“We will remember!” Ernst shouted, and the audience echoed his words. “We will not be humbled! We honor the blood of Germany that pulses in our veins, and we will restore the glory of our ancestral home!” They roared in unison.
“Rise to the glory! Rise! Rise! Rise!”
We were all on our feet now, and I mumbled along with the group, watching as anger and wounded pride animated the men who, just moments before, had looked broken and defeated, wearied by life.
The leader basked in their energy for a moment, then gestured for them to sit, and waited out the rustle of clothing and clatter of chairs as they took their seats.
“Great things are in the making,” Ernst told his eager audience. “Our goals are nearly within reach. A strong hexenmeister is coming to town, and all that we have worked hard to build has almost come to completion. Too long have you been beneath the boot of the railroad barons and the coal kings.”
The crowd growled in agreement, and there were shouts of affirmation.
“It’s time to show what the men of Germany are made of! You did not come to this country to lick the boots of industrialists. You came to make your fortune, to rise above hardship and bad luck.”
“This witch, he is the high priest of the old gods. Of Veles and Morok, the gods of the deep places. And he will call forth salvation from the depths, the lost power of the great kings of ancient Germany, of Charlemagne, of Maximilian. Their magic has been forgotten, and without it, our great land has been humbled. Too many have forgotten our heritage, what it means to be German. But you, you have not. You have kept the faith of your ancestors, of our great kings of old. You will be the rebuilding of the greatness of the German people,” Ernst promised, swaying the crowd with his energy and the kind of lies broken men hunger to hear.
“And when our hexenmeister calls to those forces from the deep, they will answer. They will follow his voice, and they will rise. And when they do, they will destroy all those who have oppressed you. They will break the bones of the coal kings and the railroad barons, the men who cut your wages and ask for your blood and sinew and repay you with lies and broken promises!”
The young demagogue served up exactly what his audience wanted, dangerous promises and poisonous lies. He’d worked himself into a lather, sweat beading on his brow, spittle flying as he shouted, part street preacher and part snake oil salesman.
I knew his type. They peddled empty dreams from soapboxes and sold hope to the desperate. And part of me remembered being one of those downtrodden men, eager for anything that made me feel strong again, made me feel like a man who controlled my own destiny, the captain of my life.
Maybe Ernst believed what he told his audience. Maybe he didn’t. Even now, I didn’t doubt the sincerity of the men who organized the strike in Homestead, who believed that we could throw off our shackles and stand proud, that we could wrest what was owed to us from the robber barons and the mill owners. We followed, caught up in a beautiful dream. And we died, wondering where we had gone wrong.
I felt my temper rise. At least the idea of striking for better conditions had worked in other places. But the dangerous delusions this man and his Free Society peddled could only lead to darkness. Nothing that rose from the depths would stop with destroying the rich and powerful. None of the gray monsters from the mine that had killed the ghosts would do the bidding of these dreamers. The creatures would kill, and keep on killing until their hunger was sated.
The men around me were cheering for their own deaths, and they had no idea what awaited them.
“And when that happens, we will show the world what it means to be the men of Germany,” Ernst shouted. “We will restore the folkways of our ancestors and bring back the purity of our German heritage. We will raise a movement that will sweep through the communities of those who were forced to leave the Fatherland and send that pure energy back to our true home, where it will scour like fire and remove all that is weak and false and impure. We are the First Wave of the Great Cleansing, and we will not be stopped!”
The men around me were on their feet, shouting and clapping, stamping their feet and lifting their hands, caught up in the emotion. These would-be revolutionaries had been ground down by hardship, had their spirits broken by the mills and the mines, been made to feel that they were less-than-men. Here, they hung onto the hope of redemption—not for their souls, but for their pride.
The Free Society didn’t offer to cleanse them from sin like the priests and preachers. It offered something more seductive, promising to restore their manhood, crushed and stolen from them by landlords and bankers, mine superintendents and shift supervisors.
And, gods help me, enough of my mortal self remained that I felt the pull, even though I knew the words were lies and that the promises could only end in blood. And for that, I hated the Free Society and its leaders, because all they could offer these men was ruin, prison, and death.
I clenched my jaw and balled my fists, trying to rein in my temper. These men around me, poor desperate, deluded fools, were not the true enemy. They were pawns, being manipulated by those who needed cannon fodder in a war that, like all wars, would only ever benefit those at the top.
Ernst shared some news from back in Germany for those who didn’t have a radio and led the crowd in several more songs and chants before the meeting came to a close. The men’s eyes shone brighter than when they came, they stood straighter, reclaiming their tattered pride and wounded manhood. I’d seen preachers work the same magic on their faithful, whipping them into ecstasy, providing emotional release. A hand job for the ego, like twenty minutes with a two-bit whore.
While Ernst talked, someone had put out a tray of cookies on a small table at the back. The men talked among themselves, some in English but most in the Dutchy dialect, a bastardized low German. I tried to listen without looking interested as I munched on a cookie.
“—a better world, without the bosses.”
“—get what’s coming to them, the greedy bastards.”
“—finally be free of the bankers and the landowners.”
I had not been immortal for long, but one thing had already become clear—I was doomed to see the same events play out generation after generation since we humans did not learn from our mistakes.
These men didn’t really want much—enough pay to keep a roof over their heads, provide food and clothing for their families, have a bit extra to see a show once in a while, buy a beer, or go to the circus. To feel secure. And yet, by cutting wages to enrich themselves, the owners of the mines and the railroads set the workers on edge, made them fear for their future. I knew what violence a man might do to protect those he loved. The men who died with me on that riverbank in Homestead had only wanted to take care of their families, driven to extremes by the remorseless greed of the mill owners.
Yet here we were, fifty years after the Reading Massacre, almost thirty years after the Homestead Strike, with the same tragedy about to play out.
Except that we had not raised monsters from the deep. I doubted the ability of men like Hans and Jakob and Ernst to control such creatures. God help us all because monsters—men or creatures—did not heed orders once their bloodlust had awakened.
“So what did you think, Joe?” Hans asked, coming up and offering me another cookie. I took it, although I did not want anything he touched.
“Very interesting,” I replied. “Your leader is a good speaker.”
Hans beamed. “He helps us all be proud of who we are and of our heritage. He has a gift.”
I’d seen the same kind of “gift” from con men and soothsayers, so I just grunted in response. “I admit, I’m curious about these ‘forces from the deep.’”
“It’s all psychology,” Hans assured me, tapping two fingers to his temple. “Symbolism. Bringing out our inner strength from where it’s been hidden. Bringing the working men out of the shadows and into the light. You didn’t think he meant real creatures, did you?” He laughed, and I hurried to assure
him that I didn’t.
I felt quite certain real monsters were exactly what Ernest had in mind.
“Will we see you at the next meeting?” Jakob asked as he joined us and slapped me on the back. “There’s much to be done. And we always have cookies.”
“I don’t always have evenings off,” I said. “It depends on when they need me at my job.”
“Well, you’re welcome whenever you can make it,” Hans said. “Just see us at the rooming house, and we’ll let you know when. We vary the times, so the cops don’t get wise.”
Hans and Jakob bid me good night. I turned to go, but as I neared the door, another voice stopped me in my tracks.
“I saw you on the train.”
I pivoted to face the speaker. Ernst regarded me warily. “Sorry, don’t remember,” I lied.
“What are you?”
I kept a frozen smile in place. “German.” I knew that wasn’t what he meant, but I intended to make him work for any information he wanted.
“You have an aura about you.”
“I’m tall, and that makes it hard to miss me,” I replied, pretending I didn’t understand.
He tilted his head, considering. His talk about “auras” made me suspect he was either a psychic or a witch. Either one could spell trouble.
“I’m glad you could join us tonight,” Ernst replied. “Stay in touch. Hans and Jakob said they knew you from the rooming house, so we’ll have no trouble finding you.” His tight smile showed teeth, like a predator. Message delivered.
“I’m not hard to find. I turn up like a bad penny,” I replied, holding eye contact just a bit too long, sending a message of my own. “Especially when something catches my interest.”
“I understand you’re new in town. Do be careful. The streets can be dangerous for outsiders.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I assured him, beginning to feel as if we were talking in code.
With a final sweep of his gaze, Ernst silently dismissed me, and I headed toward the rail station. I didn’t hurry, but I also had no desire to linger. Ernst’s comments made me feel distinctly unwelcome, and I felt watched although I did not see anyone nearby. I hoped that his suspicions wouldn’t cause Mrs. Kemmner any trouble, with Hans and Jakob knowing where I had a room. I wouldn’t stand for that.
Then again, Ernst could have all the witchy suspicions he wanted, but if he knew my real purpose, he’d make a move. When I made it to the incline railroad without incident, and the car started down the hill, I breathed a sigh of relief.
I was alone in the car, with the lights of Reading stretched out beneath me. With the hotels all closed, the only going concern near the incline was the sanitarium, but I supposed that workers and visitors depended on the incline to come and go.
The trip gave me a few minutes to digest what I’d seen and heard. Were Jakob and Hans earnest fools, or willing collaborators? They wouldn’t be the first to be drawn into a dark scheme, willing to disbelieve the horrors for the potential greater good. At the same time, I knew that some men would betray everyone to save their own skin.
I felt certain of one thing—the “forces from the deep” were not symbols. The monsters were coming, and we needed to stop them.
The car jolted and picked up speed. The chain that drew the cabin up the hill had made a steady slow clunk-clunk-clunk before, but now it raced like my pulse, as the valley rushed up to meet the car far too quickly.
Ernst had either decided to send me a message or just get rid of me. Perhaps he sensed something “off” about me and chose to eliminate the threat instead of bothering to figure me out.
I had other plans. I called on Krukis and felt his magic sweep over me. Wrenching the door open, I leaned out and grabbed onto the rail beneath the car, holding on with all my god-touched might. The chain creaked and protested, steel grinding upon steel. It slowed the descent enough for me to gauge the distance to the ground before I jumped, landing heavily with a thud that echoed.
The empty car shot down the mountainside and splintered against the lower landing platform.
If I had wondered about Ernst’s intentions, I had no doubts now. He’d be disappointed when he looked for my body in the wreckage. On the other hand, when I saw him again—and I’d make sure that I did—we’d have a reckoning he wouldn’t forget.
On Saturday, I went early to the speakeasy to unload barrels in preparation for the weekend crowd, finishing the job from the night before. I had begged off playing bouncer, so I could drive West and Sarah to their fancy gathering but promised that I would help handle rowdy patrons on Saturday night. That appeased him but left me chafing at when I might get a look at the mines.
When I came back to the rooming house, Mrs. Kemmner told me I had a visitor. To my surprise, Dr. Ziegler waited nervously in the parlor.
“I had a vision,” he blurted, barely waiting until we’d greeted each other. “I saw creatures in the shadows, hideous gray things that had the bodies of men but heads like squid, with tentacles and a sucking maw.” Interesting that he had come to me to share his premonition. I wondered again just how much he guessed from seeing me as god-touched.
“Please tell me what this means,” he begged. “I have never seen the like. It troubles me, and my books have little to say.”
I drew him to the corner, where we would be less likely to be overheard. “There is a plot afoot to bring something old and evil from deep in the mines. I haven’t completely figured it out, but I should know more tomorrow. I came here to stop that plot, and I intend to do so.”
The doc drew himself to his full height and squared his shoulders. “I will come with you.”
“I’m not sure—”
“No, but I am,” he said, in a tone that meant the matter was settled. “There is an old mine beneath the city. My grandfather took me down into it many times when I was young. I know the way, and I can lead you. If there is to be some horror from below, it would make sense to summon it here, in an abandoned mine rather than in one that’s working, where there would be more people to see.”
He didn’t have to say out loud what we both understood. Bringing a monster to the surface in the middle of a city would provide it with more food than at a distant mine. It would feast on the citizens of Reading, and then move on to do the bidding of its masters.
“Alright,” I said. “As long as you know it will be dangerous.”
He favored me with a tired smile. “I know how to handle a gun. Sometimes, the best way to be a healer is to prevent the injuries from happening.” He reached beneath his jacket and withdrew a thin copy of The Long Lost Friend.
“This is for you. Carry it with you. It protects those who bear it. You have the himmelsbrief I gave you?”
I patted my coat. “Yes. It’s an amazing document. I’ve seen some of its power already.”
He nodded. “Oh, yes. I have been looking for answers in my books since we talked. I have searched the Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses, powerful spell books, for ways to control the spirits of the earth. I believe we can bind them.”
“I have some ideas of my own on how to keep them where they are,” I told him. “I’ll be happy to have your help.”
“You’re not going to leave me out of your plans, are you?”
We looked up to see Mrs. Kemmner in the doorway. I glanced around, alarmed, afraid that Hans and Jakob might have heard us as well.
She shook her head as if she guessed my thoughts. “They aren’t here. If I help you, maybe those two will leave. I do not like them.” She looked at me. “You, I like.”
“I’m not sure—” I started. She cut me off with a withering look.
“I lost my Wilfred in those mines,” she told me. “Because the men who run them take no heed of the dangers and don’t care who lives and who dies. I lost my son to a different kind of monster, human monsters. I don’t wish to see those kinds of men become more powerful than they already are.” She gave me a crafty smile.
“My nephew runs the Eig
hth Street Gang,” she said. “He’s promised to send a few of his boys to watch this house, and Dr. Ziegler’s. We won’t have any trouble. And if you need a distraction, he will be willing to oblige. He is always looking for a reason to raise a little hell.”
“Raising hell” might be exactly the term for what the Free Society and its followers had in mind. I figured we could use all the help we could get.
“Thank you,” I told her. “I don’t have a plan yet, but I should get some important details tonight.” I looked to Ziegler. “I’ll come by in the morning, and we can make arrangements.”
He nodded. “In the meantime, I will make some plans of my own,” he promised. “I’ll gather the supplies we’ll need and be ready when you give the word.”
Mrs. Kemmner headed back to the kitchen, and Ziegler saw himself out as if we had not just been plotting to contain hell spawn raised by hexerei. Like this was all in a day’s work.
Maybe that was the insight to take from immortality, how these fragile, scarred mortals never failed to amaze with their courage, their defiance, their will to survive. That was a lesson the gods forgot at their peril.
5
This collar is cutting off my air. I can’t breathe.”
Sarah McAllen Harringworth clucked her tongue and adjusted my uniform coat to her liking. “I think you look perfect. What do you think, Jack?” She turned toward West, who smirked.
“He looks as good as possible. After all, it’s Joe.”
“Such a comedian,” I muttered under my breath, but I took the ribbing good-naturedly.
I had filled them in on everything that I learned from the Free Society meeting, and on the loose plan to seal the mines. I knew West would want to come with us, and we’d have a fight on our hands to keep Sarah from joining us as well.
Assuming I wasn’t strangled by my own jacket.
“The more I hear from my sources, the more I’m sure the Reading Railroad’s owners are part of this,” Sarah said, taking pity on me and allowing me to remove the jacket until we were ready to leave. We were biding our time in the luxurious adjoining rooms Sarah and West had at the Hotel Berkshire downtown.
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