The Book of Kindly Deaths

by Eldritch Black

  He howled as he pulled himself up and stood for a moment, gazing up at the ghoul on the roof above. “You won’t make the jump without snapping your rancid old bones. But I wouldn’t mind watching you try. Go on, then. Jump and fall, Grim Shivers, and get yourself back to Hell!”

  The ghoul gave no reply, but watched Augustus for a moment before stepping over the edge of the roof, his feet finding the wall below.

  He stared in horrified amazement as the creature walked down the side of the warehouse, just as simply as if he were strolling on solid ground. The ghoul stepped into the alley below, crossed it, and began to walk up the side of the building Augustus stood upon.

  Augustus pulled the book from the bag. Its pages were sealed once more. He thought about throwing it from the roof, but what good would it do? That wouldn’t destroy it.

  Nothing, it seemed, could halt the ghoul.

  He needed time to think. As his mind ran through his list of hideouts, his heart sank. There was only one place he knew of that might slow the ghoul’s advance. But it wasn’t a place he liked to go to, at least not if he could help it. As the tap of the creature’s feet drew nearer, Augustus ran. He reached the far edge of the roof as the ghoul appeared, a thin smile on his chalk-white face. “Give me your lights, thief!”

  Augustus glanced below the windowsills and saw a distant shop sign. He climbed over the building, clinging to its edge for a moment, trying to ignore his growing panic as the creature stalked towards him.

  And then he let go and fell.

  His fingers found the first windowsill, but it gave way, its rotten wood dissolving in his hands. Augustus fell farther, missing the second windowsill, brickwork flashing by his eyes. The next windowsill slowed his descent for a moment before it, too, gave way.

  As the ground hurtled towards him, Augustus threw his hands out, grasping a shop sign hanging over the alley. The sign creaked and swung. He let go, falling the last few feet to the cobblestones below, and rolled over. Augustus looked up to see the ghoul walking down the building, his red eyes blazing in the mist.

  Augustus climbed to his feet, wincing from the ache in his arms and legs, his hands a mass of cuts and tears. He hobbled away, melting into the gloom, his heart racing as the tap-tap of feet grew ever closer.

  He turned a corner in the alley, bumping into a large figure. He caught a glimpse of the man’s swarthy face and grimaced at the stench of cheap, sour wine. “What’s all this, you little streak of snot?” The man seized Augustus around the throat. “If you’re looking for trouble, you’ve found it. What’s in your bag?”

  “Please,” Augustus begged. “Let go. There’s a ghoul coming!”

  The man barked with laughter, his rancid breath blowing against Augustus’s face. “I’m the only ghoul around here, boy. Now hand over your bag or I’ll bleed you dry!” His eyes narrowed further as he squeezed Augustus’s throat. He gasped, pulling at the man’s fingers, but they held him firm in their vise like grip.

  The world began to dim, and soon all Augustus could hear was the sound of blood thumping in his head. Until from somewhere in the gloom came a muffled cry, and the fingers let go of Augustus’s throat. He leaned over, snatching lungfuls of air, each one searing his chest.

  “Get back, demon!” the man screamed, holding up a hand, his other bunched into a fist. “This is my manor!” the man warned. “I run these streets!”

  The ghoul walked past the man and pointed to Augustus. “Come, thief. Give me your lights.” As the ghoul stepped closer, the man pulled a knife from under his coat, stabbing at the creature, the handle of his blade sticking into the back of his neck.

  The ghoul reached around, snatched out the knife, and dropped it to the ground. Then he turned and seized the man around the top of his head. The man froze, his eyes widening. “What…”

  The man gurgled something, his words gibberish, as still the creature squeezed. Augustus watched dumbly as the skin on the man’s face blackened like paper held before a flame. Lines and wrinkles spread across his flesh as he aged at a hideous pace, his eyes sinking into his skull, his teeth receding into shriveled gums.

  As the ghoul continued to squeeze, his form seemed to grow, as if feeding and absorbing his victim’s essence. And then he released the man, now nothing more than a charred corpse, and raised his head, releasing a keening wail that echoed across the alley.

  Augustus backed away as the ghoul turned and regarded him. “It hurts when I take the lights, thief, for I’m forbidden to take pleasure. But despite the agony I shall incur, I will find much gratification when I snatch yours.”

  Augustus inched away, the wall at his back. As the ghoul sprang forward, he ducked aside, leaping over the charred corpse and hurtling away as fast as his feet would take him.

  He didn’t look back as he fled.

  Augustus sprinted down alley after alley until eventually he emerged in a dingy street. He threw a hurried glance at the bedraggled row of houses and the small graveyard beyond them before realizing he knew exactly where he was. He crossed the street and entered the graveyard, his chest and legs aching with exertion. Augustus staggered across the narrow path between the headstones and statues. From somewhere far behind came a scream.

  It seemed the ghoul had found another victim.

  Augustus sat on a gravestone, drawing in breaths and rubbing his ankles. He listened keenly as he recovered his breath, starting as something skittered in the dark. Augustus tensed and reached into his pocket for his blade. It was gone, no doubt on the floor of the warehouse. As he thought of his lair, he wondered why he’d stabbed the book, and why he’d bothered trying to open the damn thing in the first place. He hated books.

  The sound came again and Augustus crouched, preparing to flee once more when a shape broke through the murk, rushing towards him.

  A fox, its teeth bared, its eyes wide with panic. Augustus was about to curse the stupid animal when he looked behind it and saw the two pinpricks of red.

  The ghoul broke through the night as if it were black waters, his hands outstretched, his fingers tap-tapping one against another. Augustus jumped to his feet and ran, the tread of the ghoul so close he could almost feel the hand that was surely reaching for him.

  He fled the graveyard and crossed a road, his mind whirring as he ran. Nearby was an entrance to a maze of tunnels running below the city. He’d discovered them after hearing rumor of a stash of gold taken in a robbery. He’d never found it, but instead discovered a perfect hiding place, an old bank vault with a huge, heavy steel door.

  A door that was still, hopefully, open as he had left it.

  It was thick enough to halt the ghoul’s advance and could even lend Augustus enough time to destroy the book—and perhaps its guardian along with it.

  As he thought of the tunnels, Augustus felt a shiver of dread, for they wound their way through an abysmal place. One he rarely frequented. Could he dare enter the labyrinth with the monster behind him? He had to, for where else would he find a place to halt that thing’s advance?

  Augustus glanced back to see the creature’s glowing eyes as it stalked along the street. The few people wandering in the cold winter’s night slunk back into the shadows, leaving him alone with his demonic stalker. Augustus turned a street corner and ran, picking up his pace. The tunnel entrance was within a short passage nearby. If he could reach it before the creature saw him, then he might evade the monster once and for all.

  And yet somehow he doubted it, for it seemed there was nothing that could stop his pursuit. He was like an automaton from Hell.

  Augustus looked back to the empty street as he jogged down the passage. A foul stench rose from the tunnels below. He felt a flush of gratitude as he saw the heavy lid that sealed the tunnels was in place. It seemed no one else had entered the tunnels since his last visit, but, given their putrid air and desolate passageways, he wasn’t surprised.

  He reached into the debris where he stashed his lantern and metal bar and fed the bar’s edge be
low the cover, pushing down with all his might.

  Slowly, the lid began to rise. He nearly dropped it as he heard the click of footsteps in the street beyond. Augustus ignored it and used his terror to lend him strength. Finally, the lid slid free. He threw the metal bar into the shadows, grabbed the lantern, and stepped onto the ladder below.

  Augustus pulled the cover over the entrance. It fell into place with a satisfying clang, but the last thing he saw was the red, blazing eyes of the creature as he turned into the passage. Augustus hurried down the ladder, gagging at the stench from below. As he descended, the air grew colder and he began to have second thoughts. Of all the places to be trapped with a creature like that… “Shut up and keep going,” he muttered to himself. “I can outsmart that ghoul still.”

  Somewhere below, a howl echoed along the tunnels.

  Augustus shivered. The last time he’d come here he’d heard the same din. He’d told himself it was simply a pack of wild dogs and not the fabled beasts rumored to scavenge through these forgotten tunnels. But after seeing the ghoul that had billowed like a black plague from the book, Augustus was not so sure that there weren’t monsters in the tunnels, too.

  The scrape of metal upon stone came from above, and a semicircle of light appeared. The ghoul was coming.

  Augustus fumbled in his pocket for his box of matches. He sparked one to life and lit the lantern. It cast an eerie light upon the high brick ceiling. He ran then, his feet splashing through rancid water, the lantern throwing his shadow upon the walls. Whatever purpose these tunnels had once had was long forgotten. Even though they were known among the city’s criminal underbelly, none would set foot inside. And as the piercing howl erupted once more ahead, Augustus knew why.

  He flinched at the sound of clattering on the ladder as the ghoul descended. He turned a bend, ducking into a short passage that led to another tunnel. The vault was close now, but as Augustus emerged from the passage, someone ran towards him. He screamed, dropping the lantern.

  It was a woman. If she could be considered such a thing.

  Her face was covered in scales, her eyes bright green orbs. She hissed, raising her scaled hands as she pushed Augustus aside and staggered into the darkness. Augustus recovered his lantern, and from behind, the ghoul’s footsteps drew closer, two glowing red eyes approaching in the gloom.

  Ahead lay the vault door, ajar, just as he’d hoped. Augustus made for it but stopped when a new noise filled the tunnel.

  The sound of scratching.

  Another figure shuffled into the light, tall and wide. At first glance, Augustus thought it was a man with long hair and a thick beard. Only the beard and hair were formed of thick vines, the skin on his face as gnarled as an old oak’s. The man’s hands were outstretched, but as he shuffled closer, Augustus saw they weren’t hands, but what looked like twigs issuing from the sleeves of his long grey coat. The man’s full black eyes ignored Augustus as they stared off into the distance.

  And then his twig-like fingers curled and twisted and as they met, the air shimmered darkly and the sound of scratching seemed to tear through the world itself.

  Augustus stepped away, screaming as another figure appeared and then another, each reaching out with twig-like appendages. As he heard the splash of water behind him, Augustus knew he was surrounded. He began to crawl on hands and knees through the water, turning this way and that. He held up the lantern, searching for a way past the cluster of figures, their twig-like fingers scraping the air, their tendrils reaching towards him. As they reached, a scratching sound filled the tunnel, and it seemed to Augustus as if the very universe itself were coming apart.

  The figures began to hum, their low chorus filling the tunnel.

  “Get away from the boy.”

  Augustus turned to find the ghoul emerging from the passage, his bright red eyes fixed on the creatures.

  “Leave him be, scrapers. He’s mine.”

  The figures turned as one and shuffled closer to the ghoul as he strode towards them, his lips curled in a tight smile. “How long have you been here?” he asked. “How many moons have you hidden beneath these dank streets? How did you get into this world? And where did you breach the Grimwytch?”

  The creatures he had called “scrapers” stepped closer to the ghoul, their tendrils curling as they scratched the air before them, causing it to shimmer like a road beneath a summer sun.

  The ghoul backed away, but another figure shuffled towards him, its twig-like tendrils snaking towards the ghoul’s neck.

  As its twigs curled around Grim Shivers’s throat, the others moved in, one wrapping its tendrils around the ghoul’s hands as another yanked off the rings that were beginning to glow upon his fingers. As they fell dully to the floor, the ghoul screamed, a sound of outrage rather than pain, his face contorted. “You dare attack me?”

  The scrapers began to scratch at him, and as their limbs touched him, he shimmered, his form twisting and thinning. “Stop!” he demanded, reaching into his suit and withdrawing a long blue-white blade. But it was swiftly yanked away by a scraper and sent clattering against the wall.

  As the ghoul howled, Augustus was jolted from the spectacle. He ran for the vault door, his lamp swinging wildly as the tunnel filled with the din of scratching and cries of rage. He shoved the vault door closed behind him and waited for the sound of its slam.

  But it never came.

  Augustus flinched at the sight of the tendrils trapped in the steel door. They snaked through the air, scratching and causing it to shimmer.

  Augustus stepped back as the scraper pushed the door open, its tendrils whipping before it. He stumbled through the ancient vault.

  At the end of the room, a stairway led to a trapdoor. Augustus flew up the steps as the scraper followed. He threw the door open, emerging into the old bank above, empty save for charred walls and the smell of smoky decay. Augustus reached the door that led to the street and turned to see the scraper emerge from the trapdoor.

  As its tendrils reached into the air, they sizzled. The creature withdrew with a low, despairing moan before descending back into the vault.

  Augustus ran through the streets until, finally, he could run no more. He slumped against a wall and sat down, fighting to catch his breath and ease the pain in his side.

  The road was empty, and he hadn’t seen a sign of the ghoul since emerging from the vault. Perhaps the scrapers had killed it.

  He hoped so.

  Augustus opened the satchel. The book was still there, its cover scored by the slash of his blade. He closed the bag and peered at the signpost across the way. Kettleton Street. He was only a mile or so from one of his hideouts, a long-abandoned vicarage.

  What better place to hide from a Devil than the former house of a holy man?

  Augustus stood wearily, sighing as he walked. Soon he found himself approaching the old church. The derelict street surrounding it was empty, thanks in part to its terrible reputation. Legend told that the church’s priest had turned from God to Lucifer, and following his conversion were evil tales of black rituals to his new satanic lord.

  But despite the hideous stories of dark tidings, Augustus found the place strangely calming, and if the priest had ever existed, he was long gone.

  Augustus skirted by the church, making his way through the hole in the side of the vicarage. He stepped over the traps he’d lain across the floor and ducked below the razor-sharp wire that crisscrossed the room. He entered the study and made his way across a floor littered with the books he’d flung from the shelves. Augustus slumped upon the threadbare chair he occasionally slept in, pulled the old woolen blanket across himself, and turned from the stars shining through the window.

  Soon, he fell into a deep sleep.

  He awoke to the sound of footsteps.

  Augustus opened his eyes and wiped away his sleep before gazing at the room beyond. It was empty. But the footsteps still came, ever closer.

  “Hello?” Augustus called. “Who’s there? Sh
ow yourself!” He threw the blanket off, standing and reaching into his pocket for his knife.

  It wasn’t there.

  Augustus opened the nearby desk and grabbed the meat cleaver he’d hidden inside, hefting it before him. “You’d better leave right now. If you don’t, I’ll take your head off!”

  The footsteps drew closer still. Augustus swung the cleaver before him but there was nothing to strike out at, invisible or not.

  And then the footsteps stopped and all at once he knew, with a terrible certainty, where the ghoul was.

  For how could it be anything but the ghoul?

  The hairs on the nape of his neck stood on end as he looked up.

  The ghoul stood above with his feet firmly planted on the ceiling, one hand clasping his top hat, the other reaching for him. Augustus screamed as freezing fingers seized him and those fiery eyes glared into his.

  “How…how did you find me?” Augustus cried.

  The creature, whose pallid face now bore a series of slashes and scars, smiled. “The book sings to me, little thief.”

  Augustus reached for the satchel and held it out. “Take it. Please, just take it and leave me alone!”

  “I told you, I protect the book. And you defiled it and dragged it across your city like a common trinket. You tainted it with your blade and now you must pay the price. I am that price.” The ghoul dropped from the ceiling, turning in midair and landing squarely on the floor, his hand still around Augustus’s neck.

  “Listen,” Augustus begged. “Listen to me. I know I’ve done wrong. But I can put it right, you’ll see. I’ll find every last person I’ve robbed and pay them back. Just give me a chance and you’ll see I’ll make good.”

  “Far too late.” The ghoul shook his head. “Ancient laws protect the book. Those laws are upheld by me.”

  Augustus gazed into the ghoul’s eyes. There was no pity in those smoldering embers, only desolation and hatred. “Whose laws? I never knew about them.”