Waiting!
That voice, that horrid demonic voice, like a cat’s hiss intertwined with a vulture’s cry, muttering, whispering—always whispering—spoke into my ear. She’s going to leave you , it said. She’ll take the children away from you .
Oh, how that foul demon preyed upon my darkest fears. It knew my heart. It sought to control my mind. “Get out!” I shouted. “Get out of my head!” I pulled my hair. I gnashed my teeth. I would let it hide in me no longer.
A hollow feeling, as if cold hands had passed through my skin and ripped my soul from its decaying shell, swallowed me whole. I couldn’t bear it. I jumped up, flipped over the table, and sat back down. Has she left me at last? I was neither blind nor deaf. I had heard the hushed talks she had shared with her sister, Louise, behind closed doors. Always discussing, always chattering …
Chattering!
They thought me unwell. The audacity! I would have never hurt my wife. I would have never hurt my children. What more could I have done to prove my love?
I wept then.
“Demon!” I shouted, kicking at the overturned table. I banged my fist against the wall. “This misery and doubt is your doing.” The stink of ash and rot filled my nose. I glanced about the room, but the demon hid from me well. Nonetheless, I knew it was there, somewhere behind the walls. Watching. Waiting.
Waiting!
The demon wanted me to give them up. For eighteen long years, I had battled it for my family, but I would never surrender them. The beast sought to torment me by hurting those I loved. Most foul were these creatures born from hell. Sic semper tyrannis!
I had spied the demon everywhere as of late, pining—always pining—for Clara, callers seeking to lure her away, German filth disguising their lascivious intents behind well wishes and season’s greetings. They would take everything!
I dabbed the sweat from my brow and righted the table. Then I returned to my seat and my handkerchief. Footsteps sounded on the walkway. I rose, my spirits rising with me. My Clara, my children, home at last.
As the door opened, I saw that it was only my Clara’s hateful sister. She had no business with our family and had stayed long past her welcome. Still, I nodded graciously as any gentleman would, and without further interaction, I returned to my handkerchief. She glared at me with those scheming eyes of hers, those patronizing, calculating, always-plotting mirrors of her black heart. She, her family—all of them—were always calculating. Always plotting.
Plotting!
The door slammed against the wall. The children charged in like cavalry, then Clara followed. Finally, they were home where they belonged.
“Wipe your feet, boys, before … ugh,” Clara said too late to stop Henry Riggs and Gerald from running straight into the apartment, one giggling after the other. They disappeared around a corner.
Pauline ran to me and gave me a hug, and I lifted her in my arms while she raised me to the man I could be in hers. My little Pauline. My angel.
“Henry, are you all right?” Clara asked.
“You look sad, Daddy.” Pauline kissed my cheek. Already eleven years old, she was still as cute as cute could be.
“Everything is just fine, dear.” I planted a kiss of my own on Pauline’s forehead. “I have just missed all of you. I get lonely when you’re away.” I rubbed noses with my daughter. “You will never leave me, will you, Pauline?”
I glared at Clara as I hugged my daughter tightly. She should not have left me alone for so long.
Pauline pushed off my chest. “You’re squeezing too tight, Daddy. I don’t like it when you squeeze too tight.” She pouted.
I placed her gently back on her feet. “I’m sorry, angel. Sometimes when I hug you, I never want to let go.”
Laughing, the boys ran back into the hallway. They kicked off their boots by the door as quickly as they could, then Henry Riggs took off running again with Gerald trying to keep up.
I sighed. “Too big to give your father a hug?” I called after them. When they circled back around, I grabbed Henry Riggs by the arm if only to share a moment with him, but he twisted away from me and scowled like a wolf baring its teeth. My son, who would never want in life, couldn’t even hug the man who had always provided for him. The miserable little—
“Are you sure everything is okay?” Clara stepped closer, drawing me from my thoughts.
“Now that you’re back, dear, everything is right as rain.”
“You haven’t seen—”
“No, dear.”
“Or heard—”
“Not a peep.” Deceiving my own wife … I sighed again. It had to be. No matter how many times I had tried to explain to her what haunted me, she never believed it. I only wished she could believe in me.
My upper lip twitched. She never listened. My own wife.
Never listened!
“Well,” she said, smoothing out her blouse, “I’ll arrange for dinner.” With that, she was off. No hug, no kiss, no term of endearment.
I took my seat back at the drawing room table. Hours passed as I sat there, tearing my handkerchief to bits.
A blast came from the pantry.
“Clara!” I ran as fast as I could. I felt the weight of my gun in my hand. When I reached my wife, she appeared unharmed, but she stared at me wide-eyed and trembling.
“Put down the gun, Henry,” she said. “It was just a cabinet door snapping shut. I’m all right, and so are you.”
Slowly, I lowered my revolver into its holster. Clara hated that I wore that gun. She said I would fire it someday, causing more harm than good. But its old metal felt like safety in my hand. It was our protection, not our undoing. My shoulders remained tense as the laughter of children echoed through the pantry.
Henry Riggs burst through one door, Gerald on his heels. I stood directly in their path. Henry stopped before colliding with me. Gerald bounced off his back and fell onto his buttocks.
“Boys,” Clara said, “go to your room and prepare for supper.” She covered my hand with hers, softly pushing the revolver back into its holster. I hadn’t realized I had raised it again.
“It’s your soldier’s heart, Henry,” she whispered. “You know how it makes you … anxious.”
For once, I agreed with Clara. I let out my breath. The demon was not at play.
“Is everything all right, Clara?” Louise asked. I jumped, having not heard her enter the pantry. She stood behind me, holding a frying pan. Scowling, she glared at me as though I were a villain for trying to protect my family.
“We’re fine,” Clara said. “Henry just had a little scare, but everything is fine now. Right, Henry?”
I didn’t care for my wife’s condescending tone, but perhaps I had been a bit jumpy. “Yes … just a little scare. I think I’ll go lie down for a while.” I walked to my room, collapsed onto my bed, and closed my eyes.
* * *
Children laughing.
I woke on the bed, and the laughter faded. My room was blanketed by night so dark, I could not see my hand before my eyes. I wondered if I had slept through dinner. My heart raced, though I knew not why. I rubbed my eyes. Still, they would not adjust. Blood pulsed through my veins, creating a muted beat pounding inside my skull. I rubbed my temples, trying to soothe away the ache. White light flashed before my eyes. Sharp pain stabbed at my brain.
The laughter returned.
“Henry, is that you? Gerald?”
Why can’t I see? How long have I slept? Where is Clara? I slid my leg over the side of my bed and planted my foot on the wooden floor. It was cold. I could not recall taking off my shoes and socks.
I tried to kick my other leg off the bed, but it caught in my sheet, and I fell to the floor. I didn’t recall getting under the covers. And damn it, why is it still so dark?
You killed him , a voice whispered. It’s all your fault .
“Scoundrel! How dare you come to me here?” I should have known the demon would choose Christmas, a time of joy and family, to deliver its
worst upon us. It had always been there, lurking in shadow, living in the space within the walls, infecting everything from outside reality’s veil, waiting to become corporeal once more.
The pitter-patter of tiny feet came from the corridor. Pauline’s giggle echoed into my room.
The demon mimicked her giggle. Your wife will take her away from you , its slithering snake voice promised. She’s going to take all of them away. Do not worry, Henry. After she leaves you, I will be there to comfort her.
“Children!” I shouted, ignoring the beast. “Go to your rooms and stay there until I come for you. It’s not … proper to be roaming the halls at this late hour.”
The beast roared at that. You cannot protect them. They are not safe here .
Hot breath sizzled on my face. Though I could not see it, I knew the devil was close enough to touch—and maybe to strangle.
I lunged forward, meaning to kill the beast with my own hands or at least hold it in that room. As long as I kept it with me, my family would not be harmed. I caught nothing but air. I had been close, I knew, for I had heard its shark teeth gnashing. Its forked tongue stabbed at my cheek.
The demon would not be contained. Oh no, my dear Henry. They are not safe anywhere . Its words trailed off toward the door. I heard its rancid flesh scraping along the bottom of the door as it squeezed through the crack.
“No …” I scrambled to my feet and raced after the sound. Stumbling in the dark, I found the wall and ran my fingers along it until they found the door then the knob. I tore open the door.
“Gerald? Pauline?” My children stood at the far end of the hallway, opposite their room. They were the only light in the darkness, glowing like the moon, white against black. Arm in arm, they shuffled like wind-up toys just before their gears stopped turning.
One look at them was normally enough to put my mind at ease even at the most troubled times. But the demon’s presence was as thick as rolling fog. It caused the hairs on my arms and neck to stand up straight and my teeth to grind. I could smell it, too, like the gangrenous wounds of dying soldiers. The smell of death.
My sight came into focus.
Their smiles were big and grew bigger as they stepped quietly toward me. Their skin was as white as snow. Their eyes, dear God, were swirling black pits.
I swallowed hard. Their clothes! “Children, what are you wearing?” I laughed uneasily. I bit down on my knuckle, despising myself for letting the terror take me while my children were in danger. I threw back my shoulders and faced the approaching malevolence.
Gerald was dressed all in black, save for his white undershirt. His black coat, polished shoes, and bow tie matched perfectly the beard he hadn’t had before that moment. Something like mud slid down the side of his neck.
And Pauline in her long black-and-white gown looked like a skeleton princess, both lovely and terrible. Dark stains spattered the white of her dress. A black veil partially hid her eyes.
Though their sardonic smiles were frozen in place, I heard them laughing. Pauline was Mary Todd holding Honest Abe’s arm—the demon was reenacting that horrible night through my children. It had corrupted their innocent bodies with its foul puppetry. The beast wasn’t only in them. It was everywhere.
“Show yourself, demon! Leave them alone. They have no part in our quarrel. They’re innocent.”
None are innocent . Shadows took shape behind my children, creeping at their heels. The shadows rose and became one in a form that passed for a facsimile of Henry Riggs. My terror grew and shook the fabric of my being. Coming to light through my boy, the demon stared through hollow eyes directly at me and smiled. Then it vanished.
I next spotted the demon as it stood horizontal upon the wall. I blinked then found it crawling along the ceiling. This was not Henry Riggs, but the demon in its true form, playing at being a child. Tangible. Killable.
Like reanimated corpses, Gerald and Pauline continued to amble closer. The demon dropped from the ceiling and landed soundlessly behind Gerald. I saw its face in Gerald’s glow.
My God … it is Henry . The beast had defiled my eldest, possessed his young body, and gestated inside him. Wings like those of a bat’s reached from his back to the walls, scraping along them, wilting the paint and rotting the wood. The hallway fell into ruin before spiraling down a whirlpool into the abyss.
Demon Henry also wore familiar attire. He raised an arm. A pistol rose with it.
“Booth!” I shouted. I raised my pistol to meet the shadow form, uncertain that I could kill the demon without killing my boy. During my hesitation, Demon Henry fired. Time slowed. I saw the bullet spark from the barrel and take flight toward me as I hurried toward it. It collided with Gerald just behind the boy’s left ear. He and Pauline dissipated like smoke in a gust of wind.
The bullet hit me in the stomach with the force of a crashing wave. My momentum carried me forward in spite of it. Black tentacles slithered across my skin from the point of impact, stretching and spreading. Futilely, I tried to hold the oozing tendrils inside me. My end was near.
Only the demon and I remained.
I screamed angrily as I lunged at the beast. I locked arms with it, thinking in my rage that I could tear it limb from limb. Even as I felt the icy, worming tendrils weaving in and out of my skin like stitches, I did not let go of the demon.
Pain blazed through my arm. The beast escaped my hold. Blood soaked my sleeve and dripped from the blade that had appeared in the monster’s hand. My fear and pain were second to my desire to destroy that vile creature. I reached for its neck.
I caught a better look at its face. Not Booth? Not young Henry? I didn’t understand. The face I looked into was my own.
The demon was a smaller version of me, dressed just as I had been on that fateful night. Contorting my features with its own shark grin, the demon laughed hard and loud. A slender tail with a spearhead tip whipped erratically from its backside, until another creature latched onto it.
The demon’s pet. That filthy imp .
The gremlin was dressed like Clara, wearing the nightgown she most often wore to bed. It flowed behind the urchin like a wedding gown, dragging along the hallway floor. The creature’s erect phallus tented the gown. The imp stroked itself as it stared up at me with devious eyes.
Before I could seize the demon, it and its pet disappeared. Gone, too, was the festering hole in my stomach and the creeping-vine tentacles. The scent of blood and gun smoke lingered.
I looked up, down, and everywhere for them. My heart pumped feverishly. Sweat rained from my armpits and forehead despite the frigid night. I had to get them out of there. The demon was gone, but it would be back. It had been playing with me before. I knew worse devilry was yet to come.
The apartment was calm. I could no longer hear the whispers. We had no time to dawdle. The demon’s power had receded. It would be back to claim my family, once and for all. It would be back that very night. We had to escape.
My pistol trembled in my hand, a lantern in the other. I knew not when or how I had acquired either. Another trick of the beast, I assumed. I had no time for it. I cried, desiring only to remove my family from the devil’s path.
I ran to my children’s room. The door was closed, and every nerve of my body screamed to kick it down, but I restrained myself, having enough wits about me to counterfeit a balanced mind for my children’s sake. Our circumstances were dire, but I would spare them any and all horror I could.
I knocked softly. “Is Pauline in bed?”
Louise, who shared their room, answered, “Yes.” She did not open the door.
I reached for the knob.
“Dear husband, do calm yourself,” Clara said as she entered the hallway from our bedroom. She was wearing the same nightgown the loathsome creature had worn. I thought we should burn it once we were safely out of the building. Maybe we should have burned the whole house down.
My sweet Clara had arrived to steer me safely out of the darkness. Or is she here for the children. A
lways the children. When did she forget about me? I shook off the thought. The demon was already returning.
“Lock the door,” she said to her sister. “Save the children.”
Save the children? What harm did she think could befall them from my hands? Rage ignited within me, kindling a fire so fierce, I thought it would consume me. White light again flashed before my eyes, searing the retinas. Clara, how I loved her and hated her then. I holstered my pistol, grabbed her by the elbow, and escorted her back to our chamber. We hadn’t the time for her disbelief. I knew what I saw, and I knew what was coming. I needed her cooperation. I needed her to stand beside me, her husband. To stand where she fucking belongs!
I needed her.
After slamming the door behind us, I shuffled her farther into the room. I placed the lantern on the dresser and ran my fingers down my face. Before I could gather my thoughts, Louise had invited herself in. I lost it. I pushed Louise from the room as she batted at my arms. I swung the door, hoping it would hit her.
Clara was crying. She tried twice to push past me, but I would not let her leave. Not until she heard what I had to say. Not until she understood our danger. I was trying to save us! Why couldn’t she understand that?
When I heard the laughter, I knew we were too late. It came from all four walls. At first, just the demon I knew offered its voice. A chorus of other wicked things then added their amusement.
She’s ours now, Henry , they chanted.
“No! You cannot have her!”
Clara stared at me, her lips trembling, her skin losing color. Did she finally hear them, too, now that they had come to claim her?
Now that it was too late.
I had to think of something. The demons were closing in, everywhere in the walls and the ceiling. The black blood of hell seeped up through the floor, coating our home in despair. Sharp talons and fanged mouths pushed through the walls and peeked out from behind the paintings. Where the wood would not give, demon appendages molded it like clay into frightful sculptures.
A hoofed foot clomped the floor beside me. Claws grabbed my pant leg. I kicked them away before they could drag me down to meet their owners. I screamed. I cried. I raved. I pulled out my hair. My mind was out of solutions. We had no way out.
Wrathbone and Other Stories Page 5