“It’s not her!” Father Xavier shoved Tom toward the door.
“I have to help her!”
Beth’s belly kept swelling, threatening to burst.
“It’s just an illusion!” Father Xavier screamed in Tom’s face. “Leave, now!”
Tom left the room, tortured by the cries of his wife pleading him, “Tom Hatcher, don’t you dare abandon me again! Tom, come back in here! Tommmmmm!”
188
Father Xavier felt his arms shaking as he joined the men in the parlor. Everyone was in a state of shock. While Tom ranted about the woman yelling down the hall being his wife, Pendleton claimed he heard Willow’s angry voice; Walter Thain swore it was his mother’s; and Father Xavier heard his sister’s. “Xavier, don’t you dare abandon me again!” Mirabelle had screamed. “Xavier, come back in here!” She continued to yell and pound the headboard. He felt like he was ten years old all over again.
“Everyone ignore her,” Father Xavier said. “The demon is trying to drive us all mad.”
“It’s bloody working,” said Hysmith.
“I’m coming for you all!” Gustave’s voice screamed from down the hall. “One little sinner at a time.” Then he cackled like the flame-spitting clown from Xavier’s childhood.
Pendleton yelled, “Father, do something to shut that thing up!”
The exorcist looked at Pendleton, Hysmith, Thain, and Tom. Hour by hour, the men were steadily changing, their features growing more angular, their irises more white. “Each of you is hosting a demon. And the legion won’t stop until they have brought hell upon us all.”
189
Anika, dressed in buckskins and boots, strapped weapons onto her body: tomahawk, throwing knives, and medicine bag. Grandmother Spotted Owl walked over with a bowl of burning sage. “Lift up your arms.”
Anika stood with her arms out while her grandmother smudged her head and body with an owl feather and spoke prayers.
Swiftbear winked at Anika as he whittled a new animal spirit into his spear. Her uncle had fought outlaws and Iroquois Indians long before she was born. He had killed bears and moose and cougars with that spear. But he had never faced a windigo. None of them had.
The other warriors were sitting around the fire beating drums and chanting. They sang songs that summoned courage for battle. Anika took deep breaths as birds of panic flapped inside her ribcage. She grabbed her own totem spear and sat down in the heat of the fire next to her uncle.
Swiftbear touched her arm. “Do not be afraid, Little Pup.”
She couldn’t stop shaking. “We could all die tonight.”
Her uncle looked around at the singing braves. “Then we will journey on to giizhig-oon and fly with the eagles.”
“But what if the wiitigo turn us into their kind?” she asked.
Swiftbear gazed at the fire in the center of the wigwam. The rippling flames lit up the scars on his face. “If you die from a wiitigo, then follow the song of the Mediwiwin flutes. They will guide your spirit.”
Anika nodded. She couldn’t stop worrying about Tom. This Métis man who had hated her from the start. This man who had shunned his own people. This man who had more than once filled her with rage. Now all she could think about was his wounded heart. And the pain that Tom carried in his eyes. The moments they had spent sitting and talking. Now, a windigo spirit was inside him.
She pulled out the flute that Tom and Chris had whittled together. She studied the animal totems carved around the shaft—a white buffalo clashing horns with an elk, snow owls and ravens, and the faces of two women. One of them she recognized as herself. And Anika understood their destiny. And it gave her the strength she needed.
The drumming stopped. The logs in the fire popped. Anika gripped her spear as Swiftbear looked around the circle at the young braves. “For many winters our tribe has lived in fear of the wiitigo. They are beasts with skeletons made of ice. Some can walk as high as the trees. They crave flesh and their hunger never ends. They can possess a brave’s mind, if he is not careful. If a wiitigo whispers your name, do not heed its call.” Swiftbear rubbed a hand along his spear and looked at the elders who sat behind them. “Our weapons have been blessed by the Mediwiwin. Call in your animal spirits to fight alongside you. Trust your warrior instincts. Let the land that once belonged to our tribe be ours again.” He shouted a war cry, and the braves raised their weapons and hollered with him. Anika felt a rush of adrenaline as her warrior spirit howled through her.
Later, as the men packed a canoe at the riverbank, Grandmother Spotted Owl gave Anika a medicine bag. She opened the pouch and pulled out white shells that had been carved to look like buffalos. Grandmother said, “They have been blessed and have great power against manitous. Use them wisely.” The old woman hugged her granddaughter. “We will pray for your protection.” Anika climbed into a canoe beside Swiftbear, and the two of them, along with six braves, paddled up the river.
190
The snowstorm finally reached Fort Pendleton. The black-winged minions flew off in droves as heavy wind and snow pummeled the fort.
The disciple ran across the cemetery and entered the Dead House. He lit a candle and set it on a barrel. Several rats fled for the darkness.
“I’ve done as you wished, Master.”
The tool shed filled with the sounds of squeaks and chittering, the whir of flapping wings. Out of the gloom emerged a towering black mass made of ravens and rats. At the beast’s massive head, the rodents and dark wings parted, uncovering the pale face of Gustave Meraux. His eyes were solid black. The Dark Messiah grinned down at his disciple with sharp teeth. Do you worship me above all? Gustave spoke in the man’s mind.
The disciple kneeled. “Yes, Master.”
The twister of fur and feathers circled him, caressing the back of the man’s head with raven claws. He felt rats crawling onto his shoulders, down his back. The disciple shook with terror, afraid he might be eaten, then reminded himself of the glorious eternity that had been promised to him. “I will do anything you ask, my lord.”
Even sacrifice your own body?
The man placed a knife to his own wrist. “I would drain my blood for you.”
The dark mass whirled, once again spinning in front of the man. Gustave’s black eyes gleamed. Then you will have everything your heart desires. Now open your mouth.
Black matter flowed from the demon’s mouth to the man’s. He began to choke, as if swallowing mud. His head and body shook violently, the spine popping, as hell’s fury filled him. And then the disciple’s awareness merged with many others full of hate and pain and suffering. And with them in this abyss of ice-cold blackness was their dark lord and savior. And the minions clung to the disciple, crawling across his body as he twisted and writhed inside his cocoon of fur and feathers. And finally he understood why the dark lord had come. When the metamorphosis was complete, the rats fell to the ground, scurrying off into the darkness. The ravens flew out the front door. The man stepped back outside. He touched his face and felt the solidity of his body. Grinning, the Dark Shepherd stared up at Noble House with a new set of eyes.
191
At Noble House, the fourth-story windowpanes rattled. Tom stood in the parlor warming his hands at a fire burning in the hearth. With the chill that now resided inside his body, he relished any source of warmth. He stared up at Willow’s portrait, her goddess-like features disfigured by five slashes that scarred her painted face. A short time ago Tom had lusted after this woman in sin. Had kissed her under the illusion that Beth had somehow returned. He had lied to his boss, denying his betrayal.
The only real truth, Tom now understood, was that everyone inside Noble House was slowly going crazy. In the dining room down the hall, the officers shouted at one another. From another hallway, Willow continued to wail and cry. And all Tom could think about was feeding his empty stomach.
Was this how the inhabitants at Manitou Outpost met their demise? Their demons slowly eating them from within until there was nothing left but animal h
unger?
The demons seemed to know their weaknesses and fears. They filled their minds with illusions. In the final stages, when insanity reached its tipping point, the demons altered their flesh and bones. Tom couldn’t stop seeing the image of Willow’s face changing into Zoé’s. That childish voice. I am the Secret Keeper. I know all your sinful little secrets. Willow had called Gustave her lover, taunting Avery. And then she had become Beth Hatcher, as real as if Tom’s pregnant wife were lying there on the bed. She had glared at Tom with resentful eyes. His guilt over Beth’s and his baby’s deaths strengthened the entity within. It squirmed like a large tapeworm within his belly. The serpentine fetus sprouted a hundred centipede legs and crawled up into his ribcage. It demanded to be fed, filling Tom with unbearable cravings. He fed the thing another clove of raw garlic.
This only angered the entity as hot claws raked across the inner lining of Tom’s belly. “Christ!” He doubled over, gripping his stomach. His face broke out in a cold sweat. When the pain finally passed, he squeezed his fists. He had to do something. The more he stood idle, the more the demon spiraled his thoughts down into a dark abyss.
He walked over to Father Xavier, who was reading from his exorcism book.
“Are we doomed, Father?”
“No, not as long as we fight on the side of God. You have to keep faith in your heart, Tom. Even when you are at your weakest, call upon the will of God to give you the inner strength to fight this. He will hear your call, and He will empower you to survive. Keep praying.”
Tom didn’t know how the priest could remain so righteous in the face of all that they’d witnessed. Father Xavier’s spirit seemed unbreakable. Having the exorcist as an ally was the only thing that gave Tom hope. “All right, Father, I’ll keep having faith.”
Down the hall, the shouting match between the officers escalated. Tom said, “What do we do about them?”
“I can only exorcise one demon at a time.” Father Xavier grabbed his holy book and a dagger-cross. “I must first attend to Willow. If the others start to turn…”
Tom checked the bullets in his revolver. “I know what has to be done.”
“God be with you then.” The exorcist headed back down the hall toward Willow’s bedroom.
Tom turned his attention toward the shouting that came from the dining room.
“How could she know?” asked Pendleton. “Who told her?”
“Don’t bloody ask me!” Thain yelled back. “I’m not your wife’s keeper!”
“Zoé must have somehow known,” said Hysmith.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Thain said. “He’s come back for us.”
“God damn it, I won’t stand for this!” Pendleton headed toward the stairs.
“Where are you going?” Tom asked.
“It’s none of your goddamned business.” He hurried down the stairs.
Tom waited a few seconds and then secretly followed his boss down to the stairwell that led to the ground-floor cellar. Pendleton entered and closed the door. Tom crept down to the foot of the stairs. Turned the knob. Locked.
Why had the chief factor come down here?
Tom lit a match. Carved into the door was the phrase the Secret Keeper had spoken. Fais ce que tu voudras. “Do what thou wilt.”
192
Upstairs, in Willow’s room, Father Xavier read from his exorcism book. “‘Holy Lord! All-Powerful Father! You who sent your only son into this world in order that he might crush this Roaring Lion…’”
Willow, now resembling his teenage sister, Mirabelle, ranted with an angry scowl, “You abandoned me! You let the beast take me to hell.”
Father Xavier struggled to concentrate as the claws of guilt gripped his chest. “‘Snatch from damnation and from this Devil of our times, this woman who was created in your image and likeness. Throw your terror, Lord, over the Beast who is destroying what belongs to you.’”
Mirabelle rocked back and forth, shaking the bedposts.
Father Xavier continued praying, “‘Give faith to your servants against this most evil Serpent…’”
Mirabelle’s facial bones shifted into something monstrous, a long black tongue slithering from her mouth.
The exorcist chanted, “‘Let your powerful strength force the Serpent to let go of your servant, so that it no longer possesses her.’”
Mirabelle’s cheeks began splitting, as rows of fangs sprouted from the sinews that tore open from ear to ear. His sister released a cry that sounded like a squealing pig.
Father Xavier’s eyes teared up as he raised his dagger-cross over her chest.
“Yes, Xavier, kill me!” The female demon shifted back to Mirabelle’s teenage face. “Kill me, kill me!”
His mind was filled with a vision of him hacking the blade into her chest, spattering blood across the sheets and walls.
“No!” Father Xavier pressed the dagger-cross flat against her breastbone. His sister screamed and arched her back. He held her in a locked embrace. She bucked beneath his cross. The demon shrieked. The windows shattered. A snowy gust blew into the room.
Father Xavier’s sister stared up at him with frightened eyes. He said, “God, release Mirabelle from this unclean spirit! Send her soul to heaven!” He felt a rush of warm air as Mirabelle’s spirit passed through him. Her ghost floated above the bed, rising upward to the ceiling. Father Xavier met eyes with his sister one last time and then she was gone. The young woman spasming in his arms changed back to Willow. She curled into a fetal position, sobbing against his shoulder.
“And release Willow, Eternal God! Cast out her demon once and for all. Amen!”
The frosty wind sucked back out the window. The shattered glass flew back into the windowpanes, reforming into solid windows that didn’t have a single crack. Willow fainted against his chest, her smooth, porcelain face looking normal again.
Father Xavier sat back against the headboard and cried over the miracles he had witnessed.
193
Tom returned to the fourth floor. In the dining room, Walter Thain was still stuffing his fat face. Lt. Hysmith rang a bell, and the butler brought out another tray of canned food. Tom’s hunger was so strong, he felt the urge to join the gluttonous officers.
No, that’s what the thing inside me wants.
Tom followed the butler into the kitchen. “Charles, I need your help.”
The Cree servant looked at him suspiciously.
Tom said, “You must have witnessed some of the things that went on inside this house. What the officers did to the servant girls.”
Charles’ face hardened and he nodded.
Tom said, “Do you know where I might find a spare key to the cellar?”
The butler glanced toward the dining hall at the officers, then whispered, “Master’s study.” He waved Tom to follow. On their way through the parlor, they met up with Father Xavier. The priest looked as if he’d aged ten years.
“How’s Willow?” Tom asked.
“Better. I think her demon’s finally gone. How are you feeling?”
“Holding together,” Tom said. “We have to act quickly. Pendleton took The Goetia down into the cellar. I don’t trust him.”
Charles led them into Pendleton’s study. The butler opened the drawer of a curio cabinet and produced a key. “A skeleton key. This will open any door in the house.” A bell rang from the dining hall. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” Charles left to attend to the needs of the demanding officers.
“What’s this?” Tom spotted a door behind a hanging bearskin. He unlocked it. Inside was another chamber, much smaller than the study. One of the dormer windows looked out over the village. The opposite wall was covered in masks from many cultures: African, Gaelic, Venetian, French, and Asian. There were also several Iroquois masks, like the demon heads in Percy Kennicot’s study. The hollow-eyed false faces grinned as if they knew Avery Pendleton’s secrets. We know the wicked games he plays.
Several costumes hung inside a wardrobe. On a table was an open c
rate full of daguerreotype photos: wealthy gentlemen wearing masks and posing with nude women.
“Oh, my lord,” said Father Xavier.
“What sort of affairs was Pendleton into?” Tom asked, flipping through the photos.
Father Xavier said, “He invited Andre and me to a masquerade ball before we left Montréal. I saw Pendleton go into an orgy room with two women.”
Tom knew that his boss was a letch with the women here at the fort, but had no clue of the chief factor’s affairs back in Montréal. Evidently, he maintained the company of other rakes who were into parties of a sexual nature.
At the bottom of the crate, Tom found a portrait of a group of gentlemen in suits and top hats. It was the only one where they weren’t wearing masks. Written on the photo was “Bacchus Ball, Montréal, October, 1866.” Avery Pendleton stood among two dozen men, including several familiar faces: Pierre Lamothe, Percy Kennicot, Walter Thain, Lt. Hysmith, and Dr. Coombs. Tom’s blood went cold when he recognized the man standing in the center of the front row…Gustave Meraux.
Part Nineteen
Hell Fire
194
Tom, gripping his pistol, charged into the dining room with Father Xavier. Lt. Hysmith was missing. Walter Thain was seated at the table, slurping stew from a tin. While most of the infected had wasted away to skin and bones, Thain seemed to have grown heavier. His clothes were splitting at the seams. His engorged cheeks were greased with red muck. He grimaced at Tom and Father Xavier. “Feed time, feed time!” The rotund beast released a low, guttural growl, revealing fangs. Thain started to rise. Tom aimed and put a bullet into his forehead. The back of Thain’s head exploded red against the wall. The mammoth man collapsed across the table, scattering empty soup tins.
Tom eased toward the body, making sure Walter Thain was good and dead. His eyes lolled back. The back of his skull looked like a cracked-open gourd. He didn’t move.
Father Xavier whispered a prayer, blessing Thain’s corpse.
Dead of Winter Page 35
