Andrew peered at it. “The maid be a tiny woman so looking at it part in part with her size, it could be a large woman’s hand or a smaller man.”
“You mean like me,” Mallory teased.
“I’m just saying… ”
“Come. We need to go back to the house and examine everyone’s hands.” Mallory stood up and headed for the door. He stopped when he noticed that Andrew was not following him. “Well?”
“If I’m to make it home before curfew…,” Andrew’s voice trailed off.
“Damn it. You’re right. I’ll get Strong to see you home.” Mallory headed for the door to shanghai the constable. “And I’ll have him pick you up first thing in the morning.”
ANDREW STEPPED OUT OF THE horse-drawn buggy outside his apartment just as the mining factory shuddered to a stop. A few seconds later a bell sounded three times. It signaled the end of the shift and curfew for those in South Boston. Those in Middle District and Beacon Hill didn’t approve of the likes of him and his kind wandering around their streets at night.
The constable waited until Andrew’s feet hit the ground when he signaled the driver to be off.
When Andrew entered, Erin sat mending clothes on Caitlin’s makeshift bed. She glanced up for a second as he entered then back to her work.
“Where’s Caitlin?” Andrew asked his wife.
“Where do ye think?”
“Erin, what ye be doing? She’s not supposed to be in there without me.”
Erin shrugged as he hurried over and opened the door to his darkroom room to see Caitlin sitting in the middle of the floor. She was surveying the pictures hanging on the twine.
“Caitlin! Those not be for young eyes,” Andrew moved in front of her to block her view.
She smiled at him. “It be fine, da. I know not all things are pretty.”
Andrew sat next to her. “I wish I could make it so.”
“Wishing doesn’t make it. We have to.”
He leaned over and hugged her. “Right you are, my girl. Right you are.”
THE NEXT FEW DAYS WERE tedious as Mallory and Andrew took hand prints of the entire staff at House Bridgeworth. Taking over a small room in the servant’s quarters, Mallory dipped each of their hands in ink and pressed it upon a clean sheet of cotton-linen paper. Most were very reluctant and the house supervisor had to threaten them with dismissal in order for them to comply. Andrew examined each ink-print they made of the hands and compared it to the photo. None of them matched. Mallory was getting impatient.
“I’m hearing rumors I won’t be able to solve this one,” the detective complained. “They want me to fail. Bastards.” Mallory shuffled through the list of staff names when he paused. “How many hand prints do we have?”
“Sixty-five.”
“But sixty-six people work here.” Mallory stood up and ran out of the room. With a sigh Andrew gathered up the dried prints and followed.
After a search of the kitchen and the storerooms, Mallory tracked down the house supervisor. He grabbed the pile of prints from Andrew and shook them in front of the older man’s face. “Who am I missing?”
“No one,” the house supervisor replied. “The number of staff varies depending on the time of year. You have seen everyone who is currently employed. Except for our head housekeeper.”
“And what about the young man I saw her with the day I arrived?”
“That is her son. He’s not employed here.” The house supervisor looked taken aback. “You don’t think…”
Mallory and Andrew gave each other knowing looks.
“Where can I find him?” the detective asked.
A STEAM-POWERED BUGGY TOOK THEM to the edge of the Middle District near the harbor. Here the cottages were clean, respectable, but were weather beaten and often dilapidated. Small empty flower pots dotted several porches. Behind them followed another steam-powered buggy with several constables inside.
Mallory beat on the top of the roof of the buggy to signal to halt, but the vehicle was still moving when he leapt out and ran toward a woe-be-gone cottage. A weary Andrew waited until the buggy stopped then got out. He hated these confrontations and knew nothing good would come of it.
The detective beat on the door. “This is Detective Mallory. Open the door.” There was silence, then a shuffling. The door knob creaked, and the door opened.
It was the head house keeper. She looked ashen and had dark circles under her eyes. The woman looked dried out as if she had wept every tear from her body. “What do you want?”
“I need to speak to your son, ma’am. Now.” Mallory insisted.
“He’s a good boy. He’s done nothing wrong.”
“Open the door,” the detective ordered. Andrew stood behind him along with the constables.
She opened the door wider to let them in.
Mallory and Andrew entered to find only candles lighting the room. Though there were electrical lights, the dust and cobwebs told them they had not been used in a long time. On the floor next to the fireplace was the head house keeper’s son. Curled into a ball, he rocked back and forth humming to himself.
The detective stood over the young man. “Let me see your hands, boy.”
“His name’s Ethan,” said his mother.
Mallory nodded. “Ethan, show me your hands.”
Still looking away, Ethan raised his hands. They matched the size of the one in the photograph. Mallory looked over at Andrew who nodded. “Take him into custody.”
“No!” his mother screamed. She threw herself over him. “No, he’ll die in there. He’s a good boy.”
Mallory motioned for the constables to take Ethan away. His mother refused to let go of her son. Andrew moved over to her and tried to pry her hands off the boy’s arms. She fought him by digging her fingernails into his flesh. That’s when a vision took him by surprise.
In his mind, he saw the house keeper stalk the gardener into the small storage room and plunge the knife into his chest shrieking vile and depraved words. The man collapsed dead on the floor. The maid ran in not seeing the knife. Overwrought, the maid begged her for help as she held the young man’s body in her arms. The house keeper plunged the knife deep into her back.
Andrew backed away in shock, gasping for air. He raised one hand and pointed it at the woman. “Detective,” he rasped.
“Damn it. Take her,” Mallory ordered.
The constables let go of Ethan and grabbed his mother.
“Why? Why would you do such a thing?” pleaded Andrew.
“He loved her. My boy loved her, but that little bitch didn’t love him back. How dare she spurn him.” She turned and spat at Andrew. “If it wasn’t for the likes of you they’d never known the truth.”
Ethan continued to rock and hum as they escorted his mother out. Andrew watched him for a moment, but the young man never wavered.
“What about the boy?” Andrew asked.
“What about him?” Mallory looked disinterested as he turned and left.
ANDREW WATCHED THE HORSE-DRAWN BUGGY clip-clop across the cobblestones after it had dropped him off. It was a sad thing he witnessed today, but no sadder than what happened every day in the South Side.
Once again, the rumbling of the factory stopped and the three bells rang. He entered his apartment.
Erin chopped vegetables for another stew. She paused when she heard the sound of coins on the table. “How much?”
“Enough to pay the rent and feed us for a month or two,” Andrew responded.
She nodded and gave him a half smile then returned to her chopping.
Andrew heard Caitlin singing. Joy filled his heart. For a while he could be surrounded by her pure soul not yet hardened by disappointment and broken dreams.
Then the pain hit. That excruciating pounding right behind his eyes. The realization of what that meant almost caused him to collapse, but he caught himself before Erin saw him. Andrew took several deep breaths before he followed Caitlin’s voice into the room.
S
he sat in the middle of the floor drawing pictures in the dirt, but looked up when Andrew entered.
“Da! Come play with us,” Caitlin insisted.
“Aye, love.” Andrew closed the door. “I see you’ve met Duncan.”
This story takes place between pages three and four of the first chapter of the comic.
SAMUEL HAD FORGOTTEN HOW HEAVY a corpse was.
He labored under Andrew’s weight as he bore the older man through the tangled woods outside Boston. They had tied up the horses a good mile from the spot where the demon was last seen so as not to spook them. He should have left Andrew’s body behind and brought the horses back, but he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving his old friend alone even in death. It wouldn’t have been right, but nothing was right about this situation.
Samuel had just finished off the demon with the electro-magnetic netting when he heard a cracking sound. He’d smelled something burning then the hair on the back of his hands had stood on end. His whole body tingled for a moment before he ran in the direction Andrew had gone. By the time he’d found him, Andrew was dead. His body smoldered in the moonlight. Whatever had killed him had fled. Now, Samuel faced the heartbreaking task of returning Andrew back to his wife and daughter. It was going to be a long night.
As he trudged through the underbrush a noise, rather like a whisper, brushed past him. He stopped and looked around. The moonlight cast heavy shadows between the leafless branches as he searched for any sign of movement. He saw nothing there. Not a bird, not a mouse—nothing. That’s when he knew they were being stalked. Unlike most of his ventures, Samuel was no longer the hunter, but the prey.
He eased Andrew’s body into a less uncomfortable position over his shoulder as he picked up his pace. A slight breeze came up and Samuel caught the odor of something sharp and metallic. Blood. But not Andrew’s. The odor was ahead of him and to the north. Samuel headed in that direction.
Soon he came upon the incinerated body of a man in the remains of a prison uniform, which held the shape of a man, but little else. Samuel wondered what kind of demon had inflicted this kind of damage. He wished Granville were here to offer a scientific explanation if there was one. But what was a prisoner doing out here in the middle of the woods? Had he escaped? And if he had, why hadn’t Samuel heard about it?
The wind shift and he ducked.
The tree behind him exploded, sending splinters of wood in every direction. A few embedded themselves in his leg, but Andrew’s body took the brunt of the assault. Samuel toppled to the ground, throwing Andrew up against another tree. It appeared there would be no dignity for the man even in death.
Samuel grabbed his compound bow and drew one of his electro-magnetic arrows. He may not be able to lure the demons out as Andrew could, but he wasn’t going to stand there and get his head blown off.
“I may not see you, demon,” Samuel yelled, “but I can still send you back to hell.”
His challenge was met by a few dead leaves floating by his feet.
Samuel’s eyes attempted to pierce the veil between this world and the next, but he hadn’t the gift. Only Mediums like Andrew could draw out demons and make them visible to a normal human. Samuel scoffed at the idea of a “normal” human. In his mind, to be normal was to see the world in terms of black and white, which he found limiting. Philosophers suggested the world was constructed in shades of gray, but Samuel Hunter knew better. There was not one world, but worlds within worlds. They existed within each other, while others were on the edges. A few, when intersected, could cause death and destruction. Not everyone believed as he did, but Andrew had as did Elizabeth, Samuel’s wife. They’d both paid the price with their lives.
For a moment he thought something glowed in the distance. The twitter of a mouse distracted him and when he looked back, he realized whatever was once there was now gone. Samuel leaned over and yanked several large wooden splinters out of his leg, grimacing at the pain. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and used it to bind the wounds. It wouldn’t do to leave a trail of blood for something or someone to track. He put the arrow away in his pack and slung the bow over one shoulder. Squatting to lift Andrew became more challenging with his leg wounds, but Samuel managed to pick him up again. The man seemed even heavier than before. Tired, Samuel knew his speed and reaction times would diminish with each passing step. He had to get back to the horses before whatever was tracking them decided to come back and finish the job.
Samuel marched through the forest and tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his leg and lower back. The exhilaration of the chase and the shock of finding Andrew dead had left him little time to dwell on any discomfort, but now the cold night air was winding its way through his clothes and penetrating his skin like fine needles. It was time to get home.
He found the trail they’d made earlier but paralleled it in case something was waiting for him. No reason to give whatever had killed Andrew a clear shot.
The decision was a wise one, as Samuel narrowly escaped being engulfed in flames as a fiery blast knocked out a tree next to the path. He hit the ground and dragged Andrew behind a tree. As he choked on the smoke and ash, Samuel peered around the trunk to find what had attacked him. Once again, he saw nothing. The creature was either invisible or could shoot from long distances. Samuel hoped for the latter. It would buy him time.
A broken branch lay nearby. Samuel grabbed it and thrust it into the remains of the burning tree. He set it afire then, stood and tossed it a few yards away. The place where it landed exploded from another attack. Samuel thought his assailant had fired from the southeast, but to be sure, he threw another flaming branch. It worked. Once again, the spot where it landed was incinerated by this unseen force. Samuel heaved several branches in different directions to misdirect his attacker. Immediately after, he picked up Andrew and raced away from the trail. More explosions rocked behind him, but they were in the opposite direction from the one he was headed.
Samuel’s plan was to travel north, then double back leaving a trail for his attacker to follow. He shifted Andrew’s body to his other shoulder and began his trek. He hadn’t gone twenty minutes when he knew he was in trouble. His wounds had opened up, and he was bleeding again. Samuel knew the smart choice would be to leave Andrew behind and head out on his own, but he couldn’t bear the thought. It felt like an act of betrayal even though it might get him killed.
The moon had shifted in the sky telling him that sunrise was only a few hours away. Samuel hoped if he held out until then, the danger would pass. Those hopes were dashed when a tree a few feet away from him erupted in flames, sending shards of wood and rocks in every direction. The blast threw Andrew and Samuel to the ground, covering them with burning debris. As Samuel tossed the flaming branches off, he knew he had to come up with a better plan.
He picked up Andrew once again and stomped through the woods, creating an obvious trail of a weary man carrying a burden far too great. Samuel didn’t have to fake it. Grief-stricken over the loss of his friend, he was emotionally and physically exhausted. The events of this night were a painful reminder of the night his wife died, torn from this life by something he had yet to comprehend. Samuel knew Andrew and Elizabeth would want him not only to defeat this foe, but live to tell about it.
Samuel set Andrew down and leaned him against a tree. He pulled one of the arrows out of his pack and dissembled it. Inside the hollow shaft was the electro-magnetic netting that once activated would electrocute anything it touched. Demons were not fond of electricity nor were humans at the correct voltage. As he unwound it, Samuel paid careful attention not to hit the tiny activation box so as not to electrocute himself. When fired from his bow, the netting would automatically deploy and activate at the apex of his shot, allowing it to descend upon whatever target he had aimed at. This time he had another use for it.
Samuel crawled along the ground dragging the netting behind him. He tied one end around the base of a small tree, stretched the netting low across the path they
had taken, and tied the other end to another tree. Once he removed the netting from the shaft of the arrow, Samuel would have to wait for whatever was following them to touch it before activating it manually himself. He threw some leaves and small branches over the netting to make it less visible.
Samuel exchanged hats and coats with Andrew, then slumped against the tree with the activation box, pretending to be the dead man. The irony was that in the next few minutes, he could actually be dead. His hope was whatever followed them would take the bait. As he slowed down his breathing to make himself as still as possible, the worst possible thing happened—he fell asleep from exhaustion.
His eyes popped open when he heard the crunch of branches breaking. Samuel didn’t dare turn his head so as not to draw attention to himself. An eerie glow behind him cast shadows in every direction. The light from the creature oscillated like a fan. Samuel waited until he felt a slight tug on the netting. As soon as he did, he yanked on the activator and let go.
As soon as the electricity shot through the netting, Samuel grabbed Andrew by the collar, threw him over his shoulder and ran. The netting sparked and crackled. When he glanced back Samuel saw a creature composed of nothing but light and energy. It thrashed against the netting like a fish gasping for air. Sparks flew lighting small brush fires around it. Not waiting to see if the netting held or not, Samuel ran for his life.
The horses were in sight when Samuel heard a screech, then a small explosion. The displaced air shoved him forward. Not that he minded. Anything that got him to the horses faster was a good thing. When he reached them, he threw Andrew over the saddle of the older man’s horse and clambered on to his. Samuel grabbed the reins to Andrew’s horse and with a quick kick of his heels sped off to take his friend home.
As he rode away, Samuel did not notice a hooded man standing in the shadow of a tree, watching this new adversary flee from his destroyed creation. Unlike the prisoner who had held little challenge, this one was more worthy even if the creature was a prototype of something far greater he had in mind. But for now, the test was complete—until next time.
Boston Metaphysical Society Page 4
