The Curious Case of Jacob's Hallow

by Patrick Walsh

  “Pffft, of course I do! Well...I mean at least your father. The Hero of the Olmire!” He waved his hands again in emphasis.

  Aza deflated, the old man knew nothing after all. “Yeah, I didn’t know how popular he was outside the bridges.”

  The old man shrugged. “You know a lot when ya been roamin around as long as I have!”

  Aza gave a chuckle, still relieved. “No, nothing about him...though I did have one question...for Gregory.”

  “Ah, the old Nightwatchman? Night leader...Night general...I forget what their master was called...oh bother, who cares.”

  “Yes. He was telling me about his daughter...and her son.” The threads of his thoughts were weaving and winding. He wanted answers, but was still a bit weary of the ghoul sitting before him.

  He rubbed his chin. “Well can’t say I know too much about them. I don’t think we ever met...I’s see his brother all the time nowadays...hmmm. As for their son...can’t really recall either.”

  “Well...he said that you delivered him, the son. He was very sick and the doctor couldn’t help him. Gregory said that you showed up in the dead of night.”

  “Oh yes, now I remember! I was out on one of my evening strolls when I felt the presence of a soul in danger. Happens more and more as these long years tick on by.” He looked up and smiled, reminiscing in his head.

  “Well how… how did you save him?”

  “I just stitched up the crack in his soul. Well….chasm would be more accurate, he was lucky to last long enough for me to even help him. Few more minutes and he would have burned.” He leaned back and smiled.

  Aza had a number of thoughts skittering about his mind. It sounded like the old man was the one responsible for his powers...at least partially. He thought back to Han’s story about the demon, and to the gauntlet that reached out from the darkness. Yet as he crawled down the web of thoughts and memories, his mind wandered to Han’s notes...what discoveries he was hiding. All the while the old man was watching him, wondering what the boy could piece together. His apprentice, on the other hand, was much less patient with his guest. Dullahan had thrown up again upon nearing the last room at the end of the hall. It had four locks, one of which the key didn’t work for. Desmond rolled his eyes in annoyance and kicked the flimsy thing open, breaking the last lock. Inside were barrels of embalming fluid and walls lined with shelves of supplies. For all intents and purposes it was a store room like any other, save for one metal table in the very center. Something large and dead lay upon it, its many arms dangling over and resting upon the damp floor.

  Han coughed a bit, getting the last of his breakfast out. “So this is it then?” His eyes were locked on the cold, lifeless form in front of him.

  Desmond nodded and lifted the white sheet that had been covering it. The stitched together cloak it had worn was gone, leaving its horrifying body on full display. Had Han not encountered the creatures at the tower he likely would have retched again. Yet even still, he didn’t want to go near the vile thing, unsure if it was truly dead. It’s body was pale and bloated with many bones pushing against the flesh, and even sticking through it. Its arms were triple and even quadruple jointed, looking more like spider legs. Staring into the void was an ugly mass of heads, only two of which looked to have been functional. Its legs were short and hinged, with many scales and teeth stabbed haphazardly about what might be called feet.While nearly impossible to tell now, it had once been a human body like any other. Now it was many bodies, many people, many creatures, all fused and stitched together. As an old piece rots off a new one is stolen to take its place. Soon nothing is left of the man...just a cold, twisted soul trying desperately to feel whole again…driving it mad...

  “That...that is a wight…” Han leaned back on his heels, taking it all in.

  “A what?” Desmond looked down at the thing, having never heard them given a proper name.

  “And how many of these things roam the night?”

  “Um...I don’t know. It sounds like a lot..couple hundred...but spread thin around the whole of the territory.”

  Han just nodded as once again he was shown proof of his greatest fear, a nightmare scenario he had not thought himself important enough to ever stumble across. He merely nodded and walked out, waving Aza to come along as the Undertaker wrapped up on a ramble about the Olmire Bridges. There was a lot of research to be done...yet it was dangerous to stay here much longer. He fought the options against one another in his mind as both he and Aza ascended the stairs and waved the two morticians goodbye.

  “So did you learn anything useful?” Aza looked around them and at the dreary sky. His gaze locking on three figures leaning against a light post nearby.

  “Yes actually, we can talk about it…” He felt his shoulder grabbed.

  “Run down that alley and don’t stop until you get to Luke’s.” There was determination in his eyes as he kept walking, pushing Han in the right direction.

  He looked back to see the two officers walking towards them. Not thinking twice, he bolted, leaving Aza alone to face them.

  The weasel faced man from the library was leading the group, stopping them just inches from Aza. “Well, well, well, looks like we meet again.”

  “What do you want?” There was anger in his voice.

  The officer pointed to himself and gave a sinister laugh. “Oh me? I want nothing, it's the mayor that wants to see you…”

  Chapter 10: Old Barnabee

  Aza sat alone as a bright light shone down from above, the sound of ticking gears echoing around the room. He had been escorted to city hall and led up to the highest usable room of the great clock tower. At first he had assumed it was going to be a prison, or something worse, and he’d have to fight his way out. Yet here he sat in a lovely velvet chair across from a beautifully carved desk of black oak and white marble. His seat was abnormally tall to accommodate the towering desk and great throne behind it. Aside from them there was but one cabinet in the corner and a safe across from it. While all the furniture was of the highest quality, the room itself was very sparse and unremarkable. The walls were quite tall, but very bare, with much of the tower’s metal framework visible. This place was likely only used for meetings and little else. Though, despite its almost sterile appearance, there was one thing that kept catching Aza’s gaze. On the back corner of the desk were four metal claws shaped like those of a crab. It took him a minute, but realised that something, perhaps a bowl or globe, was meant to rest upon them.

  Minutes ticked on to the rhythm of the spinning gears just above him. He began to get anxious, unsure what Barnabee could want. If the mayor wished him dead, why not kill him? Maybe he wanted to interrogate? Then why this office? Why was he left alone? More and more thoughts tangled around his mind, until he began to hear a sound from below. At first he thought it was just the clock tower, but then he realised it was the metal stairs creaking. One by one, someone was slowly ascending. Aza sat up straight and prepared a few threads in his open hand, unsure what would happen next. The open stairway was right behind the chair and he didn’t see who crossed the threshold. They passed him by and took a seat in the elegant chair just across from his own. Even with the added height of the chair, Barnabee towered over him. The grotesque man had to be over ten feet tall, made even taller by a grey and blue striped top hat sitting upon his greasy crop of black hair. The rest of his attire followed a similar pattern, alternating between a gloomy grey and washed out blue. Yet just like before, what stood out most was his face. It seemed twisted into a permanent scowl, framed by thick sideburns and bushy brows. His fiery yellow eyes gazed down at Aza as if they could peer into his very soul.

  “Why isn’t it the Nightman himself? I believe that’s what that pathetic old fool is calling you these days.” His voice was deep as the Abyss and rough as sharks teeth.

  Aza wasn’t sure how to respond.

  The mayor cut down the silence before it could even settle. “But we both know you aren't. No, you’re something els
e entirely.”

  “You mean that I’m a Puppetmaster?” Aza watched intently for how he would react.

  “Oh? Now who's throwing those terms around? I assume that outsider you’re consorting with told you all about them, about all the magics of the world.”

  Aza was annoyed by the condescending tone the man was taking, but had fully expected it. “Is that why I’m here?”

  “No, oh no. It isn’t some commoner that’s washed ashore, it's a Paladin.” The last word dripped with sarcasm. “Now all of the sudden you and your farmer friend think you’re heroes off to slay a dragon in a tower.”

  Aza knew immediately that he was referring to the lighthouse. “I don’t believe we’ve broken any laws. The monster’s bones perhaps, but that was mostly the fall.”

  “Don’t get smart with me boy.”

  Aza shrunk back a bit, as the towering demon glared down at him. “I didn’t mean to be, I just don’t…”

  “Why do you think I brought you here?”

  As soon as the last word escaped his lips, a thousand little needles struck out to pierce Aza’s flesh. Not real ones or magic, nothing to do physical damage. These were like the fear that Aza had felt and given...but it wasn’t fear..it was something else. “I thought you brought me here to try and kill me.” The words seemed to fly from his mouth, faster then he could control.

  “You’re not entirely wrong.” He leaned back and began rifling around in his desk. “At the start of this whole ordeal I had all the arrangements made. You would be brought here for questioning, and disposed of. Your house would burn or some creature of the forest would find its way into town and put that miserable old fool to rest. Life would go on and it would be as if you never existed.”

  Aza wasn’t sure how to take in such a...blunt declaration of evil. He was scared for himself and his grandpa, but also furious. Enraged that this monster thought he would threaten Gregory and possibly even Luke or Han or Aggie and Gretel.“Then what changed?”

  Barnabee’s great fist clamped down on a long kitchen knife. It was old and dulled, having first tasted blood underneath the Olmire bridges over 30 years ago. He ignored Aza’s question and laid it out on the table. “Pick it up.”

  The needles pulled, and Aza’s right arm shot out to the table. He had no control as his hand tightened around the hilt.

  “Keep your place, but put your left hand on the table.”

  Aza tried to fight back, but was compelled to obey as he slid his hand onto the cold marble.

  “Raise the knife over your hand.”

  Aza’s right elbow rested on the table as he held the rusted weapon just above his knuckles, the tip of the blade nearly touching his skin. The sense of helplessness and fear was overwhelming, at what seemed inevitable, as the hungry blade readied for its strike. His mind suddenly flashed back to the creature with its icy arms around his neck. No triumph or fight...just caught like a spider in the jaws of a raven.

  Barnabee leaned down, his face only a foot from Aza’s. He spoke coldly, each word as dark as the grave. “If I told you, you would stab your own hand...then your arm, your body, your head. A thousand little cuts until eventually you lose so much blood that you just... fade away. It’s a slow process, and it is what awaited you if not for my infinite mercy. What do you say to that?”

  “Thank you!” Aza sputtered out the words, half compelled and half from fear as mind was torn between this room and the wet cobblestone on that stormy night. He was nearly hyperventilating.

  Barnabee leaned back and looked to the far wall, knowing what lie beyond. “But I must say, I was impressed when I heard you’d taken out the guardian. Then again, like father like son I suppose.” He looked back to Aza, easily able to tell his mind was wandering to some other memory. “Focus.”

  All at once, the threads of Aza’s mind were ripped to the present, the pale arms of an evil horror falling to the depths of his memory.

  “What were you thinking of?”

  He wanted to come up with a lie, but the words were too fast. He told, in a rushed and sporadic manor, the moment he was almost murdered. About the night that creature almost choked the life from him.

  Barnabee was unphased, but it kept back his wrath. “Give the knife back to me.”

  Aza complied and felt the needles snap away from him.

  The mayor took up his old weapon, now far too small for his large hands, and placed it back in the drawer. “You might find that display to be excessive, but I feel it very necessary to make a strong impression. It is pertinent that you know that I’m not lying when I tell you this. If you cross me, I will kill you, the old man, the hag, and the farmer’s whole waste of a family. Not only will you all die, but alone and in agony. Do I make myself very clear?”

  Aza could only nod.

  The mayor leaned back up and laid back in his chair.“Yet as I said before, I don’t intend on killing you at the moment. That is so long as you do as I tell you.”

  “I...I don’t understand.” Aza wasn’t sure what this monster could want from him.

  “As you likely noticed, things are not exactly natural around here. People like you and me with our gifts, the creatures in the night, and so many other little annoyances.”

  “Yeah…” Aza wasn’t exactly sure what he was getting at. He was the mayor, certainly he was in charge of all this.

  “I have been meaning to investigate this whole ordeal myself and get a better handle on things for a while. Yet unfortunately I lack a… certain skilled labor force.”

  “Well, I have been trying to start a new organization.” He was now just testing the waters, trying to get a handle on Barnabee’s train of thought as well as see if he knew of his plans for the Nightwatch.

  “Ah yes, you and the farmer have been trying to rebuild that daft little group. Don’t waste your time on that. If I see even a single flier, I’ll burn that rathole to the ground myself. No, I don’t need an army, just a few canaries to fly about the coal mine.”

  Aza’s heart sunk. The group he had spent so much time and passion to revive...was always doomed to fail.

  “You and your two friends will continue on as you have, but you will keep your heads down. If you see any of my or Tobias’ men, you will not react. What you will do is carry on until I have decided you have gone far enough.”

  “Then why did you bring me here, if you only want us to carry on?” Aza recoiled when the old devil sneered down at him.

  “I said you will need to keep your heads down. After your little spat at the lighthouse, you were all to be killed. I have generously filled your graves with three others, but if you lot make another scene, I will not do it again.”

  A chill went down his spine, followed by the guilt that three had died in their stead. Likely kids from under the bridges whose families would never get closure. The thought made Aza detest this sickening demon even more than he already did. Tobias was all talk; Barnabee was a mass murderer. “It won’t happen again.”

  “I know it won’t.” He whipped up one of his arms, and plucked a small shell from his hat. It was haphazardly dropped onto the desk and left to roll around as the small creature inside writhed and thrashed. “Do you know what this is?”

  “A transponder runt?”

  Barnabee laughed. “You think I would keep a runt on my person? Daft brat. No, this would be a microtransponder. I have them crawling and creeping through the village, along with my own officers. If I get even the smallest hint you lot are scheming against me I’ll end this little experiment and kill every last one of you. Remember, you might be able to run but Gregory can’t.”

  Aza picked against the sides of his seat, chilled and unsure how to get out of this. “As you say so.” He nodded to him in a false show of respect.

  “Good. You are dismissed for now.” He waved his arm to the stairs.

  His guest wasted no time hopping out of the chair and scurrying down the spiraling stairwell. There were four officers at the landing who escorted him out of t
he building and onto the street, practically throwing him down the stairs. He got many looks of surprise and disgust when some of the bustling citizens of the square saw him of all people had been in the most prestigious building in town. Aza didn’t even have to ignore them, barely able to register the swarm of shoppers and merchants as he stumbled away. Three days ago he had thought that he and Luke would restart the Nightwatch and save the town. Now he didn’t know how this was all going to end.

  Barnabee wasn’t going to let them live, he had no illusions about that. Then who even was this stranger keeping secrets? He kept saying he was a Paladin, but Aza wasn’t dumb. There was something he was hiding. If it weren't for Aggie’s approval, he would have already pressed him on it by now. Then there was Barnabee again. He was the mayor, he seemed to know about the Nightman, talked about sending beasts from the forest, knew of the guardian...yet there was something off. He said that he had faked their deaths, but to appease who? The town was decently large, but he couldn’t keep them from the city council or Tobias while still allowing them to roam about.

  All these jumbled pieces swirled about in his head as he pushed his way out of the main square, and into the familiar alleyways that would take him to Luke’s farm. He got half way down his track before realising he was being followed. Not in secret by Tom’s spys, or someone from the Mayor, but a rough looking man with a bum leg. Aza eventually stopped in his tracks, not wanting to lead the guy to Han and Luke. He spun around and faced the stranger, who looked like he had not slept in a day or two.

  “Can I help you with something.” He considered readying some strings, but didn’t want to make a scene. He also didn’t want to hurt the disheveled man, who didn’t look hostile...just miserable.

  Yet this assumption was proven wrong when he too stopped, and pulled a flintlock from under his jacket. “Where is my wife?”

  Aza raised his hands. “I don’t know. Who are you?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me. You control those things, we all know it. Where did they take Megda?” His hand was shaking.