by Joshua Grove
“What are you thinking about?” Simon asked.
“School.”
“Really? At a time like this?”
“I’m just thinking that if we’re going to become hunters, we don’t need college education for that.”
“Whatever, dude,” Simon growled. “I’m more interested in keeping my head at the moment. Could you rejoin me again down here in the dark? Let’s focus on the hunt we’re on right now.”
“You’re right,” Trevor agreed. “Let’s do this.”
“Shit!” a voice yelled.
“What was that?” Simon asked nervously.
“It sounded familiar,” Trevor said. “But we can’t trust it.”
“I know that, but we should at least try to figure it out. Otherwise we’ll just be standing here for the rest of our lives.”
“True,” Trevor agreed.
Splash!
Splash!
Both teenagers lurched around. Trevor half expected to see the beast in midair, teeth prepared to bite through his neck. There was nothing.
“Okay, is it me or did that come from behind us?” Trevor asked.
“Well that would explain why we both turned around,” Simon griped.
Trevor wasn’t sure which sound they should pursue, but someone cursing seemed like the better option than someone running toward them.
“Let’s bolt!” Simon nudged, then began jogging toward the person who had cussed.
“Wait up!” Trevor cried, not comfortable with the two of them having even a foot of space between them.
As they moved forward, they began to hear things landing in the water ahead of them.
Splash!
A moment passed.
Splash!
Another moment.
Splash!
“That sounds like something jumping in the water,” Simon said. “I can’t imagine that’s a good thing.”
Splash!
Splash!
This time the sounds came from behind them, and it was getting closer.
“Okay, well that sounds like something running toward us,” Trevor said. “I say we run toward the jumper and not the sprinter.”
“Deal!” Both boys sprinted forward, hoping that they were running away from the werewolf and not toward it.
* * * * * *
4
Anna wondered how much time they had before someone – or something – tried to stop them.
“Okay, since I didn’t really get an answer yet, what exactly is a Wendigo?” she asked for the second time.
Matthew looked at Anish. “I am hoping you are more intimately familiar with the legend of the Wendigo than I am. I’ve studied Native American spirituality, but if I am not mistaken there are differing ideas about what the Wendigo really is.”
“I can tell you what a Wendigo is with some accuracy,” Anish said.
“How so?” Anna asked.
“Because I crossed paths with a Wendigo once before,” he replied. “I suspected that Crimson Falls might be dealing with one. It would not be the first time.”
“The dead bodies in 1990,” Anna said with a heavy sigh.
“My father,” Matthew added.
“A Wendigo is essentially nomadic,” Anish instructed. “He cannot stay in one place too long. Its behavior would draw too much attention and thus put it in danger. So it travels, returning every twenty years or so to its favorite locations. It also hibernates. I believe this is where it plans on doing that.”
“That’s one tourist we can do without,” Anna joked.
“Why would it want to hibernate in Crimson Falls?” Sam asked.
“Alan summoned it here,” Anish answered. “A very unwise decision. But for someone who has mastered certain aspects of demonic magic, it is not a surprise that he would get cocky.”
“An expert?” Anna asked. “What do you mean?”
Anish thumbed through the grimoire quickly, then picked up the workbook and did the same. “Alan has researched the many demons of Hell. He has memorized their symbols, their names, and the different ways they preferred to be contacted or summoned. Alan understood the hierarchy of Hell, which demons were safe to contact, what demons weren’t.”
“Some demons are safe?” Jake asked, dumbfounded.
Anish laughed. “Only in the sense that they are friendly to humans, at least on the surface. Some demons refuse to respond to humans, while others will respond and then wreak havoc on the human’s life. As it is in both life and death, knowledge is power.”
“And so the Wendigo doesn’t live in Hell?” Anna asked.
“No, it’s too hot there for them,” Anish laughed. Matthew, too, chuckled. Everyone else just stared at them. “The best way to explain a Wendigo is to tell you its creation myth.”
“Creation myth?” Anna repeated.
“Yes, it means the story about how the Wendigo first appeared in the legends of the Algonquin people,” Matthew explained.
“We don’t have time for a ghost story,” Jake complained.
“Would you rather die?” Anna asked rhetorically. She gestured to Anish to begin the story.
“Centuries ago, before our lands became known as ‘The New World,’ we lived in peace with nature. We embraced the spirit world, communicating with our ancestors as well as the gods. We beseeched the spirit world for their countenance and guidance, not only for the good of our people, but also to protect us from evil.
“Throughout human history, there have been men with impure hearts. When their spirits are tested in times of great peril, they often reveal the evil within. In the season when the moon was red and the stars cowered before its power, a great famine spread across the land. Crops died, water evaporated, and many people died from starvation.
“But there was one man, Matchitehew, whose name means ‘he has an evil heart.’ While his family and tribesmen were starving, he had hidden a stockpile of food under the floorboards. His wife and children were near death, for he would not share his food. He knew, however, that death was certain and would find him when the food supply had been extinguished. Thus, he could not accept the fate he had been given. Denying his place in the circle of life, he became crazed with hatred and despair. Matchitehew called upon vengeful, malevolent spirits to save him from certain death. What he did not anticipate was that these spirits, or demons, had no interest in his pleas.
“Legend holds that after the demons refused to fulfill his wishes, he attempted to curse them. Unfortunately, he was not spiritually adept, nor was he prepared for what would be unleashed upon him. Within a few hours, his hunger became insatiable. He devoured what food remained in his home, then raped and pillaged throughout the village, gorging on what food he could find. Soon there was no more food, and no wildlife to hunt as they themselves had either migrated or perished.
“Upon returning to his home, Matchitehew looked upon his wife and three children with ravenous eyes. Within a few hours he had eaten more food than his stomach could hold. He began vomiting with such force that he was sure he would die. But he did not. Even the regurgitated food was too tempting to resist, so he feasted upon it.”
Anna shook her head, unable to imagine the horror about to unfold in Anish’s story. She knew that Anish’s story had only begun to tell the tale of the Wendigo. Anish had paused, almost as if giving everyone time to digest what he had said. No pun intended.
“Whatever good that remained in Matchitehew’s heart was fading. As his wife screamed in their bed, he began to look at her with different eyes. She looked at him, and commented on his appearance. ‘Husband, your eyes are red. Certainly you must be ill.’
“He studied his wife’s body, and could almost hear her heart beat slowly as death began to consume her. He studied her neck as if it were a skinned rabbit roasting on the fire. He burned for her, but not in a sexual way. No, his desire was to open her arteries, guzzle her blood, and tear her flesh with his teeth. When he licked his lips, his tongue was seared by his teeth. Shocked, he touc
hed his mouth and realized that his lips were no longer thick, his teeth no longer muted and dull. They were sharp to the touch. When he looked at his hands, they had become larger, with sharpened fingernails that curved like a bear’s claws.
“Frightened, Matchitehew ran from his home and into the forest. He shrieked more loudly than he could bear, causing what wildlife remained to rustle in the trees and retreat with haste. Only one thought consumed him: hunger. A craving unknown to mankind up to that point in our history. He could not fight it, could not fully understand it. As the seconds passed into minutes, he became less of himself. He had little understanding that he was transmogrifying into a monster. A demon.
“His yearning for human flesh became so overpowering that he returned to his home to see if any food remained. When there was none, he approached his wife, who had died only seconds before his arrival. No longer able to control himself, he pounced on her body and began to tear at the flesh on her neck. The taste was excruciating and magnificent. He found himself only being temporarily satiated, and as he began to devour her face, it did not please him as her neck had.
“When he could no longer find satisfaction from his wife, he murdered his children and dined upon their necks and faces. He then began to move through the village, unable to quench his thirst or satisfy his hunger. Upon the last neck, the last drop of blood, he returned to the woods and shrieked at the red moon. He was no longer Matchitehew. He had become a demon, a member of the undead. He moved through the forests, attracted to cold climates and small villages.
“The demon spent the next several months, and years, wandering the cold forests of northern Minnesota and southern Canada. Soon, shamans and elders began to speak of the Wendigo, a demonic ice beast who nomadically roamed the forests searching for food. His appetite cannot be appeased. His spirit cannot be freed. Evil reigns in the Wendigo. And every now and then, a new Wendigo is born.”
“Wow,” Anna sighed. “That’s quite a story.”
“How is a new Wendigo born?” Matthew asked.
“By summoning the demon spirit of the original Wendigo, who was said to be killed in the seventeenth century. Although the physical body was destroyed, the wretched spirit lived on. After all, it had become a demon.”
“I wasn’t aware that people could become demons,” Matthew commented.
“That’s because you are restricted by Christian understandings of demonology,” Anish said gently. Matthew simply nodded.
“So wait a minute,” Anna said, waving a hand in the air. “So are we saying that Alan summoned a Wendigo, and then became possessed by it? Is that how a Wendigo is born?”
“It is difficult to say,” Anish said. “Some legends say that people can become possessed when they engage in cannibalism. Others say that excessive greed and evil hearts can turn a person into a Wendigo.”
“I’ve heard of the Wendigo psychosis,” Matthew said. “It’s a culture-bound syndrome that says people believe they are Wendigos, bound to be cannibals and are clinically insane.”
“That is born of Western thought and medicine,” Anish corrected. “The Wendigo is real. It is a demonic, spiritual entity that has once again found its way to Crimson Falls.”
“How was the original Wendigo killed? I mean, how do you kill it?” Anna asked.
“With silver and with fire,” Anish said. “Once it is unconscious, it must be dismembered and then buried in several places upon sanctified, holy ground.”
“You mean a cemetery?” Matthew asked.
“In some form or fashion,” Anish agreed.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Jake huffed. “This is unreal. Are you guys buying this bullshit?”
“Jake,” Anna began, but was interrupted.
“While you were telling your tall tale, I managed to find something that might help us figure things out!” Jake said.
“What are you doing?” Anna asked as she realized that Jake was reading Alan’s workbook, makeshift diary.
Jake dismissed her with a flick of the wrist. “Listen to this.” He cleared his throat to add to the drama.
June 11, 1990
ü I made my first attempt to summon a demon tonight. Although I didn’t see anything or feel anything, I know I did it right. It will just take a few times.
July 11, 1990
ü I made contact with Samael, the Angel of Death. I wish him to do my bidding. I thought Samael was still an angel, so I was surprised to see him. He made it clear he wanted me to do evil, but he could not kill him for me. I had to find some other way to kill MM...
August 11, 1990
ü I spoke with Azazel tonight, chief of Hell’s armies. He told me to not listen to Samael, that he was an angel who had intercepted my summons spell. He promised me that in time that wouldn’t happen.
ü Azazel made it clear that demons could assist me with killing MM, but at my power level I would need to do part of it myself. Have to get more powerful…
“There are pages missing here,” Jake said as he tried to find the next entry. It jumps from August to November.”
“Let me guess,” Anna interjected. “November 11, 1990.”
Jake nodded. “Here goes.”
November 11,1990
ü I said a summoning spell tonight that a few demons have chastised me for. I called for a Harbinger of Death to come to me from close by, someone who would kill MM for me.
ü The strangest thing happened. I caught a glimpse of a large, ice-like demon with yellow fangs and deep, hallowed out red eyes. They were like red suns and it was hard not to stare at them. It breathed heavily, then shrieked so loudly I thought I would lose my hearing. It was like the bomb air raids in Vietnam. I covered my ears.
ü I made it clear to the ice beast that he had to kill MM for me, and that he would forever be under my control. After I told it who to kill it just vanished.
“Is there more? Something after the 11th?” Anna asked, drawn in by the story.
“I’m getting there,” Jake said, annoyed at being rushed. “November 13th, 1990. Probably Friday the 13th.”
“Is that what it says?” Anna asked.
“No, I’m just saying,” Jake growled. With another clearing of the throat, he continued reading.
November 13,1990
ü I can’t believe it! MM is dead. And right where he should have died. A few other people died, but I never said it couldn’t kill anyone it wanted. I will have to fix that next time I need it to kill for me.
ü Tried to summon it. Wouldn’t appear. What’s its name?
November 15, 1990
ü I tried to summon the ice beast again tonight to thank him and give him further orders, but couldn’t get him to come back. I don’t know his name.
ü I talked to Azazel and he said I screwed up. I had spoken with entities outside his command, outside his spiritual realm of damnation. He didn’t tell me what I had summoned. Not sure even he knows.
ü I hope I didn’t free something I should not have freed…
“Yes, Alan, you freed something,” Anna said into the damp air.
“So what else can you tell us about the Wendigo?” Matthew asked.
“Once the Wendigo has possessed its victim, it is able to shapeshift and mimic human sounds and voices.”
“You mean it can shapeshift into anything?” Sam asked. “Like into a human?”
“Yes,” Anish answered. “In fact, it can only shapeshift into other people. Usually into a person who it has seen before, especially one of its victims.”
“That explains why Michael heard my voice in the forest,” Anna mused. She turned to Matthew. “And why we saw your father in the woods tonight.”
“And why I have seen him since he died,” Matthew added.
“My God,” Anna gasped. “That means it has been here for more than twenty years. So if Alan was the one who summoned it, then is Alan the Wendigo?”
“The Wendigo can only hold a human shape for so long,” Anish said matter-of-factly. “It wo
uld have long since returned to its original form. And if Alan was the demon, then his body would not be in the morgue. Alan has lived in this town for the past twenty years. Yes, he was a recluse. But if he were in fact the demon he would have disappeared. The Wendigo forces the human soul out of the vessel – the body – so that only evil remains.” Anish had a solemn look on his face.
“So it is nearly impossible to know who the Wendigo might be,” Matthew said. Anish nodded.
“But we do know how to kill it,” Anna said in a cool voice. “So I suggest we see where this tunnel leads us. With any luck it will lead us to this Wendigo creature.”
“And then we can kill it,” Sam added.
“Do you think maybe we should stay here?” Amy asked. “This is obviously where the Wendigo stays.”
“It will know we are waiting for it, and can bide its time much longer than we can,” Anish explained.
Suddenly they heard the sound of splashing water.
“Do you hear that?” Jake asked. “It sounds like it’s coming from underneath us.”
“Didn’t Tim say something about a body falling from above them when they were under the wine cellar?” Anna asked. Sam nodded.
Without warning Jake sprinted off again and through the opening across the room.
“Shit!” Jake yelled. Anna heard a large splash, as if Jake had fallen through the floor and into another tunnel beneath them. She moved as quickly as she could across the room, with Sam on her heels. They flashed the light ahead and saw a large hole in the middle of the floor. When they reached it, they looked down and saw Jake lying in a stream of water.
“I think I broke my leg,” Jake moaned. He turned his head, as if he had heard something.
“Jake, is there someone there with you?” Anna asked.
“I don’t know,” he responded. “But I think I heard something running in the water. Oh, God, my leg.” He clutched the area around his knee and winced.
