by Mae Ronan
“But we can,” Micah argued. “We can – and we will.”
Brandon swirled the amber liquid round in his own glass, shaking his head miserably. But he proffered no comment as to the degree of his doubt.
The men fell again to silence. It was not long before all the whiskey had gone. The drinkers began to sway in their chairs; and finally deemed it time for bed. They rose all four from the table, and filed through the doorway. They passed the old woman at her desk, but she did not so much as look at them. The swarthy fellow was nowhere to be seen.
They were just meandering up the short and narrow corridor, on their way to the tight and rickety staircase, when they caught sight of another guest coming down it. It was a young woman – well-dressed – very beautiful – all alone. She peered up at them from under the wide brim of her hat, and smiled brightly; but swept past without a word. The men were left staring after her, with mouths hung open and eyes half-crossed, as she disappeared out into the freezing night.
II.
After the men had breakfasted next morning, they clad themselves thickly in their furs, and requested their horses of the swarthy fellow. He brought them round straightaway; and then they were off.
“I don’t know about this,” said Brandon. “I just don’t know.”
“Perhaps he can tell us what we missed,” Edmund argued. “Perhaps Long-knife told him, what he never got to tell us!”
“We have to try,” said Jacob. “We came all this way! There’s nothing else for it.”
But Brandon only went on shaking his head and sighing.
Full darkness lay thick over the earth, at nine o’clock in the morning. As the travellers moved along down the road, their ears were met by the familiar cries of the hungry wolves; but they were not so frightened, now, that they were four together. They were equipped with an array of firearms, too, that Edmund and Brandon had brought along with them.
Still, it would be a long ride. Fifty miles in cold and darkness, with nothing but the piercing howls of ravenous beasts to fuel the horses’ steps; fifty miles in silence and doubt, as the riders sat contemplating their impending encounter with the father of Jonathan Merrick.
But they kept on at a steady pace. It was almost seven hours after they started out, when they arrived at the small cabin of Isaiah Merrick. Lights burned in every window, and thick curls of smoke came wafting up from the chimney. The men took a moment to gather their courage; but then dismounted, and went to knock upon the door.
The expression upon Isaiah Merrick’s face, when he opened the door unto them, was very hard to describe. He seemed, at first, almost as if he had seen a part of his very own son’s ghost; but then his eyes began to darken, and his face became filled with shadows.
“How dare you come here?” he whispered. “What right do you think –”
But Jacob interrupted him with a raised hand, and a patient countenance. “We must speak with you, Mr Merrick,” he said. “It’s important.”
The old man looked half-crazed. But he took a deep and rattling breath; steadied his wrinkled brown hand against the doorjamb; and reluctantly admitted his visitors. He turned away from them, then, and looked towards the dying fire, mumbling to himself all the while. His long black hair, streaked through with pure white, gleamed brilliantly in the soft light. Gradually his voice began to rise; and the following words were all his guests managed to capture of his seemingly lengthy soliloquy.
“Nothing matters anymore,” he said. “My boy is dead. There is nothing else!”
The four men were silent for a little; and it was Jacob who gained nerve enough to speak first.
“I understand that you hold us responsible for his death,” he said. “But Long-knife worked with us for years, Mr Merrick. He was as good as our brother – and we miss him terribly. We must avenge his murder.”
The old man began to smile thinly. “Long-knife told me once,” he said softly; “he told me once, what you call yourselves. What others call you? You’re the Clerkenwell Boys. The Demon Hunters of London!”
“It’s as though he were reading the painted letters on our very window,” whispered Micah to Jacob. Jacob, in his turn, elbowed his brother roughly in the ribs.
“A lot of good you are,” said Merrick. “You get my son killed – and then you come to me for help? What good are you?”
He was shouting now. “What good are you?” he repeated. “Tell me that. Tell me what good you ever did my son!”
“Please, Mr Merrick,” Micah began, holding out a hand towards the old man; “we only want to know if there’s anything Long-knife may have told you; anything he may have –”
“Quiet!” the old man cried. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out what appeared to be a large diamond. It was even greater in size than the ball of his thick thumb. He held it firmly between that digit, and his index finger, so that it sparkled in the dim light; and he began, as he held it towards the men’s faces, to mumble unintelligible words. All four tried to distract him from this strange task (for it filled them with uneasiness) by speaking his name; but he could not be swayed.
Finally, though, he began to speak so that they could hear him. His voice was almost normal.
“It will come for you, anyway,” he said. “If it came for my boy – then it will come for all of you. It is better for you to die some other way.”
“What did you do to us, old man?” demanded Micah.
“I have done nothing,” said Merrick. “Nothing but good. I should not show you such mercy! Not after my son!” He snuffled, and averted his eyes. “But no more should die that way.”
“Then you – you cast some sort of spell? A protective spell?”
He laughed bitterly. “No! Nothing can protect you from the hungry one.”
“He’s put a death charm upon us,” Brandon said thickly, looking fearfully towards the diamond. “We will all die – before midnight this night.”
There was a round of gasping gone up; from all, that was, except Edmund. For he, you see, was looking at the diamond, as well – but in a very different way. He seemed not in the least afraid.
“What is that?” he asked. His eyes were glazed over, and his voice was very soft; it sounded as if he were trapped in a waking dream. “What’s that in your hand?”
The old man narrowed his eyes, and took a step back.
But then Edmund’s face changed. His eyes seemed to shine overly bright; and his countenance appeared to darken. It seemed, all of a sudden, as if he were wearing a sort of leathery mask. All three of his companions would have sworn, too, that his front teeth began in that moment to lengthen, and to develop sharp points. They protruded out from beneath his upper lip.
“Edmund?” said Jacob tentatively. “Edmund – what’s the matter?”
Before they knew it – and before they could prevent him – Edmund was off across the room; and had sprung upon old Isaiah Merrick. The whole thing happened far too quickly for anyone to know exactly what happened. All they knew was that, when Edmund rolled away from the old man, he was dead. Stone dead.
With a wild look in his eye, Edmund plucked the diamond from the dead man’s hand; but presently his own palm began to smoke, at the touch of the glittering rock; and he cast it away from him, to expose a searing black burn where the stone had pressed. His face returned to normal. His eyes became clear. He looked down in bewilderment at his hand; and turned his face towards his friends.
“Edmund!” screamed Micah, falling back against the wall. “What have you done?”
While Brandon looked uselessly to Merrick’s body, and Micah gaped at Edmund in horror, Jacob went to take up the forgotten diamond, and slipped it into his pocket. He stood for a long while looking down at the old man’s body; but then he shook himself, and said:
“We have to go. We can’t be found here.”
“You want – you want to leave him that way?” Micah asked incredulously.
“We have to,” his brother answered. “There is no time to b
ury him, if what Brandon says is true.” He looked to his friend, who still knelt beside the body. “Midnight, Brandon? Are you sure?”
Brandon nodded. He seemed unable to speak.
So the men took another minute or two, to ponder quietly over the dead man with bowed heads – again, all excepting Edmund, who was still sitting upon the floor, dumbfounded, and rocking himself back and forth like a small child. Finally his friends pulled him up on his feet, and shoved him none-too-gently out the door.
They looked with heavy hearts at the lighted windows, as they mounted their horses; but then they were off, all in a row towards the highway.
They noticed, after a little time had passed (and some of the thick thoughts had begun to clear from their minds), that they were surrounded by a strange silence. Still, the roads were empty, but also missing was the howling of the wolves. It had dissipated into nothingness through the cold night; and there was nothing to listen to, now, but the steady clacking of the horses’ hooves upon the road.
The men all began to shiver.
“You know what this means,” Brandon whispered, looking warily all about. “It’s just as the old man said. The beast has come for us.”
“Oh – don’t be such an old woman!” exclaimed Micah. “There’s nothing here but us – nothing but us, and some sleeping wolves.”
But even as he said this, it was not entirely clear, by the look upon his face, whether he himself truly believed it. Still, he nodded resolutely (if only for show), and went on looking straight ahead, as if he feared nothing that might step next moment from the dark shadows.
Brandon, however, continued to question the intactness of their safety; and so he and Micah fell to arguing over the subject. Jacob took advantage of these several noisy minutes to pull a little nearer to Edmund, and to try and speak with him.
But the fellow was staring off into the empty distance, with wide eyes and tight lips. It seemed as if there were some sort of act playing out behind his eyes, and inside his brain; and it took Jacob not much wondering at all to guess which act. He reached out to touch Edmund’s arm; but Edmund whirled about at the movement, and nearly fell off his horse.
“What are you doing?” he cried.
The cessation of Micah’s and Brandon’s speech was an audible break. In an instant, everyone was staring at Edmund; and this only seemed to make him all the more upset.
“What are you all looking at?” he demanded. “What do you want from me, eh? Look away!”
All but Jacob obeyed this command. The other two men even fell back a-ways; but Jacob only kept on.
“What happened back there, Edmund?” he asked softly. “What happened to you?”
Edmund turned from Jacob, and pressed his hands to his face.
“Edmund?”
“I don’t know!” he cried, shaking his head wildly. “I don’t know what happened. One moment, I was standing next to Micah; and the next, I was on the floor beside the old man. My hand was burned, and he was dead.”
“You remember nothing else?”
“No!”
He hung his head in misery, and glanced timidly at Jacob. “Did I – did I kill him?”
“Yes, Edmund. You did.”
“But – but why?”
“It seems none of us know the answer to that question.”
Already it was nearing six o’clock; but the weight of the darkness was just the same as it had been that morning. There was no day or night that time of year – but only a heavy, close, persistent blackness. It was black as the Pit; black as Erebus. It seemed that Hades had ascended this very night from the underworld, to claim all the earth for his own. The men glanced continually all about, ever on guard for his evil, laughing face.
It was while they were looking for Hades, that quite another ungodly shape came down out of the trees; and the men for a moment mistook it for that wicked proprietor of hell. It stepped out onto the road, just ahead of them, and the riders needed pull back hard on their reins to keep the horses away from it.
The beast was unbelievably tall – perhaps a whole twelve feet high. As it moved nearer to the group of horses, the frightened creatures were frozen stiff, and their riders could make no escape but on their own feet. So they jumped down to the road, and went falling all over one another, to gain some distance between themselves and the monster.
When they turned back towards it, they saw that it had come to a halt, just before the horses. It took hold of the one Jacob had been riding, and snapped its neck cleanly; then lowered its mouth, to take a great bite out of the flesh of its flank.
This was all the motivation the horses needed. They turned tail with a set of piercing screams, and went flying down the road, abandoning their fallen comrade.
The beast dropped the horse to the ground, and turned its hideous face towards the cowering men. Even at the distance it stood, its red eyes could be seen, glowing brightly in the pitch dark. It was very thin, well nigh emaciated, with a hide of sallow, withered flesh. Its lips were black, and torn; and from its mouth there came a set of long, pointed fangs.
The men looked to Edmund, horrified.
“Wh-what?” he stammered, reaching for them as they backed away.
The beast had its gleaming eyes fixed upon him. All of a sudden, it began to run; and its speed was remarkable. Jacob reached for Edmund’s hand – but it was too late. The monster had taken him up in its arms, and was presently prying open his mouth.
What the men saw, then, was quite unlike anything they had ever seen before. They needed even ask themselves, as they watched, whether or not they were actually dreaming.
The great beast seemed almost to be fading out of sight. Into Edmund’s mouth was filtering a steady stream of white smoke, down his throat and into his lungs, so that his breast heaved with gasping breaths. Again, he stretched his hands out towards his friends, but they could only look upon him in terror.
His body fell down to the ground, as if having been dropped by invisible hands. He lay still for a while, with his eyes closed; and he looked very much as if he were dead. His friends crept nearer to him, trying to make out whether or not he breathed.
But suddenly his head snapped up, and he rose to his feet. Just as it had in the house of Isaiah Merrick, his face resembled a tough mask, and the tips of sharp teeth pressed against his bottom lip. But now his eyes glowed red.
Before the others could run, he pounced upon them. He went first for Micah, and yanked him down to the ground. He began tearing at his throat with his fearsome teeth. Micah screamed; Jacob and Brandon hurried to help him. But Edmund’s arms were like a vice, wrapped round Micah’s shoulders. He could not be freed.
Just as Edmund was lowering his mouth back to Micah’s throat, there went up a high-pitched cry from the darkness behind him. He fell down over Micah, so that Jacob needed pull his brother out from beneath the weight of his body. Brandon turned Edmund carefully onto his back.
Still Edmund’s eyes were open; but they no longer shone red. A long trail of smoke issued forth from between his lips, and took to the air, flowing all along the current of the wind till it had disappeared into the trees. The men stared helplessly after it.
Jacob fell, then, to examining his brother’s wounds. They were not so bad as they could have been, though they bled profusely, and had to be stanched straightaway. Jacob took off his coat, and then removed one of his shirts, which he tied firmly round his brother’s neck.
Brandon had fallen down beside Edmund, and was busy with the checking (and the repeated re-checking) of his friend’s signs of life; but there were none to be found. No breath came forth from the lips, and no heart beat behind the breastbone. There was not a pulse to be felt. There was nothing but cold, terribly cold skin, and a hardness that felt quite like ice, just above the heart – through which there was shot a long arrow. Brandon was caught between perplexity and grief, and could not decide which to let have dominant sway over his mind.
Yet he was distracted from this dec
ision, and Jacob from the tending of Micah, as a small figure stepped forth into their vicinity. The dim moonlight fell down upon her face, and even through the torrent of their mixed emotions, the men recognised her.
“We saw you last night,” said Jacob. “At the inn.”
The woman smiled – from just under the wide brim of her hat. She pulled her coat tighter, and slung a wooden bow over her shoulder.
“What – what is that?” Brandon asked.
The woman reached into a leather sling hung upon her back, and pulled out a single arrow, whose tip shone brightly in the white light.
“A silver arrow,” she said. “Silver is the only thing that will kill a Wendigo – save for fire, just around the heart.”
The men did not seem to understand.
“Its heart is made of ice,” she explained. “Melt the heart – kill the Wendigo.”
“But why silver?” Brandon asked.
She shook her head impatiently. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m not the one who makes these things up, you know.”
“Is he – is he dead?” Micah asked breathlessly, pointing to Edmund.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Why did you kill him?” he screamed, pulling mightily against Jacob’s grip.
“There was no other way,” she said. “No other way to make the spirit depart.”
“There had to be!” Micah cried, falling back against Jacob. “There had to be . . .”
“There was not,” she said firmly, tucking the arrow back into her sling. Then she went to the place where Edmund lay, and snapped the silver tip from the arrow that had pierced his heart. This she put into her pocket.
“What is your name?” Jacob asked her, as he sat back upon his haunches, and began an intense scrutiny of her person.
“My name is Ariel Hoffenstein,” she said proudly. Then she put two fingers into her mouth, and loosed a shrill whistle. Shortly thereafter, there came a great black horse clapping up the road. It stopped just beside her.
Jacob began to introduce himself; but Ariel Hoffenstein interrupted him.