Paradise Harbour chapter 7

Chapter Seven

I woke up with a terrible headache. Ugh. On the table, I saw the note saying “Gideon Slid” and remembered that I had decided to talk to him today, but first, I needed to clear my drumming head.

Stumbling, I went into the bathroom and threw cold water on my face. Then I went into the kitchen and drank two large glasses of milk. I prepared coffee and cut a piece of bread with butter, then I cut a nice thin slice of beef and once again sat by the window. It was later than I usually got up.

I slowly ate and saw a tall man in a black fedora show someone his badge. He was pointing towards the left side of the street and asking something. Then I saw him go right up to my apartment building and heard a knock on my door. I got up, and now walking more steadily, went to the door and opened it up.

“Yes, hello?”

The man at the door was just slightly older than I, and he had dark curly hair, blue eyes, and an aquiline nose. “I’m Detective Willems.” He showed me his badge. “May I have your name, sir?”

“I’m Luc Nistage, private investigator, actually. I’ve been meaning to meet you. I have questions. Would you come in?”

He hesitated for a moment, giving me a penetrating look, but came in. We sat at my table. Unfortunately, one of my whiskey bottles was sitting there, but Willems simply gave me a wry look and smiled. I offered him coffee, and he smiled again and accepted.

“So, Luc, first my question. Did you see anything suspicious last night?”

I also laughed at this. If I told him what I’d seen, he’d send me straight to an asylum.

“Well, one of the things I won’t mention because you’d think I’m crazy. The other is that I saw some Klan members in Heavenly Diner, rather late.”

“Which clan...or cult?”

I paused and stared at him.

“Luc, if you’re a good private detective, then you know already that in this city, nothing is too ‘crazy’ to mention and that we have more than one clan or cult.”

“KKK.”

“Jackson Thormund was there? There were two crimes committed here last night. A man was...torn to pieces. And another, a colored man, was beaten to death and hanged in one of the alleyways.”

“Uhh.  ” My heart hurt as I looked over at the whiskey bottle.

“You should not be looking at alcohol to ease your stress. It’ll only make it worse,” said Willems. He was clearly a man of mental fortitude and focus.

I sighed and toyed with my coffee cup. “Yes, of course. But what if I told you. that I saw ‘something’ kill a man?”

“I’d believe you.”

“Why?”

“I’ve seen a few ‘somethings’ myself in this city.” Willems grimaced and drained his coffee cup.

“What do you attribute it to?” I was not yet ready to explain what I had seen or tell Willems that I had shot at the monster.

“Sut Ni Tul cult.”

“And what are they? What does it mean?”

“You’d best talk to my friend.” He took out a notebook and ripped off a sheet of paper, and wrote down a name and address. The name, ironically, was Gideon Slid. “What are you looking for specifically in this city, Luc?”

“I’m looking for a woman named Aranxa.”

“Yes, I’ve seen her name on the list of those who have gone missing from the university.” Willems leaned forward, focusing an intense stare on me. “Listen, we can help each other. You tell me what new information you learn, and in return, if I find out anything about her, I’ll tell you. Also, would you be willing to testify against Jackson Thormund if we are able to get solid evidence?”

“Yes to both of those. What do you know of Night Hawk? What letters does he carve into his victims? Does he kill members of Sut Ni Tul cult?”

“Not only them. This individual enjoys murder and carnage, and he’s very elusive. The letters form words that make no sense, I’m afraid. I’ll write them down for you.” He did so on the piece of paper after checking his notes.

“So...and evil after all. ”

“Would be evil even if it was only members of the cult he killed. One evil doesn’t cancel out another. Evil is evil. Period. This is someone who’s never considered the concept of mercy.” Willems tucked his notebook into a pocket inside his coat.

“Yes, I understand,” I replied. “I thought about this recently. Sin is part of us all. We all sin, but when someone continually destroys other lives... True evil is to crush another person’s life, stealing from him the opportunity to break from sin, and have no guilt or shame in doing so. And then doing it again and again.”

“That’s about right.” Willems stood. “It was good talking to you, but I must get to work again.”

After Willems left, I felt a bit stronger. I had made another ally in this mad place.

Later that day, I stood in front of a brick row house with a grey door and blue window shutters. This was Gideon Slid’s home. I knocked on the door and heard an old but strong voice from inside telling me to wait just a moment. I patiently waited until the door opened, and there stood a man with strong facial features, blue eyes, and short grey hair.

I smiled at this elegant gentleman. “Hello sir, my name is Luc, and I’m a private investigator. Detective Willems gave me your address after I spoke with him.”

“Ah. If Robert turned you over to me, then I can probably guess the subject.

Come on in.”

I followed Slid. His was a very cozy home, with subdued lighting and heavy draperies covering the windows. He led me to a chair near a fireplace, which had a log

burning. Then Slid sat down in the chair right across me and reached over to a small round table, picked up a pipe, and lit it. He sat there quietly, smoking for a while, looking at the fire.

“Tell me all you know,” he finally spoke.

I told Gideon absolutely everything, including about the creature I saw in the alley. He sat there silently during my entire recital. The fire reflected in his eyes as he calmly puffed his pipe and watched the flames.

“The horror.” He suddenly spoke in a calm, low voice. “It’s been around for as long as we have existed. Long ago, many demons were able to take physical shape because of a breach in time’s dimensions. This, perhaps, was caused by forces of evil or creatures from another place. Sut Ni Tul is one of those creatures. This monster feeds on people’s memories. It sucks everything out of a person and makes his or her identity go away. The soul is still there but jailed inside a body that no longer functions properly, with a destroyed mind. The task of the clan is to create new personas out of those who are drained, make them new faces...new names  ”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What do you mean, new faces?”

“It’s literally what it means. With the help of the creature, the high priests of the clan developed skins….” Slid took in my astonished expression. “It’s difficult to comprehend or to believe, I know.” He paused and looked at me sadly, almost pityingly. “Know this, that in this town you must trust no one, and you must be ready to eliminate anyone. The only path for you to stay alive is the path of brutality and swift action and strong wit. You cannot fight Sut Ni Tul, but you can fight the humans he’s commanding. I hope this girl you are looking for is still alive. And I wish you good luck and God’s blessing.”

Before I was about to leave, he tapped me on the shoulder.

“Do you dream? Because if you don’t, if your mind is blank, that could be a sign you fell victim to the cult.”

“Hah. I’ve had nightmares every night for many, many years. No problem with dreams.”

He nodded and said his farewells.

As I stood outside of his house watching some people smoke, I felt that I needed my whiskey in hand. I knew that was a weakness. I indeed needed God’s blessing, and I knew where I had to go next.

It was rather a rugged part of town, but it didn’t feel dangerous. I saw homeless men sitting against walls of rundown buildings singing songs. Some sat by fires lit in steel drums in alleyways, and others tried to sell fish they had caught that morning. The way they looked at me held no envy or jealousy, and that was a surprise.

Up ahead was the point, a natural place for a lighthouse and a small white church. Perhaps that was the answer to why the poor were so calm in this area.

The wind was blowing more strongly today, and I had to hold on tight to my brown fedora. As I approached the small white wooden church, I noticed a tiny brick house right behind it with smoke coming out of its chimney. I walked up to the door, still battling the wild wind, and knocked. The door opened swiftly, and there stood a

man with short black hair and a trimmed beard. He wore dark beige pants and a black shirt with a clerical collar. A thin string with a small wooden cross hanging from it was around his neck. His face was lined and kind.

“Father Brannahan?”

“That is correct, and you are?”

“I’m sorry. Luc Nistage, private investigator.”

“Oh, well, do come in.” He pointed to a simple wooden bench without a back support. He himself sat on a short wooden chair. The priest threw another piece of wood into the old fireplace. By the wall, there stood a flat wooden bed with an old mattress, one thin blanket, and no pillow. This was a very humble man.

“What can I do for you, Luc?”

“Well...I need help, Father.” I paused and shook my head.

“There is no official language to address God, my son. Forget what you’ve been taught before. God knows your heart; he created your soul. You understand?”

I took a deep breath, and my eyes filled with tears. “I need...a blessing.”

“Of course, a powerful thing indeed. You must connect with God to give you strength. Your faith has to be strong.”

Brannahan stood up and opened a small wooden cabinet. Inside stood small glass bottles filled with different oils. He asked me to kneel and also took out a larger wooden cross and a metal cup. He put one of the oils on my head. Then he filled the cup with water and put it in front of me.

“Kiss the cross, son of God, and pray deeply with your eyes closed as I administer a blessing upon you.”

I felt tremendous warmth going through my body as Brennahan placed his hands upon my head. The intensity of the warmth kept growing, and I felt a fire inside me, but there was no pain. It was a spiritual flame, giving me belief in myself as never before.

I hardly heard what the priest said, but he finished the blessing, and the heat gradually faded from my body. Would this blessing help me make the right decisions in a place as twisted and corrupt as this? I thanked Brannahan with all my heart as I left. He gave me a loving smile and said simply, “Just thank God.” Then he gave me a small wooden cross on a string, just like his.

I hiked up to the cliffs and stood on the edge for a while, watching the waves crash against the rocks. The ancient ocean held so many mysteries in its depths, so much history, joy and suffering. It had been there long before I was born and would be there long after I was gone. The lighthouse stood as a beacon for those in danger, guiding them. How appropriate it was that a priest took care of it. The water mesmerized me as I stood still with my hat in my hands and the new cross around my neck. Was it strange that I had a pistol on my hip? Was it strange that even after this experience, I still knew that I possibly had to kill another human to survive this assignment? Was it strange that with the new peace I found came even more determination to do whatever I had to do? The waves smashed against the natural wall of the cliffs, the deadly dark rocks with sharp edges chiseled by a magnificent and

powerful nature. For some reason, I knew that at one point, I’d be back at this very spot, looking out into the roaring ocean again.

That night I spent a long time in silence and the dark, sitting by my bed, thinking about my next steps.