Chapter 23
Griffin
A few hours later, Whyborne and I sat in the parlor of the Lester’s colonial era mansion, trying not to shiver.
Once we’d reached the cart, we’d waited for a time, to see if the corpses would follow us or return to their rest. When no shambling dead appeared, we decided to split up. Christine and Iskander would go home and get some rest. Whyborne and I would visit Miss Lester and warn her anyone venturing into the cemetery in the morning would find part of it in a rather disturbed state. And Hattie would return to Rupert and tell him of our failure.
Unless the entire incident had been some plot of the Endicotts. Rupert had been the one to send us to the cemetery in the first place, after all. The laugh we’d heard hadn’t belonged to him, but I couldn’t be certain more of the family didn’t lurk about.
Still, I didn’t think it likely. Hattie had been in as much peril as the rest of us. Not to mention such a ruse would be foolishly elaborate on their part; if they wished to kill Whyborne, they’d had their best chance already, the night in the jail. Even so, I couldn’t entirely discount the possibility.
It was enough to make a man paranoid.
Though it was the middle of the night, Miss Lester had been dressed when we arrived, and seemed quite awake. We’d visited her house once before, and found it little changed from then. The air was still icy cold, though neither she nor the silent servants appeared to feel it. She led us to the parlor, which featured furniture in a style that had been popular a century before. A large mirror hung on one wall, the glass hidden behind a shroud.
We sat awkwardly in uncomfortable chairs, while the serving man brought coffee. I clasped the warm cup gratefully as I explained what had happened. We’d already decided to be honest about our intentions in visiting the Waite mausoleum, rather than concoct some less criminal explanation. I doubted Miss Lester would be much disturbed.
And indeed she wasn’t. “You should have come to me,” she said. Her coffee sat before her, untouched. “I might have offered another...approach...to the cemetery.”
I shivered at the memory of the tunnels beneath the mortuary. “And the risen corpses?”
“Ah. That I would have been little help with, I’m afraid.” She seemed to consider for a moment. “All cannot be restored as it was, but we can minimize the damage. Blame it on a freak wind storm.”
She gave her servant a significant look that seemed to convey some silent signal. He bowed slightly and departed.
“If you will indulge me,” she went on, “did all the dead rise against you? Or only a few?”
“Not all.” I paused, careful not to look at Whyborne. “In fact, it seemed to me the only corpses who rose were those of the old families.”
From above our heads came the muffled sound of a high-pitched giggle. I stiffened and looked up in alarm. I’d heard that sound before, when I’d undertaken a case for Miss Lester. Some shapeless presence had chased Whyborne and I in the dark, and it had made that same sound. Not the mirth of a child or a woman, but something darker. Corrupt.
The last time we’d heard it had been from the attic where Miss Lester’s grandfather dwelled. Or was caged.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Miss Lester said. She rose to her feet and withdrew.
“What do you think her grandfather wants?” I asked Whyborne. “I hope he still has his talisman.”
The talisman had been stolen shortly after I’d met Whyborne, and he’d helped me with its recovery. The thing was clearly magic, though I’d never been certain what, precisely, it did. Only that Miss Lester was adamant no one of their bloodline touch it after sundown.
In the brief time we possessed it, the talisman had drawn...something...to it. Something insubstantial, which attacked from the sky, only to be driven back by fire. I’d been extraordinarily relieved to return the talisman to Miss Lester’s grandfather and have done with it.
Whyborne didn’t reply. He sat with his elbows on his knees, staring blankly at the coffee he’d touched no more than Miss Lester had hers.
As we were alone, I put my hand to his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ival. Whoever raised the dead at the cemetery was monstrous, to put you through such a thing.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I can’t stop seeing her.”
I’d seen the magic of the arcane line flow into the dead. Someone had perverted the power of the maelstrom, turned it against us and used it to hurt my husband.
How horrible it must have been for him, to confront the decaying remnants of his sister’s body. It would haunt his dreams, no doubt, just as it clearly haunted his waking thoughts now. Anger tightened my chest, and I said, “We’ll make them pay, my dear. I swear it.”
“Who is it, though?” He sat back and looked at me for the first time since we’d arrived. “That is, surely the Fideles are behind this, but...that laugh. I swear I recognized it.”
It hadn’t seemed familiar to me, but I didn’t doubt him. “Where do you think you heard it before?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Perhaps I only imagined it. My thoughts were hardly clear at the time.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I merely squeezed his shoulder and let go. The sound of Miss Lester’s footsteps came from the hall, and she appeared in the doorway to the parlor. “Grandfather would like to speak with you, Dr. Whyborne.”
Whyborne looked as alarmed as I felt. “I...oh. Very well.”
I rose along with him. Though the invitation hadn’t included me, I wasn’t about to let Whyborne venture into Mr. Lester’s presence alone.
Miss Lester led us through the house and to the attic. When I’d first glimpsed her grandfather, I’d thought him abused, locked alone in a freezing attic room. It hadn’t taken long for me to reconsider...and I’d not even had my shadowsight then.
I tried to brace myself as we climbed the last flight of narrow stairs. But even so, I wasn’t prepared for the sight that awaited me.
Moonlight streamed through a round window at one end of the room. Only three objects occupied the vast space of the freezing attic. A shrouded mirror, an old man, and the wheelchair he sat in.
“Grandfather,” Miss Lester said, “Dr. Whyborne has come, as you asked. Mr. Flaherty is with him.”
To ordinary sight, Mr. Lester appeared an old man—ancient, even. His wrinkled skin seemed almost to sag from his skull, its texture strangely waxen. His toothless mouth gaped open slightly, and hands gnarled by arthritis curled in his lap.
But overlain with the image of the man, I beheld something quite different. Its features were twisted, not quite human and not quite dog. Claws tipped its long fingers, and leathery wings folded along its back. A sense of menace, of eldritch evil far greater than anything human, seemed carved into its demoniac expression.
It looked rather like the talisman that hung about his withered neck.
An involuntary gasp escaped me. Though the old man’s head didn’t move, the doglike face overlain with his lifted and looked straight at me. Its jaws gaped, and a tittering sound emerged, audible even though the physical body didn’t seem to move.
I grabbed Whyborne’s elbow, ready to flee down the stairs if necessary. Ival’s face had gone pale, though of course he couldn’t see anything beyond the ruinously aged man.
“Whyborne,” said the doglike thing inhabiting Mr. Lester’s flesh. Again, spectral jaws moved, but I could see no tremor of aged lips. “Fear God.”
Whyborne blinked in surprise. “I’m afraid I’m an atheist, Mr. Lester.” Then his eyes widened. “No, wait. You mean my ancestor, don’t you? Fear-God Whyborne?”
I tried to recall the brief history lesson Niles had once imparted to Persephone and me. “He was the one who came from England and helped Blackbyrne found Widdershins, yes?”
The creature spoke again. “The first to take the oath. But the rest of us followed. Renewed each generation.”
“The oath?” Whyborne asked blankly. “What oath?”
The old man’s breath wheezed, as if the interview took a toll on him. “Stay away from the Draakenwood. If you venture beneath the trees, the monster lurking there will eat you up.”
“The hematophage?” Whyborne asked. “But no, it’s in Widdershins. At least some of the time. What monster do you mean?”
He received no answer. The twisted face only I could see closed its eyes, seeming to slip into repose.
Miss Lester nodded, as though she’d received a silent signal. “Gentlemen,” she said, indicating the open door.
Once we’d returned to the ground floor, Whyborne asked, “Miss Lester, do you know what your grandfather meant? About the oath?”
“No.” Her mouth flattened. “As you may have noticed, many of the secrets of the old families are reserved for male heirs alone. Niles may better be able to tell you.”
Whyborne sighed heavily. “Blast. I’ll call upon him tomorrow, then. Thank you, Miss Lester. And I apologize for the mess in the cemetery.”
We took our leave. The walk home wasn’t short, but we’d sent away the cart with the others, and there were no cabs so late. Neither of us spoke much, too tired and dejected to make the effort at conversation. As our attempt to retrieve Waite’s body had proved a spectacular failure, I didn’t know how we’d locate the hematophage now. Certainly not in less than two days’ time.
Perhaps Rupert would have some new idea. Or Niles could shed light on this oath, whatever it might have been.
As we rounded the corner to the house, I came to an abrupt halt. A figure waited at our gate, leaning idly against one post. There was no telltale glow of magic, though, so I started walking again, Whyborne alert beside me.
The figure lifted his head when we drew near, and the street lamp revealed Detective Tilton’s features. At least he appeared to be alone, though why he’d wait for us through the wee hours of a cold, dark night...well, it wasn’t because he came with good news, that was for certain.
“Detective,” Whyborne said warily.
“Dr. Whyborne.” Tilton touched the brim of his hat. “I’m glad you returned. I need to speak with you.”
“Of course,” I said, before Whyborne could unthinkingly invite him inside. I had no intention of letting any police in our door again, no matter the circumstances. The memory of Detective Tilton standing by while his men went through our drawers, peered into our cabinets, scalded me. “There’s a saloon a few blocks away. You can buy us a round while we talk.”