Butcher's Hands: Haunted Village Series Book 3

Chapter 8

A gust of bitterly cold wind invaded Claymont’s car the moment Abe stepped out. Mihail scrambled to follow, but stopped short when the taller man turned abruptly and jerked. Fear pulsed through Mihail, thick enough that he could taste it like acid on the back of his tongue.

“What is it?” he whispered.

Abe huffed a laugh and crouched down. “Just still adjusting to ya newfound codependence.”

If anyone else in the world had said it, Mihail would have cringed. So his sudden chuckle startled him. He knew Abe was trying to distract him; to give him something else to think about, and it only seemed natural to play along.

“Perhaps I can’t stand to be parted from your sparkling personality.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m just glitter and gold.” Abe smiled.

The moment of normalcy had helped. He was still twisting his fingers around each other until they ached, but managed to glance around as Abe told Duncan to keep the motor running.

“Why are we at Father Petran’s house?” Mihail asked.

“Told ya we needed help, kiddo.”

“I should go with you,” Mihail shuffled forward, but stopped as Abe refused to move.

“I got this.”

“You didn’t see his face when you went after Owen,” Mihail protested. “He thinks you’re insane.”

“He thought that before,” Abe scoffed.

“And violent,” he said. “Do you honestly think he’ll agree to get into a car with you again?”

His mouth scrunched up as he considered that. Eventually, he rapped his knuckles against the roof of the car and forced a smile. “I can be convincing. Scoot back.”

Mihail made the mistake of looking to Duncan and Esther for support. It gave Abe the few seconds he needed to flee from the conversation. By the time he looked back, Abe was jogging up the path. Deprived of the body to fill the space, the open car door looked like a gaping void. Large enough for anything to slither through. A quiver rattled his insides as he scurried back until his back pressed against the far door. His eyes skirted around restlessly as he pulled his legs up, pressing his heels into the seat, his muscles twitching and ready to kick at anything that came near.

“Are you sure we need him? We need to get back. Bunica is all alone,” Mihail whimpered as he twisted his fingers together. “We can’t leave her all alone.”

Esther twisted in her seat to offer him a comforting smile. “We need some spiritual back up. Don’t worry, Abe knows what he’s doing. We’ll be heading out before you know it.”

As she spoke, the three of them turned to watch the front door open. Petran took one look at his visitor and tried to close the door. But Abe was stronger and managed to keep the door open as they quickly exchanged some words. The car was too far away for them to hear the conversation, but it was clear that there was no warmth to it. After only a few seconds, the discussion was over and the door slammed shut. Abe’s broad shoulders heaved as he sighed.

“Okay,” Duncan said. “Who has a plan ‘B’?”

Abe only took a few steps back to the car before he paused, sucked on his tooth, and turned back around.

“Oh, no, zeisele,” Esther muttered under her breath as she watched her son repeat the actions endlessly. “That’s it, come back to the car. Uh-uh, not that way.”

“Our boy is mad,” Duncan said with wary anticipation.

They both reached for their car doors but it was already too late. Abe stalked back to the porch. Without breaking stride, he slammed his foot down against the door. The lock ripped free from the wood as it rushed back to crunch against the wall. Father Petran’s frantic voice was louder now, a muffled noise that drifted from the house. It didn’t stop Abe from disappearing through the doorway.

Duncan clicked his tongue and sucked a breath in through his teeth. “We really should have seen that coming.”

“Hindsight’s always twenty-twenty,” Esther shrugged her suddenly tense shoulders.

Father Petran’s screams announced Abe’s return. It almost seemed like he was unaware of the slender priest struggling to get off of his shoulders. He didn’t steal a single glance at witnesses as he headed back to the car, and tossed Father Petran onto the back seat. In an attempt to avoid the man’s flailing limbs, Mihail pressed against the door as he screamed.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Mihail,” Esther snapped, her voice barely heard over the priest’s rage. “There’s no need to be rude.”

“Are you kidding?”

His dumbfounded question went unanswered. Esther turned her attention to her son as he pushed Father Petran over to make room for him. As with all of their ‘family only’ conversations, they switched to Hebrew. Everyone was screaming. Their words a meaningless but painful noise. At that moment, Mihail detested himself for being monolingual. Only the Claymonts were prepared for Duncan to suddenly pull sharply from the curb, leaving the two other men to collide against each other as they were tossed back. Duncan broke all speed limits and had them out of the small town before either Mihail or Father Petran managed to sit upright.

“You can’t do this!” Mihail shrieked.

“You can’t,” Abe somehow managed to scoff and be heard over Father Petran at once.

“This isn’t a difference in religion,” Mihail shrieked. “It’s kidnapping!”