Blood in the Marsh (24 page)

Before ten years had passed the de Gama family were all dead and buried, all but Constantine. And he was a very wealthy man. His new following contained wealthy and powerful members of both Venetian and Austrian families and they grew even more powerful in the next three generations under his leadership.

In the year 1519, King Charles of Spain became emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. They controlled a vast amount of Europe, including Italy. Constantine saw new opportunities on the horizon and so set about preparing to leave Yugoslavia. He chose an Austrian count to lead his following in his absence and arranged to have his finances transferred to Italy.

In 1530, Constantine traveled to Italy in the company of a young Count by the name of Christopher Hapsburg. As was customary, by the time the journey was complete, Constantine had taken control of Hapsburg’s body. He sent word to his people in Yugoslavia, giving them the name to have his vast holdings titled under and began insinuating himself with the lords and leaders of the ruling class.

In 1556, Ferdinand I succeeded Charles as emperor and thus the title passed from the Spanish Habsburgs to the Austrian Hapsburgs. This put Christopher in a unique position, for due to his relation to the royal family, his power and influence grew rapidly.

Christopher enjoyed his position for many years. But he cut that particular identity short in 1588 when Philip II launched the Spanish Armada against England. Christopher was too well informed by his network of spies with whom he kept in constant touch to believe that Spain could conquer England at sea. But he did see an opportunity to gain a considerable amount of wealth from the Spanish.

Introducing himself to a wealthy Spanish family, he invited their eldest son to take a holiday in Italy before committing himself to the war against the English. Christopher promised considerable financial support and the family had no intention on losing it. They sent their son, Luis de Balbuena to Italy. Eight months later, he returned to them, informing them that Christopher had died during his visit.

The family was naturally disappointed over the loss of financial support, but continued to stand behind the king. Luis was commissioned command of a ship and, unbeknownst to anyone save a select few followers he had chosen, ladened the ship with gold and jewels. His ship set sail, but did not join up with the Armada. Instead, it sailed to a safe haven where the treasure was hidden in a secure place. Then they joined the Armada in the battle.

The body stealer stayed in Spain for a long time. His name changed from Luis de Balbuena to Lazaro de Valdés in 1680, to Diego Quevedo in 1732. In 1742, he was part of the invasion that met in battle with General Oglethorpe in what was to become known as the Battle of Bloody Marsh. The Spanish were defeated, but this didn’t bother the body stealer for he was in a new and virgin land and there were many opportunities there.

Lyra stopped reading, surprise racing through her. He was here before! She quickly turned her attention back to the diary and turned the page.But instead of another account of the body stealer’s many identities, there was a personal note from Lucius to Lyra.

My dearest Lyra,

I interject this note as a warning and an impetus. From this point on you must pay ever so close attention. Our Adversary’s path has been a long and bloody one and unless you can use this information, he may continue to plague mankind for many generations to come.

I am sure you have asked yourself how I came by this information. In time that will be explained. But for now, you must learn all you can about our common foe. I have no idea what his original name was, my first glimpse of him was that which I related to you in the year 1094. He has, however, been alive far longer than that. From what I have been able to gather his origins are the desert lands of the Middle East—in the area of Egypt, I suspect. While I have not, in all my studies, run into any kind of account or mention of his particular abilities, there are historical references to beings such as he. But I stray from my point.

Having no birth name to call him, I myself gave him a name that seems appropriate. I called him Adoul, which in the Arabic tongue means the Adversary.

Now, pay attention, my dear. The year was 1742. General Oglethorpe and his valiant troops had defeated the Spanish in the Battle of Bloody Marsh. What remained of the Spanish troops fled, hiding in the marshlands, trying to make their way out of English-controlled territory and into areas populated by their own.

One Spanish officer did not flee. Instead, he followed the General and his troops back to Fort Frederica. In those days, there was a town around the fort, also named Frederica. Oglethorpe and the colonists he had brought with him in 1736 had established the town, and by 1742 it was thriving nicely.

Adoul, the Adversary, hid himself for several weeks, watching the comings and goings of the townspeople. In doing so, he discovered the existence of the large plantations on the island.

Once a week, several of the plantation foremen would come into town, escorting the ladies of the family to do their shopping. One such family, the Hamilton Baxters, owned a very large cotton plantation on the island. It was midmorning on a Wednesday when the wife of Mr. Baxter, her eldest son, Hamilton, Jr., and her fifteen-year-old daughter Suzanna were driven into town in their luxurious carriage.

Adoul took one look at the strapping young lad and knew he had found his next identity. He followed the road out of town and waited for the carriage to pass on its return trip home. As it rounded the bend, Adoul hid behind the cover of trees and using the last of his ammunition, killed the two men on horseback accompanying the Baxters. Then he jumped out and pointed his empty gun. He ordered the young man and the girl to tie their mother to the wheel of the carriage and hobble the horse. Then he took them into the forest. Two hours later the young Baxter son ran from the woods. He fell down before his mother, babbling so hysterically she could not make out what he was saying.

At length she calmed him enough to get him to untie her. Then, taking him in her arms, she listened as he sobbed out his tale of horror and death. Screaming, she ordered her son to return home for his father, and then she ran into the woods in search of Suzanna.

Hamilton, Jr. returned with his father and four of his hired men. They found Mrs. Baxter in the forest, cradling the body of her beloved daughter. The girl’s throat looked as if it had been ripped out by a wild animal and her body was white from loss of blood. On the ground not far from her lay the body of the Spanish soldier who had attacked them, dead, apparently from a blow to the head from a stout limb.

Hamilton Baxter, Sr. took his wife and the body of his daughter home, thanking God that his son had been spared, that he had found the strength and courage to fight off his attacker and kill him. When they arrived home the younger Baxter seemed as though he was dazed and not himself. His parents were sure it was due to the trauma of seeing his sister murdered and having to fight for his own life. Ordering the house slaves to see to his needs, they began preparations to bury Suzanna.

The slaves were not as easily fooled as the Baxters. They immediately recognized the changes in the son, seeing the darkness in his eyes and the new arrogance in his demeanor. But there was no one they could go to with this information. Not even when their own people began disappearing one by one.

Years passed and rumors began to circulate that there was a devil on the plantation. Baxter, Sr. scoffed at the notion, chalking it up to the slaves’ superstitious nature. But his son knew something had to be done. One night a terrible storm hit the island. Thunder rolled across the sky and lightning slashed the darkness. The rain came down in sheets, driving the tender plants into the mud. That night the main house of the Baxter plantation burned to the ground. The only person to survive the fire was the son, Hamilton, Jr.

Two months later, Hamilton left the island, appointing a foreman to take care of the running of the plantation for him. He was never seen or heard from again. But the slaves remembered what had happened there and the stories were passed down from one generation to the next.

In 1789, a new owner appeared to take over the old Baxter plantation. The man’s name was Gilyard L. Cannon. He was young, only about twenty-five, but strong and handsome and very charismatic. He quickly became ensconced in the social affairs of the island. Many a father tried in vain to interest Cannon in his daughter. But Gilyard was interested in other things.

By 1800, Gilyard had amassed not only a fortune, but also a thriving following. Many slaves became the unwilling sacrifices for his inhuman hunger. Many tried to flee and some even managed to escape. Those who did quickly spread the word among the black population about what was going on at the Cannon plantation.

One evening, just before twilight in May of 1803 a boat moved down Dunbar Creek. It was bound for Ebo Landing. On it was a group of Igbo tribesmen from West Africa. They had been taken from their homes and were destined to be slaves at the rich plantations on the island. One of the crew on that boat was an older black man. He had been brought along to communicate with the Igbo. Speaking in his native tongue, he told the chieftain of what was happening at the Cannon plantation. The chieftain told his tribesmen that they could not submit to the demon that ran the plantation. He asked them to pray to their god and when the boat landed, he walked into the dark cold waters. One by one, his people followed him.

The boat captain and his men tried to pull the Igbo from the water, knowing that Gilyard would be infuriated if his slaves were not delivered. But the Igbo resisted, preferring death to a life of slavery under a demon owner. Their souls meant more than their lives and so many of them drowned. A few were saved and were sent to the plantation.

And so the atrocities continued. Just a few years after the Civil War ended, Gilyard disappeared and the land was left in trust. Over the years, the land changed ownership many times until its original owner was virtually forgotten. No written records were ever found but there are those who still remember the stories that have been passed down through time.

Those who remember are not easily persuaded to talk about it. But, I repeat, the stories were remembered—some in remarkable detail. It is said that there are those who have learned the secrets of Adoul’s power and know how to go about destroying him.

I myself have attempted to speak with such a person but at the time of this writing have been unsuccessful. Unfortunately, our Adversary has discovered my efforts and I feel sure he will take measures to ensure that I do not succeed.

My eyes grow weary and my hand is tired. There is yet more to come. I pray I am granted the time to record it.

Lyra as she dropped the diary in her lap and closed her eyes. Not only had the Adversary been here before but someone remembers what happened the last time he was here. And that meant that if she could find whoever it is Lucius was referring to they might be about to can find a way to stop him.

A knock at her door had her eyes flying open. “Just a second!” She returned the diary to its hiding place and opened the door.

“Well?” Nick asked.

“Let’s go downstairs to the kitchen and I’ll tell you.”

Lyra grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and took a seat at the table. She gave Nick a summary of what she’d read, ending with “and if we can find who Lucius was referring to maybe we can find a way to stop this—Adversary.”

“And just how do you propose we find this mystery person? Question every person who lives on the island?”

Lyra turned to him excitedly. “No! It was right here in the diary. Lucius said that there were slaves who remembered what had happened and had passed the story down. Nick, there are people still living on this island who are direct descendants of those slaves. If we can check the old records then we can find out who they are and talk to them.”

Nick thought about it for a second. “It’s a good idea, but you’re forgetting one thing.”

“What?”

“The little matter of someone being after you. You can’t very well go running around the island. And not only that, if this Adversary does have some kind of following, we have no way of knowing who belongs to his little group, which means we can’t trust anyone. Not only that, if we did find this person then there’s a good chance we’d be leading the Adversary straight to them.”

Lyra frowned and flopped back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “There has to be a way!”

He ran his hands through his hair and stood up. “Well, let’s give it some time and think about it. Maybe Michael will have an idea.”

“That’s it!” Lyra jumped up. “Michael! He can move around all over the island and the mainland without arousing suspicion. We can tell him what to look for and he can find the person we need to talk to!”

Nick smiled as he took her hand. “All right.”

“Great.”

She checked on Chelsey and found her sleeping soundly, so went back down to the kitchen and started dinner. She and Nick were just setting the table when Michael walked in. He tossed his jacket across one of the chairs at the table and sat down with a sigh. “Another missing girl was reported today. This one was grabbed at the mall off highway 17. There were two reported over the weekend from just across the line in Florida. The count’s growing and no one has any idea where to look.

He looked up and nodded as Nick pulled a beer from the refrigerator. “Oh! We found that boat, the one that ran into you and Chelsey.”