This was good coffee. Not like the cheap crap purchased at Zehrs, but real coffee, picked from fields down the street. I considered calling Swartz and Taves, and letting them know what I was doing here, but I didn’t want to alarm them; they might not understand. My scope for control does not include them. But honestly, I read thoughts, not palms, and I don’t pretend to know the future. I can only hope that we never come against each other on bad terms; power is addictive, and I’d hate to make enemies out of friends. “What’s this?” I thought aloud. My email inbox reads 1. Sitting in coffee shop outside an African bistro; they’d never believe me. Interesting. Swartz wants to meet at the Fairview in few days. He says it’s important. “I’m sorry my friend, I’m busy searching for people like us.” I won’t respond. I can’t.
Ababa came strolling up on a bike. He was smiling, seems like he found what I was looking for.
“Good morning Ryan. I found it. It was hidden deep in the basement, but I got it! I tell you the truth, that Library is most terrifying in the dark. Hidden behind a set of books on African mysticism, tapped to the shelf itself; it was there.” He handed me a leather bound book. It was old and used.
I was ecstatic, “Good job Ababa. They can’t hide the truth. Not from me. Did anyone see you?”
“I don’t think so, I was very careful.”
Ababa was more like a friend now. It had been only two days, and his dedication and fair humour made the experience more like an adventure. I had no need to rule his mind; point of fact, I don’t think I ever would. His wife made me a delicious chicken dinner last night, and his daughter plays the piano wonderfully. She coughed all night. While drinking a fine Château on his porch, Ababa remembered the Public Library, older than the modern age itself. “We have not yet checked there Ryan, they say the basement holds secrets older than civilization.” He was right. I had found the jackpot. Etched into the leather skin read the words, “The diary of Colonel Montgomery Alastor, of His Majesty’s Foreign Legion,” and his work would prove definitive.
“Who is this man?” I asked.
“I know much Sir. The Colonel is a famous man in these parts. He came here in 1909, at the order of his Queen, hoping to find a more expedient way to ship our grain. But his agenda was quickly altered. He fell in love with Africa; as any explorer would. He even took for his bride a noblemen’s daughter. She was a thing of beauty; her name was Suri.”
“You know a lot Ababa. Have you been reading fantasy novels?”
“It is the stuff of legend it’s true, but even our children know of Lord Alastor. He arrived as a pirate, but died a hero. For as the story goes, each month, when the moon gleamed it’s brightest a young women was taken captive. Taken by what? I do not know. I only know the name given it; it was the Romans who named him, loup-garou. He was a dark force from the underworld; once a prisonor of the evil god, he escaped his chains by tricking the guards with his witt. He was capable of changing his figure into a wild beast. And with the speed of a horse, the strength of a bear, and the cunning of a snake, he took for himself a victim, who’s fleash gave him strength to endure. One night, while Alastor was asleep, loup-garou crept through his bedroom window, stealing away the Colonel’s wife, Suri.”
“Surely Alastor gave chase.” I was compelled now.
“The entire city was outraged, feeling that the beast had gone too far this time. But not a single villiger was brave enough to do anything about it. Alastor was not only brave but a skilled warrior; his sword was quicker than any other, and his strength was unmattched. He set out alone to find his love. He first went out to the city limits by the river, to the caves of Nunon; the supposed day-time resting place of the beast, a labrynth of sharp rocks and daunting darkness. The next day, Suri returned home, unharmed and alone. She reported that her love had chased the beast into the forest, destroying it’s mortal body with his blade, forcing the creature’s spirit to remain bound to the trees. But Alastor was mortally wounded. Loup-garou’s dying deed was to strike Alastor, cutting the hero too deep for recovery. When Suri returned to the forest, she came back with the sword; she told all that Alastor’s sword was stabbed in the ground, and under it, the head of the beast bluggend. Lord Alastor was the man who delivered Addis from darkness.”
I was impressed. The city had a long history of imperial rule, so I had guessed the legends true meaning. “So the story remains today; representing the cities liberation from colonialism.”
“Yes it true. Most understand this to be the stories meaning. But it said, by the fishermen of the Nunon Rive, that in dead of the night, when the moon shines brightest, you can still hear the battle cries of Alastor, met by the terrible roars of loup-garou. The battle continues.”
I thanked Ababa deeply, and away I went to my room. There, I spent hours sifting threw the Colonels notes. He wrote well enough, but rarely spoke of anything of interest. Finally, I came to it. The date read, ‘Dec. 29, 1903.’
“Today was my birthday, an event as common as the previous. My application for her Majesties royal legion was rejected again today, but my resolve remains. Something is happening to me, what it is, I cannot describe. As the stories of Saul on his travels to Damascus recall; I too have heard the voice of God, or an Angel. In truth, I fear it is a curse. What will I do with this power?”
Six years latter, on the same day, he writes:
“I write this in haste, only to record my final impression. I have known love, and it is best. For its sake, I would do anything; I would wrestle the devil himself, a trail I may yet have to face. What has taken my Suri? Is it a man? Or is it what my father-in-law has called, the loup-garou, a monster from hell. Whatever it is, I care not, and I surmise the likely hood of beast is fable; as locals will blame any misfortune on the supernatural. But I will find a man, who is in essence, a monster, for who could steal women from their bed, and destroy lives. Tonight I will shed blood. I will call him loup-garou and I will kill him with my sword. I will use the power God has given me.”
I wondered what these words meant. After studying over two hundred unexplained cases, I had found only a handful worthy of investigation, and even those, were a dull complexion compared to the story of Alastor and his monster. “Suspend your worldview Ryan. Science has failed to explain your power; maybe the forest will offer more.” I thought about this. Unfortunately I was afraid of the dark, and the forest was spooky. It’d be nice to have Taves around.
It was getting dark outside, coming up on nine o’clock. It was time to check out the forest. I had considered calling Ababa; it’d be nice to have company on the trip. I’m not one to necessarily accept omens or signs and wonders, but the fact that the moon was full, could not be a coincidence. I reached for the phone, ready to call my friend; it was then that it rang.
“Hello.”
“Ryan. I need you’re help, meet me at the trail entrance but the east dock.”
Ababa sounded distressed. Something was wrong, and I was afraid. I had originally thought that travelling to the heart of Africa would help answer my questions; but I fear I have hatched open brand new ones. Here I was, a 24 year old kid, with no money or home, alone in a distant land. Everything had gone too smooth for this to be real; a hiccup had to be up-and-coming. History aside, I had hoped that my story would have a pleasant ending. But I should have known better; history has a tendency of repeating itself.
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