They would go back to Riverside again, of course. This wasn’t permanent, this little detour of theirs. Wendy couldn’t leave the docks for good, not when she was still waiting for her father to come back. He had left her a message not long ago, entreated her to stay safe. He was coming back, and she would be waiting for him. Then they would get her mother out of the sanitarium and be a family again, fighting off the darkness together.
Wendy let go of her collar, letting her hand rest briefly on the amulet hidden beneath the thin cloth of her blouse. Compared to the surroundings, the necklace felt surprisingly cool to the touch. It got that way sometimes when she passed by one of those dank, dark patches set back in the fog of the docks, and Wendy wasn’t at all surprised that it was reacting the same way here in Uptown. There was something off about this entire place.
“She’s coming back,” James hissed, and Wendy dropped her hand immediately. It was second nature to hide the amulet’s existence at this point.
Wendy had no reason to suspect Mrs Duncan of anything like that, but then…
“Here.” The woman carried a tray in one hand, and as she got close she set down two bowls of stew on the table in front of Wendy and James, each accompanied by a slightly dented pewter spoon, and two pewter mugs of water. “Eat up,” she advised, a strange smile crossing her face. “Your mother wouldn’t want you to go hungry, I’m sure.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Whether the woman was odd or not, her food smelled good. Wendy and James tucked in, and she sighed heavily as the first bite of stew graced her tongue. It was thick and meaty, with chunks of potato and carrot and a hint of garlic, and so salty it might preserve her tongue, but it would be worth it for food so rare and rich.
They ate and drank up the water, which tasted only a little bit musty, and Wendy tried not to think about how the sun was surely gone now, and how dark it was in here, and how the longer they sat alone, the sharper the look in Mrs Duncan’s eyes as she watched them from her place near the door.
Wendy was finished, but James was still scraping the bottom of his bowl when Mrs Duncan came back over, lighting a fresh, fat candle and setting it on their table to provide a bit more light. “You must be getting worried about your mother,” she said with an exaggerated frown. “Perhaps we should go out and look for her.”
“No,” Wendy said firmly, pressing her leg against James’ to remind him to keep quiet and let her do the talking. “She must have gotten held up, but she said if she didn’t arrive today, she’d meet us here tomorrow morning.”
Mrs Duncan’s eyes glittered like black beetle wings in the candlelight. “Is that right.”
“Yes.” Wendy held the woman’s gaze, and after another moment Mrs Duncan stood up.
“You two still look hungry. Water isn’t enough for growing children like you.” She whisked the mugs away into the kitchen.
James looked a little excited. “D’you think she’s going to bring us beer?” he asked, then turned his head to cough against his shoulder. “I hear there are bootleggers who have secret hideaways in Arkham Woods and make all kinds of booze!”
“Ha!” The man at the far table scoffed and pointed a finger at them. Wendy’s eyes widened – she hadn’t even realized he was paying attention to them. “Bootleggers, yeah, there’s bootleggers in them woods… fewer now, though. Ever since that damn thing got wise to us… shoulda run early on, not hung back like a pillock.” He tipped his mug back and swallowed its contents down, like he was trying to drown whatever memory had captured him. Wendy felt a reluctant pang of sympathy – she’d seen folks like this before, who’d witnessed more than they could handle.
Most of them ended up dead.
“There’s things in that wood,” he went on, staring toward Wendy and James but somehow seeming to look right through them. His eyes were glassy, and his hands were clenched tight around his mug. “Things that defy nature itself. Things that can fight off a hungry flame… things that…”
“Oh, quiet down, you old fool,” Mrs Duncan said as she returned from the kitchen, frowning ferociously in his direction. “There’s no call to go scaring the children with your wild, drunken tales.” She came over to their table, shaking her head. “Men like Mr Edwards over there are exactly the reason that we’re all better off without alcohol,” she said firmly, setting two small mugs down in front of them. “It’s milk for the pair of you, fresh and warm.” James sighed and slumped a bit, but reached for the milk anyway.
“There you are.” Mrs Duncan stood back and folded her hands across her middle. “Go on. A little treat on a cold night.”
James was already downing his milk in great gulps, his reticence vanished in the face of an extravagance they rarely tasted. Wendy had a few sips as well, but she’d never cared for warm milk, and pushed her mug over to James after a moment. He needed it more anyway, being smaller and sick.
“What, is milk not to your liking?” Mrs Duncan asked with a haughty sniff. “I should know better than to – wait.” She leaned in closer. “What’s that around your neck, girl?”
“It’s…” Wendy glanced down at her amulet, almost completely covered by the neckline of her dress. Just the chain was showing… why would that be enough to interest Mrs Duncan? “It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing to me,” Mrs Duncan said, a strange gleam in her eyes. She reached a knobby hand out for Wendy’s neck, and the amulet shivered a warning against her chest. Wendy abruptly stood up, putting more distance between her and Mrs Duncan.
“It’s just a trinket from my mother,” she said stiffly. “I’d rather you not touch it.”
“A trinket, you say? Is that right?” Mrs Duncan’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t make another grab for the amulet, even though her eyes lingered there for an uncomfortable amount of time. As soon as James finished off the second mug of milk, Mrs Duncan grabbed both of them up and stalked back into the kitchen without another word.
The man at the table in the back – Mr Edwards – raised his mug toward them in solidarity. “’Ware harridans bearin’ gifts,” he said with a snicker.
“What’s a harridan?” James asked – slurred, more like. Wendy looked at him and was alarmed to see he was listing on the bench, swaying back and forth like he could hardly hold himself upright.
“James?” She reached out and grabbed his shoulder, steadying him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said irritably, batting at her hand. “I’m just…sleepy, s’all.”
“Sleepy?” He’d become sleepy fast. All of the running on top of being sick, and now a full meal and two mugs of milk had knocked him off his feet.
“Poor little thing, he looks exhausted.”
Wendy whirled around to face Mrs Duncan again, who was once more wearing her kind and genteel expression. “Why don’t I show you to your room?” she continued, pointing at the stairs. “It’s right up here.”
Wendy really didn’t want to do anything that Mrs Duncan recommended. This woman had been strange from the very moment they stepped through the door, and Wendy didn’t like the way she’d honed in on the amulet, as if she could sense its powers somehow. She wanted to grab her friend and run, to take their chances in the night rather than stay in a place that made her skin crawl with a sense of ever-increasing danger.
But James – he was practically asleep right now, and Wendy wasn’t strong enough to carry him very far. There was no way she’d leave him here alone, either. “All… alright.”
“Good, good.” Mrs Duncan reached for him, but Wendy put herself between James and that woman’s grasping hands and wrapped one of his arms over her shoulders.
“Stay upright,” she said in an undertone. “Stay awake just a little longer.”
Mrs Duncan grabbed the candle from their table and led the way up the stairs, which squeaked so much with every step it was as if a whole colony of mice were bei
ng tortured beneath them. There were six doors in the hallway they entered, and Mrs Duncan brought them to the one at the very back right of the row. She pulled a broad ring of skeleton keys out from beneath her apron and stuck one in the keyhole, twisting sharply. The door opened with a creaking sigh, and, reluctantly, Wendy brought the staggering James inside.
There was a single high window in the wooden wall, and two beds on either side of the room with a small table between them. The table had a mirror on it, and a basin and jug. “Chamberpots are under the beds,” Mrs Duncan informed Wendy, as she laid James down on the nearest bed. He immediately went limp, totally asleep before Wendy could even get his shoes off. “But there’s an extra fee for cleaning if you use them. The outhouse is just behind the hostel.”
Wendy said nothing, just pulled the thin, grayish wool blanket over James’ body. In the dim candlelight, with him gone so still so fast, the material reminded her of a shroud. She shivered at the thought of James lying on a slab in the coroner’s, just another body set aside to be identified or slid into an unmarked grave. She’d known other children on the streets who’d ended up like that, killed by pneumonia or an infected bite.
Wendy knew she wouldn’t get any sleep tonight.
“As long as you’re up,” Mrs Duncan went on, resting one hand casually against the doorframe, “I wonder if you might be willing to assist me with something. It’s been quite a while since I restocked my store of firewood, and I could use a helping hand in getting it all back here to the hostel. I would return half the price of your night’s stay as compensation,” she added.
It was a generous offer… or it would have been, if Wendy wasn’t positive that this woman was as dangerous as a viper. “I’d rather stay with James, thank you,” she said stiffly.
Mrs Duncan smiled thinly. “I think he’ll sleep far more soundly with you gone, my dear. You wouldn’t want to wake him with your thrashing around, after all. Come and help me.”
Wendy didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave James by himself, and she really didn’t want to go anywhere at all with Mrs Duncan, but if she refused her hostess, Wendy wouldn’t put it past the woman to simply grab her and pull her out of the room. What did she want? What was her plan? For there had to be some sort of plan, or why else would the woman be so terribly interested in her?
Wendy was trapped. The man downstairs – Edward, or whatever his name had been – didn’t seem like he’d be much of a help if things went bad. She couldn’t run once she got outside, because that would mean leaving James. She couldn’t stay in the room either, because there was no way to keep Mrs Duncan out of it.
She would have to play along, for now at least. Until James had slept off his post-meal malaise and she could get him to run. Perhaps she could lose Mrs Duncan in the woods…
“Well, girl?” Mrs Duncan snapped.
“Yes, I’ll help you, ma’am,” Wendy said slowly. “Of course.” Her amulet suddenly quivered against her breastbone, and it took every bit of self-control she had not to clutch at it.
“Good, good!” The bright, pleased expression was back on Mrs Duncan’s face, as out of place there as pearls on a pig. “Come downstairs and I’ll get what we need.”
Wendy took one last longing look at James, hoping to see him coming out of it, stirring and ready to run… but he was so deeply asleep now that he was snoring, drool starting to pool in the corner of his mouth and run out onto the bedclothes.
“Coming, girl?”
Wendy nodded and straightened her shoulders, then turned and walked out of the room. Mrs Duncan stayed behind long enough to lock the door again – lock James in – before they both headed down the stairs. “It’s for his own protection,” Mrs Duncan said blithely as she caught Wendy’s worried look back. “I’ve had issues with sleepwalkers before. Wouldn’t want him to tumble down these stairs and crack his little head open, would we?”
Once they were onto the main level again, Mrs Duncan opened the door of the closet built under the stairs and reached inside. Her hand emerged wrapped around the haft of a wood axe, probably three feet long, with a thick handle and a crusty blade that seemed to have… bits sticking to it. Bits of wood? Bits of… something else? Wendy couldn’t tell.
The man at the table watched the two of them with bleary, unconcerned eyes. It would do no good to appeal to him. If he wasn’t drunk, then he was so lost in his own head he probably couldn’t see what was happening anyway.
Mrs Duncan took out a strange reddish cloak and threw it over her shoulders, fastening the clasp in the corner to hold it in place, then shouldered the axe and smiled again at Wendy. “Let’s be off, then. The sooner we get the firewood, the sooner you’ll be back safe with your little brother.”
“Woods ain’t no good place t’ go at night,” the man at the table suddenly opined. “The things there… the ungodly things, the men with the… with the…”
“Shut up, you fool,” Mrs Duncan hissed at him as she grabbed Wendy by the shoulder and propelled her toward the front door. “Don’t scare the girl. There’s nothing in that wood to be afraid of, nothing at all.”
“Not if you’re on its side, I reckon,” the man mumbled, just as Mrs Duncan slammed the door shut behind them.
She took a deep breath, then looked at Wendy and said, “I should know better than to take in people like that. People who’ve been stricken by delirium,” she added. “He’s been out of his cups for too long, I daresay. Probably get quivers and shivers and who knows what next?” She smiled again. “Aren’t you glad your little brother is locked up safe and sound, just in case?”
“I… Yes,” Wendy choked out. She was starting to tremble herself. All we wanted was a safe place to rest for one night, just one. Now it seemed like she’d fallen into Hell instead. She looked anxiously up and down the street, checking to see if someone, if anyone, could be called out to, could be appealed to for help.
There was no one out at all, no one other than a dog gnawing on something long and thick near the alley. Mrs Duncan shouted at it and the dog shied away, whimpering, then ran as they walked past where it had been chewing at a bone of some kind. It was a surprisingly big bone, long enough to belong in a human arm or a leg. Wendy shivered, unable to hold back from grabbing her amulet now. It was dark enough out that Mrs Duncan probably wouldn’t notice.
“Come along, then.” Mrs Duncan tightened her grip on Wendy’s shoulder and propelled her toward the edge of Arkham Woods. Despite how close the forest was to the main street of Uptown, there didn’t seem to be any visible paths leading into it, nothing to show where people had gone before.
The moment they stepped under the canopy of trees, all the moonlight filtering through the patchwork clouds above seemed to vanish completely. It was as dark as a sewer or the bilge of a ship, dark as a tomb in here. Wendy tripped over a root, then another. “Please, I can’t… I can’t see where we’re going,” she pleaded, shying away from Mrs Duncan’s heavy hand. The woman’s fingers only dug in more firmly, pressing bruises into Wendy’s clammy skin.
“Just stay close to me,” Mrs Duncan instructed her in a brisk voice. “I know the way. I’ve traveled this route plenty of times, and no one’s broken anything on the way there yet.”
Her phrasing wasn’t at all comforting. Wendy knew she had to escape… but she needed to get Mrs Duncan deeper into the woods before she made her play, or her chances of beating her back to the hostel became even fainter.
Courage, my darling girl. Courage!
The memory of her mother’s last words as she was pulled away from Wendy stuck with her, and the amulet was a source of warmth and comfort in the startling chill of the eerily silent forest. Wendy firmed her aching shoulders and did her best to steady her steps, looking around to search for landmarks among the trees. The darkness made her efforts next to useless, but having something to do helped her control her fear.
They wal
ked for another few minutes without speaking before Wendy finally gathered the breath to ask, “Haven’t we gone far enough?”
Mrs Duncan chuckled, her voice deep and strangely resonant against the trees, as though it were being amplified by something. Or wait… was that just her voice that Wendy was hearing now, or was someone else out there? Multiple someones, singing… or no, wait. Chanting.
“I think you know by now that we aren’t here for firewood, child,” Mrs Duncan said, her smug satisfaction plain to hear. “Your little ‘trinket’ made that clear, didn’t it? You’re going to play a much more important role than acting as my mule.”
There it was. Confirmation of Wendy’s fears, straight from the mouth of the loathsome woman herself. If she had been James, she would have been surprised and dismayed to experience such a betrayal. As it was, Wendy felt oddly vindicated. My amulet was right. It’s always right about danger.
Mrs Duncan went on, “And if you don’t want your little brother to be next, you won’t–” Whatever threat she’d been about to level was cut off as she herself suddenly slipped on the mossy ground, cursing as she fell forward. Wendy’s already racing heart leapt against her chest, and she seized the moment to wrench her shoulder out of Mrs Duncan’s grasp.
As soon as the woman wasn’t holding onto her, it was somehow a little easier to see. She noticed a fallen branch just a few feet away and bent down to grasp it, but before she could wrap her hand around it, Mrs Duncan grabbed her by the hair and wrenched her upright.
“You’re trying to run the wrong way,” she hissed in Wendy’s ear, brandishing the axe menacingly. “You’re needed in the clearing, child. Now come along nicely and don’t try to escape again, or… Argh!”
Wendy raked the heel of her boot along Mrs Duncan’s shin, stomping down hard enough to stagger the woman as she jerked away. Mrs Duncan tried to swipe at her with the axe, but she was bent forward over her injured leg and didn’t have the reach. Wendy grabbed the branch, hefted it once, then walloped Mrs Duncan across the middle with it as hard as she could, breaking the makeshift weapon over her back and knocking her down. The woman screamed with pain and rage as she fell, her free hand clawing in Wendy’s direction.
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