“Let me go,” she rasped and arched her back. The ropes strained, but I wasn’t worried. Hale knew his knots, and I myself had woven those cords. She spat at me. A hefty gob of bloody phlegm spattered against my cheek. Hale wouldn’t have flinched. She looked at Lorne. “I know you.” The voice was different now. It was as close to a little girl voice as that parched throat could manage. “I know all about what you like to do. I know the way you look at me. I’ll wager you wish you were down the other end so you could be looking up my nightdress like dear daddy and the pastor are.”
“Don’t listen,” I said. “It speaks only lies. That’s all it knows.”
A pair of glaring soul-emptied eyes fixed me in their stare.
“And just who the fuck are you?” The guttural voice was back, and I was glad. That little girl voice was apt to break the resolve of those who knew her. I noticed that the knots were writhing. If Hale hadn’t fixed them, she’d have been loose by now. “You think your little fucking tricksie ropes will hold me for long?”
I forgot my own advice and answered.
“They’ll hold long enough.”
We were among the torches, and I told the others where to place the bed. The girl’s head moved from side to side, looking for an object that might be turned into a weapon, hurled about like the bowl and the table in her room. There’d be no joy on that count. All of our equipment, right down to the five torches that surrounded us and every last brick in our kilns had be charmed against such use. In the end, all she could do was throw up the odd frustrated blast of dust from the ground.
I motioned for the others to retreat beyond the torches. Pastor Ranklin protested.
“I am a man of God,” he said, his prayer book and crook produced from some pocket in his vestments. “My place is here with the afflicted.”
“Your place,” said Hale stepping from the shadows, “is in full view of your flock but well out of my way. Stand over there in the torchlight and say some prayers if you’re so inclined, but that burlap bag’s in easy reach if I need it.”
The pastor moved beyond our ring of torches.
“Nice of you to join us,” I said to Hale. “See anything interesting up there in the sky?”
Hale just shook his head. He looked down at the little girl, then back at me.
“You two been talkin’?”
“A little. Just the usual.”
The face scowled at Hale. A snarl split her lips. The bed trembled, but here, in our circle, a little lift and rattle was all it could manage.
“Does that holy man know what you are, sorcerer?” The girl’s body twisted against the ropes, accompanied by grunts of exertion.
“He suspects,” Hale said, “but dealin’ with me is a hell of a lot more palatable than leavin’ you where you’re at. Tod, get busy.”
Taking my cue, I gathered the blowpipe and opened to door on the furnace. A wave of intense heat blasted my face, stealing the moisture from my eyes. Blinking, I looked within. There in the center, in the depression of the crucible, bubbled the bright orange-red brilliance of molten glass. With a practiced twirl, I loaded the end of the blowpipe. As I prepared the glass, I watched Hale out of the corner of my eye.
“You’ve had a whole month to get yourself a pretty good hold on that girl,” Hale said, pulling a small leather pouch on a string from within his shirt. “It ain’t good enough.”
The girl spat and smiled. “You think this pitiful circle can hold me? You’re fucked if you think that, sorcerer.”
Hale licked the tip of his finger, then loosened the drawstring.
“You’re the one what’s fucked. As long as you’re in bonds, that little girl’s body is your prison. Now the church…” Here Hale inclined his head toward Pastor Ranklin as he slipped his moistened fingertip into the pouch. “The church tends to either burn or drown afflicted folks, which don’t really solve the problem at all. You bastards just wait until the body dies then fuck off into someone else.” Here the girl laughed, and the sound sent a chill through me despite the heat of the furnace. “Or, if they’re feelin’ especially clever, they’ll lock the poor child away in some dark pit for years and years. But eventually all flesh dies…and eventually your kind always goes free.”
The girl was grinning now. “Time is on our side,” she said. “Like you say, sorcerer, all flesh dies. I have all the time in the world.”
Then Hale smiled, and in its own way, that smile was a lot more frightening.
“You got that much right,” he said as he withdrew his finger from the pouch. The end was blackened, stained by the powder that clung to its moistened tip. Without warning, his finger was in the girl’s mouth and swept once in an arch between her lips and teeth. She snapped in a frenzy, but Hale was quick and had never yet lost a finger.
Her tongue writhed inside her mouth and she spat.
“What…what…”
“That there’s a little somethin’ an old witchy-woman taught me how to make. She used to mix it up for wives whose asshole husbands got busy with their fists when they’d been drinkin’. A little pinch in that last tankard and they’d be in no shape to raise a hand against anyone.”
Hale looked over at me. I’d readied the glass and started the initial blow. The glass was quality, and I’d loaded a little more from the crucible to make it thick. Coloring stood at the ready on a metal plate on the ground. With a nod, I knew Hale was ready and began adding color to the glass.
“You see,” Hale said, returning his attention to the girl tied to the bed, “the church has their ways of dealin’ with the likes of you…and I have my own. The church operates on…ah, what do you call it?”
“An assumption?” I offered, quickly returning my lips to the pipe.
“That’s the word. Thank you, Tod. The church has this assumption that your kind are purely spiritual. Now, you and me…we know better. Your kind are like a zephyr. Like a hot wind, full of spite and menace and a longin’ to act in the world. But you’re weak. All spaced out and loose-like until you happen upon someone like this little girl here. Tired…a little sickly…scared. You drift over and wait to be breathed in with the air. Once you’re in, you bide your time. Parents’ll notice a little willfulness that weren’t there afore, but they’ll put it down to her just growin’ up. Then things’ll start gettin’ bad. That sweet little girl’ll start gettin’ mean. Start breakin’ things. Start hurtin’ and killin’ little things. Like a chick maybe. Maybe a kitten. Maybe a baby brother or sister. And it only gets worse.”
Hale paused and checked my efforts. I had a solid thick globe started that I kept returning to the glory hole to stay pliable. He nodded to me, then put his hand on the girl’s cheek and gently pushed her head to one side. There was no resistance.
“Given enough time, this little girl would be yours for the rest of her life. Truth be told, there’s only ever a small window of opportunity to get you out of there. Coming over the hill this morning was a real stroke a luck for me and the boy. And for the folks of this town. Not so lucky for you, though.
“Flesh and blood always fail and die, but quality glass…”
Exhaling, Hale seized the girl’s head, pressing his lips against hers. The strain visible across his shoulders, Hale breathed deep. The girl’s back arched. She rose from the bed, each limb drawing the rope holding it tight. Hale continued to breathe in, his head trembling from the effort. The girl’s eyes were open and panicked, but Hale held the seal of their lips, drawing all of it in.
At last, he pulled away, teeth clenched behind clamped shut lips. Hale’s eyes were glazed and bloodshot. He motioned for the blowpipe. I pulled the pipe and its small ball of near molten colored glass from the glory hole, swinging the business end of the pipe to Hale’s outstretched hands.
Spinning the pipe to keep the sphere from drooping, Hale pressed his lips against the blowpipe. His body shuddered, and the edges of his eyes creased with the wracking pain the exhalation caused him. Forcibly pulled from one body, the entity fo
ught for all it was worth to keep from being expelled from this new one. Had it been me, it might have grabbed hold and taken up residency in my mortal shell, but it wasn’t me. It was Hale. The entity never stood a chance.
I stepped to Hale’s side as he rattled to the end of his lung-emptying exhalation. He nodded, and I squeezed my metal pincers against the stem of glass where the globe met the blowpipe, crimping the glass and sealing the sphere. Only then did Hale move his mouth away.
After a huge breath of fresh air, he grinned. It was a thing of bloodied teeth and split gums. Hale looked at the cloudy mass swirling inside the globe, speaking directly to the entity within.
“As I was saying: Flesh and blood will always fail and die, but quality glass—if kept safe and sound—well, quality glass will last forever.”
Hale moved the sphere over to the soaked, shaped block of wood for removal. There was a depression in the block the perfect depth for a globe this size. Hale moved into position.
“Have at ‘er, Tod,” he said, then whispered, “but make it quick. I can scarcely hold the pipe.”
I rasped our fine-toothed saw along the top of the crimp in quick, sharp strokes, scoring the glass around the circumference. With my pincers, I tapped the blowpipe three times before the scored glass snapped and the pipe came free from the globe. I stepped away and opened our cooling kiln—the annealer. I held out the carrying tongs for Hale.
“You’d best do it,” he said, lowering the glass-caked end of the blowpipe to the ground, leaning on it like a staff for support. “My arms are shaking like the devil. I don’t dare trust in my strength right now. I’m like as not to drop the damn thing. Get it in quick. Don’t want to shock the glass.”
It had never taken this much out of Hale before, but I couldn’t dwell on that. He was right. If I didn’t get the globe into our cooling kiln quickly, all of our work would be for naught. Gingerly, I lowered the tongs over the globe and brought them together so the globe rested on them like an egg on an eggcup. I’d checked a dozen times during the afternoon that the path between the blowing station and the annealer was clear of any debris that was wont to trip me up. I still measured every single step with an extra dose of caution. It felt like I took far too long, but soon the globe was nestled safe in the cooling kiln. I closed the door and wired it shut.
I heard the girl gasp at the same instant I saw Hale tumble to the ground. Instinct sent me to Hale’s side. Lorne, the mayor and Pastor Ranklin rushed to the girl. I threw a glance toward the bed. The mayor’s daughter, now freed from the influence of the entity, struggled franticly with panic in her eyes.
“Untie her,” I called as I cradled Hale’s head in my lap. His eyes were bloodshot, his teeth stained by the blood from his gums. He reached up to pat the side of my face but only mustered enough strength to make a half-hearted effort before gravity dragged his arm down.
“Holy shit,” he said, and his voice was a papery, raspy thing. “That one had a good little hold on ‘er.” He coughed some blood-speckled spittle to his chin. I rubbed it away with my sleeve. “Don’t worry none. I got it all out and breathed it all into the globe. Sure as hell put up a scramble when it realized I aimed to blow it out, though. I’m getting too old for this, Tod. Figure I’ll let you handle the next one.”
“Tod,” Lorne called, “we could use a little help over here. The girl’s mighty distressed, but there’s not a one of us can figure out these knots.”
“You go help,” Hale said, gathering enough strength to pull his hat down over his eyes. “I’ll just rest up here a bit.”
“Be sure resting is all you do,” I said, lowering his head to the ground and finding my feet. “Don’t you go dying on me or anything. Glassblowing’s a two-man job. You taught me that.”
The next day Hale was up at the break of noon, and though I’d already taken orders for bottles, jars, and such from half the townsfolk, he told me I was a slacker who would never amount to anything. To his credit, once he’d checked the fires and the amount of glass I had prepared in the crucible, he turned his attention to the girl.
“How’s the globe?” he asked. “Coolin’ without no flaws, I hope.”
“I looked in on it an hour ago. Cooling nicely.”
“And the girl? You been up to see her?”
I waved my hand around our set up and pointed to the annealer.
“I haven’t been idle, Hale. There’s more than just the globe in there, you know. I’ve been filling orders. It’s hard making quality glass all by yourself.”
“Hard work’s good for the soul. Just ask Pastor Ranklin. I reckon I’ll go and see him and the mayor. See what’s what.”
“Fine, but I’m starting on bottles soon. I’ll need your help with the shaping. Don’t be long.”
Hale found me at the inn as I finished a bowl of beans. He settled on the bench across from me and ladled himself a helping from the pot. Reaching into his pocket, he found a small stoppered jar and placed it on the table.
“Pastor Ranklin sends his regards,” he said around a mouthful of beans. “Says you two had some sort of deal.”
“He offered a barrel. I only need a jar.” I drained the last of my beer, wiping my mouth with my sleeve. “It wasn’t easy making those bottles by myself, you know...”
“If this job were easy, folks wouldn’t be lining up for our services.”
Three days after the exorcism, it was time for us to leave. Everyone from miles around who needed glass had called on us, and the last of our wares had been picked up that morning. Only one item remained. I’d finished hammering the box together with some nails Lorne had been kind enough to supply. I’d offered to pay for the nails, but our money was no good.
Hale lined my new box with a handful of straw. From the back of our wagon, he found a canvas bag that once held a hundred-count of fine silk scarves bought at considerable cost in a distant port town out east. Hale removed one of the handful remaining and crammed it into his pocket.
“Look lively, Tod,” he said, inclining his chin across the town square. “Here comes the mayor and his young ‘un.”
Father and daughter walked side by side, though as they drew near, the mayor lagged back. Hale had sent only for the girl.
She walked forward bravely. Only a little wisp of a thing, she couldn’t have weighed more than a bag of feed grain. She was pale, but there was color in her cheeks. Only the dark rings under her eyes spoke to the ordeal she’d been through.
Hale gathered the globe, slowly cooled over three days, into his bare hands and dropped to one knee. The girl’s steps became less sure as her gaze lighted on the sphere. Through the colored glass she could see the dark mass swirling within. She came forward, stopping an arm’s length away.
“You and me,” Hale said, “ain’t been properly introduced. My name’s Hale, and this here’s Tod.”
“I’m…Anya.” She looked from Hale to me, her eyes settling once more upon the globe. “Is that…is that what was in me?”
Hale shifted the globe, holding it one handed, perched on his fingertips. He turned it slowly, letting the sunlight dance about the surface.
“It surely is,” he said. “Don’t look too hard. We build some pretty color into the glass, but nothin’ can really mask the ugliness inside. It’s an ugliness no one should ever have to look at.”
Anya bit her lip, mustering the courage for her next question.
“Is it trapped in there?”
“So long as the glass don’t break, it is well and truly trapped. That’s the thing, Anya. This glass, though as thick as I can make it, is fragile. It’s gotta be cared for.”
“Will you do that?”
“Nope,” Hale said, pulling the silk scarf from his pocket with a flourish and wrapping it around the globe. “It ain’t for me to look after it. That’s way too responsible a job for a couple of travelin’ men like Tod and me.” Hale gently placed the wrapped sphere into the box I’d made, fluffing the straw about the edges so it nestled within
like some sort of giant egg. “You see, Anya.” Hale paused and spoke to the townsfolk in the square who had been edging ever closer to listen in. “The rest of you might as well hear this too, so gather in. The thing in the globe has a taste for you now, Anya. It knows its way in, and if it gets free, it won’t hesitate to take up residence in you again. That’ll be a problem. If it gets in there again, it’ll take a better man than me to draw it out.”
Hale held out the box.
“This is yours to care for. Keep it safe and secure and you got nothin’ to fear. Only problem is, the thing in that globe has a taste for you, and it’s a taste that don’t stop with you. Any children you have and any children they have and so forth—all of ‘em are…damn it, Tod, what’s that word I always forget?”
“Susceptible,” I told him.
“That’s the one. Thanks, Tod. All of ‘em are susceptible to this thing should it get free. So, keep it safe and secure and pass along to your children and their children just how hellish a thing this globe—this family heirloom—is.”
She took the box in both hands, retreating to her father’s side without a word. The mayor opened his mouth to speak. Hale shook his head and rose to his feet. He brushed the dust from his knee and looked about.
“You got everything packed and ready to go, Tod?”
“I do.”
“Good,” he said, climbing onto the wagon’s bench seat, pulling his hat down over his eyes.
I put my foot on the rail, about to pull myself up to join him when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned my head.
“I gotta know,” Lorne said. “How is it that a man who has his words and letters and the manners and speech of a gentleman…how is it that you come to be rattling around the countryside as an apprentice to a…to a man like this?”
I dropped my voice so only Lorne could hear.
“I tell you this only because I like you, Lorne,” I said. “Hale won’t be around forever, and this is work that will always need to be done. I had good reason to sign on as Hale’s apprentice and learn this trade. My little sister has just such a globe safe at home in her possession.”
Lawless Lands: Tales from the Weird Frontier Page 26