“What about werewolves?” Eleanor asked, half-serious.
“What about them?” Jöanth asked.
“If you get bitten by one and survive, then you also turn into one, right?”
“Not true,” Jöanth answered with a smile. “The were-DNA can only be passed on through birth, not via saliva. And even if you were a were-creature, you cannot change into any creature you wish. You are bound to a certain type of were-beast thanks to your heritage.”
“Wait,” Eleanor stopped him. “I was actually kidding. Are you saying werewolves are real?”
“Of course,” There was no hint of mischief about him. He seemed dead serious. Jöanth smiled often, but Eleanor had not heard him laugh yet.
“Do álvur have a sense of humor?” she asked, attempting to throw him a curve ball.
“Yes, although it is much more advanced than yours,” he quipped.
She eyed him for a second. They both eyed each other, pretending to be deadly serious. It didn't take long for Jöanth's mouth to start twitching in the corners. Soon after that, his facade cracked and Eleanor burst out laughing. Eleanor noticed his big smile, but that he didn't laugh with her.
“So,” she asked, hands in the air, “are you joking about the werewolf thing or not?”
“No,” he answered, his brilliant white teeth disappearing. “I am quite serious. There are were-creatures throughout the different universes. They come in different shapes and sizes. Here on Terra, too.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
“They're real,” she said it as a statement. “What else?” she asked, suddenly gripped by a morbid curiosity. This was going to cause problems when it came to sleeping, but she had to know.
“I will tell you all you want to know, however,” he held up a finger, “although this topic is fascinating, we are going off topic. We need to tackle one monster at a time.”
She nodded. “Okay,” Eleanor conceded. “But this is a conversation we're going to come back to.”
“You have my word,” he said.
Eleanor believed him. This wasn't a man who simply said something like that for the sake of saying it. Eleanor already knew that Jöanth's word was his bond.
“So, getting back to the possibility of a shape shifting svartálvur Doctor Black.”
Jöanth looked at her with obvious disbelief.
“Hold on,” she protested. “Don't discard my theory so quickly.”
She put the car in gear and decided to head for home.
“Just because you haven't heard about it or read about it in your archives, doesn't mean it can't happen. What if he was exposed to something inside the Void? Something that could have changed him?”
“Possible,” Jöanth admitted. “But highly unlikely.”
As she pulled away, she checked the mirror just in case she saw a demented Walther Black with two heads, four arms, and six legs giving chase. She sighed an inward sigh of relief when no one seemed to be following them. No one was behind them, not even the guy with the baseball cap in the Volvo station wagon she had seen twice during their patrol.
“Why is it unlikely?” she asked.
“I'm sure we would have seen such a creature before. Besides,” he paused for effect and waited for her to look at him briefly before he continued, “the Void isn't some toxic or radioactive dump site that breeds super villains.”
Eleanor looked at him from behind the wheel and clearly saw the sparkle in his eyes. Jöanth was clearly joking with her and the gesture made the world seem to shine a little brighter. It gave her hope that everything might still work out for the best.
Troy Troger didn't think it was possible, but here he was, even more confused. Why would Eleanor visit the doc after she had seemed so negative and even afraid of him? And then when he had sauntered over, why had their conversation seemed so strange? Walther's body language had looked downright hostile. Eleanor had looked extremely uncomfortable. And then Eleanor had sped off. She had literally floored the car and it had nearly spun away, tires burning.
And then there was that little wave from Eleanor. It was an almost childlike neener-neener-you-can't-catch-me, F-you wave.
And Walther had just stood there, staring at the car as it sped away. Not moving. Even after she had turned a corner two blocks down, he stood for a full minute longer, frozen in exactly the same pose, before he started moving towards his house.
Troy waited until Walther was back inside his house. He waited two full minutes, checked his sidearm and phone in that time before he got out of the Volvo. He pulled the cap low, not wanting any of the neighbors to recognize him. He crossed the street casually, making sure not to look left or right. He needed to blend in. To a casual observer, it had to look as if he belonged there. Just another guy visiting a friend or neighbor.
He walked up Walther's drive and headed to the left of the double garage, away from the house. He knew from experience that there was a small gate that led towards the back of the property. Walther had installed the gate himself, years ago, when he still had a dog as company. Boomer was now long gone and so was the chance of being discovered on that side of the property.
Troy opened the gate as Walther never locked it, and ground his teeth, waiting for the old thing to screech on rusty hinges. The noise was negligible, and Troy squeezed through. He left the gate slightly ajar, just in case he needed a speedy retreat, but he didn't leave it so far open that it would be easily noticed from the street. He just needed his luck to hold for a few minutes.
Out of habit, he curiously peered through a garage side window and saw Walther's car. The rest of the garage space was filled with boxes and knick knacks. Walther even had a workbench and some power tools in the back, but everything had a layer of dust on it. Whatever hobby occupied Walther Black, he did not pursue it in his garage.
Tearing his gaze away from the interior, Troy made his way cautiously around the garage. The backyard was empty. It was also empty of flowers, shrubs and trees. Walther still only had a lawn in the back. Not much had changed in the ten or so months since Troy had last been here. As a physician, Walther was always on call. He had never married and had never had a knack for gardening. It was thus easier just to have a lawn and nothing more. The neighbors at least had trees, and these offered some shade to the exposed expanse of grassland. Barbecues at Walther's had always been a sweaty affair.
The house was built in an L-shape, with the garage extending at the foot. The double garage was flush against the front of the house, but at the back, the house was a straight line. This meant that on this side of the house, he could only be seen from three possible windows. Higher up, on the first floor, one window belonged to a spare bedroom. Farther along, next to the spare bedroom, was a tinted bathroom window with drawn blinds. Finally, on the ground floor, closest to him, was a large dining room window that looked out onto the backyard. The window had its curtains open. Troy felt confident about his chances of not being seen.
As silently as he could, he made his way to the dining room window. From experience, Troy knew that the kitchen and a back door would be adjacent to the dining room. From his vantage point, which was pressed flatly against the back wall, he couldn't see either of them. For now, he just wanted a peek inside the house from the dining room. From this angle there wasn't much to see except for a part of the kitchen through one of the two doors leading to and from the dining room. If he moved to the other side of the big window, then he would be able to see down the length of the hallway, all the way to the front door. He tucked his neck and shoulders in and crab-like scuttled to the other side of the window, hoping he hadn't been seen.
Troy wasn't sure what he hoped to see. If he was honest with himself, he didn't know why he was sneaking around in the backyard of one of his old friends. Sure, they had sort of drifted apart ever since the damned Covid thing and its lockdowns, but there had never been any reason for Troy to question Walther Black. The man had an impeccable reputation. He was loved by all
. He was a damned good doctor who went the extra mile for his patients and their families and he had probably saved more lives than all the fire and police personnel combined in this town. He was a local hero. A town treasure.
And yet, here he was. Sneaking around like a thief, peering into windows for who knows what. Troy felt like a douche and was about to call it quits on this lunacy when he noticed something. The afternoon setting sun reflected off something in the hallway. It was glass. Shards of glass lay all over the floor.
This was unlike Walther. If he had broken a mirror, or glass vase, or framed photograph, he would have cleaned it up immediately. And this couldn't have happened just now, Troy would have heard it. Or would he have? The windows were all closed. Which was also weird. And then he realized that the front of the house was wrapped in shadows. He hadn't noticed it before, but all the front curtains had been drawn. The only light that seeped into the house seemed to be coming from the dining room window.
Why would Walther live in such perpetual darkness? He had never done so before. Was it because of the night shifts he often worked at the hospital and he needed to sleep during the day? Surely you don't need the entire house to be dark?
Besides, Troy knew for a fact that Walther had blackout, heavy curtains in his bedroom. He had boasted about them over a hand of cards once. How it felt like midnight during the middle of the day with them drawn. If Walther needed darkness during the day, all he had to do was retreat to his bedroom.
This gloom didn't make sense. This wasn't like Walther. He had a sunny disposition. His house was all wrong. Instantly, it all felt wrong to Troy.
He was suddenly overcome by the compulsion to leave immediately. The hair at the back of his neck was standing up, and for some reason, instinct told him he should not be here when the sun set.
Ridiculous! Troy scoffed inside his head. What is this now? Did he think Walther was some kind of vampire? A ghoul? A monster that came out at night?
It was the stuff that little boys made up when they wanted to scare each other around a campfire. This wasn't what a grown man, a sheriff no less, should be thinking. And yet, the superstitious feeling would not subside. Instead, it got worse. Every fiber within his being seemed to be telling him to run. He was about to give in, to relent to the unnerving fear, when there was movement within the shadows of the house and he froze. Instinct ordered his body not to move and he obeyed.
Walther appeared in the hallway. He stopped amongst the broken shards of glass and looked at a frame on the wall.
Troy was immediately worried that he would be spotted. The sun was behind him, but luckily it cast the shadow of his spying head inside the dining room and not into the hallway. He returned his attention to the curious scene before him.
Had there been a mirror? Troy couldn't remember with certainty. He could see the outlines of a frame in the hallway and Walther was staring at it. Troy supposed it was a mirror, or at least the remnants of one.
Walther turned his head this way and that, as if searching for the right angle with which to see his face. Troy was now convinced that Walther was indeed looking at the shards of a broken mirror.
Then Walther started touching his face. Poking at it. Pulling at the skin. Stretching it in places. He seemed to be looking at himself as if in a morbid fascination. Sometimes he would smile, as if intrigued by what he saw. At other times, he would snarl at himself. And then he started to undress. Walther started with his socks and shoes, ignoring the glass fragments on the carpet by his feet. Then followed his pants and boxer shorts. For a moment, as Walther was lifting his shirt over his head, Troy resisted the urge to bolt. He had a chance at a clean break away. He wouldn't be seen, but instead, he stayed and watched like some sick voyeur spying on his neighbors.
As soon as Walther Black was naked, Troy wished that he had listened to his instincts and run.
The interior was drenched in shadow, but Troy could still see well enough. Walther's skin started to bubble. Huge welts appeared all over. They expanded and became pulsing boils, some of them the size of dinner plates. Troy could do nothing but stare in horror.
This is unnatural. It's unreal. It's not happening, his mind kept chanting.
Soon the boils covered Walther's entire body from head to toe. They had even replaced the thinning hair that had been on the man's head. And then the boils turned black. They didn't explode in gallons of yellow puss and thick blood, but instead, they seemed to even out. Walther's body expanded and became bigger. The boils becoming thick, scale-like skin.
Troy couldn't see the exact details, there wasn't enough light, he couldn’t see his old friend's face anymore, but he could see enough to know that Walther Black no longer existed. In his stead, something dark and foreboding was taking shape. A huge hulk of a creature that seemed to fill the entire hallway. It was extremely broad shouldered, had huge muscular arms and legs and a hairless head with an elongated overly large mouth, that was still extending. Troy was reminded of the werewolf movies he had so loved as a teenager. This was reminiscent of it, albeit that this wolfman was changing into a hybrid cross between an alligator and the Hulk. Huge claws extended out of powerful hands, the thing lifted its head towards the ceiling and opened its eyes. The eyes were wrong though. They were on the side of its head. And they were a deep, burning orange. Troy looked straight into the fiery pits of hell. The thing blinked and then turned its head in his direction.
Troy turned away from the window, running for his life. He knew the thing, whatever it was, had spotted him. Ducking and leopard-crawling away would not help. It was time for a balls to the walls frantic escape.
Most people's first instinct would have been to run away from the monster, but Troy knew that death awaited him if he were to head into the backyard. Where would he go? Jump over into a neighbor's yard? And, then what?
No, there was a bigger chance that he would be mauled and torn limb from limb in a backyard. His only chance was making it to the front yard to the street where there were cars and people out walking and even sitting out on their porches.
So, he ran back the way he had come. As fast as he could. Not even bothering with unholstering his sidearm and keeping it at hand. He needed all the speed he could muster and didn't want anything to slow him down.
Thank God! I left the little side gate open, he thought as he made the corner of the garage and sprinted down the short, grassy alleyway. I won't have to try and jump over it.
Troy ran with everything he had, but expected the thing to round the corner in front of him at any second, blocking off his escape. Nearing the gate, he didn't slow down. Instead of going through the gate with caution, afraid of what might be bearing down upon him from the driveway, Troy burst recklessly and at full speed through the gate. He didn't run into anything. Nothing plowed into him. He kept going in a straight line along the edge of Walther Black's property, heading for the Volvo and what he hoped would be salvation.
Troy still didn't dare look left or right. He was afraid even that small movement would slow him down. He needed to make up time for when he needed to get the keys out of his pocket and into the ignition. He cursed his state salary under his breath. If he had earned more, he could have had one of those fancy keyless start vehicles, where you just pushed a button to get the engine roaring to life, even if the key wasn't in your hand.
It's toying with you! His mind screamed as he ran across the road at full speed, hoping that a car might hit him so that he could have people around him. Maybe the thing would back off then.
It should have had you by now! Run you down and ripped your head from your shoulders.
He kept worrying, tucking his head a little tighter between his shoulders, his jaw locked together, muscles tense, waiting for the impact that was sure to come.
But no bone crushing blow came. Neither from a car or some unknown thing that shouldn't exist. Was this the thing that hurt my Jimmy? he thought briefly. That brief burst of anger spurred him on across the road.
&
nbsp; Jimmy! I'm coming kiddo, he thought as he opened the driver's door of the station wagon. He was in the process of sidestepping the door and looking over his shoulder, enjoying a half-second of elation when he didn't see anything pursuing him, when an invisible freight train drove painfully into him, expelling the breath from his lungs, crushing his body against the car and slamming the door shut at the same time. His body brutally hit the edge of the door panels, as his midriff and chest seemed to be crushed on the curve where door and roof met. A split second later, his head came whipping forward, slamming onto the roof with such a force that it left a round dent, as if a bowling ball had been dropped from a great height.
The world went dark in an instant.
CHAPTER 42
“Time flies when you're having fun, right?” Eleanor said as they were sitting around her kitchen table again.
Jöanth looked at her with a frown.
“Look at the time already,” she said, indicating the clock above the gas stove. “Daylight is almost over.”
Jöanth nodded. “Not that it was much fun. I would say it was a rather unproductive day.”
“Oh, come now,” Eleanor countered. “We got up late,” she saw his eyebrows rise again and she smiled, holding up her hands in brief surrender. “Okay, I slept late. We had a good meeting with the girls over a high tea and then we tracked your svartálvur down to Doctor Black's house.”
“We do not know for certain that it is him, but,” Jöanth conceded, “it would seem the most logical deduction with the information available. I just don't like making assumptions, that is all.”
Stirring Embers: An urban fantasy action adventure (The Light and the Void Book 1) Page 29