The Inheritance and Other Dark Tales

The Inheritance and Other Dark Tales

Stephen Tallevi

Copyright © 2023 Stephen Tallevi

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Stephen Tallevi asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

The Keeper, The Reachers, The Forgotten King, The Crimson Oak and A Deadly Slice reprinted form The Keeper and Other Strange Tales copyright © 2022 by Stephen Tallevi. A Soulful Departure copyright © 2023 by Isabel Sloane Tallevi.

First edition

Cover art by Isabel Sloane Tallevi

ISBN: 978-1-7782827-5-1

For My Family

major ignotarum rerum est terror — greater is the terror of something unknown

Titus Livius (59 BC - AD 17)

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

The Reachers

The Keeper

The Inheritance

The Bone Gatherers

The Forgotten King

Phantasmagoria

A Childhood Haunting

A Soulful Parting

The Crimson Oak

A Deadly Slice

About the Author

The Reachers

1935

It had started to rain, and the temperature was unseasonably cool for August. James stood on the lonely platform watching the train leave the station and slowly disappear around a heavily wooded bend. After briskly rubbing his hands together, he reached down for his traveling bag and started for the small station house. A weathered sign over the ticket window read Welcome to Reachers, Sutherland County. There was no attendant, and the sparse waiting room was empty. James gave a weary sigh, took one last look about, then exited the station and began his walk northward along a single lane road.

It took thirty minutes to reach Birch Lane, which wound its way down a little valley to Miss. Brown’s cottage, where James had rented a room for the month. The unpretentious dwelling was tucked away next to a grove of pine trees, with a series of moss-stained stones forming a footpath to the porch, circling around a charming rose garden along the way. Nice and secluded, James thought to himself, unlikely to be disturbed during my research.

He made his way to the porch and, before knocking on the door, removed his jacket and hat, shaking as much water as he could off the garments. He smoothed his hair back then knocked twice.

A woman in her mid-thirties answered the door. She had an oval face with large, pale amber eyes whose expression displayed both a gentleness and a hint of sadness.

Yes? she inquired in a delicate voice.

Hello, I’m James Carlton, he said with a smile.

The woman continued to look at him questioningly, so James added quickly I called you last month. I’m the person who inquired about renting a room at your cottage for the month of August.

Why of course! exclaimed Miss. Brown. How silly of me not to recognize the name. Please do come in Mr. Carlton.

Once inside the doorway, Miss. Brown eyed him for a moment before commenting in a concerned voice Why Mr. Carlton, you’re soaked through to the skin. Give me your hat and coat and I’ll hang them up to dry. Wasn’t Mr. Sanders at the station to offer you a ride? He’s the only taxi service we have here at Reachers. He’s also close to seventy-five years old, so his service has become less reliable as of late. Still, it’s unusual for him not to be at the station for train arrivals. Please accept my apology on his behalf.

No apology is necessary, I assure you Miss. Brown. And please, call me James.

Very well, James it is. And you can call me Caroline, or Carrie for short, if you prefer.

It’s a pleasure to meet you, Caroline.

She smiled and took his hat and coat over to the opposite end of the room. A small fire was crackling in the stone fireplace. Two chairs were sitting near by. She turned their backs to face the fire and draped his jacket over the back of one and hung his hat on the ear of the other.

James took an instant liking to Caroline. She was of medium build with a fair complexion and rich, auburn hair. And those eyes. He had noticed them immediately, the peculiar shade of amber with a haunting, mesmerizing quality to them. He watched her as she arranged his wet clothes by the fire. She had an effortless way of doing things, accomplishing her task with quick but graceful movements.

There, all done, she said, as she turned away from the fireplace, wiping her damp hands on her apron before removing it and tossing it onto the firewood basket as she made her way back to the doorway.

Now, let me show you to your room.

Thank you, James said as he reached for his travel bag. He was surprised to find that it was no longer by his side—Caroline had it in hand and was standing at the base of the stairs. If you’ll please follow me James, your room is just around the corner from the top landing, directly overhead from where we are standing now.

Two large windows made the room feel big and bright. A double pedestal mahogany desk was positioned in front of one, arm’s length from a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. A single bed, at the far end of the room, sat next to a full-length wardrobe. The mirrored door of the wardrobe reflected the image of James and Caroline standing by the doorway, her beautiful amber eyes were looking directly at him.

I hope the room will do, Caroline said after a brief interval.

Most definitely—bright, spacious and quiet.

I’m glad. I’m going downstairs to brew a pot of tea—hopefully you will join me in 10 minutes for a cup?

Thank you. I’ll be down shortly.

He unpacked his clothes and placed his journal and books on the desk. He turned to the bookshelf and quickly scanned the titles. One in particular caught his eye. A dark leather-bound octavo entitled Pagan burial sites - an osteological examination (1742). Now this really is fortuitous, James said to himself. He had come to Reachers to follow-up on Professor Johnson’s work, who, some five years previously, published a paper on the peculiar bone structure of skeletal remains he discovered in the crypt of Reacher’s abbey. Many displayed elongated forearms, and the bone itself had a unique composition, porous with numerous striations. The abbey was reputed to be a site of Pagan worship in the early 15th century by a sect who called themselves the Reachers,a name Professor Johnson believed reflected the unique morphology of their arms. The name was eventually adopted by the town itself. I look forward to reading you tonight, James said out loud as he placed the book neatly on top of his own stack of books, then headed down for tea.

So James, began Caroline after she had poured them both a cup of tea and offered him a warm scone which he readily accepted, what are you researching that brings you to our far away town?

I’m an anthropologist, began James, I’m most interested in understanding the origins of ancient Pagan societies and cults. I believe that the bones of those who practiced these religions may give clues why certain beliefs or rituals arose. As an example, Pagan shapeshifting practices appear throughout history. I would be interested in understanding how the belief in lycanthropy, the transformation of a person into a wolf, became associated with those whose index and ring fingerswere of equal length. As a first step, I would look for skeletal remains that display this trait in regions where such rituals or beliefs where practiced. Now, as to my reason for being here, I know that the town of Reachers was named after a Pagan religion. Previous research suggests that the name may reflect some deformity in the arms of individuals, deformities that where integrated in their Pagan rituals and beliefs. I’m here to study their bones to see if I can connect the two.

After a moment’s reflection Caroline said, In that case you’ll want to talk to Reverend Anderson—he’s very familiar with the history of Reachers and can act as your guide when you examine the abbey crypt, which I presume you’ll want to do? You’ll find him working in his herb garden most mornings. His cottage is located a half-mile north of the abbey. It’s no more than a half-hour walk from here.

Thank you, I will seek him out first thing in the morning. I’m quite anxious to begin my research. He paused to drink the rest of his tea and then added: Tell me Caroline, having grown up here, are you familiar with any of the folklore concerning the Reachers?

Oh, not much I’m afraid, she replied. The Reachers believed that the soul resided in a person’s eyes, and that they could forever maintain their youth by ‘stealing’ the eyes of younger, healthier people. My grandmother told me the occasional story, but I’ve forgotten them over the years. The one thing I do remember is a game we used to play. She would pretend to be a Reacher and chant ‘Reach for the ground, reach for the sky, reach for their eyes!’ At this point she would quickly reach out and pretend to grab my eyes and then slap her hands over her eyes. When she slowly slid her hands away, she would pull down on her lower eyelids which would cause only the whites of her eyes to show. A very creepy effect now that I think about it, but as a child I would scream with delight.

Macabre to say the least, teased James.

She gave him a friendly smile then got up and started to collect the dishes before adding: I usually prepare dinner at eight—does that suit you?

"Perfectly, but not tonight