Det. Moore tried to catch his breath. He had been through one of the most horrifying interrogation sessions of his life. He couldn't believe all of what he had heard; yet there it was on tape. He had hear the rumors about this little town being a nexus of evil, but he had discounted those stories as just that. Rumors. He thought that this criminal investigation would be like countless others he had been a part of. But it wouldn't be. It was much more.
His hands shook as he placed the headphones onto his ears. He knew that he had to listen to the words of the man once more. As the recording began to work, Moore was transported back to yesterday evening & recalled the vivid image of the other man who talked and told him of the most terrible news that he had ever heard.
"Sorry to bring out here at such a late hour. But this is a lively one, Det. Moore." Sgt. Tony Everest commented to his superior officer as he entered the crime scene.
"How so, Tony?" he asked tiredly. He hated to be called out so late at night, especially to a hick town such as this. But since the sudden disappearance of the sheriff De Pounce and his staff, it fell to the state police to investigate any crime in this town. "It seems to be just another murder. Remington is a small town, but it has its crime."
"True, but it was never expected that this person would have done such a crime. I mean, a man of his profession committing such a violent crime."
"Who is this guy? What makes him so special? Is he God?" Moore asked in a sarcastic tone.
"No, but he works for the Big Guy."
"What?" Moore hated to be left in the dark. "Fill me in, Tony."
What Tony told the detective was enough to churn his stomach.
"Hello,I am Det. Stanley Moore of the State Police. I have some questions to ask of you," He looked down at his notebook, "Father Volkstag."
"I will answer any and all questions you may ask, sir." A small & frail looking man with tiny wire rimmed glasses about early fifty answered him. He didn't look capable of killing a fly let alone a double murder. "But don't call me Father. I am longer a man of God. I am one of the fallen."
"OK, I just never expected to question a priest about a murder that he committed." Moore shook his head, "Please tell me you doing this to protect someone in your flock."
"No, I did it. I admit that I didn't really intend to do it, but I was overcome by rage." He toyed with the beads of his rosary, "I just could help myself. I killed them both in a single incident. I mean do you think you wouldn't do the same if you were in a similar situation. I feel, at this moment, that anyone is fully capable of murder."
"I don't know." Moore shook his head, "I have killed criminals in the life of self defense, but I don't feel that I would ever commit a murder like you did. It is that you just don't fit the profile of being a murder. You are a priest. You are supposed to save lives, not end them."
"True, Det. Moore, I was. I have spent the past thirty years of my life dedicated to the service of Jesus Christ and God, but the moment that woman, that siren, Wanda Winkler entered my life," there was a haunted look to the former priest's eyes "I fell from grace and would do so gladly again."
"Father, I can't believe that you would have been tempted by a woman."
"Detective, please call me that name." Volkstag frowns, "I am not worthy of the title."
"Okay." Moore makes a mental note, "So you were drawn to this by a mere woman?"
"Have you seen Wanda?"
"No, just the picture of the crime scene. She didn't seem to be that wonderful."
"That is because the spell was broken." Volkstag nodded, "I suspected that it would be once she was dead."
"Spell? What are you talking about, Father –er- Mr. Volkstag?"
"You may call me Helmut, if you wish." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Ms. Winkler wasn't what she seems to be. A vile being that lives to do what her kind has done for centuries. She steals the lives of the young and promising returns only empty shells once they are done."
"What?"
"Perhaps I should begin the story when I first met Wanda Winkler."
"That would be very good." Moore switched on the tape player on the table next to him and began to recite the Miranda warning.
"I know my rights, Detective. I have no desire to have a lawyer with me. I wave all of my rights freely. For I admit that I killed Wanda Winkler and Douglas Stout freely of my own will."
"I have to tell you this first." He waved the Miranda card, "It is the law."
"I know this, Detective." And Det. Moore finished reading the card while the former cleric sat calmly in front of him.
"Okay, I am ready now. Why don't you start from the beginning?"
Volkstag thought for a moment. His face had a happy look on it as if he was remembering something very pleasing.
"What I am about to tell you is something that you won't believe, but it is true. I have forsaken my immortal soul on it" He sighed in disappointment, "And lost everything for a dream that I was not destined to have."
"I have known Wanda Winkler ever since she was a child. I even christened her as a baby twenty two years earlier. But her parents were killed when a drunk driver drove into their car. She was only a child of twelve back then. She went to live with an aunt on the outskirts of town. The Aunt wasn't of the Catholic Church. I didn't know what or who she truly was until it was far too late or I would have never allowed her to go to that vile home in the woods."
"When Wanda's Aunt came for her, she told me that she would be raising her in a New Age belief. As much as I didn't want her to take the child, I had no choice. She was Wanda's sole relative"
"Wait a minute, are you claiming that Wanda's aunt was some sort of a witch?" Detective Moore interrupted.
"A witch? Oh, how I wish that she were only a witch. Wanda's aunt was one of the Skin Walker clan."
"Skin Walker?" Moore wrote this down into his notebook, "What in the hell is that?"
"The Skin Walkers are one of the many clans of Faerie folks that have live with us human since the dawn of time. Wanda's aunt had one of the faerie living inside of her."
"Wait a damn minute!" Moore slammed down his hand onto the table, "Are you claiming that you killed this Wanda and Douglas because they were some sort of Pixies?" he switched off the tape player and he stood up, "I am going to call the loony bin to come pick you up."
Then Volkstag stood up. The small man commanded a powerful presence. His eyes burned with a fire that Moore was frighten of. Only once in his life had he ever seen a fire like those. It reminded him that there were forces in this world that normal science could understand. It told Moore that Volkstag was telling the truth.
"I AM NOT INSANE!" The former priest's voice boomed; cause Moore to sit back down. "WHAT I AM TELLING YOU OCCURRED. THERE IS NO LIES TO MY WORDS."
"Okay, father –er- Volkstag." Moore wished that he had carried his service revolver and another officer with him into the interrogation room, but he didn't think that the small man would have been a problem, "Just sit down and tell me about it."
"WILL YOU NOW LISTEN AND NOT QUESTION ME UNTIL I AM FINISHED?"
"Sure, just sit down and I'll listen."
"ALRIGHT!" Volkstag sat down and returned to his former calm appearance. He turned back on the tape recorder and spoke in a controlled tone "Let's begin when Wanda retuned to my church six months ago.
"It began six months ago. There isn't much of a catholic parish in this town about fifty or so. Most have moved away to San Francisco. But I had a few older members that were unable to travel to Raleigh. The bishop believed that I would end out my career in Remington. I felt that way too. I had never been an ambitious priest. I just wanted a flock to guide. I had it here, but that was before Wanda Winkler returned."
"I had finished my sermon and had been giving out the Eucharist. I didn't have an alter boy, so I had to give out the wafers myself. It was the same old, tired faces. But then a young woman bowed before me. That usually didn't have that happen. It was so old fashioned, pre-Vatican two. I wanted to bend down and let the help the woman up to her feet, but something caught my attention. Something that I usually never notice about people. I could see down her blouse where the most beautiful breast was kept. I found myself getting an erection. Something that I haven't had in years."
"I forced my eyes away and spoke to her. 'Arise, my child. That practice isn't done anymore.'"
"Forgive me, father." The young woman spoke still with her head down, "It has been so long since I have received communion. I have forgotten him ways."
"When was the last time that you confessed your sins?" I asked my voiced crackled, as I looked away from her. I felt my unexpected desire began to cool.
"Nearly ten years, father."
"Then I can't give you the body of Christ until you has." I took a step back, "You must go Confession, my child."
"When is confession?"
"Saturdays at two."
"Could I," her voice took a sultry tone, "Request a private session with you alone?"
"I –er- don't know." My erection was back in full glory, clouding my mind. "You will have to call the rectory and ask Mrs. Tilton about my schedule." I suddenly realized that people were staring at us. "Please go away now, I have services to finish. I will talk to you later."
"Then you will see me and let me bare my soul to you?"
"Yes," my head told me not to agree to her, but my body yearned for her deeply. "But only in the confessional."
"The woman stood up. She was radiantly beautiful. She had curly flame red hair that framed her face. Her eyes were fiery emerald. Her lips were the fullest and brightest red. She wore a black form fitting dress that accented her flawless body with a black blazer. She turned away and walked down the center pathway, swinging her hips in such a way that hinted raw sexual energy. All the males watched her, yearning for her to be theirs. All the females were jealous that they no longer had the same sex appeal. But I knew that that she was meant to be mine. I would have her in ways that I had only dreamt I would do. My oath of celibacy will be damned."
"The next few days were tense. I had expected to hear for this mysterious woman, but nothing. Mrs. Tilton was concern about me asking constantly. I explained it as I felt this woman was making a cry out for salvation. She had come to me for assistance and I had sent her away. Mrs. Tilton accepted this. She had no reason to disbelieve me. I had always been a model of piousness."
"But most of my waking hours were spent thinking about her. I wondered what the feel of her flesh was like. The taste of her lips and her inner self."