At least the dog lived.
By 1870, I’d had quite enough of the fools who managed to find their way to Cross to explore the tripe found between the covers of Vivian Husker’s book.
Bella Croix was one of them.
She and her dog, Rex, arrived on the morning train from Boston, the young woman having taken a lighter from New York City up the coast until she figured out a way into town. I wish she hadn’t.
She came off the platform with the dog on a braided leash and a smug look upon her pretty face. Seeing as how she was attractive, she had no difficulty finding her way to Gods’ Hollow. From what I gathered, she almost convinced young Ezekiel Hall to go in with her.
The young man kept his wits about him, though, and he did his best to keep her on the safe side of the wall. When he turned back to calm the horses down and check their traces, she was over the wall, laughing as the dog ran free, and she took off after him.
Ezekiel lit out for my house, found me, and brought me back.
It was already too late.
I’m not sure what the creature was, though it looked as though it might have been a cross between bear and troll, but it had Bella Croix, and she no longer had to worry about earthly matters.
As the creature popped off her head and chewed laboriously upon the skull, the thing swiped at the dog with its free hand.
I went over the wall and put several rounds into the creature’s chest as I called for the dog. Rex, I am happy to say, came running to me.
He’s asleep on the rug in front of the fire, by the front door hangs his leash, still stained with the blood of his dead mistress.