“I’ll get on it, but my gut tells me there be one,” Andrew agreed.
“Then I hope to God Mr. Woods doesn’t wait too long to ask for our help.”
GRANVILLE WENT OUT AGAIN THE next three nights searching for the demon’s lair, but came up empty. More rumors circulated about strange sounds and ominous figures lurking in the night. The once-boisterous and lively neighborhood had become silent and foreboding. Everyone held their collective breath, waiting for something bad to happen.
Darkness crept through Liberty Row like a slow leak when Granville heard someone pounding on the front door with more urgency than normal. Grace had taken Sarah to have dinner with Randall’s parents, so no one else was home. He hurried to the door thinking something was wrong with Grace or Sarah only to be faced with the worried faces of Mr. and Mrs. Travers—Peter’s parents.
Their son was missing again.
After Granville had brought him home, Mr. Travers had laid down the law to his son. No matter where Peter was or who he was playing with, he had to be home an hour before dark. Mr. Travers recognized the other night was not his son’s fault and made that clear to the parents of the boys who left Peter out as a practical joke. They were forbidden to play outside for two weeks, but Mr. Travers had seen fit to give Peter some leeway. The whole episode had scared their son, so Mr. and Mrs. Travers were not concerned about him disobeying their instructions. When he didn’t return on time, they went looking for him.
Granville grabbed the box with the bow and arrows and headed out with the parents who enlisted several other neighbors to assist in the search. Even the police who patrolled Liberty Row joined them when told of the problem. Most of the local coppers had been posted here because they saw Negros as part of the community and they had a soft spot for children no matter what their skin color was.
It took a good three hours to search two square blocks, and there were six more to go. More people joined once they knew what was going on. A few ventured that Peter may have crossed Harrison Street into the white section of town either on a dare or a lark. His parents protested that he would never do such a thing without their permission. After they calmed down, Granville told them to at least make inquiries.
By midnight, there was still no sign of Peter.
On a hunch, Granville hurried back to the alley where he had found Peter two nights ago just to make sure he had not missed anything. He tore through trash, empty boxes, and even an old carriage with a missing wheel, hoping to find a boy playing hide-and-seek.
Instead, he heard a scream he would never forget for the rest of his life. It was the cry of innocence being ripped away. The sound possessed a terror so primal yet so heart-rending, his eyes filled with tears before he even realized it. Then he ran. Ran as fast as he could even though he knew he would be too late.
By the time he got to the end of the alley, all he saw was blood and the fractured body of Peter Travers. The boy looked like a rag doll tossed into a pile of trash.
A hissing sound caught his attention. Granville looked around, searching the darkness for any sign of the creature that had done this. A click, click, clicking noise moved across the sides of the building. Granville threw open the box, yanking out the bow and a quiver of arrows. He feared he would lose track of the demon, so Granville left the box and ran.
As the hour was late, the streetlights were dimmed to save energy. Granville silently gave thanks that Liberty Row warranted streetlights unlike the South Side, which had none. He watched how the lights reflected off the windows to see if any shadows crossed them. A demon could choose whether it became visible to the human eye, but it still made a shadow. Since Granville had become aware of this threat he immersed himself in demon lore and mythology and learned demons were not exempt from the laws of physics. Even though many kinds of demons existed, the one thing they had in common was that their skin could bend light rendering them seemingly invisible. He suspected a chemical component in its makeup was the reason they could do this. The fact that Mediums could force them to appear made him wonder if the shock of a psychic intrusion altered their chemistry, compelling them to become visible. He knew he would never learn the truth unless he caught one.
Granville kept running toward the sound until it stopped. He threw himself backward against a wall hoping it would provide cover as he nocked an arrow and raised the bow. His eyes tracked to the tip using it to help his aim. Granville concentrated on slowing his breathing so the shot would not go wild. After a moment, he calmed himself and decided to wait the demon out.
A scraping sound of nails on glass caught his attention. He hoped to see the creature’s shadow when a shoe dropped out of nowhere and landed next to him. It belonged to a small boy’s. No doubt Peter’s.
Granville shook as the rage built up inside him. What once had felt like a furnace boiling deep within him now exploded. The thing was taunting him; luring him into a trap. Granville did not care anymore. In a rage, he fired.
The arrow soared high into the air up the side of the building. It broke apart just before it reached the apex of its arc spraying the copper netting on to the brick where it sizzled and sparked. Granville thought he had captured his prey, but the netting lay flat against the wall with nothing underneath.
Granville drew another arrow out of the quiver and nocked it while scanning the surrounding buildings for any sight or sound of the creature. Sweat poured into his eyes, but he blinked it away, not taking the chance that if he moved, he might miss some sign of the demon. Another scratching sound echoed across the street. He ran toward it.
Frightened faces watched through the windows he passed, but withdrew behind their curtains. No one wanted to know what lurked in the shadows.
A bottle shattered next to him spraying glass shards everywhere. Granville grimaced in pain as several pieces gouged his leg. The creature had doubled back. Granville swung the bow up ready to fire, but it was too late. He saw a shadow swing from window ledge to window ledge three stories up. It was on the move again.
Granville attempted to run, but his leg throbbed from the glass shards, and he knew he could not keep up the pace for long. He ran, then jogged, then hobbled over the cobblestone road. The streetlights grew brighter, which could mean one thing -- Harrison Street lay just ahead.
As he neared the unofficial dividing line between Liberty Row and the rest of the Middle District, a horrible thought came into his head. What if the demon’s lair was not in Liberty Row?
Granville raised the bow, searching for any sign of the creature as he ran to the end of the block and onto the sidewalk. When he stopped under a bright street-lamp he realized something else. He, a Negro man, stood at the dividing line carrying a weapon. In these circumstances, that could be even more dangerous to him than a demon.
He lowered the bow as a steam-powered buggy chugged past containing late-night party-goers. Two police officers walked on the sidewalk with their backs toward him. Granville stepped backward out of the light. He peered across the street and had his worst fears confirmed.
The demon emerged from between two buildings to reveal itself smiling a toothy wide-mouthed grin. Its obsidian skin glistened whenever the street lights hit it, giving it an iridescent sheen. Spindly of body, the creature used the three claws to beckon, even mock Granville. It wanted him to cross that invisible dividing line, knowing full well what would happen to him.
Granville glanced across the street to see where the police were, then back at the demon. A breeze wafted around his face, bringing with it the stench of sewage and rotting offal from the demon. The creature stuck out his tongue at him. It was red with blood, and the demon wagged it as if it were a sick dog in heat.
Granville raised the bow again, but the police had turned around and were heading in his direction. Forced to contain his rage, he lowered the bow gripping the metal cable until his fingers bled.
The demon vanished from sight, rendering itself invisible again.
It took all of Granville’s self
-control not to race across the street to follow the creature deep into the white side of the Middle District, but he knew it would get him killed. To find the demon’s lair would require help.
It would require Samuel Hunter and Andrew O’Sullivan.
EVEN AFTER A WEEK, SAMUEL could still feel the wounds the Essex demon had inflicted upon him. They were healing, but not fast enough to his liking.
Andrew walked into the office carrying two axes: one small and one large. He threw them on the desk, scattering the few papers that lay there.
“Try the small one first. Don’t want you to be ripping them fine stitches I sewed.” The older man grinned at him.
Samuel sighed in annoyance. “Next time I’ll get the local seamstress to do it.”
“Next time you’ll be going to a proper doctor.” Andrew gestured to the axes. “Now get to it.”
Samuel hefted the small ax in his right hand. He tossed it in the air, flipped it in a full circle then caught it by the handle. Samuel flipped it again, but this time when the handle hit his palm, he pulled his arm back behind his head and in one fluid motion extended his arm, throwing the ax across the room. As soon as it left his hand, he faced the floor and placed his hands on his knees, letting the pain wash over him. He heard the hard thump of the ax blade striking into the wall.
Andrew cleared his throat. “Samuel?”
“What? Did I miss?” Samuel looked up to see the door of the office open and Granville Woods standing there. In the wall next to his head was the ax.
A look of horror crossed Samuel’s face. “Mr. Woods! My apologies. Are you all right?”
A calm Granville eyed the ax stuck near his head then cocked an eyebrow at Samuel. “Is that the target, or did you miss?”
Andrew chuckled. “That be the target, sort of.” He gestured to the numerous other gouges in that section of the wall. “He has had bad days though.” The older man pointed to the ceiling where an ax appeared to be lodged.
The three men glanced at each other, not knowing what to expect next, when Granville burst out laughing. Samuel and Andrew joined him. After a few moments the laughter died and a serious tone took over the room.
“Obviously, you have a reason for being here.” Samuel motioned for Granville to take a seat. “It’s not every day a renowned scientist shows up at my door.”
Granville sat in a chair in front of the desk while Samuel eased himself into his chair behind it. Andrew perched on a stool next to a row of filing cabinets.
“Flattery isn’t really in your nature,” Granville observed.
“It’s not,” Samuel replied. “I made a statement of fact. You might not be welcome on Beacon Hill, but don’t make the mistake of assuming the Great Houses don’t know who you are and what you are capable of.” He leaned back in his chair. “I do my homework even if it’s a little belated.”
Andrew grinned. “He be a right fine detective when he’s not killing beasties.”
“Then you are already aware there is a demon in Liberty Row,” Granville stated matter-of-factly.
Samuel nodded. “And you want us to kill it.”
“No.” Granville leaned forward, staring Samuel straight in the eye. “I’m going to kill it… with your help.”
“That’s not how this works,” Samuel replied. “Andrew draws them out and I kill them. The less people involved the better.”
Granville shook his head. “You want my weapons? You do it my way.”
“And what exactly is your way?” Samuel grew suspicious.
Granville settled back in his chair, feeling more self-confident. “I believe the demon’s lair is on the white side of Harrison Street, but it’s feeding in Liberty Row. I want you to lure it out, force it over to Liberty Row, expose it, then I’ll kill it.”
Samuel pursed his lips. “So, you’re using us as bait.”
“Aye, he’s certainly doing that, laddie,” Andrew interjected, not looking as amused as he did before. “And here I be thinkin’ we all be on the same side.”
“We all come at this from different angles,” Granville said as his eyes narrowed. “It just so happens this time our angles intersect.”
“So what do we”—Samuel gestured to Andrew— “get out of it? That is, if we don’t die in the process.”
“Unlimited access to weapons as you need them.”
Andrew whistled, then nodded in approval.
“Unlimited access to weapons as we need them—and two of the compound bows with twenty of those special arrows as payment for our services,” Samuel countered.
Granville opened his mouth to answer, but Samuel was not finished.
“I know you think we’re out to steal your inventions, but consider this….” Samuel stood up, leaning on his desk for support. His voice took on a harsh, guttural tone. “Somewhere out there is the thing that killed my wife. And no one is going to kill it but me. No… one… but… me. Understand? I will do whatever it takes to make that happen, even if I have to steal those weapons from you.” He studied Granville. “I’d rather not. So, do we have a deal?”
Samuel extended his hand.
Granville stared at it. “You get one bow and fifteen arrows after we kill the demon. Not before. And I’ll supply you with whatever I feel you need for this particular job.”
Samuel fumed as he considered the offer, then nodded. “Deal.”
After that, the three men discussed what little they knew about demons. From what they could piece together, demons had black, yellow, or reddish skin, but all could render themselves invisible at will. The ones they had seen had either three or five fingers on each hand. Some had claws while others had talons, but they had one thing in common: they liked to live in damp, enclosed spaces.
So they poured over maps of the Middle District and Liberty Row, trying to determine the best places a demon could hide but came up with too many probabilities. They had to narrow it down. Based on what Granville saw and somewhat similar demons Samuel and Andrew had encountered, they chose the five most likely spots a demon of this type might call home. None of them were pleasant as this creature appeared to be hiding in the sewer.
They agreed to track the demon before it killed again. Samuel insisted he be allowed to use Granville’s bow and arrows while on the white side of the Middle District. Granville refused. They were to force it back into Liberty Row where Granville would finish it off.
“You’re still not going to give me any weapons?” Samuel threw his arms up in exasperation, then winced at the sudden pain he caused himself.
“I’m going to give you what you need to force the demon to the Negro side of Harrison Street.” Granville gestured to Samuel’s arm. “Besides, you’re in no shape to be handling a bow.”
“After Andrew draws it out, you want me to blast the thing with salt and ammonia, hoping it’ll run in the right direction? Of course, with the noise of the gun and a screaming demon, the entire Boston Middle District police force will be breathing down our necks.” Samuel glared at the scientist.
“Not to worry. I have a better idea.” Granville smiled.
Samuel grumbled and glanced over at Andrew. The older man shrugged.
“Fine,” Samuel sighed in resignation. “Andrew and I will check these five spots after dark. Wherever we find it, we’ll herd it in your direction.”
“That will be Ash Street. It parallels Harrison, but we’ll need to meet before dusk so I can give you the pokers,” Granville replied.
“Pokers? As we be poking this beastie with a stick?” Andrew looked incredulous.
Granville laughed. “It’s more than just a stick. You’ll see.”
“We’ll see you before dusk then, Mr. Woods.” Samuel wondered what he had gotten himself into.
THE DEATH OF PETER TRAVERS devastated the people of Liberty Row. Black ribbons were draped across windows and doors to acknowledge the loss of both Old Joe and the boy. The police were informed, but until their investigation turned up something substantial, they refused to
add any additional patrols. Local authorities hated child killers, but no one was willing to stick their neck out until a few more bodies showed up. Local men patrolled from dusk 'til dawn, but it did not do any good. When another man’s body was found stuffed between two buildings, eviscerated just like the other two, a sense of terror seized the neighborhood. No one left their homes unless necessary. Liberty Row became a self-made prison.
When Granville returned home, he found Grace crying in the kitchen. Sarah sat curled up so tightly in a chair he thought she might roll off, but one look at her face told him she was in shock over the news of another victim. He wrapped his arms around the little girl and held her close.
“Grace, I want Randall to come over here and stay until we catch whoever is doing the killing,” Granville told her. “I don’t want you to be alone.”
“And where will you be?” she asked, wiping the tears from her face.
“Taking care of the problem.”
She shook her head. “No, not you. Let someone else take care of it. The police--”
“Are not equipped to handle this. I’ll call Randall.” Granville released Sarah, who insisted on holding his hand. “Sarah, you’ll have to let go.”
She grasped his hand even tighter.
“Fine. Come with me, then.” Granville turned to leave the kitchen. The only telephone in the house was on the wall off the main entrance. Half of the homes in Liberty Row owned a phone. When they had become available to the public, the community pooled their resources to make sure everyone had reasonable access to one. It was one more way Liberty Row had sought to protect themselves from outsiders. Communication was essential for survival.
“Wait! What do you mean about ‘taking care of the problem’? What are you going to do?” Grace’s frowned in worry.
“Not in front of Sarah.” Granville looked at the girl, who was now gnawing at her knuckles. He pulled her hand away from her face. “Stop that.”
“She has every right to know what foolish thing her uncle is planning on doing,” Grace shot back.
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