by Chris Cooper
“Does Asher know his father’s dead?” The question had been percolating in the back of Oliver’s head.
Ruby slumped over her teacup. “Shit. No. What happened?”
“Age. They carted him off to jail without Asher’s blood to keep him going. The man might have been one hundred years old, for all we know.”
“He seems to be coming around. We’ve had a few conversations about his father, and he gets the man was a murderer. He understands how abusive Simon was to his sister and to him, but I don’t know how he’ll handle his father’s death. His sister’s was hard enough.”
“Can we see him?” Oliver asked.
Ruby hesitated for a moment. “He may not react kindly to you. He’s mentioned the man who tried to kill his father—I assume that’s you—and even though he’s come a long way, I’m sure he’s still got hostility hidden away somewhere.”
“What if we promise to leave right away if seeing us is too much for him?” Anna added.
“Why do you want to see him, anyway?”
Oliver had been asked this question several times, but he still wasn’t able to articulate the real answer.
“We want to see for ourselves that he’s all right,” Anna replied when Oliver couldn’t.
“I’ll take you to the basement,” Ruby said. “Just take it slow and don’t mention his father’s death. I’ll break that news later.”
As they walked through the house to the kitchen, a foul smell punched Oliver in the nose. Caleb stood over a stockpot, swirling its boiling contents with a large wooden spoon.
“Chicken bones for a new display piece,” he said, seeing the disgusted looks on Anna’s and Oliver’s faces.
“Why are you boiling them?” Anna asked.
“Removes the last bits of flesh,” he replied, as if the answer should have been obvious. “Trying to convince Ruby here to let me buy dermestid beetles. They do the same thing but without the wonderful aroma. Plus, it would be nice to have some live pets around the house.”
“Gross,” Anna replied.
“He can’t even take care of the taxidermy properly, and he expects me to let him have live things?” Ruby smirked at Caleb. “You saw what happened to our cat.”
The door to the basement sat behind the kitchen pantry, and Ruby ushered Oliver and Anna inside.
The stairwell was long and narrow, and if Ruby had resolved to murder them, this would have been the place to do it. That fear had been pushed out of Oliver’s mind, though, since he’d had a chance to talk to her.
They descended the rickety staircase and came to a slender wooden door at its base. Oliver tapped the door with his knuckle.
“Come in,” someone replied from the other side.
The doorway led to a workshop of sorts, a surprisingly finished basement for the style of house it occupied. Shelves contained jars of metal fasteners, nails, and screws, along with obscure materials like animal skins and bones. The far corner of the room held a small living area with a bed and a dated mustard-colored sofa. Bookshelves lined the side walls and overflowed to where stacks of books sat piled on the floor next to them. Asher stood over a large workbench, his back to the door.
“You know this set you gave me is incomplete. It’s missing a femur,” he said as he spun around, holding a handful of small animal bones. He wore a green-striped shirt with an olive vest and maroon pants. His brown hair was curly and sprang back and forth against his forehead. He looked different from the scared blood-soaked man who’d cowered behind Izzy’s sofa the year before.
When Asher saw Oliver, his expression immediately soured into a mix of anger and fear.
“What are you doing here?” he asked with a quivering voice.
To make sure you’re okay? The reasoning seemed flimsy.
“Get out!” Asher shouted, not waiting for a reply.
“We—” Oliver began, but Asher picked up a heavy metal tool and held it in the air, threatening to fling it at them.
“Okay, okay,” Oliver said, holding a hand out and backing toward the door. Anna didn’t need a second warning and had already made her way halfway up the stairs by the time Oliver hit the bottom step.
Ruby was standing in the kitchen, talking to Caleb. “Didn’t go well, did it?” she asked as Oliver emerged from the staircase, face flushed and lungs short of breath.
He shook his head.
“Was afraid of that,” Ruby replied. “Still has a bit of loyalty to his dad, and you are somewhat responsible for separating the two. Wait till I tell him the man’s dead.”
“Stockholm syndrome,” Caleb added, still monitoring the large stockpot.
“Go have a seat, and I’ll see if I can calm him down,” Ruby said.
Anna and Oliver headed back to the lounge bar and waited.
“We should go. He clearly doesn’t want us here,” Anna said. “We’re only going to make things worse.”
“Let’s give it a second. He’ll come around eventually,” Oliver replied.
“Maybe, but how do you think he will react when he finds out his father is dead?”
Oliver shrugged.
They sat at the lounge bar, making small talk for some time, waiting to see if Asher would emerge from the basement.
“I’ve been told my father is responsible for murder.”
Asher’s voice caught them by surprise, and both Anna and Oliver twisted around in their barstools to see him standing in the doorway. His eyes shifted from side to side as if waiting for someone to pounce since he’d left the safety of the basement. “If this is true, he deserved to be carted away. I apologize for how I reacted to you. You were simply protecting your family. But he is my father. He may have kept me locked away, but he cared for me, so forgive me if I cannot so easily forgive you.”
Sure, he cared for your when he wasn’t cutting you open and drinking your blood.
As Asher approached them, Oliver noticed a gold chain around his neck, shimmering in the sunlight. The round edge of a tarnished gold coin peeked out from behind the top of his shirt.
“Is that the key to Briarwood?” Oliver asked.
Asher didn’t seem to understand.
“The coin—did you get that from your father?” he clarified.
Asher pulled the chain out above his shirt, revealing the familiar crow with thorns underneath. “It fell from his pocket when he tumbled down the stairs that night. I’d planned to give it back to him, but he crashed into the statue. I thought the men were coming to kill us, so I ran for the woods. Caleb made it into a necklace for me.”
“Have you been back to Briarwood?”
“No, no I couldn’t. I’m sure they’d kill me if I went back. I probably couldn’t find the town again, even if I wanted to.”
Oliver had assumed the coin had gone with Simon and had been locked away in a prison somewhere, probably lost forever with the man’s passing. Most nights, he would look down across the field at the briars and wonder if the town had somehow re-established order. He thought of Gideon and the agony Mercy’s death must have caused him and wondered if the man was doing all right. He assumed he’d never be able to cross the patch again.
“So you like it here?” Anna asked.
Asher looked at Ruby, who had entered the lounge from the hallway. “They treat me like an equal. They let me be a part of this.” He gestured around the room.
“You are an equal,” Ruby added. “The whole idea for the menagerie was yours. You should show them what you’re working on for next weekend. The new exhibit will make the fish tank and birdcage seem dull.”
Asher’s eyes darted to Oliver and Anna before shifting to Ruby. “But it’s a secret,” he said.
“Go ahead.” Ruby waved him on. “I’m sure they’ll promise not to go spoiling the show by telling anyone else.”
“We swear,” Oliver said. “We’ll even bring a new customer next weekend. The show would be right up my great aunt’s obscure alley.” Probably too much for Mom, though.
Asher l
ed Oliver and Anna back down the stairs to his workshop.
“We wanted to try with a larger animal,” he said as he opened the door of a large wooden cabinet hanging above the workbench. He retrieved a wide glass jar filled with swirling blood and set it in front of them. A pile of bones sat on the far end of the workbench, and Asher carefully scooped them up and set them down next to the container.
Oliver had never seen Asher’s blood up close before. Tiny glitter-like particles zipped around the container like microscopic schools of fish.
“So it never dries?” Oliver asked.
“Only when it’s been used to heal, I think,” Asher replied.
Oliver rubbed his side where Simon had jabbed his slender cane blade. Asher’s blood had fizzled over his wound until it had completely healed the gash.
“Doesn’t that wear you out, though—losing enough blood to fill a container like that?”
“For a little while, but it regenerates quickly. I can barely even feel the needle anymore, especially after filling the glass tanks upstairs, and you remember Father’s atrium.”
Asher’s blood had filled a swirling pool above the atrium in Briarwood. That must have taken years.
“And the needle is much better than the scarificator. Ruby tells me people do it all the time here. She called it ‘giving blood,’ I think.”
Oliver remembered the small metal box with protruding blades that Simon had used to slice Asher’s arms open. Mercy told him it had been used for medical purposes, but it looked like a torture device. The thought of Simon using it on Asher made Oliver shiver.
“Stand back a little, if you will,” Asher said, ensuring a foot of clearance between them and the bench.
Asher picked up some bones and dumped them into the specimen jar. “This works best when we have a complete set. I’m not sure why, but we discovered that with the fish.”
He swept the rest of the bones off the table and into his cupped palm then dropped them into the jar. The bones hit the surface of the liquid with several small plops.
“What kind of animal is it?” Oliver asked.
The bones were larger than bird bones and too large to belong to fish.
“Just wait a moment, and you’ll see.” Asher knelt down so he was eye level with the large jar.
At first, the bones sat motionless at the bottom, aside from a few bubbles of trapped air escaping to the surface. Then the pile wiggled as if the blood was beginning to boil. Bubbles formed at the bottom of the jar and floated to the top, and one by one, the bones popped away from the pile and into position, suspended in the liquid. Instead of floating independently, they seemed to move in perfect unison, eventually forming the outline of an articulated animal skeleton. The creature hunched on all fours as what appeared to be a tail wrapped around the side of the jar. At first, Oliver thought it might have been a cat, but once the creature’s skull popped into place and the animal was fully formed, it sat back on its hind legs and pressed its front paws on the sides of the glass.
“A monkey?” Oliver asked.
“A rhesus, to be precise,” Asher corrected.
The monkey twisted its head and swished its arms through the liquid as if trying to comprehend why it had woken up underwater.
“Why is it still a skeleton? If the blood can heal wounds, why don’t they fill in and become full animals again?”
“I don’t have an answer for that, I’m afraid. We’ve only tried this with bones. Maybe because there’s no flesh left to regenerate or maybe because the animals have long been dead. They don’t seem to use up the blood, so maybe once something is dead, it’s impossible to fully bring it back. We started with the fish, and they’ve been swimming around for weeks.”
“But surely, he’s not alive. How could he think without a brain?”
“It seems the bones have their own memories. We’ve been trying to get a few of these ready for the show, but do you know how difficult it is to find complete monkey skeletons in the city?” Asher asked.
“It’s a real problem in this day and age,” Anna said sarcastically.
“The monkeys are more vicious too,” Asher said.
“What do you mean?” Oliver asked.
Using a knuckle, Asher tapped on the side of the jar. The monkey, which had been miming his away around the glass jar, snapped his head toward his finger and bared its fangs. The animal reared up on its hind legs and sprang toward them, leaping out above the crest of the blood at the top of the jar. Oliver stepped backward and shielded his face from the impending zombie-monkey bite. As soon as the animal hit the air, the creature collapsed, and bones flew everywhere, splattering the three with blood. Asher laughed and started to collect the bones that had fallen to the floor, while Oliver stood frozen in a mix of disgust and fear. The bones seemed to vibrate in Asher’s hand, still somewhat energized by the splatters of blood but unable to support themselves without the aid of the liquid.
“And there you see our problem.”
“What are you going to do?” Oliver asked.
Asher walked to one of the metal shelves across the room and returned with a heavy metal lid and clamp. He dropped the bones back into the liquid and set the lid on top of the jar, snapping the metal clamp in place. “Just have to make sure they have no way to get out. We can’t go splattering blood all over the audience. It might be hard to keep the crowd coming.”
“I’ve never seen something like that before,” Oliver said, pointing at the lid of the glass jar. “What is it?”
“This is a large specimen jar. They typically use these to preserve medical oddities and animals, like fetal calves.”
“Gross,” Anna said.
“A fetal calf is gross, but you’re perfectly fine with a reanimated monkey in a large jar of blood?” Oliver asked.
“Fair point,” Anna replied.
“You never know. People will pay good money for a scare.” Oliver added. “Maybe you should leave the lid off.”
“You should have seen it when we first tried the fish without a lid. Took hours to clean up.”
As Asher mopped the floor, Oliver asked something that had been on his mind since he first saw the aquarium of swirling blood. “They’re not forcing you to do this, are they? They’re not keeping you here against your will?”
Asher bristled at the questions. “Forcing me? No, nothing like that. Ruby could barely pay rent when I arrived. Still, she and Caleb opened their home to me, fed me, and clothed me. The least I could do was offer my little talent to say thank you. They refused at first, but I insisted. And they hardly keep me confined. In fact, they’ve been trying to get me to leave the house for some time. I find it more comfortable down here, with my books. Reminds me of home.”
“Minus the bars,” Anna added.
In some ways, Ruby and Caleb had treated Asher like Izzy had treated Oliver, with unquestioning kindness.
After Asher cleaned up the mess, he walked Anna and Oliver to the front door.
“I hope to see you at next week’s show,” Asher said. “Ruby tells me the crowd this week was much larger, so I can’t imagine next week.”
“Izzy will love this. We’ll definitely be here,” Oliver replied.
“Thanks for the tour,” Anna added.
“Of course. I also wanted to say how sorry I am,” Asher said.
“Sorry? For what?” Oliver asked.
“For the torment my father put you through. For the deaths he’s caused. I wish I could have stopped him, but I had no idea. I grew up thinking our family protected Briarwood, that we kept the people who lived there safe. I didn’t know he and my sister were the reasons people were dying. He made the outside world sound so frightening, but he was the only one worthy of fear.”
“You didn’t know. He brainwashed you, and it’s not your fault.”
“Ignorance is no excuse.”
“But you seem to be doing well. You’ve made a new life for yourself,” Anna said.
“I fear I’ll always be in his
shadow,” Asher replied.
Asher’s words hit Oliver in the chest, and he spoke before he could stop himself. “Your father’s dead, Asher. He passed away in prison.”
Asher’s eyes went glossy, and he looked down at his hands and avoided eye contact. “I’ve got to get back to the project,” he said after a moment of silence.
“Don’t you want to talk—”
“No, I think I’ve done enough talking for the day.” He pulled open the door and gestured for them to leave.
“I’m sorry,” Oliver said. “I know this isn’t the best way to find out, but it’s important that you know. You don’t have to worry about him or his shadow anymore.”
Asher said nothing but made another gesture for them to leave.
“Why would you blurt it out like that?” Anna asked after Asher closed the door. “‘Oh, by the way, your dad’s dead.’ Nice job.”
“I couldn’t help it. The guy’s living in agony over what his father’s done. I had to tell him.”
They walked the streets back to Amberley station as Oliver replayed the events in his head.
“Don’t be surprised if he never speaks to you again.”
“We owed him the truth, don’t you think? If I were in his situation, I’d want the truth.” He hesitated. “You know, when my dad died, Mom waited a whole week to tell me.”
Anna stopped walking and turned to face him. “What? That’s awful.”
“It was right at the start of exam week in college. She didn’t want it to affect my scores and didn’t tell me till I drove home for winter break. I came home on Saturday and had to go to his funeral on Sunday.”
Anna found a bench near the station and pulled Oliver over.
“You never told me this.”
Oliver stared off at the station, and Anna grabbed his hand.
“She was always so hard on the guy. Then all the stress was finally too much for him, and she hid it from me. That wasn’t her decision to make. Having her in Christchurch just dredges everything back up. I know she thought she was doing what was best for me, but it really messed me up.” His voice quivered.
