by Jeff Young
the remains of poor Walter.
Bremstrung brought them to a halt before the door of the fieldstone lodge, resettling his rifle back onto his shoulder. “If I might impose, Madam, I know I can trust you. Will you help me watch over Roderic until we can ascertain who intends him harm?”
“Well you’ll make a better escort than Dunsworth, drunk that he is.” Of course she had made sure he’d plenty at hand to consume, because it would ensure her freedom. The stray thought of the apoplexy that the instance of her spending a night with two men might cause her father did enter her mind. But knowing him, he’d congratulate her on gaining Roderic’s attention.
So much for my plans, thought Kassandra, but if she were looking for Royal approval there certainly were worse ways to achieve it than aiding Edward’s nephew. “I’ve some small experience in nursing, so certainly I will help.” She neglected to mention that most of that was caring for her drink-sodden father, but now was neither the time nor place.
As Bremstrung did an admirable job of fending off the attention their arrival produced, Kassandra’s eyes swept the room looking for any signs of guilt on the surrounding faces. She swiftly identified Ressex and was gratified that the man gave her a small nod of his head. Perhaps all was not lost in her pursuit then. Next to him, Saul gave her a sneer and turned back to poking at the fireplace where the flames cast a ruddy hue on his tweed vest and patched boots. Did he believe she sought his place, she wondered.
The magistrate pushed his way to the front using his substantial bulk and proceeded to blunder about with loud exclamations about Roderic’s state. His wisp of a daughter, who was to be Kassandra’s rooming companion, seemed to have descended into a state of vacuous shock. If nothing else, thought Kassandra, at least she’d been spared the fate of entertaining her.
“We really should let Roderic retire for the evening to rest, sir,” suggested Bremstrung.
“Of course, of course,” blustered Cornwell plowing a path through the concerned hunters and leading them up the stairway to the third floor. His bald pate reflected the passing candles as he came to a stop in front of the corner room.
“It would be best if we were not disturbed. Madam Leyden will be staying with us since she has some nursing experience,” Bremstrung stated.
“But it is not seemly and what of my daughter?”
“I suggest she lock her door, just as we will be doing here.” Bremstrung pulled the heavy oak door closed with a snap. After they’d settled Roderic in the bed, Bremstrung made his way about the room looking over the walls. “So, notice anything suspicious when we brought Roderic in?” he asked pulling back the drapes on the window revealing the stand of immense hemlocks that encircled the Foxchase lodge.
Kassandra tucked Roderic’s hand under the coverlet satisfied that he was asleep. “No. There seemed to be genuine concern in everyone present and panic in Cornwell’s case, of course. Something like this could ruin him instead of raise him up.” For a moment she thought back to Saul’s expression but discounted it as jealousy since she was seeking out Ressex. Perhaps her letter campaign hadn’t been successful due to his intervention. She brushed the thought aside, settling into a brocade-covered chair.
“In the morning, we will have find a way to get Roderic out of here safely.” Bremstrung settled into the chair opposite on the other side of the bed. Pulling out a handkerchief, he began working over his pistol, cleaning its various workings. In the corner behind him, rested the rifle with its strange series of lenses. When he’d finished, Bremstrung dropped the pistol in his lap. “Why not see if you can get any sleep? I will keep a watch.”
“Wake me when half the night is through and I will spell you,” Kassandra replied easing further back into the chair.
“I will wake you, and we will discuss it.”
She closed her eyes, smiling, certain he had no intention whatsoever of disturbing her sleep. The room dimmed as Bremstrung shuttered the lamp that sat on the dressing table and snuffed the candles in their sconces. Kassandra thought back to the strange vision she’d seen in the woods. What exactly did the three heads of the dogs mean? The more she thought about it there seemed to have been a intent driven look in their eyes. What also of the strange ghostly fox the shone as if polished?
Lying there dozing, Kassandra flinched awake at a scraping sound coming from the window. Sitting up, she had a moment to notice Bremstrung coming to his feet when the glass of the window exploded into the room as something burst through the pane. In the dim half-light of the shuttered lamp, the lithe form of the otherworldly fox flew through the air to strike the end of the bed at the terminus of its leap. She hesitated a second half in fear and wonder at the apparition and then simply reacted. Reaching over, Kassandra grasped the bedding and hauled Roderic toward her until he slid onto the floor with a thump. The sharp claws of the fox shredded the mattress and feathers flew whirling in the cold night breeze from the broken window. As Roderic tried to sit up, Kassandra scurried to his side and pulled him down. The fox’s head swung toward them both with a strange mechanical whine.
A sharp click drew her attention from their attacker. Bremstrung stood beside the bed, his left knee resting on the mattress, pistol aimed at the animal. For a moment the tableau held as feathers gently wafted down and the gun spoke with a sharp retort flinging the fox across the room into wooden door. Cocking the hammer again, Bremstrung sent another bullet into the beast’ innards. Suddenly, the room was full of singing bits of metal as the fox burst into pieces.
“What in God’s name is happening?” asked Roderic into the sudden silence.
Ignoring the question, Bremstrung strode to the window and stared out into the night. “Damned thing leapt from that hemlock just out there.” He reached out the window and pulled closed the storm shutters across the gap of broken glass.
Kassandra crawled across the floor to the still twitching mass by the door. The jaws on the fox’s copper head clacked open and shut spastically. Most of the body was scattered about the room, some of the brass internal bolts and springs driven into the walls with the force of their ejection. It’s eyes flicked to her briefly and then wandered about the room until they found Roderic. The remaining functioning front paw scraped at the floor as the broken body tried to pull its way toward the shaking young man wrapped in blankets.
“I do not think so.” Bremstrung’s kick lofted the fox’s remains into the air where it struck the wall near the dressing table. The lamp wobbled sending shadows flickering about the room. Another spring burst loose and struck him on the temple cutting a runnel of blood that splashed into his blonde hair.
Kassandra considered what she had seen. The beast had recognized Roderic-- it picked him out. She moved over to the now quiescent remains and stirred them with a toe. A circle of dark metal slid out onto the floor. It was etched with a strange symbol and when she picked it up dark flecks of dried blood fell from the runnels. The image of a dog impinged once again on her second sight. The spectral creature was right there before her, snapping madly, foam flying from its ghostly jaws. But its eyes, its eyes were again fastened on Roderic. It was lunging at her because she was keeping it from Roderic. The longer she held the light thin disk, the colder it became.
Bremstrung was holding his handkerchief to his forehand after reloading the pistol. “It was an automaton? That makes no sense. I have seen automatons before. They are clunky and graceless. This thing moved like a real animal. A deadly animal.”
“And it was fixated on Roderic,” Kassandra stated, holding up the icy metal disk.
Bremstrung stared at it, his head moving slightly from side to side.
“You see it?” she asked bringing the disk closer.
“It is like a heat shimmer.”
“It’s the ghost of a dog — a trained killer. That’s what gave the machine its grace. The fox skin is just the shell. Someone found a way to bind the ghost to this machine and gave it a
purpose. Like any ghost when it fulfils its purpose, it would go free.”
Roderic leaned forward and picked something up off the floor. “That’s one of my buttons,” he exclaimed.
“Well that’s how it fixated on Roderic. It had something of his,” mused Kassandra. She took the disk in her hands and began rubbing it back and forth between them forcing the friction to warm it. But every motion made it grow colder instead. Finally, she brought it up and pressed it against her forehead, the intense chill making her gasp. In her second sight she had one brief glimpse of a hand wielding a knife against the throat of a struggling hound and then blood fell spattering onto patched boots. Pulling the disk from her head she gave a gasp. She knew those boots. They belonged to Saul.
A hammering on the door made them all jump and Kassandra reached out to catch Bremstrung’s hand. “It’s Saul,” she whispered “the ghost remembers him killing it.” Then she clenched the disk in her hand and crushing its flimsy surface. The vaporous remnant of the dog’s ghost disintegrated before her.
Bremstrung shifted his jaw to one side, considering the news and then gestured Roderic over to join them. “We are leaving and we are taking their vehicle to escape from here. It is no longer safe here for