Chief watched as Moss made his way back up the grassy embankment, before turning his attention on Mr. Bennet and his surroundings.

As he thought, the cabin was only one room, half as wide as it was long. No electricity: kerosene or oil burning lamps lit it's interior. His gaze shifted to the small cot in front of the fireplace and noticed the bedroll underneath.

“So, what can I help you with, officer?” Bennet was on the other side of a waist high counter, separating the kitchen from the living quarters, making tea at the pot bellied stove in the northeast corner of the cabin.

“I’m looking for a friend of yours–”

“You mean a friend of ours, do you not, Chief Broden?”

Chief was quiet for a while. He watched the old man dip the infuser, filled with a homemade blend of leaves, into a teapot of scalding water. He put the teapot on a tray with two mugs.

“Have we met before?”

“Not to my knowledge, sir.”

“Then how do you know who I am?”

“He knew you would come…eventually.”

Chief’s gaze returned to the bedroll and traveled up the fireplace, built of mortar and river rock, before drifting over the two bookshelves, completely packed with books, flanking either side. “Then he is staying here?”

“Just the boy. Until it is time.”

“Time for what?”

Ignoring the question, Bennet carried the tray through the cabin, navigating by memory alone, past the kitchen table into the living quarters to a low coffee table built of split rails and tree stumps where he carefully set it down.

“Have a seat, chief,” Bennet said, indicating a well-used sofa, while seating himself in a stained and battered wingback.

“Time for what, Mr. Bennet?” Chief repeated, obliging Bennet. “Where the hell is Fred Blackney.

“I forgot the sugar,” Bennet said, distressed. “Do you take sugar- or cream? I could get it, if you want–”

“No- I’m fine. I want to know where Fred is, Mr. Bennet. Now.”

“Fred Blackney is dead, sir.” Bennet’s eyes stared past Chief. “Even your daughter knows this. Why do you waste my time?”

Chief smiled to himself, shaking his head. “Cagey bastard,” he whispered. “Where’s the tiger, then?”

“I assume it took the boy with it to check Fred’s own traps. Or maybe set a few new ones? It likes very much to set new ones.” Bennet set his hands on his knees, tilting in. “So how is the Deputy?”

Chief folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes. “He’s going to be fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Smiley used a pinky to gauge the depth of his tea, before sipping off the cup’s brim.

The shadows in the cabin deepened as the sun took cover behind a cloud. Chief stared at Bennet, formulating his next question, but he had so many, and so little time. He sighed. It sounded loud.

“Why are you helping him, Mr. Bennet? He means to rape and kill a ten year-old little girl. How can you be part of that?”

Bennet sunk further into the chair. His alert posture crumpled. He opened his mouth to speak, but clamped it shut, a reflex to control the tears that threatened his eyes. “Is that what I am doing?”

“He brought the boy here–”

“And what could I have done about it? Have you met the tiger? And the boy’s become just as bad. What could I have done, chief, besides hold the tiger’s tail and hope he doesn’t bite me on the ass?”

“Called–”

“I have no phone.”

“Are all the phones broken in Berritts?”

“I heard someone was looking for me. I assumed it was you. I made no attempt to lose you on the way here. Believe me, I could have.” Bennet regained his posture. Though his eyes remained unfocused, he faced Chief and said, “This is that phone call, Chief Broden.”

“Will he be coming back?” Chief asked.

“That depends on whether or not he knows you’ve been here. But that’s the wrong question, chief. Ask me right one. The one that’s been plaguing your mind.”

“Fine. Why? Why does he–I mean it, want to harm my daughter? Why is it fixating its obsession on her?”

“There is no easy answer to that question. But before I try, I have one for you. How do you defeat complete evil, chief?"

Chief shifted in his chair. “Whose evil would that be?” His tone was sharper than intended.

“You have the cult's log. And Fred's journal. You know of what evil I speak." When Chief didn't respond, he continued, "he told me he left you a note."

Chief eyed him sharply, "And did he tell you where he left it?"

"He said she tricked him. That she dodged her responsibility and someone had to pay." Bennet lifted the teapot and topped off his drink. "More tea?”

“So he killed another little girl. Ripped her apart. For a message to me? You said you’d answer my questions, Mr. Bennet.”

“You’re not asking the right ones. You think this is about Fred and his…tiger?” Bennet’s brows knotted. He inclined an ear towards Chief. “It was her word, wasn’t it?”

“What was? Tiger? Yes.”

“Part of the answers you seek, lie in the question I’ve asked. How do you destroy complete evil?”

“Okay, Bennet, I’ll bite. Can you destroy it?”

“You destroy complete evil, by diluting it with complete good. You destroy the darkness with light, hate with love.”

“And what is the result of complete, unselfish love, Chief Broden?”

Chief felt the answer, more than thought it. His heart was beating too fast and loud enough for Bennet to hear. He let it go and waited for Bennet to answer his own question. “Go on, you’re on a roll.”

“Sacrifice.” Bennet sipped his tea and returned the cup to its saucer. “And what is the ultimate sacrifice? To give one’s life for the life of a loved one.”

“As she did,” Chief whispered, his heart heavy. He remembered the day he was asked to make the choice. His wife or his daughter. He chose Kate. It was Kate that chose the child, even though it meant her own death. “This is why he wants her. This is what he’s basing his obsession on?”

“She lives on inside your daughter, sir. It needs her as well.”

“You don’t really believe–”

“What I believe… or even you believe, doesn’t matter. It’s what it believes.”

Chief leaned back, his mind raced as he assembled the pieces. “And Fred’s alter-ego thinks he can ‘cut out the evil-doers and destroy the Hell-Dog” if he – what? Absorbs my daughter’s….essence?”

“You believe the tiger is another side of Fred? Alter-ego? I suppose you heard that from that quack, Dr. Freedman?”

“He has the credentials. He studied Fred–”

“Split-personality disorder,” Bennet spit out. “That’s what he called it?”

“He would know.”

“He doesn’t know shit. No outsider would. It’s not split personality, chief. It’s a possession.”

Chief felt his face flush. He reclaimed his cup of tea and took a single swallow. “That’s ludicrous.”

“Fred was my friend, chief. I knew for years he shared his skin with this other…being. It was always there. The abuse brought it out. The idea was to bring it out permanently, drive Fred’s soul out, at his indoctrination into the cult on his thirteenth birthday.”

“So Fred took care of his parents, to take control of his own soul?”

“His life along side of you, sir, also helped him to control and dominate that which lived within himself. But killing his parents would  not have freed him, as long as the others were there, plotting their own level of control. Fred knew this. He killed his mother to save her. He adorned her body with symbols to in order to save her soul from them.”

“What about his father? He killed him the same night.”

“No, chief. It was years later that he killed his father.”

“I’ve seen the report, both Celine and Clive died that night, the same way. Their bodies adorned with the same symbols. So he was trying to save his father as well. But that doesn’t make sense if he was killing the man over and over though the men at the depot.”

“Clive was not Fred’s father. Clive was Fred’s abuser. And the symbols were not the same, they wouldn’t be. Fred loved his mother, and would want to save her. His father he would condemn.”

“His mother abused him, as well. Twisted him up inside. Why would he love her and try to save her? This is not adding up, Mr. Bennet.”

“Fred’s feelings about his mother were complicated. Any normal boy, looking from the outside in would know better. But Fred was far from a normal boy. And he blamed the cult for his mother’s worse behavior. He loved her, and thought her worth saving.”

Chief’s thoughts returned to the note. “So the evil-doers are the members of the cult. What about the Hell-Dog? What the hell is that?”

Bennet lifted the teapot and swirled. “It’s getting cold. I think I’d like a second pot.” Bennet rose and navigated his way around the counter to the stove beyond. “Does the name Deak Stonewall mean anything to you?”

Chief rose. He stood to the left of the counter, leaned against the kitchen table and folded his arms across his chest. “Tell me what he means to you.”

Bennet filled the kettle with fresh water using the hand pump at the kitchen sink. “You’ve brought him up twice now. When you asked after Fred’s father.”

“Clive–”

“Clive was not Fred’s father, Deak Stonewall was. But he was also much more,” Bennet added, setting the kettle on the stove and scooping a measure of coal underneath. “He was Archedenian’s second in command. He pulled his strings.”

“Whose strings?”

“That insidious oaf’s strings, sir. The doctor.”

“Jonas?”

“Stonewall controlled the rest of the Priests of the Black Power, the Priests of the Second Coming.”

Chief scowled. “You’ve lost me.”

“You’ve possession of the cults book, but you haven’t reached this level of understanding?”

“Apparently not.”

“And yet you expect me to explain Fred’s Hell-Dog to you?” 

Chief’s jawline relaxed as the sighed heavily. “Yes.”

“No, sir, I cannot. Without the proper sequences, without the proper knowledge, earned knowledge, the information is blinding.”

“Are we referring to your own condition, Mr. Bennet?”

The corners of Bennet’s lips flipped up. “Stonewall controlled the others until the tiger recognized him and killed him. It was his first step towards destroying the cult.”

“It sounds as though Fred and the tiger want the same thing. To destroy the cult.”

“And to save themselves. But the tiger is mistaken. It does the cult’s bidding, without realizing it. It was the cult that drove it to kill the men at the depot. They live by torturing souls, Chief, and on the spilled blood of others. First it was animals. Then only human blood was strong enough. They needed blood for their rituals, to thrive between the cycles.”

The tea kettle began to whistle and Bennet lifted it from the stove. He added the water to the teapot and dipped a fresh infuser. Then he returned to take his previous chair after replacing the tea service on the table. 

“You’re talking about the thirteen-year cycle.” Chief noticed, reclaiming his own seat. “Are we to expect the blood sacrifices to begin again?”

“They will begin in April and continue through September.”

“Same locations?” 

“I would highly doubt that, chief.”

“And what about you, Mr. Bennet? What’s your interest in all of this?”

“It’s personal.”

Chief watched the man closely. He noted the crease near Bennets mouth deepen; his nostrils flared, his eyes appeared to cloud. “Revenge,” Chief said quietly, placing the expression. “Revenge for who, Mr. Bennet?”

“None of your business.”

“Was it because of Danny Perrine?” Chief fished.

Bennet slammed a fist upon the tray upsetting the creamer and spilling the cream.

“He was your son,” Chief continued. 

The sharp plains of Bennet’s face flushed. His jaw set tightly. “And you know that, how?”

“My mother was close to him. He left his sketchbook with her. He did a good job of rendering your likeness. According to my mother, he called you the Wizard. The Wizard of the Wood.”

Bennet stood from the sofa and maneuvered his way back to the kitchen. He gripped the counter just under the kitchen window, appearing to peer out. Chief waited as quiet settled in the cabin along with undeniable tension. After a few minutes he rose and followed Bennet’s path. He stood to the left of Bennet and leaned against the pantry.

“He didn’t treat him right,” Bennet said quietly to the window. “He wasn’t loved in that house.”

“His mother loved him.”

“Not enough. She didn’t leave that bastard, David Perrine. She let him raise my boy. She let him give my boy his name. She let him serve the boy up to those black hearted bastards!”

“That mistake had cost her her life.”

Bennet turned from the window. “I should have done more…” His chin quivered and his eyes took on a sheen as he held back his grief. “But I had no legal rights. The law was against me. It’s been with them for centuries…” Bennet paused. Then he added in a quiet reserved voice, “Until you came along.”

“Tell me about the heifers?”

“You sure that’s what you want to know?”

“It’s a start.”

Bennet drew in a hollow breath. “I’d first run across the cult when I was just a boy. My family was moving west for my mother’s health. We were separated from the rest of our group during a freak storm. Half starved and dying of thirst we were rescued by a small group of four men, one woman. We thought we were saved. My mother, father and sister were murdered during the night. I escaped the massacre. I’ve been planning their demise ever since. I’ve studied their beliefs. During a long winter Fred and I crossed paths. We discovered our shared interest. He had insights into their methods I lacked. Together we made plans to destroy them with their own rituals. To smite them...we were close thirteen years ago...The heifers were part of a ritual to weaken them. They were gathering forces. Once their fallen brothers were assembled, they’d be too strong to bring down. Jonas was Zhercon, the last Priest to join the others. It was his transformation we were trying to quell. With him assimilated they’d have the advantage.”

“And killing a bunch of heifers would do that?”

Bennet scowled. “It’s their ritual. If they believed it would, it would. That’s how faith works.”

“And did it?”

“We failed. Then we were caught, tortured and eventually broken.”

“The ‘session with Satan.’ Fred mentions that in his journal.”

Bennet’s stare was unnerving. His face became a mask. The earlier display of emotion was a memory. “Fred lost his soul during that ritual. I lost my sight. But I lost something worse. My son. But with his loss, I gained something as well.”

“What?”

“I see beyond what can be seen. I hear beyond what can be heard. And I’m convinced, Chief Broden, that I can do this because of the sacrifice of my boy. He saved me, with his last breath.”

“You were there. When he died.”

Bennet nodded. His eyes were still without focus, but they now conveyed the man’s grief. “Yes. I watched my boy die. I felt his soul leave his body and drift by me. I swore out revenge... a primal gut wrenching revenge, so deep... so encompassing. The hatred was blinding– ”

“And this is what caused your condition?”

“Hate is power, Chief. Dangerous power. But my blindness is more than a result of emotion. I denied my sight to escape them. And I separated myself from Fred, so long ago, feeling my weakness. I denied my friend help, when he needed it and banished him to his own tortured destiny. I am as guilty as the cult for what he’s become.” He gazed out into the yard for a long time. No indication that he could do more than feel the sun on the planes of his face. “We were delusional to even believe we had a chance.”

“Where did Sam Crebs fit in your plans? The three of you were mentioned during the course of mine and Agent Moss’ investigation.”

“He arrived at my cabin, helped there by Fred’s boy. He came to accuse Fred of the Cattle Killings. He recognized the handiwork of Fred’s Beast–for he had seen it before, during the war.”

“I don’t believe it. Sam knew about Fred’s…tiger?”

“It surfaced during their last mission; mutilated several prisoners.”

“You expect me to believe that Sam did nothing?”

“He reported it to the general in charge. It was he who did nothing. He only saw a potential weapon in the tiger, not a man possessed of evil, in dire need of help.”

“General Gaint.” Broden spit out the words as though they were bile.  “Sam assured me he wasn’t working on anything.”

“It wasn’t official. You must understand, the only chance for success was to keep our investigations separate from yours. Between our investigation and yours... things began to get sticky for the cult. But it was Fred and I that scared them the most.”

“Why is that?”

“Because we believed. We would not turn our backs on the improbable. We accepted it. We studied the book that Fred had stolen. We learned their rituals. We learned their beliefs... and we looked for the answers to destroy them, within the confines of that book. We even had Sam believing by the end.”

Chief’s thoughts turned to Sam. His adamant denial that he was working on a case. Answers Chief and Moss had sought, purposely kept from them. “The cult’s log mentions ‘putting the Messenger on ice.’” Chief looked intently at Bennet. “I strongly believe Sam, is the Messenger.”

“Sam wouldn’t stop. After my son’s death, I had no stomach for the fight. Fred was embroiled in his own war. But Sam… I heard about the death of his son. That would be tactic they’d use to put someone on ice. Using your loved ones against you. Especially if you are not willing to kill a potential asset. But that’s not the whole question, is it, chief?”

“I wonder why they would call Sam the Messenger? What would be his message?”

“I don’t have the answer. Perhaps that is knowledge you must learn for yourself.”

“You mentioned Archedenian. Who is he?”

“He’s the one ultimately in charge on this side, in this world. He controls the cult. He’s the one responsible for it’s life, safety and perpetuation.”

“Who is he, Mr. Bennet. Not what.”

Bennett acknowledged Chief with a quirk of his head, lending him his ear. “You killed his incarnate back in ’23.”

“Barrymore Bartlett?”

“That position has been held by one of Bartlett’s ancestors for at least the last two centuries.”

“I see,” Chief mused. “Horace Troudeau, Darien Bartlett, Barrymore Bartlett.” He regarded  Bennet closely. “Is there still a Bartlett on the throne? Should I be looking at Nick Bartlett now?”

“I wouldn’t know. I gave up the quest in ’23, I’ve lost touch with the cause.”

“Is there anything else you can tell me that will help me find him and save my daughter?”

Bennet slouched against the sink, his stance contemplative. “The tiger views himself as this world’s savior. He is the only thing that stands in their way, after all and by sacrificing your daughter, sir, he would be purified. With that power, he would have strength to finish off what he believes to be the last trace of evil. In doing that, he will finally be free.”

“Free from what? The Dead Place?”

“The Dead Place? Is that what she calls it?”

“Yes.”

“She is very astute, your daughter. She does have power, indeed.”

Chief scoffed. “This is crazy. You don’t honestly expect me to believe that you–”

“That I believe this? No, Chief Broden, I told you, I got over that a long time ago. I no longer need my eyes, I see better without them. I only tell you what it believes...and what they believe. The answers you seek are in those two philosophies. But I would like to emphasize that the cult is still be practicing. I hope that once you’ve saved your daughter, that you continue to hunt them down and make the bastards pay for the children they have destroyed.”

“We’re working on that.” Chief looked out over the field, briefly watching a carpenter bee float between buds. “And the last traces of evil? The cult.”

“And Fred’s boy. The tiger sees him as part of the cancer. His death must be executed as mentioned in the cult’s log. There is a correct time and place for everything.” Bennet cocked his head to the side and focused his attention on some point int he distant future.

“What is it?” Chief asked.

“Your friend. I believe he is in trouble.”

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