The Conquistador's Gold
Ghost Ship At Pirate's Cove
The Gargoyle Strikes
Bigfoot At Crater Lake
On a camping trip to remote, heavily forested Crater Lake, Jillian and Josephine encounter the legendary Bigfoot... or do they? Towering over seven-feet-tall, the creature, neither bear nor ape, walks on two legs and with giant strides can disappear among the trees like a magician's rabbit. Determined to prove its existence, the sisters, with help from their irascible neighbor Huckleberry and fearless Yorkie Terrier, Merlin, investigate a series of clues that lead them ever closer to Bigfoot's lair. You’ll have a fun time helping them solve the mystery reading Bigfoot At Crater Lake! (another chapter book on the way)
The Weeping Ghost Of Kolar Mansion
Jillian Traps the Varcolac
Jillian Traps the Varcolac
Chapter 1 - Swallowing the Moon:
“Let me see here… Varcolac, spelled V - A - R - C - O - L - A - C,” read Huckleberry aloud from a book in his lap.
“What A Lac?” replied seven-year-old Jillian Lockhart idly, swinging back and forth on the rope-swing under the large oak-tree just beyond the front porch of her house. Merlin, the Lockhart's brown and black yorkshire terrier, sat happily on her lap. “Did you say Cadillac, like those big cars grandpa drives?”
“No, no, no,” Huckleberry answered irritably. Varcolac. VARCOLAC!
“What’s that?”
“It’s Romanian for werewolf. The book I'm reading says Varcolacs are wolf-demons. And that some Varcolacs can even swallow the moon and the sun, causing an eclipse.”
“What’s an eclipse?” Jillian asked with a furrowed brow.
“You know what an eclipse is,” reminded Josephine, Jillian’s older sister by two years. "It’s when the moon passes over the sun during the day, hiding it so the day turns into night. You learned that in kindergarten. Remember?”
“Oh yeah, yeah,” repeated Jillian quickly, a thoughtful look on her narrow, fox-like face. “Those eclipses only last a few minutes, but jeepers, is that weird or what! A sunny day turns instantly into night. Who would have thought of that?”
“At least you don’t need sunglasses,” smiled Josephine. “Tell us more about the Varcolac, Huckleberry. Is that a library book you’re reading by the way?”
“Yes, that’s right, I checked it out from the Sliver Moon Bay library yesterday. It was located in the Tall Tales and Legends row. I even have my very own library card,” Huckleberry stated proudly. “Anyway, these Varcolacs, they originate from Romanian folklore.”
“Folklore... what's that?" Jillian asked.
“That means a belief from the people that originated from a long time before. You know, the early days. They’re stories about real or imagined things that people pass along to their children by speaking about it,” explained Josephine.
“And, where’s this Romanian place… is it a city near Sliver Moon Bay?” asked Jillian.
“I'm sure Huckleberry would tell you that Romania is a country... like America. It’s in Europe though, far from here, across the Atlantic ocean. And, it's very old.”
“It’s a real haunted land, that Romania, with castles, dark forests and big scary wolves that howl like this,” whispered Huckleberry, turning his face skyward to yell: "Aaahwooooooo! The kind of place where things in the dark jump out at you without any warning… like THIS!” Huckleberry made a scary face and jumped up from the grass where he sat toward Jillian, trying to startle her.
It didn’t work. “Huckleberry, you couldn’t scare your own shadow,” she said dismissively. "And besides, your howl sounds more like a fire-engine siren than a wolf."
Huckleberry, disappointed he hadn’t scared Jillian, made a funny face at her and continued: “The book says these Romanian werewolves are real active at midnight, when the moon is full. That's when they come out and chase people.”
“How can you tell if a person is a werewolf, or Varcolac, anyway?" asked Josephine.
“It says you can recognize them by their pale faces -- white as a ghost -- as well as the deep sleep they fall into.”
"Deep sleep? Then you must be a werewolf, Huckleberry. The last time you did a sleep-over at our house you missed breakfast, and nearly missed lunch too, you were so tired," Jillian grinned.
"I'm no werewolf. And besides, I was just napping because we stayed up so late the night playing the game Shut The Box."
"Which, by the way, you lost and I won," reminded Jillian, sticking her tongue out at Huckleberry.
"Alright you two, enough teasing," warned Josephine. “I remember dad told me once that werewolves only come out at night during a full moon,"
“Where was I when dad told you that?”demanded Jillian. “I don’t remember him saying that.”
“Where was I when dad told you that?”demanded Jillian. “I don’t remember him saying that.”
“You were asleep silly. Dad thought I was too, but I wasn’t. I was just sitting on the couch quietly, next to him while he watched that movie The Wolfman. It starred that famous Hollywood actor Lon Chaney."
"And he let you stay up to watch the whole thing? Do you pinkie swear?" demanded Jillian enviously.
"Yes, pinkie swear. Don't make such a big deal out of it, 'Jil'."
“What else did your dad say about werewolves?” interrupted Huckleberry.
Josephine thought for a moment and answered: “Well, they like to howl at the moon and they definitely dislike wolfs-bane, which is a type of flower that grows on a special plant. Werewolves can’t stand the smell of it. You’re supposed to wear it around your neck, like a protection necklace."
"And he let you stay up to watch the whole thing? Do you pinkie swear?" demanded Jillian enviously.
"Yes, pinkie swear. Don't make such a big deal out of it, 'Jil'."
“What else did your dad say about werewolves?” interrupted Huckleberry.
Josephine thought for a moment and answered: “Well, they like to howl at the moon and they definitely dislike wolfs-bane, which is a type of flower that grows on a special plant. Werewolves can’t stand the smell of it. You’re supposed to wear it around your neck, like a protection necklace."
"You'd look cute wearing a necklace, Huckleberry. Especially a pink one," offered Jillian slyly.
"You'll NEVER see me wearing a pink necklace," Huckleberry loudly insisted.
"Will you two stop!" admonished Josephine with a frown. "Now, who knows how you can stop a werewolf from catching you anyway?” asked Jillian, her eyes growing wide.
“I know, I know,” Huckleberry said, raising his hand.
“Huckleberry, you don’t need to raise your hand. You’re not in school and Josephines not your teacher,” Jillian said, rolling her eyes.
“You stop a werewolf with a silver bullet,” he answered proudly, ignoring her.
“That’s right,” smiled Josephine.
“Where can you find a silver bullet around here anyway?” wondered Jillian.
“Easy Peasy, at Johnson’s Coastside Hardware Store. You can find all sorts of useful things there,” answered Huckleberry with certainty. "I'm in Mr. Johnson's store all the time. I know just about everything they stock there. I'll bet old Mr. Johnson has a silver bullet he'd sell us."
"Ok, so let's go," yelled Jillian jumping off the swing, dumping Merlin unceremoniously on the grass.
"Where are we going?" asked Huckleberry and Josephine at the same time.
"To Mr. Johnson's hardware store to buy that silver bullet. Just in case we meet one of those What A Lacs."
“I know, I know,” Huckleberry said, raising his hand.
“Huckleberry, you don’t need to raise your hand. You’re not in school and Josephines not your teacher,” Jillian said, rolling her eyes.
“You stop a werewolf with a silver bullet,” he answered proudly, ignoring her.
“That’s right,” smiled Josephine.
“Where can you find a silver bullet around here anyway?” wondered Jillian.
“Easy Peasy, at Johnson’s Coastside Hardware Store. You can find all sorts of useful things there,” answered Huckleberry with certainty. "I'm in Mr. Johnson's store all the time. I know just about everything they stock there. I'll bet old Mr. Johnson has a silver bullet he'd sell us."
"Ok, so let's go," yelled Jillian jumping off the swing, dumping Merlin unceremoniously on the grass.
"Where are we going?" asked Huckleberry and Josephine at the same time.
"To Mr. Johnson's hardware store to buy that silver bullet. Just in case we meet one of those What A Lacs."
"Varcolac. It's VARCOLAC," corrected Huckleberry in an annoyed voice.
"Silly, you need a gun to fire a silver bullet," said Josephine. "And we don't own a gun."
"I don't need a gun when I have a perfectly good slingshot," Jillian answered, pointing to the gray metal slingshot hanging from the back pocket of her blue-jeans. If that Varcolac comes anywhere near Merlin and me, I'll give him a dose of my slingshot with a real silver bullet. Right Merlin?"
Merlin cocked his head and wagged his tail furiously, happy to hear his name. The little dog eagerly followed Jillian as she walked briskly toward the dirt path that led to downtown Sliver Moon Bay, a half mile walk south from the Lockhart house.
Josephine shouted after her sister: "But there are no Varcolacs, or werewolves, around here."
Jillian shouted over her shoulder to her older sister: "Maybe not lately, but I know that in only a few days there's going to be a full moon. And those werewolves like to come out during a full moon. So, I'll be ready if one does."
Josephine smiled, looked at Huckleberry and shrugged her shoulders as if to say I give up. "Looks like we're going to be ready if one of your Varcolacs shows up. Let's go."
They ran after Jillian and Merlin.
Jillian Traps the Varcolac
Chapter 2 - A Silver Bullet:
"I bet it’s that old Varcolac," said Jillian calmly, reaching toward her back pocket. In one motion, she pulled out her slingshot, bent to the ground and picked up a round stone, fit it into the leather pocket of the slingshot, aimed it toward the trees and drew it taut.
Merlin's growl turned to an urgent bark as the little dog took a step toward the trees.
"Merlin, stay put," commanded Josephine.
Jillian kept her slingshot cocked, ready to fire. The three of them stared intently into the trees, trying desperately to see who, or WHAT, was lurking in the shadows. Then, they saw it simultaneously: A pair of gleaming yellow eyes floating in the shadow of the trees, high off the ground, the eyes rimmed by a crimson red.
"Gotcha, Mr. Varcolac," yelled Jillian as she released the taut slingshot. The rock flew toward the trees like a missile, disappearing into the leafy shadows. Instantly, they heard a loud guttural yell. It was followed by a second, strangled howl of anger and pain.
Josephine, scooping up Merlin in her arms, yelled RUN and the three friends ran down the path toward home as fast as their legs would carry them. They did not stop until they reached the Lockhart house. Out of breath, they collapsed on the front porch panting heavily.
"I knew it, I just knew it," gasped Huckleberry. "A Varcolac in Sliver Moon Bay. And following us! Who knows what might have happened if Jillian hadn't got him right between the eyes with her slingshot."
Josephine, between deep breaths, said: "How do you know she got it right between the eyes? I couldn't see anything."
"Didn't you hear the sound it made? That old rock must've made a direct hit."
"Could be a woman. Doesn't have to be a man," offered Huckleberry.
"Could be a frog, doesn't have to be a prince," said Jillian with a mischievous smile.
Josephine gave her sister a stern look.
"Okay, okay," said Jillian. "It could be somebody who lives around here. Somebody we know from Sliver Moon Bay. A certain somebody who lives nearby, and we see all the time, and we didn't even know it."
Josephine added, "Yes... or, it could be somebody else who arrived in town recently. That could be a clue. Do we know anybody we've met recently who arrived from out of town?"
"That makes sense to me," agreed Huckleberry, nodding his head vigorously. "If it was somebody who already lives here, why didn't anybody know about the Varcolac before? Why did it just show its hairy wolf-face today on our walk home from town? I bet it's somebody who just arrived in Sliver Moon Bay."
At that moment, Mrs. Lockhart, Jillian and Josephine's mother, came through the front door onto the porch carrying a tray of iced lemonade and oatmeal raisin cookies just out of the oven. The friends eagerly accepted a glass, thirsty from their near escape from the mysterious forest stranger. Merlin barked for something to drink too. They all laughed as the little dog stood on its hind legs, twirling in circles, begging for a glass of lemonade.
Jillian Traps the Varcolac
Chapter 3 - Wolftrap:
"Yeah, and maybe that's who I got with my slingshot," Jillian said.
"Sssshhhhh... here he comes," cautioned Josephine, placing a finger on her lips.
Mr. Johnson walked up holding not one, but two silver bullets. "I melted you two of them. That old candlestick had plenty of silver, so it was easy. Now, you'll have double the protection against, what did you call it..."
"A Varcolac," replied Huckleberry.
"From Romania, right?"
"Yes, that's right," agreed Huckleberry.
"We'll be seeing you then Mr. Johnson. Thanks for the silver bullets," Josephine said hurriedly, after handing over five dollars to cover the cost.
The friends left the hardware store, walking along downtown Main St. as they talked. "That eye-patch... it must have been Mr. Johnson in the woods yesterday!" both Huckleberry and Jillian shouted simultaneously.
Josephine cut in: "I know, I know, it looks awfully suspicious. And how did he know that Varcolac was the Romanian word for werewolf?"
"Why, we told him yesterday, when we were there ordering the silver bullet," answered Huckleberry.
"No, Josephine is right. We never said anything about Romania. All we told him was that Varcolac was another word for werewolf," explained Jillian.
"Then by chimney, how did he know?" Huckleberry asked.
"THE Varcolac himself would know..." Jillian said knowingly.
The friends were silent, wondering at the mystery that was Mr. Johnson.
"Why are you thinking about plants at a time like this?" Huckleberry asked.
"Don't forget: nursery - plants - flowers - wolfs-bane," reminded Jillian.
"That's right, so let's hurry," smiled Josephine.
The friends, with Merlin following, walked to the Blue Sky Farms nursery at the edge of town, on south Main Street. The nursery was run by Ms. Plum, a persnickety older lady who lived alone with her ancient, even more persnickety Chocolate Point Siamese cat in a small cottage behind the nursery. The friends entered through the front door and slowly walked down an aisle. Surrounding them on either side were dozens of potted plants and flowers.
"Did you ever wonder why Ms. Plum calls it 'Blue Sky Farms' instead of Blue Sky Nursery?" asked Huckleberry curiously. "There's no farm here. No horses. No cows. No pigs or chickens. And for certain, I'll guarantee I've never seen a tractor."
"Maybe Ms. Plum owned a farm once. Or maybe she wishes she owned a farm and is simply using that name for her nursery because it reminds her of that," offered Jillian.
"And, why do they call these plant and flower stores nursery anyway," continued Huckleberry without pausing, ignoring Jillian. "A nursery is the proper name of a room for newborn babies, that's a fact.
And, as far as I can see," he said, confidently sweeping his gaze back and forth, there aren't any babies in here."
Josephine though a moment, then said with a smile: "Huckleberry, many words have more than one meaning. Why, your own name, Huckleberry, also stands for a bush."
"It does not. I was NOT named after a bush!"
"She's right," teased Jillian. "In fact, they taught us in school that the Huckleberry Bush is known for growing acidic-tasting berries. Acidic means something that tastes sour. So, you're actually named after a sour-tasting bush."
Before Huckleberry could argue, a loud ssshhhh was directed their way. It was Ms. Plum, finger to thin, pursed lips, standing behind the nursery's check-out counter at the end of the aisle. Her eyes glared at them with disapproval. The friends sheepishly walked toward her.
"Sorry for being so noisy, Ms. Plum," apologized Josephine.
Ms. Plum gave them a stern look and asked what they wanted. Ms. Plum was tall and thin, with her gray hair piled in a bun above a sour, pinched looking face. She had a pointed chin that stabbed the air like the prow of a boat. She was dressed in a grey, earth stained dress that fell to her ankles. Her shoes were hard rubber and flat-heeled.
Jillian noticed that Ms. Plum's fingernails were long and sharp at the ends. That was strange. "Do you have any wolfs-bane for sale?" asked Jillian sweetly.
The stern look on Ms. Plum's face grew even sterner. "No, we don't carry THAT here." She almost spat out the words.
Jillian wondered why Ms. Plum appeared to be so angry.
"Actually, we DO have it, I'll go get it for you," said a second voice. It was Constance Price, who had just walked up. Constance attended Sliver Moon Bay High School when she wasn't working at the nursery part-time for Ms. Plum. Before anybody could react, Constance had returned with a bunch of wolfs-bane clasped in her hand. The flowers were a buttercup type, bright blue with dark green spiraling leaves on a tall stem.
"How did that horrible plant get into MY nursery," said a surprised Ms. Plum, stepping back away from Constance and the wolfs-bane - as if she was afraid it would burn her.
"Danny, the truck-driver who regularly delivers our flowers from the wholesaler, dropped it off. He said you might like them... and possibly order more for our customers."
"I ... DON'T ... LIKE ... THEM ... AT ... ALL ..." Ms. Plum said harshly. "Take them away this instant!"
"We'll take them," said Josephine quickly. "How much do they cost?"
"They're free. Now leave with those hideous things," Ms. Plum nearly shrieked, almost tripping over a flowerpot behind her as she continued to back away from Constance and the wolfs-bane.
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry thanked Ms. Plum and Constance and hurriedly left the nursery with the wolfs-bane wrapped in newspaper. Later that day they sat together on the tree-house floor behind the Lockhart house.
"What was all that drama about anyway," drawled Huckleberry, scratching behind his ear. "Ms. Plum sure was acting strange."
"Yeah, and did you see her fingernails... long and sharp like claws," Jillian chimed in.
Huckleberry thought for a moment. "Fingernails like claws? Maybe that's just her fashion."
"Werewolf fashion," answered Jillian.
"I was definitely surprised at her reaction to the wolfs-bane," Josephine said after a moment, looking at the pretty blue flowers sitting on the floor of the tree-house between them. They looked innocent enough.
"Ms. Plum acted as if she was allergic to these flowers," agreed Huckleberry.
"Or worse," added Jillian. "Maybe she's afraid of them because she's the Varcolac."
"Ms. Plum? A Varcolac? C'mon, you're kidding, right?" shot back Huckleberry.
"What do we know about her, really?" responded Jillian.
"Let me think... she arrived in town six months ago to manage the nursery, lives alone with that cat of hers, and keeps to herself. Not very friendly... that's about it."
"Exactly. We know very little about her," said Josephine. "Ms. Plum is a mystery."
After a few minutes of silence passed between the friends, Josephine spoke up: "Let's examine the clues we've uncovered so far. First, there are a number of people in town, some we've known for a long time, others we've only met recently, acting out of the ordinary. Also, there seem to be too many strange coincidences all occurring in a short amount of time. For example Mr. Johnson turns up wearing an eye-patch not so long after Jillian hit someone, or something, in the woods with her slingshot."
"By the way, good shot Jillian," Huckleberry complemented.
"Thanks," Jillian smiled shyly.
"Next, Sheriff Thompson is injured, hobbling around on crutches because something's wrong with his leg," continued Josephine. "Very coincidental, considering the scare we had at the Johnson Farm in the barn with those wolftraps. Somebody, or something, got a leg caught in that wolftrap in the barn. Maybe the sheriff was there."
Jillian added, "Then we meet that mysterious boy, David, at Sheriff Thompson's jail."
"We didn't actually meet him, he wrote us a note, one with a sharp point," corrected Huckleberry, wincing at the memory of the paper airplane crashing into his neck.
"Whatever. We saw him and he tried to communicate with us."
"And finally, Ms. Plum, who we barely know, is acting very strange, frightened by a bunch of harmless flowers," said Josephine, picking up the wolfs-bane.
"It all adds up to four suspects. Any one of them might be the Varcolac," Huckleberry summarized.
Neither Jillian nor Josephine disagreed. The friends fell silent as the sun began to set in the west. Soon, it would be dark. Tomorrow night was the full moon.
Jillian Traps the Varcolac
Chapter 6 - A Trusted Friend:
Soon, they were downtown. Halloween was an important holiday to Sliver Moon Bay and its residents. Many of the surrounding farms grew pumpkins commercially. They were sold both locally and at grocery stores in nearby cities. Though it was night, many of the shops in Sliver Moon Bay were still open, their windows fancifully decorated with witches, bats and grinning orange jack-o-lanterns. Local residents and out of town visitors shopped and ate ice-cream cones purchased at Cowabanga's Ice-Cream Parlor.
Blue Sky Farms, the nursery where they were to meet David, was closed. Its parking lot was empty and the sprawling, ramshackle building was dark. There was no sign of David. A large orange pumpkin, its face carved into a fierce gargoyle mask, sat illuminated on a wooden bench near the nursery's entrance. It stared intently at them, a single candle flickering within illuminating its grinning smile and sharp fangs.
"That pumpkin head gives me the creeps," said Huckleberry.
"It's just a carved pumpkin from somebody's garden. What's it going to do, bite your leg?" laughed Jillian.
"That's strange... why would Ms. Plum leave that candle burning in the pumpkin when the nursery is closed for the night," said Josephine out loud. "She should be worried about starting a fire."
"Yeehhh," drawled Huckleberry pointing a finger, "and why, if the nursery is closed for the night is the door open?"
Jillian and Josephine saw that the door WAS part-way open. As if someone had gone in and forgot to shut it behind him. Or her. Or it.
"I bet David's in there waiting for us," said Jillian. "Let's go find him." And with that, she walked past the grinning jack-o-lantern, opened the door wide and entered the nursery.
Josephine and Huckleberry followed, Merlin bringing up the rear. Once inside, the three friends stood still until their eyes adjusted to the near darkness. A single bulb hanging from an overhead light shone weakly on the nursery's check-out counter. The light from the bulb glinted off the silver colored cash register on the counter-top like a sparkling diamond.
"Why do you suppose that bulb's moving back and forth?” asked Huckleberry to nobody in particular. "I don't feel any breeze in here."
Strangely, the light, attached to a black electrical cord that ran vertically up to the ceiling, WAS swaying gently back and forth. As if someone had walked past it very recently.
"Maybe the breeze blew in from that window, and has stopped now," Jillian offered unconvincingly, glancing at the wire covered window off to the side of the counter.
Their eyes soon became adjusted to the lack of light inside the nursery. The nursery's narrow aisles fanned away from them in a checkerboard pattern, pots of small plants and flowers sitting on shelves to either side. Some aisles were crowded by small potted trees, their green leaves overhanging like long fingers. Earthen colored statues of sprites, toads and turtles peered over the aisles from the shelves like mute sentries. Further back to the right of the building was the 'hot-house', a large rectangular room containing exotic plants and flowers kept extra warm by special heat-lamps. Without the heat, the plants and flowers, many imported from Mexico and even the Amazon, would die.
"David must be in here somewhere..." said Huckleberry.
"Let's split up and see if we can find him quick," suggested Jillian.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," said Josephine.
"C'mon Jo, if one of us sees something we can just yell and the others will come running."
"Alright," agreed Josephine reluctantly, against her better judgment. "Jillian, you and I will go this way while Huckleberry, why don't you go to the right, toward the hot-house where they display the exotic plants?"
"Why do I have to go alone?" argued Huckleberry.
"You won't be alone, Huckleberry, you'll have Merlin the fearless yorkie terrier with you," replied Jillian, bending down to scratch the little dog's ears.
Merlin, hearing his name mentioned, squirmed with delight, his tail wagging furiously. Huckleberry sighed, "Let's go then Merlin... and stay alert."
The friends set out cautiously walking down their respective aisles. Within seconds, they were out of sight of one another, hidden behind the leafy jungle that was the nursery.
As Huckleberry drew closer to the nursery's hot-house room, the surrounding air grew warmer. Huckleberry felt hot underneath his costume. He stopped and tipped his Oscar the Grouch mask upward so he could wipe the sweat from his forehead. The nursery was quiet as the inside of a library at midnight.
"There's no clues around here. And still no David," Huckleberry mumbled.
Merlin looked up at him with a quizzical expression, as if to ask what next?
"I don't know what's next, little doggie... this is beginning to feel like a waste of time," complained Huckleberry. "Maybe this David guy played a trick on us. Maybe he never intended to meet us here. In fact, he may not even be from Romania."
At that very moment, Huckleberry saw a bulky shadow flit like a huge moth across the hot-house entrance just ahead. It was there one moment and then it was gone - so quick that Merlin hadn't even noticed.
"David, is that you?" Huckleberry called out.
There was no reply.
He hesitated, and then said firmly: "C'mon, Merlin, let's see who's in the hot-house," and walked forward and through the entrance, Merlin on his heels.
The hot-house room was large, with a low ceiling, the heat all around heavy, like molasses. Warm water drops caused by the condensation beaded overhead, slowly dripping on the exotic flowers below. The room contained plain, rectangular shaped plywood tables that sat on rough, hobby-horse stands low to the gravel floor. Orchids, lilacs and bougainvillea spilled out from hundreds of earthen colored pots in various shapes and sizes.
To the left, large pots of Amazon Water Lilies competed for shelf-space with Voodoo Lilies and Gardenias. The grotesque Corpse Flower sat next to beautiful Birds of Paradise toward the rear. The exotic flowers were kept alive by special fluorescent plant grow lights clustered in aluminum racks attached to the ceiling. The bulbs kept the room from being completely dark at night, but did not light it. They emitted heat, but poor illumination.
Huckleberry's eyes saw shadows and shadowy images shimmer across the large room. His nose wrinkled at the unnaturally sweet smell in the heated air caused by the exotic things growing there. It was unsettling. Something wasn't right here. Nonetheless, he was determined. Huckleberry moved forward down the aisle immediately in front. He listened carefully as he walked, but heard no sound other than the crunching his tennis shoes made on the gravel floor. Halfway down the aisle, Merlin began to growl.
"What is it little doggie? See somebody?"
From the corner of his eye, Huckleberry saw movement off to his right, at the end of another aisle. "Who's there?" he challenged loudly.
There was no answer. He veered right moving cautiously down the aisle. Long tendrils of bougainvillea spilling from their pots brushed his costumed arms on either side. Nearing the end of the aisle it grew suddenly darker. The last rack of overhead fluorescent lights was behind him. The wall just in front of where he stood was like a dark cliff rising to the ceiling above. At that moment, he noticed the darkness of the wall immediately in front of him held a shape! A large, semi-curved shape obscured by the lack of light, but distinct from the wall. Huckleberry stared, squinting in an effort to see more clearly.
Merlin's barking increased as the little dog jumped out in front of Huckleberry and challenged whatever it was that was hidden within the shadows of the wall. Suddenly, the shape began to move, uncurling like a giant caterpillar from where it had been crouching. It began to rise up, taking on an almost human shape.
Huckleberry heard heavy breathing - like an animal's. The shape took form in the near darkness. It had two pointy ears, close together on the top of its head. Its mouth was long and narrow, pointing straight toward Huckleberry. Two small arms jutted out from below its wide shoulders, themselves attached to a long neck. It stood on heavy hind legs that narrowed as they touched the gravel below.
Huckleberry took a step backward, his heart racing. As he retreated, his Oscar the Grouch mask slipped down over his face. Through the mask's eyes he saw the shape leave the shadows of the wall and move menacingly toward him. Huckleberry stepped backward again, more quickly this time, thinking only of escape... and tripped!
He yelled in surprise as he landed on his back. The breath was knocked out of him, he could not breathe. A terrifying growling sounded above him. Merlin's barking was frantic. Huckleberry closed his eyes. Then, without warning, he heard a rubber twang followed by the whoosh of something hard moving very fast through the air. A silver bullet shot from a slingshot! Immediately, a screeching howl of pain and surprise filled the air.
"Got him!" Jillian's voice shouted excitedly.
Something large and heavy moving quickly raced down a hot-house aisle, leapt and crashed loudly through a window. Glass and wood shattered across the floor.
Josephine helped Huckleberry up. "Are you alright?" she asked anxiously.
"Fine, I'm just fine," he answered, trying to catch his breath. He bent over for a moment, breathing heavy.
"Darn, whatever it was got away," yelled Jillian returning from where she had been standing near the broken window.
"Did you see what it was?" Huckleberry asked her.
"No... did you get a look at it?" Jillian asked as she began to brush the gravel off Huckleberry's Oscar the Grouch costume.
"I didn't. Not with this stupid mask in the way."
"Well, whoever it was won't forget me anytime soon," she boasted. "Not after being on the receiving end of one of these." A smiling Jillian held up her slingshot and the second of the two silver bullets Mr. Johnson had made.
Josephine frowned: "Whatever it was moved way too quickly in the dark to get a good look. And, there's no sign of David." Her voice trailed off.
Merlin, panting heavily, came trotting back from the window where the thing had escaped.
"There's nothing more we can do here. Let's go home," Josephine said.
Jillian and Huckleberry agreed. The friends and their little dog returned home, exhausted by the day's events. Two days passed quietly and uneventfully. Huckleberry learned from his father, who heard it from Sheriff Thompson, that there had been an incident at Blue Sky Farms on Halloween evening. Someone had gotten into the nursery after it had closed for the evening. A window was broken and a number of shelves had been turned over in the hot-house room, as if there had been a fight. Mysteriously, Ms. Plum had disappeared. There was no trace of her at the nursery, her home or anywhere in town the past two days. She had simply vanished. Huckleberry shared the news with Jillian and Josephine. They decided to keep the strange events of their trip to the nursery on Halloween night to themselves.
Jillian Traps the Varcolac
Chapter 9 - Case Closed:
A few days later, the three friends climbed up to the tree-house behind the Lockhart house. It was the first time they had been there since the mysterious Romanian boy, David, so unexpectedly introduced himself. As they sat in the tree-house eating Ruffles potato chips from a bag Jillian had brought, Huckleberry noticed something lying on the floor in one corner. He picked it up. It was a paper airplane. Just like the one David had flown through the window of the Sliver Moon Bay jail.
After smoothing it open, Huckleberry read out loud the words written on the paper:
Dear Friends, I leave you, but do not forget you. You need not worry about the Varcolac anymore. The danger has passed. I may call on you in the future to ask for your investigative talents. My experience has shown that there are many mysteries yet to be solved. Many evil creatures to root out and return to the darkness. Until we meet again, David.
For now, the case of Jillian Traps the Varcolac was closed. The final identity of the beast remained unsolved. The friends' strong suspicion pointed toward Ms. Plum. However, they could not be sure.
David would remain a mysterious figure, his involvement in the mystery not fully explained. For now.
To read this chapter book in eBook and paperback formats, visit Children's Books on Amazon.com and search "Jillian Traps The Varcolac".
"Silly, you need a gun to fire a silver bullet," said Josephine. "And we don't own a gun."
"I don't need a gun when I have a perfectly good slingshot," Jillian answered, pointing to the gray metal slingshot hanging from the back pocket of her blue-jeans. If that Varcolac comes anywhere near Merlin and me, I'll give him a dose of my slingshot with a real silver bullet. Right Merlin?"
Merlin cocked his head and wagged his tail furiously, happy to hear his name. The little dog eagerly followed Jillian as she walked briskly toward the dirt path that led to downtown Sliver Moon Bay, a half mile walk south from the Lockhart house.
Josephine shouted after her sister: "But there are no Varcolacs, or werewolves, around here."
Jillian shouted over her shoulder to her older sister: "Maybe not lately, but I know that in only a few days there's going to be a full moon. And those werewolves like to come out during a full moon. So, I'll be ready if one does."
Josephine smiled, looked at Huckleberry and shrugged her shoulders as if to say I give up. "Looks like we're going to be ready if one of your Varcolacs shows up. Let's go."
They ran after Jillian and Merlin.
Jillian Traps the Varcolac
Chapter 2 - A Silver Bullet:
Together, the three
friends walked the short half mile to Main Street, which ran through the center
of Sliver Moon Bay. The town was small, only six blocks long, but offered
a whimsical mix of small shops and boutiques that included Talbot's Toys,
Stella's Seashells, hand-made Amish furniture at The Collective, antiques and
turn of the century replicate toys at Antebellum Antiquary, and Johnson's
Coastside Hardware Store.
The German Bakery, famous for its pumpkin cookies, and Main Street Grill, known for its home-made Swedish pancakes, were also popular. Beverly's Grocery Emporium anchored the exact center of Main Street. Beverly's store sold groceries on the first floor, while an old, wooden flight of stairs led to the upper floor. There, you could find authentic Tony Lama cowboy boots, hats and leather belts with large silver belt buckles; wooden duck decoys; bronze, rabbit-shaped door knockers; delicate glass hummingbird wind-chimes and other unusual items for sale.
As the friends opened the front door leading into Johnson's Coastside Hardware Store, a little bell tinkled, announcing their arrival. "Hello there, neighbors," Mr. Johnson's big voice boomed out above them.
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry looked up to see Mr. Johnson standing high on a ladder off to one side next to a wall lined with six rows of metal shelves. The shelves held dozens of silver-colored tin buckets containing nails, screws, washers, nuts and bolts of all different shapes and sizes.
"Ah, there it is," exclaimed Mr. Johnson with satisfaction, as he stretched to reach into a bucket on the highest shelf. He pulled out a small package of copper-colored nails. "Mrs. Davidson called to say she'd be down to pick up these concrete nails later today. I knew they must be here somewhere. These are strong enough, you know, that you can hammer them right through concrete. Made from tempered steel, that's the secret. Now, I wonder how Mrs. Davidson herself has the strength to hammer these into concrete... she's no Spring Chicken anymore, you know... must be near 90 years old by now."
Around town, Mr. Johnson was known to talk a lot. To anybody standing nearby. Sometimes, even to himself when nobody was around! Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry waited politely. The hardware store owner climbed gingerly down the ladder. He was 60 years old with thinning silver hair, well over six feet tall with a straight bearing, wore Mr. Green Jeans brand suspenders over a short-sleeved checked collar shirt that held up his dark blue Levi jeans. His shirt pocket was stuffed full with pencils, a small screwdriver and penlight. His black work-boots were old and scuffed. Mr. Johnson's face wore a broad smile underneath intelligent, twinkling eyes as he looked Josephine, Jillian and Huckleberry up and down. "Now... what can I do for you?"
"We need a silver bullet," Jillian spoke right up.
"What's that you say, a silver bullet?" Mr. Johnson replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he continued to look them over.
"Yeeahhh, we need it for a slingshot," drawled Huckleberry. "In case a Varcolac appears during the full moon... we'll be ready."
"Varcolac?" Mr. Johnson asked, a puzzled look on his face, as he stroked his chin some more.
"It's another word for werewolf," Josephine explained. "And SOME of us..." Josephine directed an amused glance toward her younger sister Jillian ..."believe one's lurking here in Sliver Moon Bay. As Huckleberry said, we expect a full moon this week and need to be prepared."
"I see..." said Mr. Johnson, thinking for a moment, his eyes now twinkling as bright as Fourth of July sparklers. "To be honest neighbors -- Mr. Johnson sometimes called people who came into his hardware store neighbors, even though they weren't -- I don't have a silver bullet lying around the store. Sold the last one some years back to a gentleman named Mr. Lon Chaney."
"Lon Chaney... wasn't that the actor in that movie..." Huckleberry began. Josephine stepped on his foot...
"Oowww, geesh, why'd you go and do that," he said looking at her crossly.
She whispered that Mr. Johnson was only kidding.
Mr. Johnson continued, "However, I'll tell you what I'll do, I will make you a silver bullet. I have an old silver candlestick in the back gathering dust - bid successfully for it at a North Beach antique auction in San Francisco some years back - and I'll melt it down and turn it into a silver bullet for you. Would that work?"
"Would it ever, thanks a bunch Mr. Johnson!" Jillian yelled enthusiastically.
The German Bakery, famous for its pumpkin cookies, and Main Street Grill, known for its home-made Swedish pancakes, were also popular. Beverly's Grocery Emporium anchored the exact center of Main Street. Beverly's store sold groceries on the first floor, while an old, wooden flight of stairs led to the upper floor. There, you could find authentic Tony Lama cowboy boots, hats and leather belts with large silver belt buckles; wooden duck decoys; bronze, rabbit-shaped door knockers; delicate glass hummingbird wind-chimes and other unusual items for sale.
As the friends opened the front door leading into Johnson's Coastside Hardware Store, a little bell tinkled, announcing their arrival. "Hello there, neighbors," Mr. Johnson's big voice boomed out above them.
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry looked up to see Mr. Johnson standing high on a ladder off to one side next to a wall lined with six rows of metal shelves. The shelves held dozens of silver-colored tin buckets containing nails, screws, washers, nuts and bolts of all different shapes and sizes.
"Ah, there it is," exclaimed Mr. Johnson with satisfaction, as he stretched to reach into a bucket on the highest shelf. He pulled out a small package of copper-colored nails. "Mrs. Davidson called to say she'd be down to pick up these concrete nails later today. I knew they must be here somewhere. These are strong enough, you know, that you can hammer them right through concrete. Made from tempered steel, that's the secret. Now, I wonder how Mrs. Davidson herself has the strength to hammer these into concrete... she's no Spring Chicken anymore, you know... must be near 90 years old by now."
Around town, Mr. Johnson was known to talk a lot. To anybody standing nearby. Sometimes, even to himself when nobody was around! Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry waited politely. The hardware store owner climbed gingerly down the ladder. He was 60 years old with thinning silver hair, well over six feet tall with a straight bearing, wore Mr. Green Jeans brand suspenders over a short-sleeved checked collar shirt that held up his dark blue Levi jeans. His shirt pocket was stuffed full with pencils, a small screwdriver and penlight. His black work-boots were old and scuffed. Mr. Johnson's face wore a broad smile underneath intelligent, twinkling eyes as he looked Josephine, Jillian and Huckleberry up and down. "Now... what can I do for you?"
"We need a silver bullet," Jillian spoke right up.
"What's that you say, a silver bullet?" Mr. Johnson replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he continued to look them over.
"Yeeahhh, we need it for a slingshot," drawled Huckleberry. "In case a Varcolac appears during the full moon... we'll be ready."
"Varcolac?" Mr. Johnson asked, a puzzled look on his face, as he stroked his chin some more.
"It's another word for werewolf," Josephine explained. "And SOME of us..." Josephine directed an amused glance toward her younger sister Jillian ..."believe one's lurking here in Sliver Moon Bay. As Huckleberry said, we expect a full moon this week and need to be prepared."
"I see..." said Mr. Johnson, thinking for a moment, his eyes now twinkling as bright as Fourth of July sparklers. "To be honest neighbors -- Mr. Johnson sometimes called people who came into his hardware store neighbors, even though they weren't -- I don't have a silver bullet lying around the store. Sold the last one some years back to a gentleman named Mr. Lon Chaney."
"Lon Chaney... wasn't that the actor in that movie..." Huckleberry began. Josephine stepped on his foot...
"Oowww, geesh, why'd you go and do that," he said looking at her crossly.
She whispered that Mr. Johnson was only kidding.
Mr. Johnson continued, "However, I'll tell you what I'll do, I will make you a silver bullet. I have an old silver candlestick in the back gathering dust - bid successfully for it at a North Beach antique auction in San Francisco some years back - and I'll melt it down and turn it into a silver bullet for you. Would that work?"
"Would it ever, thanks a bunch Mr. Johnson!" Jillian yelled enthusiastically.
Huckleberry smiled
proudly as he was the one that convinced the Jillian and
Josephine the hardware store would be exactly the right place to find
whatever they needed.
"I'll have it ready for you tomorrow. Before your full moon rises," winked Mr. Johnson. "Now, you're only going to use that silver bullet with a slingshot, like you said, right?"
"Yes, only with a slingshot," nodded Jillian.
"And, you're not going to use your slingshot to shoot that silver bullet at a window or, heaven forbid, a real live person, now are you?"
"No, Mr. Johnson, only at a Varcolac," answered Jillian matter of factly.
"Alright. It's a deal," he agreed, his eyes merry as St. Nick's on Christmas morning. "And, to seal the deal, take these with you," said Mr. Johnson. He reached under the hardware store counter and pulled out three Hickory Harvest brand red licorice sticks, one for each of them.
"I'll have it ready for you tomorrow. Before your full moon rises," winked Mr. Johnson. "Now, you're only going to use that silver bullet with a slingshot, like you said, right?"
"Yes, only with a slingshot," nodded Jillian.
"And, you're not going to use your slingshot to shoot that silver bullet at a window or, heaven forbid, a real live person, now are you?"
"No, Mr. Johnson, only at a Varcolac," answered Jillian matter of factly.
"Alright. It's a deal," he agreed, his eyes merry as St. Nick's on Christmas morning. "And, to seal the deal, take these with you," said Mr. Johnson. He reached under the hardware store counter and pulled out three Hickory Harvest brand red licorice sticks, one for each of them.
Merlin barked twice,
unhappy Mr. Johnson did not have a licorice stick for him as well. "Alright,
alright, keep your hat on doggy, here's one for you too," as he bent down
to hand a bone-shaped dog biscuit to Merlin. The little dog held it firmly
between his jaws, a look of satisfaction on his furry face.
"You never know when you'll need to make friends with man's best friend" said Mr. Johnson. "See you tomorrow neighbors."
"Thanks Mr. Johnson," the three friends said in unison. They left the hardware store and began walking the half mile back from downtown Sliver Moon Bay toward the Lockhart house. The route took them along a widely traveled, hard-packed dirt path used by joggers, cyclists and even horseback riders. The path zigged and zagged along the bluffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean below. On the other side of the path was a forest, broken up occasionally by a picturesque beach-house or small pasture with grazing horses.
Halfway home, the sun now low in the sky, the path skirted a particularly dense patch of trees, dim within even in the daylight of that late afternoon. As Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry walked parallel to the trees, Merlin out front sniffing expectantly at everything that came in contact with his little black nose, they heard a loud SNAP.
The friends stopped. Merlin began growling at the trees immediately to their right where the sound seemed to have originated. The seconds ticked by... 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9... as they continued to stare at the trees. They could see nothing. Then, a second SNAP sounded. This one louder, closer. The sound seemed to be made by someone, or something, large moving in the trees toward the edge of the forest in their direction!
"Jiminy Cricket, what was that?" Huckleberry whispered nervously.
"It sounded like branches breaking... from being stepped on," whispered Josephine back.
"You never know when you'll need to make friends with man's best friend" said Mr. Johnson. "See you tomorrow neighbors."
"Thanks Mr. Johnson," the three friends said in unison. They left the hardware store and began walking the half mile back from downtown Sliver Moon Bay toward the Lockhart house. The route took them along a widely traveled, hard-packed dirt path used by joggers, cyclists and even horseback riders. The path zigged and zagged along the bluffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean below. On the other side of the path was a forest, broken up occasionally by a picturesque beach-house or small pasture with grazing horses.
Halfway home, the sun now low in the sky, the path skirted a particularly dense patch of trees, dim within even in the daylight of that late afternoon. As Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry walked parallel to the trees, Merlin out front sniffing expectantly at everything that came in contact with his little black nose, they heard a loud SNAP.
The friends stopped. Merlin began growling at the trees immediately to their right where the sound seemed to have originated. The seconds ticked by... 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9... as they continued to stare at the trees. They could see nothing. Then, a second SNAP sounded. This one louder, closer. The sound seemed to be made by someone, or something, large moving in the trees toward the edge of the forest in their direction!
"Jiminy Cricket, what was that?" Huckleberry whispered nervously.
"It sounded like branches breaking... from being stepped on," whispered Josephine back.
"Maybe it's a
bear," Huckleberry hissed.
Josephine shook her
head: "There aren't any bears in Sliver Moon Bay, Huckleberry.
You know that."
"Then, maybe a
deer," he replied, hopefully.
"Maybe..." Josephine answered, unconvinced.
"Maybe..." Josephine answered, unconvinced.
"I bet it’s that old Varcolac," said Jillian calmly, reaching toward her back pocket. In one motion, she pulled out her slingshot, bent to the ground and picked up a round stone, fit it into the leather pocket of the slingshot, aimed it toward the trees and drew it taut.
Merlin's growl turned to an urgent bark as the little dog took a step toward the trees.
"Merlin, stay put," commanded Josephine.
Jillian kept her slingshot cocked, ready to fire. The three of them stared intently into the trees, trying desperately to see who, or WHAT, was lurking in the shadows. Then, they saw it simultaneously: A pair of gleaming yellow eyes floating in the shadow of the trees, high off the ground, the eyes rimmed by a crimson red.
"Gotcha, Mr. Varcolac," yelled Jillian as she released the taut slingshot. The rock flew toward the trees like a missile, disappearing into the leafy shadows. Instantly, they heard a loud guttural yell. It was followed by a second, strangled howl of anger and pain.
Josephine, scooping up Merlin in her arms, yelled RUN and the three friends ran down the path toward home as fast as their legs would carry them. They did not stop until they reached the Lockhart house. Out of breath, they collapsed on the front porch panting heavily.
"I knew it, I just knew it," gasped Huckleberry. "A Varcolac in Sliver Moon Bay. And following us! Who knows what might have happened if Jillian hadn't got him right between the eyes with her slingshot."
Josephine, between deep breaths, said: "How do you know she got it right between the eyes? I couldn't see anything."
"Didn't you hear the sound it made? That old rock must've made a direct hit."
"Besides, I know my
aim was true," Jillian added confidently. "Did you see its eyes
through the leaves? They looked like wolf eyes. All red and yellow
colored. Only standing up tall. Like a man."
"Or Varcolac," added Huckleberry.
"Or Varcolac," added Huckleberry.
As the sun began to set
in the west, the three friends were silent for the moment, relieved they
were home safe on the Lockhart porch. Josephine was the first to speak:
"How could that be a werewolf when the sun is still up in the sky? I
thought they only came out at night, and only during a full moon."
"Well, it was awfully dark in that forest, maybe Varcolacs can come out during the day as long as they're not directly in the sunlight, " Huckleberry suggested helpfully.
"Yeah, and maybe they're hiding in the daylight shadows so they don't get sunburned," said Jillian with a sarcastic smile.
"You don't know anything about Varcolacs," argued Huckleberry.
"Enough to hit one right between the eyes," Jillian said with confidence.
"Alright you two, arguing won't help anything." Josephine remained unconvinced. A real werewolf she thought to herself. How could that be? "Maybe it was someone else... like a man following us."
They all thought about
that, including the part about the absence of a full moon. Finally,
Jillian asked: "If it is a werewolf like Huckleberry says, WHO is the
Varcolac? I mean, somebody has to turn from a man into a werewolf. So who
is that... might even be somebody we know real well in town?""Well, it was awfully dark in that forest, maybe Varcolacs can come out during the day as long as they're not directly in the sunlight, " Huckleberry suggested helpfully.
"Yeah, and maybe they're hiding in the daylight shadows so they don't get sunburned," said Jillian with a sarcastic smile.
"You don't know anything about Varcolacs," argued Huckleberry.
"Enough to hit one right between the eyes," Jillian said with confidence.
"Alright you two, arguing won't help anything." Josephine remained unconvinced. A real werewolf she thought to herself. How could that be? "Maybe it was someone else... like a man following us."
"Could be a woman. Doesn't have to be a man," offered Huckleberry.
"Could be a frog, doesn't have to be a prince," said Jillian with a mischievous smile.
Josephine gave her sister a stern look.
"Okay, okay," said Jillian. "It could be somebody who lives around here. Somebody we know from Sliver Moon Bay. A certain somebody who lives nearby, and we see all the time, and we didn't even know it."
Josephine added, "Yes... or, it could be somebody else who arrived in town recently. That could be a clue. Do we know anybody we've met recently who arrived from out of town?"
"That makes sense to me," agreed Huckleberry, nodding his head vigorously. "If it was somebody who already lives here, why didn't anybody know about the Varcolac before? Why did it just show its hairy wolf-face today on our walk home from town? I bet it's somebody who just arrived in Sliver Moon Bay."
At that moment, Mrs. Lockhart, Jillian and Josephine's mother, came through the front door onto the porch carrying a tray of iced lemonade and oatmeal raisin cookies just out of the oven. The friends eagerly accepted a glass, thirsty from their near escape from the mysterious forest stranger. Merlin barked for something to drink too. They all laughed as the little dog stood on its hind legs, twirling in circles, begging for a glass of lemonade.
Jillian Traps the Varcolac
Chapter 3 - Wolftrap:
The following day,
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry, with Merlin eagerly following, met on
the path near the Lockhart house. They walked the half mile to Sliver Moon Bay
quickly, cautiously passing the trees where they had been startled by
the still unidentified stranger the day before. The
friends were eager to pick up their silver bullet from the hardware
store. When they entered through the front door there was no sign of
Mr. Johnson at first. Then, a loud hello drifted out from the back of the store, behind the rows of
shelving.
"Mr. Johnson, it's us," drawled Huckleberry. "We're here to pick up the silver bullet."
Mr. Johnson walked briskly toward where they stood, carrying two boxes piled on top of one another in front of him, obscuring his face. "Hello neighbors. Let me put these boxes down first." He turned his back and set the boxes on top of the counter that held the store's cash register. Swiveling toward them, he placed his hands on his hips. This time he wasn't smiling. That wasn't the only change to his face from the day before: a gauzy white eyepatch covered his right eye! The three friends stared in silent surprise at Mr. Johnson's patch, which was taped securely over his one eye. A cold chill ran up Josephine's spine. Nobody said a word.
Finally, Jillian spoke up: "Hey Mr. Johnson, where'd you get the eyepatch?"
"Oh that. Got it yesterday. I need to wear it for awhile. At least that's what my eye-doctor told me... nothing serious though."
"You mean ophthalmologist?" interrupted Huckleberry. "Your ophthalmologist told you to wear it?"
"Why, that's right, son, ophthalmologist," agreed Mr. Johnson.
Before Josephine could stop him, Huckleberry asked: "Why do you have to wear it anyway?"
"Well, the doc - ophthalmologist- says I have a lazy eye, one that requires a corrective patch. Though I disagreed, telling him there's not a lazy bone in my body," Mr. Johnson smiled and winked his left eye at them.
"Anyway, by wearing the patch over my good right eye it forces the lazy left eye to work harder. That strengthens it and will eventually allow me to take off this eye-patch. Though I must admit, I'm growing fond of it. It makes me look like a pirate, don't you think?" he said.
"You can call me Captain Hook-Johnson, the most feared pirate on the seven seas," growled Mr. Johnson using a pretend pirate voice.
"What about our silver bullet?" asked Josephine cautiously.
He asked them to wait a moment and walked to the back of the store to retrieve it.
"Did you see that?" whispered Huckleberry urgently to Jillian and Josephine. "He didn't have that patch on yesterday when we saw him. I guess he could have gone to his ophthalmologist appointment at the end of the day, after we left the store."
"Doubt it," whispered Jillian.
"Maybe he was the one following us behind those trees..." Josephine whispered back.
"Mr. Johnson, it's us," drawled Huckleberry. "We're here to pick up the silver bullet."
Mr. Johnson walked briskly toward where they stood, carrying two boxes piled on top of one another in front of him, obscuring his face. "Hello neighbors. Let me put these boxes down first." He turned his back and set the boxes on top of the counter that held the store's cash register. Swiveling toward them, he placed his hands on his hips. This time he wasn't smiling. That wasn't the only change to his face from the day before: a gauzy white eyepatch covered his right eye! The three friends stared in silent surprise at Mr. Johnson's patch, which was taped securely over his one eye. A cold chill ran up Josephine's spine. Nobody said a word.
Finally, Jillian spoke up: "Hey Mr. Johnson, where'd you get the eyepatch?"
"Oh that. Got it yesterday. I need to wear it for awhile. At least that's what my eye-doctor told me... nothing serious though."
"You mean ophthalmologist?" interrupted Huckleberry. "Your ophthalmologist told you to wear it?"
"Why, that's right, son, ophthalmologist," agreed Mr. Johnson.
Before Josephine could stop him, Huckleberry asked: "Why do you have to wear it anyway?"
"Well, the doc - ophthalmologist- says I have a lazy eye, one that requires a corrective patch. Though I disagreed, telling him there's not a lazy bone in my body," Mr. Johnson smiled and winked his left eye at them.
"Anyway, by wearing the patch over my good right eye it forces the lazy left eye to work harder. That strengthens it and will eventually allow me to take off this eye-patch. Though I must admit, I'm growing fond of it. It makes me look like a pirate, don't you think?" he said.
"You can call me Captain Hook-Johnson, the most feared pirate on the seven seas," growled Mr. Johnson using a pretend pirate voice.
"What about our silver bullet?" asked Josephine cautiously.
He asked them to wait a moment and walked to the back of the store to retrieve it.
"Did you see that?" whispered Huckleberry urgently to Jillian and Josephine. "He didn't have that patch on yesterday when we saw him. I guess he could have gone to his ophthalmologist appointment at the end of the day, after we left the store."
"Doubt it," whispered Jillian.
"Maybe he was the one following us behind those trees..." Josephine whispered back.
"Yeah, and maybe that's who I got with my slingshot," Jillian said.
"Sssshhhhh... here he comes," cautioned Josephine, placing a finger on her lips.
Mr. Johnson walked up holding not one, but two silver bullets. "I melted you two of them. That old candlestick had plenty of silver, so it was easy. Now, you'll have double the protection against, what did you call it..."
"A Varcolac," replied Huckleberry.
"From Romania, right?"
"Yes, that's right," agreed Huckleberry.
"We'll be seeing you then Mr. Johnson. Thanks for the silver bullets," Josephine said hurriedly, after handing over five dollars to cover the cost.
The friends left the hardware store, walking along downtown Main St. as they talked. "That eye-patch... it must have been Mr. Johnson in the woods yesterday!" both Huckleberry and Jillian shouted simultaneously.
Josephine cut in: "I know, I know, it looks awfully suspicious. And how did he know that Varcolac was the Romanian word for werewolf?"
"Why, we told him yesterday, when we were there ordering the silver bullet," answered Huckleberry.
"No, Josephine is right. We never said anything about Romania. All we told him was that Varcolac was another word for werewolf," explained Jillian.
"Then by chimney, how did he know?" Huckleberry asked.
"THE Varcolac himself would know..." Jillian said knowingly.
The friends were silent, wondering at the mystery that was Mr. Johnson.
How DID the hardware store owner get that
eye-patch?
Was he being honest about the ophthalmologist asking him to wear it?
And, how did he know about the Romanian origin of the word Varcolac?
Was he being honest about the ophthalmologist asking him to wear it?
And, how did he know about the Romanian origin of the word Varcolac?
Jillian, Josephine and
Huckleberry decided on the spur of the moment to walk to Mr. Johnson's
farm to see if they could uncover the answers to these questions. It was a
daring move as the hardware store owner had not invited them onto his
property. But they needed answers... fast.
When Mr. Johnson wasn't working at his hardware store he lived alone on a small farm just outside of Sliver Moon Bay. It was a short walk, and the friends, accompanied by Merlin, set out at a rapid pace. They knew Mr. Johnson would be working at his store the rest of the day so they should have ample time to walk to the farm, search for clues, and leave before he arrived.
After a short walk they reached the farmhouse. It was small, painted white with grey trim, and had a neat vegetable garden filled with large orange pumpkins and squash in front. The farmhouse was surrounded by a dirty white picket fence that desperately needed a new coat of paint. Two windows, their tattered muslin curtains drawn, stared at the friends like large, glaring eyes from the front of the farmhouse. The dilapidated wooden gate in front was open, hanging loosely from two rusty hinges. It creaked gratingly like two old bones rubbing against one another as it swayed back and forth on its hinges in the slight afternoon breeze.
To the left of the farmhouse was a two-story barn. At one point in time it had been painted red. However, the paint had faded and chipped over the years, and the barn looked drab, colorless and unused. Its tall double-doors were closed. The overall impression the friends had of the farmhouse and barn was one of neglect. As if nobody spent much time there. Josephine began to feel uneasy.
When Mr. Johnson wasn't working at his hardware store he lived alone on a small farm just outside of Sliver Moon Bay. It was a short walk, and the friends, accompanied by Merlin, set out at a rapid pace. They knew Mr. Johnson would be working at his store the rest of the day so they should have ample time to walk to the farm, search for clues, and leave before he arrived.
After a short walk they reached the farmhouse. It was small, painted white with grey trim, and had a neat vegetable garden filled with large orange pumpkins and squash in front. The farmhouse was surrounded by a dirty white picket fence that desperately needed a new coat of paint. Two windows, their tattered muslin curtains drawn, stared at the friends like large, glaring eyes from the front of the farmhouse. The dilapidated wooden gate in front was open, hanging loosely from two rusty hinges. It creaked gratingly like two old bones rubbing against one another as it swayed back and forth on its hinges in the slight afternoon breeze.
To the left of the farmhouse was a two-story barn. At one point in time it had been painted red. However, the paint had faded and chipped over the years, and the barn looked drab, colorless and unused. Its tall double-doors were closed. The overall impression the friends had of the farmhouse and barn was one of neglect. As if nobody spent much time there. Josephine began to feel uneasy.
"Maybe Mr. Johnson
is so busy with his hardware store he's not around much to take care of his
farm," offered Jillian.
"Let's make sure nobody is home, first," whispered Josephine. She was beginning to get a bad feeling about their visit to the Johnson farm. Maybe they shouldn't have come after all. Josephine pushed open the gate, staring nervously at the house. She walked quietly to the porch, hesitated a moment, and then knocked lightly on the front-door. They waited uncomfortably, half-expecting the door to open.
Josephine knocked again. No one answered. Moving off to the side, she peered through one of the two front windows. "I can barely see in through the gap between the curtain and the window frame. Nobody's in there. The living room is empty, except for Mr. Johnson's bookcase... and piano," she reported to Jillian and Huckleberry.
"Piano?" said Huckleberry. "A piano playing Varcolac..." he joked.
"Huckleberry, this is serious," said Jillian with a frown.
"And besides," said Josephine, "we don't know if he's the actual Varcolac. That's why we're here looking for clues."
Jillian and Huckleberry ran to the second window and peered in. They couldn't see anything. The curtain blocked their view. The friends decided to walk around to the back of the house. There wasn't much to see once they got there other than a small chicken coop without any chickens, a set of weathered wooden chairs and a small, rusting green and yellow tractor that looked like it hadn't moved in years. Jillian peered through the glass of the backdoor window. Nothing. She jiggled the handle on the backdoor. Locked. The friends walked around to the front of the house where they stood silently, not sure what to do next.
"Let's look in the barn," said Jillian, pointing.
They walked past an old tree stump with an ax-head buried in it, its tan handle pointing skyward at a 45 degree angle. A small pile of fireplace-sized logs lay off to one side. Huckleberry unlatched the barn door and pulled. The left side door swung open with a rusty screech.
"Let's make sure nobody is home, first," whispered Josephine. She was beginning to get a bad feeling about their visit to the Johnson farm. Maybe they shouldn't have come after all. Josephine pushed open the gate, staring nervously at the house. She walked quietly to the porch, hesitated a moment, and then knocked lightly on the front-door. They waited uncomfortably, half-expecting the door to open.
Josephine knocked again. No one answered. Moving off to the side, she peered through one of the two front windows. "I can barely see in through the gap between the curtain and the window frame. Nobody's in there. The living room is empty, except for Mr. Johnson's bookcase... and piano," she reported to Jillian and Huckleberry.
"Piano?" said Huckleberry. "A piano playing Varcolac..." he joked.
"Huckleberry, this is serious," said Jillian with a frown.
"And besides," said Josephine, "we don't know if he's the actual Varcolac. That's why we're here looking for clues."
Jillian and Huckleberry ran to the second window and peered in. They couldn't see anything. The curtain blocked their view. The friends decided to walk around to the back of the house. There wasn't much to see once they got there other than a small chicken coop without any chickens, a set of weathered wooden chairs and a small, rusting green and yellow tractor that looked like it hadn't moved in years. Jillian peered through the glass of the backdoor window. Nothing. She jiggled the handle on the backdoor. Locked. The friends walked around to the front of the house where they stood silently, not sure what to do next.
"Let's look in the barn," said Jillian, pointing.
They walked past an old tree stump with an ax-head buried in it, its tan handle pointing skyward at a 45 degree angle. A small pile of fireplace-sized logs lay off to one side. Huckleberry unlatched the barn door and pulled. The left side door swung open with a rusty screech.
"Huckleberry,
ssshhhh," Jillian said. "You're more annoying than
fingernails on a school chalk-board."
"It's not my fault
this cockamamie door's rusty,"
he said defensively.
"Cockamamie?"
shot back Jillian. "What in heaven's name does that word mean?"
"Pipe down you two,
we've got work to do," cut in Josephine. "Remember, we came here
looking for answers."
They stepped inside the
dimly lit barn. The air was dry and musty. Dust hung in the air
like wisps of smoke, making their noses itch. It smelled like dried,
dead grass. The friends surveyed the scene: elaborate spiderwebs blanketed
the corners of the walls. The barn's hard-packed dirt floor
contained a broken-down Ford Mustang without wheels and a workbench with
various metal farming tools. Off to the other side, piled against a wall,
they could see bulging sacks of what looked like chickenfeed. In the rear,
rotting bales of yellowing hay were stacked. A steep,
narrow staircase near the hay led up to the barn's second floor.
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry listened intently. There was no sound except their own breathing and the faint rustling of what may have been a field mouse underneath the hay. The inside of the barn was as quiet as an empty church. The friends spread out and began searching the barn's first floor for clues.
A few minutes later, Jillian, from the top of the stairs, called to Josephine and Huckleberry, who were peering inside the broken-down Mustang: "Hey, c'mon up to the second floor and look at this."
They climbed the stairs, leaving Merlin to eagerly sniff out the field mouse rustling unseen among the bales of hay. The second floor of the barn was nearly empty, except for a pile of small metal objects lying in its center. On closer inspection, the friends saw that the objects were rectangular-shaped animal traps. Each trap had two spring-attached metal jaws that could be pried open by whoever set the trap. In the trap's center was a small, sphere-shaped trigger. Once set, any animal stepping on the trap's sensitive trigger would cause the jaws of the trap to snap shut on its leg. If the trap was chained to a tree or fence, the animal would be trapped.
Huckleberry lifted one carefully. "Geez, this thing is heavy."
"I've seen these before," explained Jillian, "when my school class took that field trip to the San Francisco Natural History Museum. They're wolftraps. The museum had one in its exhibit showing how the early American fur-trappers trapped wolves."
"They're dangerous looking. If that trap snapped on your leg, you'd be caught tight AND be in a world of hurt," Huckleberry said.
Jillian looked at Huckleberry irritably and said: "It's an animal trap, not a people trap. Nobody's using it to catch people, Huckleberry."
"Well, maybe not, but somebody might be using it to catch a Varcolac. I wonder what Mr. Johnson's doing with them?"
"Ssshhhh," whispered Josephine, putting her finger to her lips at the sudden sound of an automobile motor signaling the arrival of a car just outside the barn. The three friends froze as stiff as statues. The motor shut off, followed by the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut. That was followed by the faint sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel walkway outside toward the farmhouse.
There was a silent pause, and then the friends heard the rusty creaking of the front gate being opened. The gravelly footsteps crunched toward Mr. Johnson's front porch. Then, they stopped. It was silent outside. As if someone was thinking. Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry held their breath inside the barn. Twenty seconds ticked by. It seemed like twenty minutes to the friends as they waited to see what would happen next. Then, the sound of the footsteps started up again, only this time walking directly toward the barn door!
With a sinking feeling Jillian suddenly realized their little dog Merlin was still on the barn's first floor searching for the field-mouse. Thinking quickly, she strode to the top of the stairs and snapped her fingers. Merlin stopped hunting for the field-mouse, his furry face turned upward expectantly toward Jillian at the top of the stairs. She waggled her index finger, and the little dog immediately scurried up the stairs. Jillian scooped him up and backed quietly away from the top of the stairs, breathing a sigh of relief.
Someone was at the barn door. Jillian handed Merlin to Huckleberry, reached down, pried one of the wolftraps open and placed it near the top of the stairs. As the barn door creaked slowly open, throwing the late afternoon light into the shadows below, the friends backed away from the wolftrap pile toward the rear of the barn as silently as possible. Something large entered the barn. They could not see who it was through the floor under their feet, but heard it moving stealthily below.
Josephine frantically glanced around, looking for an escape. She noticed an opening in one corner of the back wall. Within seconds the friends stood at the edge of a vertical drop to the ground below. The opening must have been used at one time to raise and lower bales of hay and sacks of animal feed to the second floor. There was a thick rope attached to an overhead pulley hanging to the ground below them.
Oh no! Merlin suddenly whined with excitement. Whoever was searching the barn's first floor stopped at the sound. He, she, or it, began shuffling toward the stairs!
Now what, thought Josephine, looking worriedly at Jillian and Huckleberry.
Jillian had an idea. She used her hands and eyes to silently communicate to Josephine and Huckleberry that the way to escape was down the rope. Huckleberry went first, with Merlin tucked into the back of his light jacket. He quickly shimmied safely down the rope. Before his feet touched the ground, Josephine was sliding down the rope after him. As Jillian prepared to follow, the stairs behind groaned under the weight of someone heavy walking upward. Just before she slid down the rope, out of the corner of her eye Jillian caught a glimpse of a large shape bursting from the stairs onto the second floor. She didn't wait to see who it was. Jillian was half-way down the rope when she heard a metallic snap followed by a loud grunt of pain behind her.
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry ran into the surrounding woods and were quickly hidden by the trees. In their rush to escape they didn't notice the white pickup truck parked to one side of the barn. The driver's side door had the words Sliver Moon Bay Sheriff's Department stenciled on the side.
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry listened intently. There was no sound except their own breathing and the faint rustling of what may have been a field mouse underneath the hay. The inside of the barn was as quiet as an empty church. The friends spread out and began searching the barn's first floor for clues.
A few minutes later, Jillian, from the top of the stairs, called to Josephine and Huckleberry, who were peering inside the broken-down Mustang: "Hey, c'mon up to the second floor and look at this."
They climbed the stairs, leaving Merlin to eagerly sniff out the field mouse rustling unseen among the bales of hay. The second floor of the barn was nearly empty, except for a pile of small metal objects lying in its center. On closer inspection, the friends saw that the objects were rectangular-shaped animal traps. Each trap had two spring-attached metal jaws that could be pried open by whoever set the trap. In the trap's center was a small, sphere-shaped trigger. Once set, any animal stepping on the trap's sensitive trigger would cause the jaws of the trap to snap shut on its leg. If the trap was chained to a tree or fence, the animal would be trapped.
Huckleberry lifted one carefully. "Geez, this thing is heavy."
"I've seen these before," explained Jillian, "when my school class took that field trip to the San Francisco Natural History Museum. They're wolftraps. The museum had one in its exhibit showing how the early American fur-trappers trapped wolves."
"They're dangerous looking. If that trap snapped on your leg, you'd be caught tight AND be in a world of hurt," Huckleberry said.
Jillian looked at Huckleberry irritably and said: "It's an animal trap, not a people trap. Nobody's using it to catch people, Huckleberry."
"Well, maybe not, but somebody might be using it to catch a Varcolac. I wonder what Mr. Johnson's doing with them?"
"Ssshhhh," whispered Josephine, putting her finger to her lips at the sudden sound of an automobile motor signaling the arrival of a car just outside the barn. The three friends froze as stiff as statues. The motor shut off, followed by the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut. That was followed by the faint sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel walkway outside toward the farmhouse.
There was a silent pause, and then the friends heard the rusty creaking of the front gate being opened. The gravelly footsteps crunched toward Mr. Johnson's front porch. Then, they stopped. It was silent outside. As if someone was thinking. Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry held their breath inside the barn. Twenty seconds ticked by. It seemed like twenty minutes to the friends as they waited to see what would happen next. Then, the sound of the footsteps started up again, only this time walking directly toward the barn door!
With a sinking feeling Jillian suddenly realized their little dog Merlin was still on the barn's first floor searching for the field-mouse. Thinking quickly, she strode to the top of the stairs and snapped her fingers. Merlin stopped hunting for the field-mouse, his furry face turned upward expectantly toward Jillian at the top of the stairs. She waggled her index finger, and the little dog immediately scurried up the stairs. Jillian scooped him up and backed quietly away from the top of the stairs, breathing a sigh of relief.
Someone was at the barn door. Jillian handed Merlin to Huckleberry, reached down, pried one of the wolftraps open and placed it near the top of the stairs. As the barn door creaked slowly open, throwing the late afternoon light into the shadows below, the friends backed away from the wolftrap pile toward the rear of the barn as silently as possible. Something large entered the barn. They could not see who it was through the floor under their feet, but heard it moving stealthily below.
Josephine frantically glanced around, looking for an escape. She noticed an opening in one corner of the back wall. Within seconds the friends stood at the edge of a vertical drop to the ground below. The opening must have been used at one time to raise and lower bales of hay and sacks of animal feed to the second floor. There was a thick rope attached to an overhead pulley hanging to the ground below them.
Oh no! Merlin suddenly whined with excitement. Whoever was searching the barn's first floor stopped at the sound. He, she, or it, began shuffling toward the stairs!
Now what, thought Josephine, looking worriedly at Jillian and Huckleberry.
Jillian had an idea. She used her hands and eyes to silently communicate to Josephine and Huckleberry that the way to escape was down the rope. Huckleberry went first, with Merlin tucked into the back of his light jacket. He quickly shimmied safely down the rope. Before his feet touched the ground, Josephine was sliding down the rope after him. As Jillian prepared to follow, the stairs behind groaned under the weight of someone heavy walking upward. Just before she slid down the rope, out of the corner of her eye Jillian caught a glimpse of a large shape bursting from the stairs onto the second floor. She didn't wait to see who it was. Jillian was half-way down the rope when she heard a metallic snap followed by a loud grunt of pain behind her.
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry ran into the surrounding woods and were quickly hidden by the trees. In their rush to escape they didn't notice the white pickup truck parked to one side of the barn. The driver's side door had the words Sliver Moon Bay Sheriff's Department stenciled on the side.
Jillian Traps the Varcolac
Chapter 4 - A Mysterious Stranger:
Chapter 4 - A Mysterious Stranger:
The next day, Jillian,
Josephine and Huckleberry, with Merlin trailing just behind, decided to pay a
visit to the Sliver Moon Bay sheriff's office. Perhaps the sheriff could help
them sort out the clues they had developed so far: Mr. Johnson's
eye-patch. The wolftraps. Their near discovery at the Johnson
barn. While they weren't definitive proof of anything, the
three clues added up to something worth talking to the sheriff
about.
Soon, they reached the
sheriff's office, located in Sliver Moon Bay on Marble Street,
perpendicular to Main Street. It was a medium-sized, single story building
with a high ceiling. The front of the building contained a
waiting room and a couple of offices, while the back was used for storage and a
small jail to keep prisoners in. Walking through the front
door Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry were greeted by Mrs.
Peterson, Sheriff Thompson's long time office manager.
"Well hello there children. I see the Lockhart girls and their good neighbor Huckleberry, but who is that bringing up the rear?" she asked with a teasing smile, looking down at Merlin.
"Well hello there children. I see the Lockhart girls and their good neighbor Huckleberry, but who is that bringing up the rear?" she asked with a teasing smile, looking down at Merlin.
Merlin barked appreciatively,
happy to be noticed.
"It's always a
pleasure to see you all. How can I help?"
"Is Sheriff
Thompson in?" Josephine asked.
"Well no, he's not,
dear. He's out today. Truth be told children, it's been a whirlwind around here
lately," Mrs. Peterson admitted, the smile on her face turning into a
frown.
She lowered her voice and continued: "First, we had a mysterious young man show up in Sliver Moon Bay acting strangely. Sheriff Thompson said he was sneaking around the library. The boy wouldn't tell who he was or where he came from. So Sheriff Thompson had to lock him up for a few days until he could find out more about him. The sheriff was worried he might have run away from home. He's in the jail now," she said, glancing discreetly behind her at a locked door with a square, double-paned window.
Inside the jail-cell, Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry could see a slender boy who appeared to be about 16 years old. He had straight, dark brown hair that flopped over his eyes, wore scuffed blue jeans, a black tee-shirt and black boots. The boy sat alone on a narrow bench, unmoving, in the small room that acted as the jail. His eyes were cast down staring at the floor. Even though she didn't know him, Josephine felt sorry for him.
She lowered her voice and continued: "First, we had a mysterious young man show up in Sliver Moon Bay acting strangely. Sheriff Thompson said he was sneaking around the library. The boy wouldn't tell who he was or where he came from. So Sheriff Thompson had to lock him up for a few days until he could find out more about him. The sheriff was worried he might have run away from home. He's in the jail now," she said, glancing discreetly behind her at a locked door with a square, double-paned window.
Inside the jail-cell, Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry could see a slender boy who appeared to be about 16 years old. He had straight, dark brown hair that flopped over his eyes, wore scuffed blue jeans, a black tee-shirt and black boots. The boy sat alone on a narrow bench, unmoving, in the small room that acted as the jail. His eyes were cast down staring at the floor. Even though she didn't know him, Josephine felt sorry for him.
"And then,"
continued Mrs. Peterson, the sheriff hurt his ankle. He bruised it so
badly. The poor man had to stay home today... hobbling around
on crutches."
"Hurt his
leg?" asked Josephine, curiously.
"Yes, dear, it
happened yesterday while he was out investigating a possible trespassing
near the Johnson farm. Or, was it on
the Johnson farm. For the life of me, I can't remember what he told me
exactly... fiddlesticks, I must be losing my memory," Mrs. Peterson said,
a puzzled look on her face. "Quite painful from what he told me,"
she clucked with sympathy.
Mrs. Peterson reminded Josephine of a mother hen worried about her chicks.
Mrs. Peterson reminded Josephine of a mother hen worried about her chicks.
The three friends looked
at one another. THAT was a coincidence that the sheriff was at the Johnson
farm yesterday, the same day they
were. Could it have been Sheriff Thompson that nearly caught them in
the barn?
"Did the
sheriff say how he hurt his leg?" Jillian asked.
"No... no he
didn't, dear," said Mrs. Peterson, her voice trailing off. "I suppose
I forgot to ask him. I'll need to do that, now that I think about it."
"We should
go," said Josephine suddenly.
"Was there
something you wanted to tell me before you go?" Mrs. Peterson said
sweetly. "I'd be glad to pass it along to the sheriff."
"No, we'll stop by
tomorrow to talk to the sheriff directly," replied Josephine.
"Yeahhh, we'll ask
him tomorrow about the werewo..." began
Huckleberry, nodding his head up and down.
Jillian stepped on his
foot hard before he could finish saying the word werewolf.
"Oowww," he yelled. "Why'd you do that?"
"Huckleberry, stop shaking your big old head up and down like that," said Jillian irritably. You look like a bobble-headed booby.
"What's that?" Huckleberry said sorely.
"A type of pigeon," she replied with a mischievous smile.
"Oowww," he yelled. "Why'd you do that?"
"Huckleberry, stop shaking your big old head up and down like that," said Jillian irritably. You look like a bobble-headed booby.
"What's that?" Huckleberry said sorely.
"A type of pigeon," she replied with a mischievous smile.
"Actually dear,
it's a seabird, related to the gannet bird. It's often found on islands
far out in the sea," Mrs. Peterson corrected, smiling sweetly.
Mrs. Peterson loved to bird-watch. When she wasn't working at the sheriff's office she was out with her bird-watching groups and binoculars tracking the many species of birds around Sliver Moon Bay. Mrs. Peterson knew a lot about birds. Including boobies. "Alright then children, I'll tell the sheriff you stopped by."
Mrs. Peterson loved to bird-watch. When she wasn't working at the sheriff's office she was out with her bird-watching groups and binoculars tracking the many species of birds around Sliver Moon Bay. Mrs. Peterson knew a lot about birds. Including boobies. "Alright then children, I'll tell the sheriff you stopped by."
As they turned to go,
Josephine's gaze met that of the boy in the jail, now staring intently at
her through the window-glass. She was startled at the directness of his gaze.
His eyes were green and yellow, bright, and unblinking. Like a cat's.
Mysteriously, he briefly nodded his head toward the small, barred window high
on the wall behind where he sat. It was if he was signaling to her. It all
happened so quickly.
"Come on,
Josephine, let's go," demanded Jillian, as she walked out the front door,
followed by Huckleberry, with Merlin trotting at their heels.
Josephine followed. Once
the door closed behind them, they paused in front of the sheriff's office.
"Now what?" asked Huckleberry. "I'm hungry."
Josephine urged Jillian and Huckleberry to follow her to the rear of the jail. Shortly, they stood together in a small parking lot.
"Now what?" asked Huckleberry. "I'm hungry."
Josephine urged Jillian and Huckleberry to follow her to the rear of the jail. Shortly, they stood together in a small parking lot.
"Geezzz, what are
we doing back here behind the jail," complained Huckleberry. "Let's
go home and get something to eat... a PB and J with a cold glass
of milk, some of Mrs. Lockhart's chocolate-chip cookies would be mucho excellent... along with..."
Josephine's stern look
stopped him from saying anything further.
"Whhaat'd I do this time?" he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Whhaat'd I do this time?" he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.
Josephine didn't
answer. Instead, she craned her neck upward to look at the little window
with vertical metal bars located in the back of the jail.
No sign of movement. The friends looked around. A dark blue trash
dumpster was pushed up against the building's wall, its lid closed.
They waited for something, anything, to happen. Josephine knew it was the same window the young man had signaled to her when their eyes met inside. Jillian and Huckleberry were getting impatient. Merlin lay down on his back, the dog's plump belly pointing skyward. He was hoping one of them would scratch his belly. Now what Josephine wondered?
They waited for something, anything, to happen. Josephine knew it was the same window the young man had signaled to her when their eyes met inside. Jillian and Huckleberry were getting impatient. Merlin lay down on his back, the dog's plump belly pointing skyward. He was hoping one of them would scratch his belly. Now what Josephine wondered?
Suddenly, without
warning, something white, slim and pointed sailed out through the
window-bars. It easily cleared the dumpster, looped twice in the air
above, and then dove downward toward the friends like a missile. The
paper airplane's pointy nose crashed
into the back of Huckleberry's neck before harmlessly falling to the
ground.
"Jiminy cricket, what hit me... must have been a mosquito," complained Huckleberry, rubbing his neck. "Am I bleeding badly?"
"Jiminy cricket, what hit me... must have been a mosquito," complained Huckleberry, rubbing his neck. "Am I bleeding badly?"
Jillian laughed:
"You're not bleeding, silly. If that's a mosquito it's the biggest one
I've ever seen."
Josephine had already
picked up the paper airplane. She smoothed it flat. It contained
someone’s hand-writing.
"What does it
say?" asked Jillian.
"It says: Beware the full moon. Seek wolfs-bane. Keep
it close once you have found it. I will join you soon. David."
"Wow," said
Jillian. "What is that all about anyway?"
Huckleberry appeared
unimpressed, still irritably rubbing the back of his neck: "Alright, so
the kid in jail folds a piece of paper to make a paper-airplane and flies
it out that window. He writes on it that soon there's going to
be a full moon. I've got all that. Now what about this word wolfs-bane - what does that mean?"
"How could you
forget so soon, Huckleberry, Josephine told us about it earlier.
Wolfs-bane is a type of flower," replied Jillian. "And, more
importantly, a flower that werewolves - including Varcolacs - are supposed to
avoid."
"David," Josephine repeated the
name. "I wonder where he came from."
"And how by Christmas is this
David going to join us? Has he forgotten that he's stuck in jail,"
said Huckleberry, shaking his head.
"By Christmas,"
repeated Jillian loudly. "What on earth are you talking about
a holiday for at a time like this?"
"It's just a figure
of speech, Jillian," Josephine defended Huckleberry. "You know, like Straight As The Crow Flies, or That’s The Way The Ball Bounces."
"Yeah, that's
right, a figure of speech," agreed Huckleberry. "If it was good
enough for my grand-dad when he said it, then it's good enough for me."
Jillian just rolled her
eyes.
Jillian Traps the Varcolac
Chapter 5 - Wolfs-bane:
"Stop arguing you two," Josephine scolded as she led them
back onto Main Street. "Let's walk to the nursery."Chapter 5 - Wolfs-bane:
"Why are you thinking about plants at a time like this?" Huckleberry asked.
"Don't forget: nursery - plants - flowers - wolfs-bane," reminded Jillian.
"That's right, so let's hurry," smiled Josephine.
The friends, with Merlin following, walked to the Blue Sky Farms nursery at the edge of town, on south Main Street. The nursery was run by Ms. Plum, a persnickety older lady who lived alone with her ancient, even more persnickety Chocolate Point Siamese cat in a small cottage behind the nursery. The friends entered through the front door and slowly walked down an aisle. Surrounding them on either side were dozens of potted plants and flowers.
"Did you ever wonder why Ms. Plum calls it 'Blue Sky Farms' instead of Blue Sky Nursery?" asked Huckleberry curiously. "There's no farm here. No horses. No cows. No pigs or chickens. And for certain, I'll guarantee I've never seen a tractor."
"Maybe Ms. Plum owned a farm once. Or maybe she wishes she owned a farm and is simply using that name for her nursery because it reminds her of that," offered Jillian.
"And, why do they call these plant and flower stores nursery anyway," continued Huckleberry without pausing, ignoring Jillian. "A nursery is the proper name of a room for newborn babies, that's a fact.
And, as far as I can see," he said, confidently sweeping his gaze back and forth, there aren't any babies in here."
Josephine though a moment, then said with a smile: "Huckleberry, many words have more than one meaning. Why, your own name, Huckleberry, also stands for a bush."
"It does not. I was NOT named after a bush!"
"She's right," teased Jillian. "In fact, they taught us in school that the Huckleberry Bush is known for growing acidic-tasting berries. Acidic means something that tastes sour. So, you're actually named after a sour-tasting bush."
Before Huckleberry could argue, a loud ssshhhh was directed their way. It was Ms. Plum, finger to thin, pursed lips, standing behind the nursery's check-out counter at the end of the aisle. Her eyes glared at them with disapproval. The friends sheepishly walked toward her.
"Sorry for being so noisy, Ms. Plum," apologized Josephine.
Ms. Plum gave them a stern look and asked what they wanted. Ms. Plum was tall and thin, with her gray hair piled in a bun above a sour, pinched looking face. She had a pointed chin that stabbed the air like the prow of a boat. She was dressed in a grey, earth stained dress that fell to her ankles. Her shoes were hard rubber and flat-heeled.
Jillian noticed that Ms. Plum's fingernails were long and sharp at the ends. That was strange. "Do you have any wolfs-bane for sale?" asked Jillian sweetly.
The stern look on Ms. Plum's face grew even sterner. "No, we don't carry THAT here." She almost spat out the words.
Jillian wondered why Ms. Plum appeared to be so angry.
"Actually, we DO have it, I'll go get it for you," said a second voice. It was Constance Price, who had just walked up. Constance attended Sliver Moon Bay High School when she wasn't working at the nursery part-time for Ms. Plum. Before anybody could react, Constance had returned with a bunch of wolfs-bane clasped in her hand. The flowers were a buttercup type, bright blue with dark green spiraling leaves on a tall stem.
"How did that horrible plant get into MY nursery," said a surprised Ms. Plum, stepping back away from Constance and the wolfs-bane - as if she was afraid it would burn her.
"Danny, the truck-driver who regularly delivers our flowers from the wholesaler, dropped it off. He said you might like them... and possibly order more for our customers."
"I ... DON'T ... LIKE ... THEM ... AT ... ALL ..." Ms. Plum said harshly. "Take them away this instant!"
"We'll take them," said Josephine quickly. "How much do they cost?"
"They're free. Now leave with those hideous things," Ms. Plum nearly shrieked, almost tripping over a flowerpot behind her as she continued to back away from Constance and the wolfs-bane.
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry thanked Ms. Plum and Constance and hurriedly left the nursery with the wolfs-bane wrapped in newspaper. Later that day they sat together on the tree-house floor behind the Lockhart house.
"What was all that drama about anyway," drawled Huckleberry, scratching behind his ear. "Ms. Plum sure was acting strange."
"Yeah, and did you see her fingernails... long and sharp like claws," Jillian chimed in.
Huckleberry thought for a moment. "Fingernails like claws? Maybe that's just her fashion."
"Werewolf fashion," answered Jillian.
"I was definitely surprised at her reaction to the wolfs-bane," Josephine said after a moment, looking at the pretty blue flowers sitting on the floor of the tree-house between them. They looked innocent enough.
"Ms. Plum acted as if she was allergic to these flowers," agreed Huckleberry.
"Or worse," added Jillian. "Maybe she's afraid of them because she's the Varcolac."
"Ms. Plum? A Varcolac? C'mon, you're kidding, right?" shot back Huckleberry.
"What do we know about her, really?" responded Jillian.
"Let me think... she arrived in town six months ago to manage the nursery, lives alone with that cat of hers, and keeps to herself. Not very friendly... that's about it."
"Exactly. We know very little about her," said Josephine. "Ms. Plum is a mystery."
After a few minutes of silence passed between the friends, Josephine spoke up: "Let's examine the clues we've uncovered so far. First, there are a number of people in town, some we've known for a long time, others we've only met recently, acting out of the ordinary. Also, there seem to be too many strange coincidences all occurring in a short amount of time. For example Mr. Johnson turns up wearing an eye-patch not so long after Jillian hit someone, or something, in the woods with her slingshot."
"By the way, good shot Jillian," Huckleberry complemented.
"Thanks," Jillian smiled shyly.
"Next, Sheriff Thompson is injured, hobbling around on crutches because something's wrong with his leg," continued Josephine. "Very coincidental, considering the scare we had at the Johnson Farm in the barn with those wolftraps. Somebody, or something, got a leg caught in that wolftrap in the barn. Maybe the sheriff was there."
Jillian added, "Then we meet that mysterious boy, David, at Sheriff Thompson's jail."
"We didn't actually meet him, he wrote us a note, one with a sharp point," corrected Huckleberry, wincing at the memory of the paper airplane crashing into his neck.
"Whatever. We saw him and he tried to communicate with us."
"And finally, Ms. Plum, who we barely know, is acting very strange, frightened by a bunch of harmless flowers," said Josephine, picking up the wolfs-bane.
"It all adds up to four suspects. Any one of them might be the Varcolac," Huckleberry summarized.
Neither Jillian nor Josephine disagreed. The friends fell silent as the sun began to set in the west. Soon, it would be dark. Tomorrow night was the full moon.
Jillian Traps the Varcolac
Chapter 6 - A Trusted Friend:
"Anybody home up
there?" an accented voice asked. It came from somewhere
below. Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry crowded around the opening in the
tree-house floor that led to the rope-ladder. Staring upward was the
boyish face of David, last seen in Sheriff Thompson's jail!
"We're here," answered Jillian.
"Mind if I join you?"
"Come on up," Jillian answered back.
And with that, David climbed up the rope-ladder. Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry made room for him as he sat on the floor between them. It was a little crowded in the tree-house with the four of them.
"What'd you do, pick the lock and break out of jail?" drawled Huckleberry.
"We're here," answered Jillian.
"Mind if I join you?"
"Come on up," Jillian answered back.
And with that, David climbed up the rope-ladder. Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry made room for him as he sat on the floor between them. It was a little crowded in the tree-house with the four of them.
"What'd you do, pick the lock and break out of jail?" drawled Huckleberry.
"Nothing so dramatic as that," David
answered, smiling mischievously. "When Mrs. Peterson brought me my
lunch, she forgot to lock the door to the jail. I simply walked out when
she wasn't looking."
"How did you find us here at the tree-house, behind the Lockhart's home?" asked Huckleberry suspiciously.
David explained that he had overheard their names when they visited the jail and looked up their address at Sliver Moon Bay's public library.
"So, now that that's out of the way, just who are you? Where did you come from? And, what are you doing here?" Josephine asked.
David smiled and calmly told his story: He was born into a family that had lived in the country of Romania for centuries. His ancestors could be traced to the Middle Ages and included princes and warriors who fought against the invaders of his country, including the Ottoman Turks. In those days, Romania's primeval forests were filled with evil creatures such as Varcolacs...
Huckleberry and Jillian exchanged knowing glances when they heard that.
...ogres and trolls. After Romania defeated its invaders, David's ancestors devoted their lives to protecting the people from those same evil creatures that roamed the forests preying on innocent villages and farms. As the years passed, they were largely successful at ridding the land of many fearsome creatures.
Raised by his parents in a bustling village in Romania's Northern Transylvania region, David explained that the conflict between his family and the beasts that roamed the surrounding forests was all but over. Romania, and its people, were largely safe and secure.
An avid Internet user, David went on to explain how he discovered an odd news story in the online edition of the American newspaper The Seattle Times. The story told about a strange sighting a group of hikers in Washington State’s Olympic Mountains had of a large wolf. The hikers, a group of high school teachers that hiked regularly on weekends in that area, claimed the wolf was standing on its hind-legs -- like a man! Before they could get a picture of it with their cameras, the wolf fled into the surrounding forest.
Researching news articles on the Internet about other wolf sightings in western America, David told his rapt tree-house listeners that he discovered similar incidents reported by newspapers in northern Oregon, and later the southern part of the state, near the city of Ashland. Later still, there was a news report of a sighting across the state border near Eureka, California. And finally, north of San Francisco outside of Petaluma. The actual dates of these sightings pointed to the wolf, or whatever it might be, moving south along the western part of the United States. Most recently in cities near the ocean. All of the stories had the same pattern, a wolf standing on two legs that melted away into the forest before its picture could be taken. He was convinced the sightings were of a Varcolac. And now, it was here in Sliver Moon Bay.
"What makes you think it's here?" interrupted Jillian.
"Yes, why here? There weren't any news reports about a large wolf in Sliver Moon Bay before now," added Josephine.
"There are farm and ranch associations, organized groups that support farmers and ranchers, that report on regional problems with wild animals attacking livestock and farm animals. These associations will point out that bears, mountain lions or coyotes are more active in some areas of your country than others," explained David.
"So you heard that this town, Sliver Moon Bay, was having a lot of problems with farm animals and livestock like cows being killed and eaten by wild animals?" asked Josephine.
"I did, and came here," David answered simply.
"Because you KNEW it was a Varcolac, not a bear or a mountain lion that was hunting around these parts," added Huckleberry.
David smiled and continued his story: with his parent's support, he flew to San Francisco from his home in Romania. Because he did not have a driver's license, he traveled to Sliver Moon Bay from the airport by bus. And, because of the reason for his journey, he could not tell Sheriff Thompson what he was doing in Sliver Moon Bay when the sheriff discovered him wandering around downtown. Unfortunately, the sheriff, thinking he had discovered a runaway, temporarily locked him up until the Sheriff could locate his parents. David did not want to involve them so he kept quiet. For now he was free of the jail and ready to do whatever it took to find the Varcolac before it caused any more trouble.
"What type of trouble?" asked Jillian curiously.
"The Varcolac’s desire is to be left alone. It pursues this goal by hiding within the darkness of the forest at night, while blending into the people around you by day. But the Varcolac must eat. It does this by preying on the sheep and cows it finds on local farms. As you can imagine, this results in problems for the farmers and ranchers who own those animals."
Josephine remembered the wolftraps in Mr. Johnson's barn. Maybe they were to be used for catching whatever had been preying on the local livestock.
"What about people? Is it a danger to us?" demanded Jillian.
David paused before answering carefully. "It can be. It has happened before."
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry decided to bring David up to date on the strange events that had occurred over the past few days. Though they had once considered David a suspect, his story seemed plausible, and honestly shared. They decided to trust him for now.
The friends shared their thoughts on the suspects: Sheriff Thompson, Mr. Johnson the hardware store owner, and Ms. Plum at the nursery. David listened carefully, without interruption. When they were finished, he suggested they re-visit Mr. Johnson's farm to go over the clues once more. The friends agreed even though it was getting late in the day and they risked meeting Mr. Johnson at his farm.
With Merlin in tow, they left the Lockhart house and once again reached the farm. Cautiously approaching the barn, they were surprised when the barn door opened suddenly and Sheriff Thompson himself walked out... limping noticeably.
"How did you find us here at the tree-house, behind the Lockhart's home?" asked Huckleberry suspiciously.
David explained that he had overheard their names when they visited the jail and looked up their address at Sliver Moon Bay's public library.
"So, now that that's out of the way, just who are you? Where did you come from? And, what are you doing here?" Josephine asked.
David smiled and calmly told his story: He was born into a family that had lived in the country of Romania for centuries. His ancestors could be traced to the Middle Ages and included princes and warriors who fought against the invaders of his country, including the Ottoman Turks. In those days, Romania's primeval forests were filled with evil creatures such as Varcolacs...
Huckleberry and Jillian exchanged knowing glances when they heard that.
...ogres and trolls. After Romania defeated its invaders, David's ancestors devoted their lives to protecting the people from those same evil creatures that roamed the forests preying on innocent villages and farms. As the years passed, they were largely successful at ridding the land of many fearsome creatures.
Raised by his parents in a bustling village in Romania's Northern Transylvania region, David explained that the conflict between his family and the beasts that roamed the surrounding forests was all but over. Romania, and its people, were largely safe and secure.
An avid Internet user, David went on to explain how he discovered an odd news story in the online edition of the American newspaper The Seattle Times. The story told about a strange sighting a group of hikers in Washington State’s Olympic Mountains had of a large wolf. The hikers, a group of high school teachers that hiked regularly on weekends in that area, claimed the wolf was standing on its hind-legs -- like a man! Before they could get a picture of it with their cameras, the wolf fled into the surrounding forest.
Researching news articles on the Internet about other wolf sightings in western America, David told his rapt tree-house listeners that he discovered similar incidents reported by newspapers in northern Oregon, and later the southern part of the state, near the city of Ashland. Later still, there was a news report of a sighting across the state border near Eureka, California. And finally, north of San Francisco outside of Petaluma. The actual dates of these sightings pointed to the wolf, or whatever it might be, moving south along the western part of the United States. Most recently in cities near the ocean. All of the stories had the same pattern, a wolf standing on two legs that melted away into the forest before its picture could be taken. He was convinced the sightings were of a Varcolac. And now, it was here in Sliver Moon Bay.
"What makes you think it's here?" interrupted Jillian.
"Yes, why here? There weren't any news reports about a large wolf in Sliver Moon Bay before now," added Josephine.
"There are farm and ranch associations, organized groups that support farmers and ranchers, that report on regional problems with wild animals attacking livestock and farm animals. These associations will point out that bears, mountain lions or coyotes are more active in some areas of your country than others," explained David.
"So you heard that this town, Sliver Moon Bay, was having a lot of problems with farm animals and livestock like cows being killed and eaten by wild animals?" asked Josephine.
"I did, and came here," David answered simply.
"Because you KNEW it was a Varcolac, not a bear or a mountain lion that was hunting around these parts," added Huckleberry.
David smiled and continued his story: with his parent's support, he flew to San Francisco from his home in Romania. Because he did not have a driver's license, he traveled to Sliver Moon Bay from the airport by bus. And, because of the reason for his journey, he could not tell Sheriff Thompson what he was doing in Sliver Moon Bay when the sheriff discovered him wandering around downtown. Unfortunately, the sheriff, thinking he had discovered a runaway, temporarily locked him up until the Sheriff could locate his parents. David did not want to involve them so he kept quiet. For now he was free of the jail and ready to do whatever it took to find the Varcolac before it caused any more trouble.
"What type of trouble?" asked Jillian curiously.
"The Varcolac’s desire is to be left alone. It pursues this goal by hiding within the darkness of the forest at night, while blending into the people around you by day. But the Varcolac must eat. It does this by preying on the sheep and cows it finds on local farms. As you can imagine, this results in problems for the farmers and ranchers who own those animals."
Josephine remembered the wolftraps in Mr. Johnson's barn. Maybe they were to be used for catching whatever had been preying on the local livestock.
"What about people? Is it a danger to us?" demanded Jillian.
David paused before answering carefully. "It can be. It has happened before."
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry decided to bring David up to date on the strange events that had occurred over the past few days. Though they had once considered David a suspect, his story seemed plausible, and honestly shared. They decided to trust him for now.
The friends shared their thoughts on the suspects: Sheriff Thompson, Mr. Johnson the hardware store owner, and Ms. Plum at the nursery. David listened carefully, without interruption. When they were finished, he suggested they re-visit Mr. Johnson's farm to go over the clues once more. The friends agreed even though it was getting late in the day and they risked meeting Mr. Johnson at his farm.
With Merlin in tow, they left the Lockhart house and once again reached the farm. Cautiously approaching the barn, they were surprised when the barn door opened suddenly and Sheriff Thompson himself walked out... limping noticeably.
Jillian Traps the Varcolac
Chapter 7 - Answers Revealed:
Chapter 7 - Answers Revealed:
"Hello there, kids, how's things? He asked them. Sheriff
Thompson was tall and thin, with an angular face, droopy eyes with long lashes
and a narrow mouth with too many teeth crowded together. When he smiled
his toothy grin, he looked a little bit like a horse. He was dressed in a
tan uniform topped by a weather-beaten felt cowboy hat. Around his waist
he wore a wide black belt, holsters containing a pistol, hand-cuffs and a
radio hanging heavily. Most noticeably, he held a single crutch in one
hand that helped him walk. In the other he held one of the wolftraps they
had seen on their previous visit to the barn.
Josephine gulped hard before answering for all of them: "Things are good, sir. Real good."
"What brings you out to the Johnson farm?" he asked them in a curious voice.
"We came with..." it was at that very moment Josephine realized that David was no longer there! Somehow, before the sheriff stepped outside from inside the barn, David had slipped away.
"Did you say you came with somebody?" the sheriff asked, tipping his hat back as he looked them over.
"Why, Merlin of course. What better friend to bring along than man's best friend -- Merlin the dog," Huckleberry answered with a big smile.
Hearing his name, Merlin barked twice, cocking his head to one side.
Sheriff Thompson laughed heartily. "Yes doggie, you are man's best friend. You know what they say; dogs are the only relatives a body gets to choose."
As he bent to scratch Merlin's ears, the sheriff winced in pain. "This knee of mine is a mite painful. I twisted it the other day, and now I have to hop around on this crutch so I don't put too much pressure on it."
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry could clearly see that the sheriff was favoring one knee. His feet looked fine though, covered by the dark brown cowboy boots the sheriff always wore. What was confusing was that if the sheriff had been the one caught by the wolftrap, it would have affected his foot and ankle, not his knee. Something didn't add up.
"How'd you twist it?" Huckleberry asked innocently.
"I stepped off my front porch awkwardly, simple thing done clumsily you could say - must be getting old," the sheriff answered sheepishly.
"Hey there, sheriff, what are you doing with that wolftrap?" Jillian spoke up.
"Oh this," Sheriff Thompson said, glancing down at the metal trap in his left hand. "I ordered a bunch of them from Johnson's hardware store. We've been having trouble with coyotes around these parts... at least I think they're coyotes. Don't appear to be mountain lions, and we don't have any bears in these parts that I know of. Whatever the varmint is, it's raiding the local farms at night, killing and eating sheep. Even cows. I'm going to use these to catch him, without a doubt."
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry exchanged knowing glances, recalling what David had told them about the Varcolac raiding livestock for food.
"What about wolves, sheriff. Could it be a wolf instead of coyote that's raiding those farms?" Jillian asked.
"No... wolves haven't been seen around these parts for 75 years or more. They were hunted and shot out years ago... long before you or I were born."
The sheriff went on to explain that he had simply stopped by to pick the traps up. Mr. Johnson was storing them for him in the barn. "I told him I'd pick them up, in spite of this bum knee," the sheriff said glancing at his twisted knee, "so he didn't need to drive them his hardware-store. It's crowded over at the store and he agreed to keep them here for me for a few days. Mr. Johnson's been busy you know since the eye-doctor worked on his lazy eye."
"You mean opthalmologist," Huckleberry corrected. The sheriff just smiled.
"You're sure he was at the opthalmologist?" asked Josephine.
"Why yes. I ran into Doc Booker - the eye-doctor - earlier today and he mentioned treating Mr. Johnson's lazy eye. Why do you ask?"
Josephine smiled sweetly and said simply, "Oh, just curious. Can we help you load those traps onto your pick-up truck?"
"That'd be welcome. The truck's out back, behind the barn. I'll tell you, I've got to keep an eye on that truck, somebody stole it yesterday."
"Stole your truck?" asked Huckleberry.
"Yep. It just disappeared. And of all places, it turned up here, at the Johnson farm, parked next to this barn."
"Why here?" wondered Josephine.
"That's the mystery of it. I never could figure out why somebody would steal my truck and drive it to the farm. And then, just leave it here. It's a mystery. Anyway, I'll drop this trap off and meet you at the truck."
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry looked at one another, the same thing running through their minds: Whoever stole the sheriff's truck yesterday may have been the one that almost caught them at the barn. Both the sheriff and the hardware store owner, Mr. Johnson, no longer seemed to be suspects. Their injuries, Mr. Johnson's eye and the sheriff's knee, appeared to be unrelated to either the slingshot or wolftrap. That left Ms. Plum as the prime suspect. And, where was David?
After they finished helping Sheriff Thompson load his pick-up truck, the friends, followed by Merlin, decided to return to the tree-house behind the Lockhart house to talk it over. The sun was setting fast and it was near dark.
"I wouldn't go that way if I were you," said a voice suddenly. David stepped out from behind a tree some distance from the Johnson farm, smiling shyly.
"There you are, Disappearing David," Jillian said.
"You're like that magician Houdini, here now, gone later," drawled Huckleberry.
David explained he hid from the sheriff so he wouldn't get locked up again.
"Where'd you learn to disappear like that?" asked an impressed Jillian.
"Oh, let's just say it's a family skill and leave it at that," David replied somewhat mysteriously.
Josephine quickly filled him in on the new developments surrounding the real cause of the injuries to their suspects Mr. Johnson and Sheriff Thompson. They all agreed these new facts appeared to eliminate both as suspects. That left Ms. Plum.
"Let's pay a visit to Ms. Plum at the nursery," suggested David. "We may be able to find a clue that you overlooked earlier."
"We'll have to hurry, it's almost dark," Huckleberry warned, glancing at the setting sun.
"Don't forget, it's Halloween tonight," Josephine reminded them. "Mom and dad will be expecting us home and in our costumes for trick-or-treat around the neighborhood."
"Yeah, and I don't want to miss any candy. I've already got a double-sized, extra-large, super expansion bag to hold all that candy I'm going to collect from the neighbors," agreed Huckleberry, greedily rubbing his hands together at the thought.
"If you don't stop acting so greedy, Huckleberry, you'll wind up getting carrots and celery in your Halloween bag instead of candy," shot back Jillian.
"Greedy? I'm not greedy... why I was just saying..." Huckleberry protested.
"Enough with the arguing you two," said Josephine. "Why don't we go trick-or-treating as planned in the neighborhood and meet David later at the tree-house. From there we can check out the nursery for clues. We'll be back home before we're missed."
"Good plan, let's do that," Jillian and Huckleberry agreed.
"David, you can hide in the tree-house; we'll meet you there and all walk down together to the Blue Sky Farms nursery," suggested Josephine.
Instead, David told them he would meet them at the nursery. He had something he needed to do first. Josephine was surprised - what could he possibly need to do that late afternoon on Halloween? When she reminded David that the sheriff was still looking for him, after all he HAD escaped from jail; David continued to insist he would meet them later. Josephine agreed, and watched David stride away toward downtown Sliver Moon Bay. Puzzling she thought.
Back at the Lockhart house darkness had arrived. Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry compared their Halloween costumes as they stood in the Lockhart living room. Jillian looked beautiful in her violet ballerina costume, including a silver tiara atop her head, while Josephine was regal in her queen's costume, accessorized with a five-point gold crown. Both sisters smiled broadly at Huckleberry, who was costumed head to toe as Oscar the Grouch.
"You look more like Oscar the Grouch than Oscar the Grouch looks like Oscar the Grouch," laughed Jillian.
His little stub of a tail wagging furiously, Merlin barked at Huckleberry until he removed his Grouch mask. Huckleberry frowned: "This costume wasn't my first choice. I wanted to be Spiderman for Halloween."
"Well, what stopped you?" asked a grinning Jillian.
He explained that his older cousin Billy wore the Oscar the Grouch costume last year and Huckleberry's mom insisted it was a perfectly fine costume for Huckleberry to wear for this year's Halloween.
"That is what's known as a hand-me-down," said Josephine. "Anyway, you look fine. We all watched Sesame Street when we were younger, it's a good TV show..."
"For babies," added Jillian mischievously.
"Heeyyy, I'm no baby!" protested Huckleberry.
"Enough you two. Let's get out and do some trick or treating," urged Josephine.
And, with that, the friends rushed through the Lockhart's front door and entered the cool night outside, accompanied by Mr. Lockhart. Within minutes they were running door-to-door in the surrounding neighborhood filling their Halloween sacks with Famous Amos cookie bags, Reese's peanut-butter cups and chocolate Milky Way bars. Overhead, the moon shone bright, and full.
Josephine gulped hard before answering for all of them: "Things are good, sir. Real good."
"What brings you out to the Johnson farm?" he asked them in a curious voice.
"We came with..." it was at that very moment Josephine realized that David was no longer there! Somehow, before the sheriff stepped outside from inside the barn, David had slipped away.
"Did you say you came with somebody?" the sheriff asked, tipping his hat back as he looked them over.
"Why, Merlin of course. What better friend to bring along than man's best friend -- Merlin the dog," Huckleberry answered with a big smile.
Hearing his name, Merlin barked twice, cocking his head to one side.
Sheriff Thompson laughed heartily. "Yes doggie, you are man's best friend. You know what they say; dogs are the only relatives a body gets to choose."
As he bent to scratch Merlin's ears, the sheriff winced in pain. "This knee of mine is a mite painful. I twisted it the other day, and now I have to hop around on this crutch so I don't put too much pressure on it."
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry could clearly see that the sheriff was favoring one knee. His feet looked fine though, covered by the dark brown cowboy boots the sheriff always wore. What was confusing was that if the sheriff had been the one caught by the wolftrap, it would have affected his foot and ankle, not his knee. Something didn't add up.
"How'd you twist it?" Huckleberry asked innocently.
"I stepped off my front porch awkwardly, simple thing done clumsily you could say - must be getting old," the sheriff answered sheepishly.
"Hey there, sheriff, what are you doing with that wolftrap?" Jillian spoke up.
"Oh this," Sheriff Thompson said, glancing down at the metal trap in his left hand. "I ordered a bunch of them from Johnson's hardware store. We've been having trouble with coyotes around these parts... at least I think they're coyotes. Don't appear to be mountain lions, and we don't have any bears in these parts that I know of. Whatever the varmint is, it's raiding the local farms at night, killing and eating sheep. Even cows. I'm going to use these to catch him, without a doubt."
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry exchanged knowing glances, recalling what David had told them about the Varcolac raiding livestock for food.
"What about wolves, sheriff. Could it be a wolf instead of coyote that's raiding those farms?" Jillian asked.
"No... wolves haven't been seen around these parts for 75 years or more. They were hunted and shot out years ago... long before you or I were born."
The sheriff went on to explain that he had simply stopped by to pick the traps up. Mr. Johnson was storing them for him in the barn. "I told him I'd pick them up, in spite of this bum knee," the sheriff said glancing at his twisted knee, "so he didn't need to drive them his hardware-store. It's crowded over at the store and he agreed to keep them here for me for a few days. Mr. Johnson's been busy you know since the eye-doctor worked on his lazy eye."
"You mean opthalmologist," Huckleberry corrected. The sheriff just smiled.
"You're sure he was at the opthalmologist?" asked Josephine.
"Why yes. I ran into Doc Booker - the eye-doctor - earlier today and he mentioned treating Mr. Johnson's lazy eye. Why do you ask?"
Josephine smiled sweetly and said simply, "Oh, just curious. Can we help you load those traps onto your pick-up truck?"
"That'd be welcome. The truck's out back, behind the barn. I'll tell you, I've got to keep an eye on that truck, somebody stole it yesterday."
"Stole your truck?" asked Huckleberry.
"Yep. It just disappeared. And of all places, it turned up here, at the Johnson farm, parked next to this barn."
"Why here?" wondered Josephine.
"That's the mystery of it. I never could figure out why somebody would steal my truck and drive it to the farm. And then, just leave it here. It's a mystery. Anyway, I'll drop this trap off and meet you at the truck."
Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry looked at one another, the same thing running through their minds: Whoever stole the sheriff's truck yesterday may have been the one that almost caught them at the barn. Both the sheriff and the hardware store owner, Mr. Johnson, no longer seemed to be suspects. Their injuries, Mr. Johnson's eye and the sheriff's knee, appeared to be unrelated to either the slingshot or wolftrap. That left Ms. Plum as the prime suspect. And, where was David?
After they finished helping Sheriff Thompson load his pick-up truck, the friends, followed by Merlin, decided to return to the tree-house behind the Lockhart house to talk it over. The sun was setting fast and it was near dark.
"I wouldn't go that way if I were you," said a voice suddenly. David stepped out from behind a tree some distance from the Johnson farm, smiling shyly.
"There you are, Disappearing David," Jillian said.
"You're like that magician Houdini, here now, gone later," drawled Huckleberry.
David explained he hid from the sheriff so he wouldn't get locked up again.
"Where'd you learn to disappear like that?" asked an impressed Jillian.
"Oh, let's just say it's a family skill and leave it at that," David replied somewhat mysteriously.
Josephine quickly filled him in on the new developments surrounding the real cause of the injuries to their suspects Mr. Johnson and Sheriff Thompson. They all agreed these new facts appeared to eliminate both as suspects. That left Ms. Plum.
"Let's pay a visit to Ms. Plum at the nursery," suggested David. "We may be able to find a clue that you overlooked earlier."
"We'll have to hurry, it's almost dark," Huckleberry warned, glancing at the setting sun.
"Don't forget, it's Halloween tonight," Josephine reminded them. "Mom and dad will be expecting us home and in our costumes for trick-or-treat around the neighborhood."
"Yeah, and I don't want to miss any candy. I've already got a double-sized, extra-large, super expansion bag to hold all that candy I'm going to collect from the neighbors," agreed Huckleberry, greedily rubbing his hands together at the thought.
"If you don't stop acting so greedy, Huckleberry, you'll wind up getting carrots and celery in your Halloween bag instead of candy," shot back Jillian.
"Greedy? I'm not greedy... why I was just saying..." Huckleberry protested.
"Enough with the arguing you two," said Josephine. "Why don't we go trick-or-treating as planned in the neighborhood and meet David later at the tree-house. From there we can check out the nursery for clues. We'll be back home before we're missed."
"Good plan, let's do that," Jillian and Huckleberry agreed.
"David, you can hide in the tree-house; we'll meet you there and all walk down together to the Blue Sky Farms nursery," suggested Josephine.
Instead, David told them he would meet them at the nursery. He had something he needed to do first. Josephine was surprised - what could he possibly need to do that late afternoon on Halloween? When she reminded David that the sheriff was still looking for him, after all he HAD escaped from jail; David continued to insist he would meet them later. Josephine agreed, and watched David stride away toward downtown Sliver Moon Bay. Puzzling she thought.
Back at the Lockhart house darkness had arrived. Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry compared their Halloween costumes as they stood in the Lockhart living room. Jillian looked beautiful in her violet ballerina costume, including a silver tiara atop her head, while Josephine was regal in her queen's costume, accessorized with a five-point gold crown. Both sisters smiled broadly at Huckleberry, who was costumed head to toe as Oscar the Grouch.
"You look more like Oscar the Grouch than Oscar the Grouch looks like Oscar the Grouch," laughed Jillian.
His little stub of a tail wagging furiously, Merlin barked at Huckleberry until he removed his Grouch mask. Huckleberry frowned: "This costume wasn't my first choice. I wanted to be Spiderman for Halloween."
"Well, what stopped you?" asked a grinning Jillian.
He explained that his older cousin Billy wore the Oscar the Grouch costume last year and Huckleberry's mom insisted it was a perfectly fine costume for Huckleberry to wear for this year's Halloween.
"That is what's known as a hand-me-down," said Josephine. "Anyway, you look fine. We all watched Sesame Street when we were younger, it's a good TV show..."
"For babies," added Jillian mischievously.
"Heeyyy, I'm no baby!" protested Huckleberry.
"Enough you two. Let's get out and do some trick or treating," urged Josephine.
And, with that, the friends rushed through the Lockhart's front door and entered the cool night outside, accompanied by Mr. Lockhart. Within minutes they were running door-to-door in the surrounding neighborhood filling their Halloween sacks with Famous Amos cookie bags, Reese's peanut-butter cups and chocolate Milky Way bars. Overhead, the moon shone bright, and full.
Jillian Traps the Varcolac
Chapter 8 - Return to the Nursery:
Later that evening, Jillian, Josephine and Huckleberry met in the
Lockhart's back yard under the tree-house. They knew they wouldn't be
missed during the next few hours as their parents thought they were at a Halloween
party in the neighborhood given by Eileen Swerington, a school
friend. Still wearing their costumes, the friends walked briskly toward
Sliver Moon Bay along the coastal trail. The full moon overhead provided
plenty of lighting. Chapter 8 - Return to the Nursery:
Soon, they were downtown. Halloween was an important holiday to Sliver Moon Bay and its residents. Many of the surrounding farms grew pumpkins commercially. They were sold both locally and at grocery stores in nearby cities. Though it was night, many of the shops in Sliver Moon Bay were still open, their windows fancifully decorated with witches, bats and grinning orange jack-o-lanterns. Local residents and out of town visitors shopped and ate ice-cream cones purchased at Cowabanga's Ice-Cream Parlor.
Blue Sky Farms, the nursery where they were to meet David, was closed. Its parking lot was empty and the sprawling, ramshackle building was dark. There was no sign of David. A large orange pumpkin, its face carved into a fierce gargoyle mask, sat illuminated on a wooden bench near the nursery's entrance. It stared intently at them, a single candle flickering within illuminating its grinning smile and sharp fangs.
"That pumpkin head gives me the creeps," said Huckleberry.
"It's just a carved pumpkin from somebody's garden. What's it going to do, bite your leg?" laughed Jillian.
"That's strange... why would Ms. Plum leave that candle burning in the pumpkin when the nursery is closed for the night," said Josephine out loud. "She should be worried about starting a fire."
"Yeehhh," drawled Huckleberry pointing a finger, "and why, if the nursery is closed for the night is the door open?"
Jillian and Josephine saw that the door WAS part-way open. As if someone had gone in and forgot to shut it behind him. Or her. Or it.
"I bet David's in there waiting for us," said Jillian. "Let's go find him." And with that, she walked past the grinning jack-o-lantern, opened the door wide and entered the nursery.
Josephine and Huckleberry followed, Merlin bringing up the rear. Once inside, the three friends stood still until their eyes adjusted to the near darkness. A single bulb hanging from an overhead light shone weakly on the nursery's check-out counter. The light from the bulb glinted off the silver colored cash register on the counter-top like a sparkling diamond.
"Why do you suppose that bulb's moving back and forth?” asked Huckleberry to nobody in particular. "I don't feel any breeze in here."
Strangely, the light, attached to a black electrical cord that ran vertically up to the ceiling, WAS swaying gently back and forth. As if someone had walked past it very recently.
"Maybe the breeze blew in from that window, and has stopped now," Jillian offered unconvincingly, glancing at the wire covered window off to the side of the counter.
Their eyes soon became adjusted to the lack of light inside the nursery. The nursery's narrow aisles fanned away from them in a checkerboard pattern, pots of small plants and flowers sitting on shelves to either side. Some aisles were crowded by small potted trees, their green leaves overhanging like long fingers. Earthen colored statues of sprites, toads and turtles peered over the aisles from the shelves like mute sentries. Further back to the right of the building was the 'hot-house', a large rectangular room containing exotic plants and flowers kept extra warm by special heat-lamps. Without the heat, the plants and flowers, many imported from Mexico and even the Amazon, would die.
"David must be in here somewhere..." said Huckleberry.
"Let's split up and see if we can find him quick," suggested Jillian.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," said Josephine.
"C'mon Jo, if one of us sees something we can just yell and the others will come running."
"Alright," agreed Josephine reluctantly, against her better judgment. "Jillian, you and I will go this way while Huckleberry, why don't you go to the right, toward the hot-house where they display the exotic plants?"
"Why do I have to go alone?" argued Huckleberry.
"You won't be alone, Huckleberry, you'll have Merlin the fearless yorkie terrier with you," replied Jillian, bending down to scratch the little dog's ears.
Merlin, hearing his name mentioned, squirmed with delight, his tail wagging furiously. Huckleberry sighed, "Let's go then Merlin... and stay alert."
The friends set out cautiously walking down their respective aisles. Within seconds, they were out of sight of one another, hidden behind the leafy jungle that was the nursery.
As Huckleberry drew closer to the nursery's hot-house room, the surrounding air grew warmer. Huckleberry felt hot underneath his costume. He stopped and tipped his Oscar the Grouch mask upward so he could wipe the sweat from his forehead. The nursery was quiet as the inside of a library at midnight.
"There's no clues around here. And still no David," Huckleberry mumbled.
Merlin looked up at him with a quizzical expression, as if to ask what next?
"I don't know what's next, little doggie... this is beginning to feel like a waste of time," complained Huckleberry. "Maybe this David guy played a trick on us. Maybe he never intended to meet us here. In fact, he may not even be from Romania."
At that very moment, Huckleberry saw a bulky shadow flit like a huge moth across the hot-house entrance just ahead. It was there one moment and then it was gone - so quick that Merlin hadn't even noticed.
"David, is that you?" Huckleberry called out.
There was no reply.
He hesitated, and then said firmly: "C'mon, Merlin, let's see who's in the hot-house," and walked forward and through the entrance, Merlin on his heels.
The hot-house room was large, with a low ceiling, the heat all around heavy, like molasses. Warm water drops caused by the condensation beaded overhead, slowly dripping on the exotic flowers below. The room contained plain, rectangular shaped plywood tables that sat on rough, hobby-horse stands low to the gravel floor. Orchids, lilacs and bougainvillea spilled out from hundreds of earthen colored pots in various shapes and sizes.
To the left, large pots of Amazon Water Lilies competed for shelf-space with Voodoo Lilies and Gardenias. The grotesque Corpse Flower sat next to beautiful Birds of Paradise toward the rear. The exotic flowers were kept alive by special fluorescent plant grow lights clustered in aluminum racks attached to the ceiling. The bulbs kept the room from being completely dark at night, but did not light it. They emitted heat, but poor illumination.
Huckleberry's eyes saw shadows and shadowy images shimmer across the large room. His nose wrinkled at the unnaturally sweet smell in the heated air caused by the exotic things growing there. It was unsettling. Something wasn't right here. Nonetheless, he was determined. Huckleberry moved forward down the aisle immediately in front. He listened carefully as he walked, but heard no sound other than the crunching his tennis shoes made on the gravel floor. Halfway down the aisle, Merlin began to growl.
"What is it little doggie? See somebody?"
From the corner of his eye, Huckleberry saw movement off to his right, at the end of another aisle. "Who's there?" he challenged loudly.
There was no answer. He veered right moving cautiously down the aisle. Long tendrils of bougainvillea spilling from their pots brushed his costumed arms on either side. Nearing the end of the aisle it grew suddenly darker. The last rack of overhead fluorescent lights was behind him. The wall just in front of where he stood was like a dark cliff rising to the ceiling above. At that moment, he noticed the darkness of the wall immediately in front of him held a shape! A large, semi-curved shape obscured by the lack of light, but distinct from the wall. Huckleberry stared, squinting in an effort to see more clearly.
Merlin's barking increased as the little dog jumped out in front of Huckleberry and challenged whatever it was that was hidden within the shadows of the wall. Suddenly, the shape began to move, uncurling like a giant caterpillar from where it had been crouching. It began to rise up, taking on an almost human shape.
Huckleberry heard heavy breathing - like an animal's. The shape took form in the near darkness. It had two pointy ears, close together on the top of its head. Its mouth was long and narrow, pointing straight toward Huckleberry. Two small arms jutted out from below its wide shoulders, themselves attached to a long neck. It stood on heavy hind legs that narrowed as they touched the gravel below.
Huckleberry took a step backward, his heart racing. As he retreated, his Oscar the Grouch mask slipped down over his face. Through the mask's eyes he saw the shape leave the shadows of the wall and move menacingly toward him. Huckleberry stepped backward again, more quickly this time, thinking only of escape... and tripped!
He yelled in surprise as he landed on his back. The breath was knocked out of him, he could not breathe. A terrifying growling sounded above him. Merlin's barking was frantic. Huckleberry closed his eyes. Then, without warning, he heard a rubber twang followed by the whoosh of something hard moving very fast through the air. A silver bullet shot from a slingshot! Immediately, a screeching howl of pain and surprise filled the air.
"Got him!" Jillian's voice shouted excitedly.
Something large and heavy moving quickly raced down a hot-house aisle, leapt and crashed loudly through a window. Glass and wood shattered across the floor.
Josephine helped Huckleberry up. "Are you alright?" she asked anxiously.
"Fine, I'm just fine," he answered, trying to catch his breath. He bent over for a moment, breathing heavy.
"Darn, whatever it was got away," yelled Jillian returning from where she had been standing near the broken window.
"Did you see what it was?" Huckleberry asked her.
"No... did you get a look at it?" Jillian asked as she began to brush the gravel off Huckleberry's Oscar the Grouch costume.
"I didn't. Not with this stupid mask in the way."
"Well, whoever it was won't forget me anytime soon," she boasted. "Not after being on the receiving end of one of these." A smiling Jillian held up her slingshot and the second of the two silver bullets Mr. Johnson had made.
Josephine frowned: "Whatever it was moved way too quickly in the dark to get a good look. And, there's no sign of David." Her voice trailed off.
Merlin, panting heavily, came trotting back from the window where the thing had escaped.
"There's nothing more we can do here. Let's go home," Josephine said.
Jillian and Huckleberry agreed. The friends and their little dog returned home, exhausted by the day's events. Two days passed quietly and uneventfully. Huckleberry learned from his father, who heard it from Sheriff Thompson, that there had been an incident at Blue Sky Farms on Halloween evening. Someone had gotten into the nursery after it had closed for the evening. A window was broken and a number of shelves had been turned over in the hot-house room, as if there had been a fight. Mysteriously, Ms. Plum had disappeared. There was no trace of her at the nursery, her home or anywhere in town the past two days. She had simply vanished. Huckleberry shared the news with Jillian and Josephine. They decided to keep the strange events of their trip to the nursery on Halloween night to themselves.
Jillian Traps the Varcolac
Chapter 9 - Case Closed:
A few days later, the three friends climbed up to the tree-house behind the Lockhart house. It was the first time they had been there since the mysterious Romanian boy, David, so unexpectedly introduced himself. As they sat in the tree-house eating Ruffles potato chips from a bag Jillian had brought, Huckleberry noticed something lying on the floor in one corner. He picked it up. It was a paper airplane. Just like the one David had flown through the window of the Sliver Moon Bay jail.
After smoothing it open, Huckleberry read out loud the words written on the paper:
Dear Friends, I leave you, but do not forget you. You need not worry about the Varcolac anymore. The danger has passed. I may call on you in the future to ask for your investigative talents. My experience has shown that there are many mysteries yet to be solved. Many evil creatures to root out and return to the darkness. Until we meet again, David.
For now, the case of Jillian Traps the Varcolac was closed. The final identity of the beast remained unsolved. The friends' strong suspicion pointed toward Ms. Plum. However, they could not be sure.
David would remain a mysterious figure, his involvement in the mystery not fully explained. For now.
To read this chapter book in eBook and paperback formats, visit Children's Books on Amazon.com and search "Jillian Traps The Varcolac".
Copyright © 2010, JG Hitchcock
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