Blood and Other Matter

Prologue

Prologue

November, 25th. 1863

Brooks Tavern, Lawrence County Alabama

dipped her fingers in her husband's still warm blood and carefully traced over the symbol she'd scratched into the forest floor. The moon hung so low and fat in the sky that Jenny scarcely needed the torch she'd stuck in the ground, but the flames did keep the worst of the cold at bay. Her children watched, backs pressed against the road house, as though they wished the walls would swallow them whole.

"You too," she chided them. "C'mon."

Angeline, the oldest of the children, led the way, but soon all seven moved into the painstakingly maintained clearing, careful not to disturb the drawings scratched into the forest floor. Since eight soldiers had her husband then shot her eldest son, John, there were eight likenesses drawn on the ground.

Swallowing hard, Angeline dipped her finger in her father's blood and carefully traced the symbol her mother had scratched into the dirt. One by one, each child followed suit.

Just as Henry, the youngest, finished tracing his symbol, a red shadow overtook the moon. It was time.

Jenny chanted an ancient invocation, offering her body as a vessel to the demon, Estrie. Offering her body as a vessel in exchange for one thing. Vengeance.

She finished chanting and switched to English for her children's benefit. "We will not rest until these eight men . . . " She motioned round the circle where crudely drawn sketches of the soldiers lay scratched in the forest floor. " . . . are dead. We demand vengeance."

Angeline met her mother's eyes and gave a firm nod. "I promise, Mother."

Each child echoed her vow.

The torch sputtered, then flared in a whoosh of flame so high, it seemed to touch the sky. The flames twisted and writhed, transforming into a shadow that filled the small clearing. Jenny ground her teeth, doing her best not to flinch as the shadow caressed her.

You shall have your vengeance, Estrie promised. For a price.

Jenny accepted the bargain then drew in a deep breath. The shadow flew into her open mouth, wriggling down her throat. She didn't feel the pain of her loss anymore, nor the biting cold of the night. A low burn began in Jenny's gut as the Estrie took residence then intensified, like the burn of a thousand flames.

And the fire felt good.