Dead of Winter (45 page)

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 crate 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.

Tom picked up a can and sniffed. “Christ, he was eating human meat.”

“How can you tell?” Father Xavier asked.

“My sense of smell has heightened.” Engraved on the bottom of the can was a fancy letter M. “It’s from the Meraux Cannery.” Tom crushed the tin in his fist. His blood singed at the thought that Avery Pendleton and his officers had associated with the Cannery Cannibal.

A huffing sound came from the kitchen. Tom pushed open the door and found Hysmith hunched over the dead butler, tearing strings of meat from the Cree Indian’s throat. The lieutenant’s rail-thin body and misshapen head resembled a praying mantis in a red uniform.

Tom aimed his pistol, but Hysmith moved too fast, scampering on all fours out a side door. Tom chased the spindly-legged lieutenant down the stairs. He,
it
, roared as Tom fired shots, hitting the wall and banister. Before he could get off another shot, Hysmith bolted out the front door.

Tom ran outside, into the raging blizzard. “Lieutenant!”

Hysmith vanished in a bank of white fog that covered the fort. Only a few rooftops were visible now. Tom stopped halfway down the front steps. Wind whipped his hair and clothes, freezing his extremities. Snow pelted his face. Lt. Hysmith howled from somewhere in the storm. Tom hurried back inside and shut the door. He brought down the bar that barricaded the door.

Father Xavier came down the stairs. “The officers turned faster than I expected.”

Tom pulled out his key to the cellar. “Come, Father. We have to find Pendleton.”

195

The canoe filled with a band of Ojibwa braves paddled upriver against the storm. Anika chopped at the rapids with her oar. Snow flew into her eyes, making her squint. She watched the shoreline. As twilight faded, the forest grew darker.

“That’s where I saw the
wiitigo
,” she pointed toward the riverbank. “Kunetay was among them.”

Swiftbear said, “They are upstream now. Moving toward the fort.”

“How do you know?” Anika said.

“Hawk medicine gives me vision from the sky.”

Like Anika’s grandmother, Swiftbear had been born with a veil of skin over his eyes. He had the gift of second sight and could see through the eyes of animals. Hawk, who circled the sky, was his favorite totem. Anika wished she had been born with such a gift. But for her, practicing medicine had always been difficult. She knew a few spells to ward away evil manitous, but she had yet to discover the power to call upon the help of the spirit world as the elders of the Mediwiwin did in their ceremonies.

Anika was grateful to have such a powerful shaman as her uncle to journey with her. She prayed to Great Spirit that they reached the fort in time.

196

Tom unlocked the cellar door. A dusty chamber with a dirt floor stretched off into an impenetrable void. There were no windows down here. The ground floor acted as a vault. Avery Pendleton was somewhere in the multi-roomed maze that stretched the length of Noble House. Tom had visions of a spindly predator crouched in the darkness, waiting to pounce upon its prey. He cautioned Father Xavier to keep close. The priest carried his black bag and dagger-cross. Tom had the second dagger-cross on his hip, but preferred to carry his pistol. They had to exorcise Pendleton’s demon before the chief factor fully turned like the others. Tom hoped they weren’t too late.

He entered cautiously with the exorcist a step behind. Tom’s oil lamp lit up numerous barrels and crates. Doorways led off in both directions. The powdery earth floor had too many boot prints to follow a trail.

A sound echoed from the room to Tom’s left.

“This way.” He led Father Xavier between pallets stacked with pelts—beaver, raccoon, muskrat, rabbit, otter, deer, and fox. The bounty of Pendleton Fur Trading Company. A rack of hanging wolf furs with the heads intact stared with hollow eyes. From each pelt, Tom smelled the musky scent of the skinned animal. His mouth salivated. His mind filled with images of chasing a deer through the woods, pouncing on the prey, tearing into its nape. He saw other creatures in this vision, half-human, half-animal, as Tom feasted among a pack of windigos. And then he saw the face of the Beast with antlers. Feeling dizzy, Tom stumbled and gripped one of the fur stacks for balance. A hand touched his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” whispered Father Xavier.

“More illusions. The demon’s making me think like an animal.” Tom’s stomach ached. “Christ, the hunger’s getting worse.”

“Keep drinking,” the priest urged.

Tom sipped from his canteen. The throat-burning liquid reminded him of his mission. He gripped Father Xavier’s wrist that was holding the dagger-cross. “If it comes down to it, Father, I want you to use this.”

“As long as we stick together, I won’t let the demon turn you.” The priest gesticulated the cross in front of Tom. He spoke something in Latin.

“You can exorcise me later.” Tom kept walking. “We must first find Pendleton.”

They continued exploring the dark cellar. Candlelight glowed up ahead. Tom entered what looked to be some sort of ceremonial room with pagan statues and benches that faced an altar. A fire burned in a large hearth.