Widowmakers: A Benefit Anthology of Dark Fiction

by James Newman Benefit Anthology

  Half an hour later, the two men were walking away from the house. The snow had stopped, but the air was almost unbearably cold. At least, for Carnacki. Kharrn didn't seem to notice the chill.

  “We found the women near that big oak,” Kharrn said. “I made note of it last night. Probably the best place to enter the woods.”

  “Just so,” said Carnacki. “You are an observant fellow, Kharrn. You aren't a policeman by any chance?”

  “No,” said Kharrn.

  They reached the trees and stepped under the snow-laden branches. Carnacki was struck by the silence that surrounded them. The only sounds were the sweep of the wind and the muffled crunching of the snow under their feet.

  The pair walked along for several minutes without speaking. The trunks of the trees looked dark against the snow and it seemed to Carnacki that the woods were far deeper than they should be. After a time, though, they emerged from the trees at the edge of a small lake. The water looked black and cold and as still as the surface of a mirror. Dry, brown reeds extended from under the snow, like emaciated limbs seeking the sun.

  “The sedge is wither’d from the lake and no birds, sing,” said Carnacki.

  Kharrn nodded, and Carnacki wasn’t sure if he had recognized the quote or was simply agreeing. Looking across the lake Carnacki could see a small churchyard and beyond that the looming mass of the local church.

  “One might suppose a churchyard would be a likely place to find a ghost,” said Carnacki.

  Kharrn said, “Have you ever found one in a bone yard?”

  “No, they usually seem to manifest in places of great emotional turmoil.”

  “Yes. And I don’t like the feel of this place,” said Kharrn.

  “It does give one a case of the creeps. Perhaps that’s just the quiet and the feeling of isolation.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “But you don’t think so?”

  “No, and neither do you, Carnacki.”

  The man was right. The lake and its silent surroundings did have an atmosphere. Something brooding and watchful. Carnacki made his way carefully down to the very edge of the lake. He placed his satchel on the ground and took out a small envelope.

  “What are you doing?” Kharrn said.

  “I’m just going to perform a small test. Sometimes a spirit or other entity can be detected by simple means. If this doesn’t work I may have to send to London for some of my equipment.”

  Carnacki opened the envelope and poured a small quantity of fine powder into his hand. He said, “A mixture of my own creation. Sea salt, sage, dust from a Pharaoh's tomb. A few other things. Not as scientific as some of my techniques, but it sometimes produces a reaction.”

  Carnacki waited for the wind to die for a moment, then flung the powder out over the lake. Then he made the third and fifth signs of the Saaamaa ritual. He watched for several moments but the lake stayed as still and as quiet as ever. Carnacki knelt down and looked into the water. Had something stirred there?

  At first he could see only his own reflection but as Carnacki watched, a pale oval began to appear in the shallow water. The oval gradually metamorphosed into a face of uncommon loveliness. Large, haunting eyes. Wide, soft lips. A mass of white-blond hair that seemed to stir in unseen currents.

  “Kharrn, can you see this?’ Carnacki whispered.

  The woman seemed to stare up at Carnacki as if from some great distance. Then, without warning, the lovely brow knit, and the eyes faded, becoming hollow sockets. The cheeks became gaunt, then fleshless, and then the grinning teeth of a skull replaced the full lips. The water exploded upwards as two skeletal, claw-like hands reached from the lake to close on Carnacki’s throat.

  The glamor gone, Carnacki could see that a loathsome, misshapen form composed of frozen mud and human bones was wallowing in the shallows, trying to drag him forward into the frigid water of the black lake. His fingers sought the fleshless wrists, and sank into foul, ice-laced muck. Fingers of bare bone constricted around Carnacki’s throat, and darkness crawled at the edge of his vision as he made futile attempts to draw breath.

  Then Carnacki heard a loud crunching sound and the grinning skull shattered into muddy fragments. A second later the skeletal hands were snatched away from Carnacki’s throat. He rolled over on his back in the snow, kneading his sore neck with his fingers and drawing in great gasps of air.

  Carnacki saw Kharrn looming over him. The big man held a massive double bladed ax, like the kind Vikings had once wielded. The front of Kharrn’s coat was smeared with mud and bits of bone.

  Carnacki said, “Thank you, Kharrn. That ax? Is that what you had in the leather case?”

  Kharrn nodded. “It’s served me well against creatures of sorcery.”

  “Well, I must say it’s just about the most beautiful thing I can recall ever seeing just now.” Carnacki sat up and rose somewhat unsteadily from the snow. “I’d say my mixture got a result.”

  “It did,” said Kharrn. “Do you think destroying the remains will be enough to drive the spirit away?”

  “I’m afraid not. While that thing was strangling me I could sense an overwhelming feeling of hate and malice. That is one very angry spirit.”

  Kharrn said, “Bowen said the house had never been known to be haunted. Which begs the question, why has this spirit manifested now?”

  “That is indeed the question. That and why did it appear to Miss Pengarth.”

  “The two are likely related.”

  “Almost certainly. I think we’ve reached the logical end of our trek. Shall we return to The Elms and look in on Miss Pengarth?”

  6.

  “I've never seen an ax quite like yours,” Carnacki said. “How old is it?”

  Kharrn said, “It's over twelve thousand years old.”

  The two men were seated in Roderick Bowen's private study. When they had returned to The Elms they’d found that many of the previous night's guests had departed, and that the remaining ones were involved in various games and diversions of a seasonal nature. Susan Pengarth had been in the midst of a game of 'Simile' and Carnacki had decided not to disturb her. As full of curiosity as he was, he still thought the girl deserved some distraction after the night's adventure. And truth to tell, he needed a little time to recover after his own encounter with the supernatural.

  “It can't be that old,” Carnacki said. “That was before civilization, let alone metallurgy of this nature.”

  Kharrn took a sip of whiskey. He said, “That ax was forged in an age that history has forgotten.”

  “I've heard theories of such an age, of course, but I never put much stock in them.”

  Kharrn said, “It existed. An age when the old gods, now long forgotten, walked the earth.”

  “You'll forgive me if I'm skeptical. How did you come by the weapon, if you don't mind my asking?”

  “It was forged for me,” Kharrn said.

  “Wait, are you saying...”

  “I'm saying just what I said.”

  The conversation was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. The door swung inward and Susan Pengarth stepped into the room.

  “You're looking very well, Miss Pengarth,” Carnacki said.

  “Thank you, Mr. Carnacki. Mrs. Bowen said that you wished to speak with me.”

  “If you're feeling well enough,” Carnacki said. “Please come in and be seated.”

  Susan took a chair near the fire. She said, “If this is about my dream, I've really told you all that I can. I wish everyone wouldn't make such a fuss.”

  Carnacki said, “It does relate to the dream. I wonder, have you ever visited this house before?”

  “No, this is the first time. Mary Evans and I only became friends this year and she persuaded the Bowens to extend her invitation to the house party to me as well.”

  “I see. And you've no family in this part of the country?”

  “Oh no. My family are all Londoners and have been for many generations.”

  “Do you plan to st
ay at The Elms through the holidays?”

  “That was my intention, yes. Is there some reason I should not? It was just a dream, Mr. Carnacki.”

  “If I may be candid, Miss Pengarth, I think that it was more than just a dream, and I think that you may be in some danger. In fact, I think it might be wise were you to leave The Elms and for that matter, the very county.”

  “I'm afraid I don't understand. What danger do you speak of?”

  “Without going into unpleasant details, Mr. Kharrn and I made a discovery in the woods this morning, in the very place to which your 'dream' was leading you. I believe that an angry spirit has designs upon your life.”

  Susan's hand went to her throat. She said, “A spirit wishes me harm? But why?”

  “That I have yet to determine,” Carnacki said. “But I truly believe we should get you away from here.”

  There came another knock on the door. Roderick Bowen stuck his head in and said, “Sorry to disturb you old man, but have any of you looked outside?”

  Carnacki raised an eyebrow. “Not in the last hour, Roderick. Why do you ask?”

  “It's come a ruddy blizzard out there. I've never seen such a snow storm. Good thing many of the guests went home earlier today. The roads are doubtless already impassable. Oh well, we've plenty of provisions. Let it snow I say.”

  Bowen retreated and Carnacki looked over at Kharrn. The big man said, “Do you think the spirit had anything to do with this?”

  “Doubtful,” said Carnacki. “I've never seen a ghost who could affect the weather. But she will quite probably use the storm to her advantage.”

  “You think she'll come again tonight?”

  “Almost certainly.”

  Susan said, “You are frightening me, Mr. Carnacki. You say I should leave The Elms and now I cannot.”

  Carnacki offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “The day is too long gone for us to do anything now. Tomorrow morning perhaps the storm will have abated. Roderick has a heavy sleigh and a team of horses. If we must we'll use that to get you to the nearest train station.”

  “But what about tonight?”

  Kharrn said, “For whatever reason, the spirit doesn't seem to be able to enter the house, Miss Pengarth. I'll watch over you as you sleep and see that you don't sleep walk again.”

  “I very seriously doubt that I can sleep tonight, Mr. Kharrn.”

  “Then we'll sit up together.”

  This brought a wan smile from Susan. The giant man seemed to radiate confidence and even Carnacki had to admit that he was glad of Kharrn's presence. Still, he wasn't sure all was as simple as Kharrn claimed. Yes, the ghostly woman hadn't entered the house on the previous night, but that didn't necessarily mean she couldn't. Kharrn had thoroughly destroyed what little of her physical form remained, but Carnacki knew from long experience that such a spirit didn't need a corporeal form to cause harm.

  The day continued to fade and Susan Pengarth took her evening meal in her room, not wishing to alarm Roderick Bowen's other guests. Mary Evans, alert to Susan's distress, joined her. Kharrn sat in a corner, a solid and implacable presence and Carnacki noted that he kept his ax case close at hand.

  Leaving Susan in the big man's care, Carnacki walked the halls of The Elms, seeking some defense against the spirit world. He didn't have any of his major equipment and the house was simply too large, with too many doors and windows, for him to effectively ward all the entrances with the means at hand. If the ghost came to do harm, he would have to stop her and not simply try to deny her entrance. With that thought in mind, Carnacki sat down with the few tools he had and began to plan.

  His first action was to draw a series of warding runes on the floor in front of the door and single window of Susan's room. He made the first sign of the Saamaa ritual as each series of runes was completed. That might or might not protect the room. He was simply working with too little knowledge of his opponent. He wished that he had brought the electric pentagram, because he could certainly have kept the young woman safe within its circle, but it hardly seemed likely that he would need it at a Christmas house party.

  At last the evening's revels passed and the house began to settle down for the night. In Susan's room, Carnacki, Susan, Mary, and Kharrn prepared for their vigil. Despite her earlier claims, Susan gradually drifted off to sleep, stretched out fully clothed on her bed. Mary Evans, to her credit, remained awake and watchful. Kharrn kept to his chair in the corner, arising only to see to the fire or to take a turn about the dark hallways. At all times either Carnacki or Kharrn was in the room.

  It was well past midnight when Carnacki heard the wailing cry rise above the wind. He glanced over at Susan and saw that she was writhing in her sleep. She began to try and sit up.

  “No, dear,” Mary said, grasping the girl's shoulders. “You mustn't.”

  The wail came again, louder and closer, and Carnacki felt a chill that wasn't caused by any draft. Kharrn rose and looked out the window.

  “See anything?” Carnacki said.

  “Just the snow still falling.”

  Susan stirred again, trying to wriggle away from Mary's grasp. Mary said, “Should I wake her?”

  “Not yet,” said Carnacki. “It might do more harm than good.”

  Carnacki heard a distant crash. The sound of glass breaking.

  Kharrn said, “That sounded like it came from the dining room.”

  “It may be a ruse to try and lure us away.”

  The next sound they heard was a scream of pure terror. Kharrn stood up. “We have to see what's going on.”

  Carnacki said, “We can't leave Miss Pengarth unguarded.”

  Kharrn shrugged and stepped over to the bed. He lifted Susan in his arms. “We'll have to take her with us. Get my ax, Carnacki.”

  “Are you sure this is wise?' Carnacki said.

  “No, but neither is cowering here waiting for something to come for us. Open the door please, Miss Evans.”

  Mary did as she was told and Kharrn stepped into the hallway. Carnacki and Mary followed close behind. Carnacki brought Kharrn's ax and his own satchel. He was amazed at the weight of the ax, especially since he had seen Kharrn wield it with one hand.

  The group hurried down the hall and into the dining room. Carnacki froze in the doorway. A gray, mouldering corpse in a rotting frock coat stood near the shattered French doors, its bony hands clutched around Roderick Bowen's throat. Alice Bowen lay on the ground a few feet away. Another corpse-thing, this one clad in a mouldering dress, shambled through the door, leaving snow and bits of ancient, withered flesh on the carpet.

  Mary Evans, not surprisingly, screamed. Carnacki was feeling none to steady himself. Kharrn set Susan Pengarth down near the dining room table and took his ax from Carnacki.

  “Watch her,” Kharrn said as he hefted the ax. Then he lunged across the room and struck the creature who held Bowen, shattering skull and ribcage with one downward blow. Another long step took him to the skeletal woman and he struck her across the waist, cleaving her in two. As her upper torso struck the floor her claw-like hands dug into Kharrn's calve. The big man snarled and stomped her yellowed skull, crushing it with an awful pop.

  “There are more of them.” Kharrn said, staring out into the night.

  Carnacki moved up to look out through the French doors. He could make out several dark shapes moving toward the house through the falling snow. Some walked. Some crawled. Some dragged themselves along through the snow.

  Carnacki said, “God help us. She's calling them from the church yard.”

  “Have you thought of a way to exorcise the spirit?” Kharrn said.

  “Perhaps. I'm not sure it will work.”

  “Best try it then, Carnacki. I'll hold these things off.”

  “There are too many, Kharrn!”

  The big man grinned a savage grin. “Then you'd best hurry, hadn't you?”

  Then he was out the door, whirling the great ax in a circle, sending bones and rotting flesh flying into
the wind. Seeing him like this, Carnacki had no trouble believing he was indeed a warrior from another age.

  “Mr. Carnacki!” Mary called.

  Carnacki whirled to find the same beautiful specter he had seen at the lake standing in the room behind him. She was somewhat transparent, but certainly real. As he watched, the ghostly woman began to glide toward the prone form of Susan Pengarth.

  Carnacki hurried to interpose himself between the apparition and the helpless young woman. Digging into his pocket he brought out a handful of the same dust he had used at the lake. It wouldn't stop the ghost but it might slow her down. Murmuring the third line of the Saamaa ritual he tossed the dust at her. The spirit shrank back, her face warping and deforming in pain.

  Without warning a heavy chair suddenly lifted from the floor and spun in a crazy arc toward Carnacki, followed by several other bits of furniture. Carnacki tried to dodge but a China vase clipped the side of his head, sending him sprawling. He had hoped to avoid using the all but unknown last line of the Saamaa Ritual but he seemed to have no choice. It was a dangerous thing to try, but all he had left.

  As he began to incant, he saw the ghost move again toward Susan, one spectral hand reaching out toward the girl's unprotected throat. In that moment the answer flashed into Carnacki's mind. The ghost's hand was poised to clutch, not to strangle. She wasn't reaching for the throat. She was reaching for the golden locket.

  A haunted object! An old object that had belonged to Susan's grandmother. Who knew from where it had come and what secrets it carried? Something to do with this spirit and that was certain.

  Carnacki rolled to his feet, reaching Susan an instant before the beautiful specter. He grabbed the locket, breaking the delicate chain. He heard the ghost howl but he paid her no heed and hurried to the fireplace where the fire had burned low in the grate. He threw the locket into the coals. The soft metal began to melt almost immediately.

  Carnacki spun and saw that the spirit had halted. Her face contorted again as a soundless scream seemed to rise from her lips. As Carnacki watched she became more transparent and faded from view. Carnacki let out a long ragged breath. He wanted nothing more than to slump to the ground, but he was mindful of his comrade Kharrn and managed to stagger to the French doors. He found the big man standing in the snow, surrounded by dismembered corpses in various states of corruption. None of the corpses were moving. Kharrn's clothing was torn and shredded and he bled from many scratches and bites. The man would have new scars to add to his collection it seemed.