Slenderman, Slenderman, Take this Child

by McGeorge, Lee

“Can you show me where, please?”

  ----- X -----

  John Henry looked through a murky glass window, covered in years of dust. He wiped at it, getting dirt onto his fingers.

  The vicar said his name was Father Cairn Roberts. “Is there a problem?” he asked. “Is Erin in any trouble? I can’t imagine her in trouble.”

  “Do you know if she had any next of kin?”

  Roberts shook his head. “None that I know of. I believe her parents died many years ago and that was the start of her troubles. No siblings, no aunts or uncles that I’m aware of.”

  “Did she have any friends, or anybody she associated with?”

  Father Roberts stepped back wearing a face of unease. “I do notice, Detective Henry, that you have repeatedly talked about Erin in the past tense. You asked where she lived, not where she lives.” He held an expectant gaze.

  “The body of a woman was found early this morning on Parkland Walk. We’re trying to identify her and there is a possibility it is this lady, Erin.”

  “Oh, my goodness. Poor Erin.”

  “It might not be her,” Henry reiterated. “So I would like to trace next of kin to help identify the body.

  “I doubt there is any kin to trace. But I have lived beside Erin for many years and know her as well as any other, so I suppose I could identify the remains if there is nobody else… How did she die?”

  Henry paused for a moment. “We’re not entirely sure.”

  ----- X -----

  Henry decided to seek an identification from Roberts first. If he gave a positive, he could legally gain access into mysterious Erin’s lock-up. He drove the reverend back down Highgate Hill and made the arrangements.

  “Yes. That is her.” Roberts said. The body lay under a white sheet and only the head and shoulders were visible. “What has happened to her neck?”

  “She was hanged.”

  The mortuary attendant was holding a clipboard. “I’m sorry to ask, but what name do I put?”

  “First name, Erin. Surname Unknown,” Henry said. “Make sure to write last known address as South Grove, Highgate Village.”

  Father Roberts crossed himself. “If nobody comes to claim the body, it would be my profound wish that I be allowed to arrange a decent service and burial. She has been part of our community for many years and it would be unforgivable if her end was alone at a council crematorium.”

  Henry nodded to the attendant. “Make sure you put that in the notes.”

  ----- X -----

  John Henry and Father Roberts drove the few hundred yards back up the hill to South Grove. John Henry’s own words were circling in his head. ‘She was hanged,’ his thinking repeated again and again. ‘She was hanged. She was hanged. She was hanged.’ Was this what happens when you encounter Slenderman? Madness and suicide?

  John Henry examined the doorway to Erin’s outhouse. It was rotten wood, painted green. Along with the tiny window it looked the sort of outbuilding for keeping gardening tools, not for living in. He tried the door. Locked but rickety. One solid kick from the hips broke through, the door swinging in and crashing against junk piled on the other side. There was a smell of turpentine and oil. There was old furniture, a desk and an armchair, all covered in dust. He entered as Father Roberts stayed by the doorway.

  “This is too sad,” Roberts said. “To think she owns that beautiful home, yet chooses to live in squalor in the tool shed goes against all of my understanding.”

  Henry was staring at something.

  His heart had just squeezed to its maximum the moment he saw it.

  There was a painting, an oil painting on a huge canvas. A tall thin man in black clothing, holding the hand of a girl in a white dress. By their feet lay a bonfire of people, their blackened hands and faces screaming from the flames. Then above the picture was painted in bright red letters, ‘Slenderman, Slenderman, Take This Child.’

  ----- X -----

  “I wanted to see this for myself,” Donovan said. Rare he would be out of the office. Not so uncommon given the high profile nature of what was going on. “Are you still awake?”

  Henry rubbed his eyes. “I’m going to have a coffee and get an hour sleep in the car. I’ll pay a visit to Helen. See if she can tell me anything.”

  The paintings were being brought out of the hovel. Many canvases, all with religious or occult symbols. Horned goats, naked women dancing around fires, a baby held aloft by robed figures. They were well painted by someone proficient in oils. Erin Unknown was a woman of artistic talent.

  “You know what I can’t really grasp,” Henry said. “It’s like you peel back the outer layer and suddenly there are clues everywhere, but you can’t get your head around them. You can’t see the whole picture… Look at this. Crazy paintings from a crazy lady. It’s like she was trying to tell us there was a problem but nobody listened to her.”

  “True; and once we see the full picture it will be obvious. We’ll wonder how nobody pieced it together sooner.”

  Inside her little home they found a flea infested mattress with blankets and a tiny wood burning stove. It looked like she collected rubbish whilst street walking and burned it here to stay warm.

  Donovan took a call as Henry sipped his coffee.

  How were they supposed to unravel this mess? A crazy vagrant with a penchant for painting the occult was murdered and scarred. Six missing children. A detective who had lost her mind. An old man with his skull smashed in. A man with his heart cut out. An antique occult dagger. It was a mystery inside an enigma, locked in a puzzle box. There was no way to penetrate this thing. How could anyone, as an outsider, possibly comprehend what goes on within this closed world when all you have to go on are fragments? The press will demand to know how the horror had lasted so long. How was it overlooked? Why did it take so long to uncover?

  John Henry got into his car and rolled the seat back. He would sleep for a while, just a nap. He’d barely closed his eyes when someone tapped on the window. It was Donovan. “Our lady Erin has a surname. Hunter. Her father was called Sir Charles Hunter and made his name prosecuting Nazi war criminals as an assistant to Airey Neave.”

  “Nazis? There is a German side to this. Collins mother and her uncle, Tomaz were German.”

  “Now ask me what Miss Hunter is worth?” Donovan said. Henry shrugged. “She has a property and land portfolio valued at upwards of forty million pounds.”

  “Wow,” Henry said. “She was covered in fleas and lived like a tramp. I wonder what happened that made her like that. What has to happen to a woman that turns her from a millionaire to living in a shed?”

  ----- X -----

  John Henry slept in the car for longer than he realised. It was almost four in the afternoon when he awoke to a grey overcast sky and rain drumming on the roof. He rolled the seat upright. He wanted to get out and walk to stretch his legs, but with the weather so bad he decided a quick dash to the shop for a sandwich was about the limit.

  “Slenderman, Slenderman, take this child,” he mumbled to himself.

  What the hell was Slenderman?

  Someone that took children? Someone who made adults go insane?

  He started the car and headed across town to St. Ann’s Hospital.

  “I’d like to speak with Helen Mayhew,” he said at the reception.

  “I’m afraid she can’t have any visitors yet.” The receptionist wore an oversized gold crucifix.

  Henry showed his credentials. “It’s very important I speak with Detective Mayhew immediately. This is a police matter.”

  The girl shrugged her shoulders. “She can’t see anyone yet.”

  Henry bit his tongue and counted to five. “Let me put this another way. Detective Mayhew was investigating the disappearance of young children when she was admitted. I’m lead investigator on this case and I believe she has information that will make the difference to whether these children are found… Get a doctor or senior staff in here right now to speak with me.”

  Like
most things in life, it's not what you say but the way you say it that’s important; and Henry said it with the perfect amount of menace and authority to drain the blood from the receptionist’s face.

  The doctor wore a white coat and had neat black hair slicked back and wire framed glasses. He looked exactly like someone you would expect to see in a mental asylum. “We have her medicated,” the doctor said. “And restrained.”

  “Restrained?”

  The doctor nodded. “She is determined to leave. I’m not sure how much use she will be to you. You can speak with her, but it might be better to come back later.”

  The doctor opened the door to a room that made John Henry’s heart sink.

  Helen Mayhew had her wrists and ankles shackled to the sides of a medical gurney. A belt around her waist tied her in place. Her hair was a mess. She wore hospital robes. Her head rolled to the side to look at him and her mouth drooled saliva. Her face was bruised and banged up with black eyes and a broken nose. Slenderman had hurt her more than he realised.

  Henry pulled a chair to the bedside whilst the doctor hovered in the doorway.

  “Helen, can you hear me?”

  She rolled her head towards him and her eyes slowly came to focus on him. “Arh-ha,” she mumbled. “Tay mmme hooo,” she slurred. Henry deciphered it as, ‘take me home’.

  “Helen, I need to ask you what happened. It’s important. Last night you said you were attacked… Who attacked you?”

  “Slenderrrrr”

  “Slenderman. Yes. But who was it. What did he look like?”

  “I ssssaw him.” Helen suddenly perked up at the recollection, she raised her head slightly from the pillow and spat the words. “I saw him. I sssaw Slenderman.”

  “I know you saw him, Helen,” Henry leaned closer and took her strapped hand in his. “Who is he? How do we find him?”

  “Kumpss. Use kumpss.”

  Henry breathed heavily. “What is kumps?”

  Helen tried again, struggling to form the word. “Compass”

  “Compass? What is the compass, Helen?”

  Behind him the doctor coughed for attention. “When she was admitted she had an old looking compass device. She was clinging on to it for dear life. In fact, that was what caused her violence. When she arrived she was hysterical, but when we tried to take the compass from her she started lashing out.”

  “Would you bring it, please,” Henry said.

  “I’d rather not,” the doctor said. “I can show you in private.”

  Henry turned back to Helen. “What is the compass for?”

  “Find ssslennman”

  “I need to find him, Helen.”

  “Nnno. Use kumps to ffffind slennerman.”

  Henry squeezed Helen’s hand. “I use the compass to find Slenderman. Is that it?” Helen closed her eyes and gave a faint nod.

  “Annnd Collinnns.”

  “Collins? Jemima Collins?”

  “She knoo… Ssshe knows eveyfing.” Henry stood to leave but Helen hissed a few more words. “Collinsss is the daaangr.”

  ----- X -----

  “Oh, this thing,” Henry said. “I’ve seen this, it’s the Nuremberg dial.”

  The doctor was leaning against his desk with his arms folded. “She said it showed where the missing children could be found. I think she believes that literally.”

  “She did mean it literally.”

  The doctor smiled. “Delusion.”

  “She’s not delusional,” Henry said looking at the dial. Sacred occult daggers. Vagrant women worth forty million pounds. Too many pieces of the puzzle. Too much confusion, but there had to be a way to unravel it.

  The Nuremberg dial.

  Remember where it came from… Collins. The father and uncle of Jemima Collins. The uncle had it with him. The uncle wrote books about the occult dagger. He had the dial. The dial that Helen said led the way to Slenderman.

  Helen had used the dial. She had followed it to Slenderman and gone insane.

  The father and uncle… had they used the dial?

  Of course.

  Jemima Collins was missing. Her father wanted her back. The uncle used the dial to find her. They went looking for Slenderman. They went with a shotgun and petrol bombs and were murdered.

  But it was the dial… they used the dial to find Slenderman. Helen used the dial to find Slenderman… What they found was death and madness, but they had done it. They had followed the Nuremberg dial.

  ----- X -----

  Henry rushed back to the station. It sounded crazy, but it was no less crazy than anything else. He went to the evidence room first, he wanted the dagger, wanted to look at it, wanted to compare it to the books of Tomaz Karner and find someone who could translate.

  “You can’t have the knife,” the clerk said. “It was checked out by Chief Superintendent Donovan. Not long ago, perhaps only ten minutes.”

  Henry went upstairs and asked the P.A. if he could speak with Donovan.

  “He’s with people at the moment,” she said.

  Should he go and check the books now, or get the knife first?

  The question answered itself when the door opened. A meeting was ending. A face he had seen at a conference. The deputy director of the Metropolitan Police was leaving the office. Two men in suits he didn’t recognise and a strange little man in a bowtie. The two suited men were old, at least sixty years each. Henry clocked the Freemasons symbols on these two immediately. A ring for one, a pendant from a pocket watch on the other.

  Henry sat quietly as Donovan showed them out. “John, any news?” he asked on his return.

  “I’ve seen Helen. She’s drugged to the eyeballs and restrained… They said she was hysterical and violent… I came to ask you for the knife. The occult dagger.”

  “What makes you think I have it?”

  Henry saw the change in demeanour. Something was wrong. “I was told… actually, I overheard… You don’t have it?”

  Donovan shook his head to say, ‘no’.

  The men who had left. Freemasons? The deputy commissioner of the Met?

  “I’m sorry, Sir… I spoke with Helen. She said she followed the Nuremberg dial to find Slenderman and I think she means it literally. I believe the father and uncle of Jemima Collins were following the dial to find Slenderman, too… I think they…”

  “...stop, John.” Donovan said. The chief seemed to ponder his words carefully. “I know where you’re about to go with this. The artefacts have some kind of history of use within the occult… But I want that excised from the investigation. I want no mention of it in any records. Do you understand?”

  “No, Sir. I don’t.”

  “Whether you understand or not, I want no mention of any occult relationship on official reports and I expect you to follow that instruction... The Nuremberg dial. Do you know where it is?”

  John Henry could feel it in his jacket pocket. “No, Sir. I believe Helen had it yesterday, but I don’t know where it is now.”

  “If you come across it, bring it to me directly. Understand?”

  Did he? Not really. What he did understand was he was being told to toe the line. He was being given very specific, unquestionable orders from the establishment. Don’t mention the occult. Return the dial. Don’t ask about the knife.

  “Yes, Sir. I will do that.”

  ----- X -----

  John Henry drove through Highgate following the dial. It took him to Highgate Collegiate School. He got out of the car and walked around the building.

  This compass. This crazy ornate, antique dial was pointing to the school.

  Helen was right. This thing pointed to...

  But if that was true… If this thing really pointed to a strange occult being, then it was all true. Occult daggers made by Satan. A supernatural child thief. Helen had tried to unravel the mystery and gone insane. The father had tried to find his daughter and gotten killed. He himself had tried to talk to the institution and tell them what he thought and they’d told him
to keep quiet and go away.

  Is this how it is?

  Do the powers that be just want it all to go away? Swept under the rug?

  There is a child snatcher, known about by the highest levels of the Met, but they don’t want to deal with it? He got back into the car and headed to East London. There was somebody who knew. Somebody else to talk with. He needed to go to Westwood.

  ----- X -----

  “Jemima told Detective Mayhew to follow the dial,” Doctor Balfour said.

  “She did. She did exactly that and she was attacked. Jemima Collins father followed that dial to find his daughter. He found her and paid for it with his life. Mayhew followed it and paid for it with her sanity.”

  “”The heart and the head,” Balfour said looking away. “Collins has said that before. Slenderman wants a heart, a head and a soul.”

  “I want to speak with her,” Henry said. “I want to speak with her, now.”

  ----- X -----

  “Jemima, you have a visitor.”

  Jemima Collins was standing in the corner of an empty room, staring out of a window into the garden. She didn’t turn around. “Who is it, Doctor Balfour?”

  “A policeman. Put your shoes on, please.”

  “But who is it?” she asked again. “What is his name?”

  “His name is Detective John Henry, he was…”

  “...I was hoping it was him,” she said as she turned around.

  The girl was sprightly, energised. She pulled her shoes together and unrolled her socks that were inside. She sat on the floor and hitched her dress to her hips. Her legs were spread wide open as she reached to pull on one of her socks. She wasn’t wearing underwear and the motion was deliberate. She was spreading her legs as a show to Balfour. She knew exactly what she was doing.