainly impressed. They had known that Plague was a miracle worker, but the effort he had put into planning this thing was beyond anything they imagined even he was capable of. It was a testament to the greatness of Noremway Parish that they had a doctor this talented and resourceful.

“
Well, Doctor, you really are the most amazing man this parish has ever known,” Decon Mangler said, patting him on the back. Plague washed his hands and arms, already prepping for surgery.

“
Thank you, Decon, but we all know Ragas was better than any of us could ever hope to be. Unfortunately, I must ask you and Teret to leave quietly. I will have my nurses keep you informed of my progress.”

Decon and Teret left Plague’s Lair and went back to the cathedral, where they awaited news of the surgery’s success.

***

Over the previous week, the sheriff was well on his way to making a full recovery, with the exception of his right eye, which couldn’t be saved.
No matter
, he thought.
An eye patch will suit me just fine.
The broken bones in his face were quickly repaired, although it would still hurt for weeks, possibly years; or maybe he would always be in pain.