A TIME FOR REFLECTIONS
G. R. LINDEN
December 22, 1881
While he would never admit it to himself, Lewis was frightened. He was about to enter a brand-new world and he had no idea what to expect. Already he felt things changing: the white snow on the banks giving way to brown drudge, the crisp, chill air becoming a warm, wet blanket that seemed to engulf you no matter where you were. It was December, and if the weather here was so decidedly odd, what would the rest of his new home be like? Not for the first time Lewis wished his pa was there with him.
But Pa was dead, and Mother didn’t want him around anymore. So here he was, shipped off to stay with his mother’s brother, a man he had never met before.
The breath left him as he caught his first sight of the strange cityscape he would be calling home. It was dirtier than St. Louis had been, busier too. But for all its grime, there was a beauty to it, an unquantifiable mystique that made him forget the apprehensions that had gripped him only moments ago. Not for the first time he wondered what his new life in New Orleans would entail.
The sharp shriek of the steamboat whistle shocked him, nearly causing him to jump out of his shoes. He fought to regain his composure as his cheeks turned red under the condescending looks of the nearby adult passengers. Lewis gathered his luggage and joined his fellow travelers in preparing to disembark.
As the steamboat sidled into the dock, Lewis tried to get a better look at his new habitat, but his vision was blocked at every turn. One man even knocked over his luggage before yelling at Lewis to stay out of the way of his betters and muttering something about pathetic orphans and being underfoot. That man would find his pocket watch gone the next time he went to look for it.
Pickpocketing wasn’t something they taught good lads at school. Lewis had learned it from some kids he’d met after Pa died, what his mother had called a “bad crowd.” It was part of the reason she’d sent him away.
It wasn’t that Lewis didn’t know stealing was wrong. He was simply of the opinion that being mean was wrong-er.
When the boat was finally moored, Lewis had to fight tooth and nail just to remain upright against the throng of disembarking humanity. His knuckles turned white from his efforts to hold on to his luggage. He managed to fight himself free and get to a quiet place on the docks.
His eyes darted through the crowd, looking for someone who was looking for him
The problem was that Lewis had no idea who he was supposed to be looking for. He’d never met his uncle and had only an old photograph his mother had given him to identify the man from. Standing on his tiptoes did little to help matters. Why did adults have to be so tall?
“Lewis! Lewis Everhart!” The sound came roaring out of the crowd like an orchestral overture. It took Lewis a second to locate the source of the booming bass that called his name, but only a second.
The voice belonged to a man of mixed origin who stood a hand above the rest of the multitude. The top hat he wore accentuated his height in the same way his too-tight sky-blue vest highlighted his portliness. His suit was blood-red, and where his tie should have been hung a loose collection of what looked to Lewis a lot like bones. Lewis dismissed this thought as merely a trick of the distance. No civilized man wore bones around his neck.
Like Moses parting the Red Sea, the crowd gave way before him. Lewis had never seen white men give way to a mulatto before. He thought it was rather grand. Lewis also thought that Mother wouldn’t approve at all, which made the whole thing doubly grand.
The man locked eyes on him as if he had known where Lewis was all along. When Lewis said the man was big, he didn’t just mean that he was tall or wide; he meant that this man was big in a way that people felt in their souls. There was a presence about him.
A young couple shyly held up their baby to the man as he passed. He stopped, said a few words, and traced something on the baby’s head. The child’s parents seemed overcome and began kissing his hands, but he gently waived them on their way and he continued toward Lewis.
Now that the behemoth of a man was standing in front of him, Lewis could see clearly that he was indeed wearing a necklace made of bones.
Lewis gulped as the man opened his mouth to speak.
“Ah, young Master Everhart, you’ve got de same energy as your uncle about you. I’d recognize it anywhere. Allow me te introduce me self. I am Doctor Antoine Laveau at your service.” Doctor Laveau removed his top hat and made a deep, formal bow.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Laveau.” Lewis tried to match the bow and almost fell over.
“Please call me Antoine.” The burly man picked up Lewis’ luggage. “Come now. I will take you te your uncle. He wanted ta collect you himself, but he has much work still te do if he is ta succeed dis night.”
“Succeed?” Lewis had absolutely no idea what Antoine was talking about and the man’s strange accent wasn’t helping.
“You have arrived on an evening dat is most auspicious. Tonight your uncle means ta see beyond de veil and in ta de realms beyond.”
“Oh.” Not really knowing what to say to that Lewis simply fell silent. His new home made less and less sense to him by the moment.
As their carriage made its way through the crowded cobblestone streets, Lewis struggled to pay attention to the history lesson that Antoine was offering him. Rather, his focus lay with the marvelous and strange architecture that surrounded them.
They passed a beautiful cathedral that looked like nothing Lewis had seen before, and the streets were lined with balconies where he could see a wide array of peoples relaxing and looking out on the people below.
Perhaps what struck Lewis the most were the Christmas wreaths he saw on every gas lamp. To him it was the most incredible oddity to see a city covered in holly and wreaths with no snow on the ground.
As they moved out of what Antoine had called the French Quarter, the wrought iron facades and colorful two-story buildings gave way to larger, more American-looking buildings. Antoine had stopped his history lesson and gone back to talking about Lewis’ uncle.
“Gideon is a brilliant man, but he is misunderstood by many. Dey laugh at his theories and ask for proof. When he brings dem proof, dey decry it as a fabrication. Dey mock what dey do not understand. But dough dey may ridicule his theories, dey respect your uncle. Some of dem even fear him. You know how I know dis?”
Lewis did not. He indicated this by staring blankly back at Doctor Laveau, who by the speed with which he carried on, apparently meant the question to be a rhetorical one anyway.
“Because when dey speak of your uncle, when dey speak of de foolish Professor Gideon Giles and his far-fetched experiments, dey do so in a whisper.” Antione’s words were laced with menace but were not as off-putting as the laughter that followed them.
Lewis wasn’t sure what Antoine meant by telling him all this. He knew that his mother was not overly fond of her brother and considered him an embarrassment. In Lewis’ mind that was a point in his uncle’s favor. The truth was he knew very little about his Uncle Gideon, other than he had fought in the war and was now a professor of some kind.
Their mud-spattered carriage pulled up to a mansion that would have been described as palatial if not for the general sense of foreboding it exuded. Where the other estates they had passed looked bright and classical in their design, his uncle’s was more Gothic in nature. It would have been far more at home in medieval Europe than modern America.
Antoine walked him to the door as the footman collected Lewis’ baggage. The knocker looked comically small in his gargantuan hand as he banged it three times.
The door opened and a small, matronly looking woman appeared. She gave a quick glance at Antoine before taking a long look at Lewis.
“Ah, Doctor Laveau, you have delivered our weary traveler. The professor will be most grateful to you. You’ll find him in the laboratory. He was anxious that you attend to him immediately upon your return.” The woman’s words were sharp and clear, enunciating each word with clipped precision.
“Den I leave you in Mrs. Dunham’s capable care, young Lewis.” Antoine gave Lewis’ back a pat and made his way into the house.
“Right this way, Master Everheart. Your uncle had me fix up one of the upstairs rooms for you.” Lewis followed Mrs. Dunham closely, certain that he did not want to become lost in this place. Myriad stuffed animal heads were mounted on the walls. Some he recognized easy enough: bears, lions, alligators, and the like. But some were decidedly strange: the impossibly large head of a spider, the impossibly small head of a bull, and a just plain impossible head that looked to be an elephant with antlers and an extra eye. Lewis thought the shadows must be playing tricks on him because he would have sworn that the heads were watching him as he climbed the stairs.
“Here we are. Prepared especially for you. You’ll find your luggage in the corner. I’ll let you get settled. Dinner is at six.” Lewis simply nodded as Mrs. Dunham went through her checklist. His attention was engaged by the small firearm that was resting on his pillow, a firearm that Mrs. Dunham seemed to be taking no notice of at all.
The housekeeper left him, and Lewis walked slowly toward the bed. He was certain that if he moved too quickly, the pistol would disappear, proving to be a figment of his overactive imagination. When he finally reached it, Lewis took it carefully in his hands. He could tell by the weight that it wasn’t loaded.
He examined it carefully. It was a beautiful piece, silver-plated and balanced perfectly. Lewis hadn’t held a gun since before his pa had died.
“My father gave me that gun when I was your age.”
Lewis turned with a start. Standing in the doorway was his uncle. The man was older than he had looked in the photo Lewis’ mother had given him, but he was still possessed of a wiry frame and a certain air of youthful sophistication. It was the eyes that gave him away, dark brown eyes that somehow managed to be hard and curious at the same time.
“Truth be told, I almost killed your mother with that a few times. Fortunately for you, I was a rather awful shot back then.” Lewis couldn’t tell whether or not his uncle was joking. “Consider it an early Christmas present. I assume you know how to shoot?”
“Pa taught me a little, but Mother forbade it once she found out.” And Lewis hated her for it.
“That sounds like my sister dear. Very well. I’ll take you out for target practice starting tomorrow. No sense you losing an appendage out of ignorance.” His uncle pulled a whistle out of his pocket and put it to his mouth. “I have one more present for you.”
Gideon blew the whistle twice and looked expectantly down the hallway. A few seconds later a rather large Border collie came bounding into Gideon’s arms. Lewis’ uncle dropped to one knee and petted the exuberant dog for a few seconds before commanding him to sit.
“Lewis, I’d like you to meet your newest companion. I’m afraid I’ve never been particularly good at naming things, so it’s up to you to decide what to call him.” Lewis needed less than a moment to answer.
“I’d like to call him Will, if that’s all right. After my father.”
“I think Will is a fine name for a dog.” His uncle smiled then gave a sharp cough. “There, that’s done then. I’ve always said there are three things a boy your age needs: a gun, a dog, and an education. I’ve taken care of the first two, and tonight we’ll get to work on the third. Dinner is at six sharp and Mrs. Dunham abhors tardiness. I’ll leave you to get acquainted with your new friend.”
Dinner came too quickly for Lewis, but not wanting to make a bad impression on his first night in his new home, he pulled himself away from Will and managed to get dressed and downstairs in time.
Dinner consisted of pork chops smothered in some kind of gravy, a new species of pepper Lewis had never seen, stuffed with cheese and beef, and a serving of what Antoine had called jambalaya. It was all delicious and a vast improvement on the disappointingly small portions of soup Lewis had been eating on the way down the river. It was safe to say that the food on Lewis’ plate had his undivided attention.
Which was good because he had only a fleeting comprehension of what Gideon and Antoine were discussing.
“I accept that there are things beyond the current understanding of science, but I will not accept that this will always be the case. To the first cave dwellers fire seemed to be a gift from the gods. The sun, the moon, and the stars were all worshiped before we came to understand them for what they really are. Gravity itself baffled the scientific community and was held to be merely an extension of God’s will until a man of intellect proved otherwise. What you call mysticism is merely a state of natural laws that we have yet to unravel.”
“Science is a powerful ding, Professor. ’Dis is true, but it does not solve all de mysteries of God’s creation. De spirits are here te guide us, but dey will not be chained by man’s laws.”
Gideon guffawed at Antoine’s assertions. “God is a myth. These spirits of yours are no more than apparitions. Imprints of consciousness left behind. No more than energy trapped between our reality and another.” His uncle said in rebuttal.
“God is all around you, Professor. You simply choose not te believe. Tonight you will have de proof you need.” Antoine spoke with supreme confidence.
“Yes, I very much believe I will.”
The conversation continued but became increasingly more technical and centered on the specifics of this great experiment that was to occur after supper. And thus it was increasingly beyond Lewis’ ability to comprehend.
Lewis let his thoughts dwell on his uncle’s statement that God was a myth. He had never heard anyone speak such a thought out loud. While it was true that his mother had been more interested in church activities than his pa, his father had been able to quote his Scripture by chapter and verse and had insisted that Lewis be able to do the same.
But with his father dead and his mother run off to San Francisco in search of a rich husband, he wondered if there really was a God after all. And if there was, why was everyone so certain he was benevolent?
After dinner Lewis, with Will now at his side, was ushered down to what he presumed to be his uncle’s laboratory. He could only presume because, while it seemed unlikely to be anything else, it also looked nothing like what Lewis thought a scientific laboratory should look like.
Incense burned throughout the room, combining with the odd bits of steam that various gadgets and doodads were popping out, to make the lab’s atmosphere heavy and difficult to breathe. Where Lewis would have expected to find the shelves lined with beakers and sundries, instead they were lined with hollowed-out skulls and other, more unfamiliar oddities. The far wall was perhaps the most surprising as it served as a rack for a variety of heavily modified firearms.
Lewis highly doubted that this room was typical for a university professor.
“Stand by the door. If you see fire, ghosts, or any unnatural atmospheric occurrences, run and get Mrs. Dunham. Understood?” The oddness of his uncle’s command was overshadowed by the severity of its delivery.
“Yes sir,” Lewis responded fairly bewildered.
Gideon double-checked his equipment while Antoine drew a circle and some other markings on the floor. From his spot in the doorway it was difficult for Lewis to see what they might be. When he was done, he positioned himself in the center of the circle, sat down cross-legged, and began mixing various herbs and liquids. Gideon paced impatiently and looked over the equipment twice more before Antoine spoke.
“I am ready te begin, Professor. May de spirits smile upon us.” Antoine produced a flask from his pocket and took a swig before handing it to Gideon.
“Here’s to not blowing ourselves up.” His uncle took his own long tug on the flask and threw the switch attached to a large piece of machinery. Cords ran from the machine to two separate brackets that stood on opposite sides of the room.
The machine and Antione began to hum in unison as the lights flickered and dimmed.
“Come on, work, damn you, work,” came his uncle’s quiet imploring. Antoine ceased his humming and began chanting in a powerful voice and blowing some sort of white powder into the air.
The laboratory crackled with energy. Sparks flew from various pieces of equipment. Will whined and barked from behind Lewis’ legs, the poor creature frightened out of his mind. Gideon cackled as Antoine continued his chanting, calling to unknown spirits. Madness had taken hold of the room and only Lewis seemed to notice or care.
Colors began to swirl as the energy coalesced at the center of his uncle’s contraption. A horizontal funnel of electricity and fire appeared out of thin air, boring a hole through reality itself. Wind rushed around the room, sending papers flying all around.
A maddening cacophony of unholy shrieks attacked his ears. Lewis tried to cover them, but to no avail. The screams reached him no matter what he tried, drilling through his every defense and straight into his soul.
The cyclone expanded until its edges were touching Gideon’s machines. Suddenly the funnel snapped back and locked into place, creating a wall of electricity and fire at the center of the lab.
Distorted images began to appear in the brackets, flickering fragments of creatures and people that should have been impossible for them to view.
The images came into focus and the room calmed. Before them, bracketed by his uncle’s invention and humming with the power of Antoine’s spirits, was a vision of an unearthly wasteland.
“It worked,” was Gideon’s breathless reply to the successful culmination of his maniacal endeavor.
Lewis left the safety of the doorway and a still whimpering Will and stepped toward his uncle’s experiment. In a voice of awe and wonder he spoke his first words since this lunacy had begun.
“What is it?”
“That is another dimension.” Smug satisfaction filled his uncle’s words.
“You uncle has built a window into de mind of God.”
“Nonsense. It’s not a window. It’s a mirror. A mirror that shows us the reflections of all our might-have-beens. Observe.” Gideon walked over to one of the brackets and began adjusting dials. As he did, the image changed.
A group of children were playing a game of baseball in a park. The children were from all different backgrounds: black, white, mixed, even a few Chinese boys among them. Standing by the foul line, watching over everyone, was grey-haired Antoine smiling from ear to ear.
“Not a bad find for de first attempt,” said Antoine, wearing the same exact smile his mirrored self wore.
“You don’t even like baseball,” was Gideon’s teasingly gruff reply.
“No, but I do enjoy seeing de little ones enjoying demselves,” Antoine pointed out with a hearty laugh.
“If I wanted to watch a baseball game, I’d go to the park. Let’s see if we can’t find something a bit more worthy of our genius, shall we?” Gideon turned the dials and a new moving portrait came into focus.
A man walked across a field of corpses, dressed in grey and blue. He moved frantically, searching the faces of the bodies. When he found the one he was looking for, he fell to his knees and began to weep uncontrollably. Lewis realized the man they saw was Gideon, only much younger. Younger even than the picture his mother had given him.
Gideon shifted the dials and the picture changed again.
Lewis gasped. The new image showed Lewis sitting in front of a Christmas tree, digging through his stocking. His mother was there, laughing and handing Lewis more presents to open. In the corner of the room, sitting in a rocking chair as if he didn’t have a care in the world, was his father.
He felt Antoine’s firm grip on his shoulder. He couldn’t tell if it was meant to be reassuring, or if it was there to keep him from running headlong into his favorite dream.
“It’s not real, Lewis. It’s nothing but a mirage.” His uncle’s words rang hollow in is ears. It wasn’t a mirage. His father was right there. Close enough to touch.
He didn’t realize his hand had been reaching out to do just that until Antoine knocked it away. Gideon quickly reset the dials on his machine and the image became a wall of red and blue energy.
“I think that’s enough for tonight. Antoine, why don’t you take Lewis up to bed while I clean up down here.”
Numbly, Lewis allowed himself to be led away from the life he had always wanted.
*
Just before midnight, after everyone else had gone to bed, Lewis snuck back down to his uncle’s laboratory. The blue-red wall still hummed, its glow lighting the otherwise darkened room. Carefully he moved the dials the way his uncle had until he had again found the image of his family. He sat there for hours, watching them open presents, play with his new toys, eat Christmas dinner. Smiling and laughing. Being a family.
Sometime after he had run out of tears, but before dawn, Lewis heard a noise coming from down the hall. Not wanting to be caught playing with his uncle’s experiment, he rushed out of the laboratory and back to his room, completely forgetting to reset the dials on the mirror.
December 23, 1881
Lewis didn’t see his reflection reach for the mirror’s edge. He didn’t smell the skin burning as his doppelganger’s hand crossed the portal’s threshold and entered our world. He didn’t know that the happy life he had seen for himself had been a lie, a fabrication concocted by a creature so desperate to escape Hell that it would endure the flesh melting off its bones to be liberated from its torments. Nor did he know that after the demon had suffered through such an ordeal, it would hunger. No, Lewis was ignorant of all these things and one more. Lewis also didn’t know that Mrs. Dunham always awoke in the early hours of the morning to bake fresh bread for the day.
*
After a night of unsettling dreams, Lewis opened his eyes at Will’s insistent nuzzling. The Border collie was whimpering with some urgency. Lewis dressed quickly and followed his new pup down the stairs.
The first thing to hit him was the smell, a layer of stench that coated the entire first floor of the house. Vile, putrid air filled his nostrils and roiled his insides. Lewis blocked out the smell as best he could and continued down the stairs. If Will could manage it with his canine sense of smell, then so could Lewis.
Further and further into the house they went, finding more and more signs of distress. Bookcases and end tables were strewn about, haphazardly knocked over by some unknown force. Fingernail scratches laced the walls, marring the beautiful woodwork Lewis had been introduced to only the day before.
Finally they came upon his uncle. Gideon stood like a statue in the doorway, oblivious to their approach. Still whimpering, Will stayed in the hallway as Lewis moved past his uncle and into the kitchen, a decision that he immediately regretted.
Horrifying could not begin to describe the tableau of gore that lay before him. Mrs. Dunham’s body lay in front of the stove. She had been ripped open and unburdened of her internal organs. The few ribs that had not been broken were now protruding from her hollowed-out corpse at an angle of ninety degrees. Her head lay a few feet away. It was only missing its tongue. Mrs. Dunham’s eyes remained open, forever imprinted with the terror of her final moments. Lewis’ stomach heaved. He managed to swallow down the vomit, but the taste of bile lingered in his mouth. He stepped out of the room, fearing that he would be unable to keep control of another such outburst.
There was a heavy knocking at the door and unseen chimes began ringing throughout the house. Will barked at the noise, and Lewis was sure that his pup shared his master’s fear and discomfort.
The noise jolted Gideon from his dire contemplations, and finally he too stepped away from the terrible scene.
“That will be the police. Perhaps it’s best if you took Will to the library, keep him out of the way while they’re here. I’ll join you shortly.”
Lewis knew that the task was meant to keep them both out of the way and he would normally bristle at being condescended to, but in this particular instance he was grateful to his uncle for the opportunity to get as far away from this horrid scene as possible.
Lewis only took three wrong turns on his way to the library. The further from the smell they got, the more Will seemed to perk up, though his new pup was still quite rattled from the experience.
They sat in silence in the library as the police did their work. Nearly an hour had gone by when his uncle stepped through the door, with Antoine trailing in his wake.
“Yours were not de only ill words ta reach me doorstep dis morning. Der were two other poor souls ta share Mrs. Dunham’s fate last night.”
“Tell me,” was Gideon’s cold response to the disturbing news.
“Remi St. Croix was found in de basement of Touro, ripped te shreds, and pieces of Walter Jackson were found in tree different rooms of de iron works on Tchoupitoulas. Der be no coincidence about dis Professor. Dis be the work of Loa. We have unleashed de evil spirits on our home. Dis blood be on our hands.” Antoine trembled as he spoke the last words.
“What exactly we’ve unleashed is yet to be assessed. But I do agree with you that this is no coincidence and the burden of guilt is ours to bear.”
Lewis felt a sinking feeling in his gut. If these murders were a result of his uncle’s mirror, then they were Lewis’ fault. He’d been the one to sneak back down and play with the dials. Lewis wanted to say something but held his tongue. Gideon was his uncle, but he’d only met the man last night. What did one say at a time like this? How could he tell his uncle that he was responsible for these people’s horrible deaths?
“Three murders in three different wards. Even if we lucked upon a group of honest officers, they won’t know what they’re truly up against. How could they if we don’t even know? Without our involvement there is no chance that this does not become a bloodbath of Biblical scale. Besides which is the matter of a debt to be repaid.” Gideon paused for moment. “Lewis, grab your pistol. We’re going out.”
“Out” by Gideon’s definition was the crime scene closest to his residence, a hospital called Touro Infirmary. Lewis’ first full day in New Orleans was not going as he had expected. It was shocking to him that his uncle could be so untouched by the gruesome murder of his housekeeper, but if the man felt any emotion at all, he was keeping it buried deep inside.
The approach to the hospital was clogged by a crowd of gawkers and hysterical citizens. A line of stalwart officers had their batons out and were quite literally beating the mob back with a stick. With a mix of contempt and frustration, Gideon instructed their driver to keep moving.
“Maybe we have more luck at de Ironworks?” said Antoine.
“We’d better,” was his uncle’s terse reply.
The additional half-mile ride was more than a frustrating annoyance for Lewis, as it left him with time to dwell on the horrible deaths multiple people had suffered because of his own weakness. The thought ate away at him as they arrived at their secondary destination.
Gideon was a striking sight as he climbed out of the carriage. His hat was slightly askew, and he had removed his jacket and rolled up his white shirtsleeves. His maroon vest was accentuated by a purple cravat that was the color of royalty. The silver-plated pistols that hung naturally on each of his uncle’s hips and the dark glasses that covered his eyes gave his cultivated aura of refined casualness a lethal seriousness.
Gideon handed Lewis his black medical bag and started giving orders.
“Lewis, stay here and out of trouble. Antione, work some of that voodoo doctor charm and get us in to see that body.” Lewis’ stomach revolted at merely the thought of seeing another sight like Mrs. Dunham, and for once he was glad to be left holding the bag.
From where they exited the carriage, they could see the police carrying three different black bags from the building. The sight of three body bags sent Lewis into panic spiral. Antoine had said that there had been only one death here. His heart ached and his breath shortened as the weight of two more deaths crushed down upon his soul.
Lewis was not the only one shaken by the thought of two more bodies. Antoine’s voice cracked as he spoke to the officer impeding their path.
“Excuse me, constable, but I was told der had been only de one man killed.”
“That’s right,” the constable replied coarsely.
“Why den tree bags?”
“He was killed in a very nasty way.” The constable paused to let the words sink in.
“If you’ll allow me, my name is Professor Gideon Giles. I’m with the university, and I’m doing some research. I was hoping I might get a look at the room where the unfortunate man was found.” Gideon started to walk past the officer, but he was stopped with a firm hand.
“I don’t care who you’re with. No one’s getting in here without a badge. Now get moving before I haul you down for irritating an officer.” The officer stared them down until, reluctantly, Gideon walked away.
“Damn. I need to know what happened in there. I wouldn’t even need to see the scene. Just a look at the detective’s notebook would be enough,” his uncle complained once they were out of earshot.
Lewis could see the head detective giving orders to various officers and had an idea.
He dropped his uncle’s medical bag and ducked away from Gideon and Antoine. Making sure his path would take him right by the detective, he took off at full speed toward the body bags, screaming “Daddy” at the top of his lungs.
“Whoa, lad, slow down. What’s the matter?” Sure enough the detective stepped in front of him to block his way.
On command, Lewis began to bawl his eyes out.
“That’s my daddy.” Lewis called upon all the anguish he had felt at his father’s death to sell it.
“What’s your daddy’s name?” The detective was dour, but there was genuine concern there. Lewis’ plan would work.
“Joe. Joe King.” Sometimes Lewis was too clever for his own good.
“Then that’s not your daddy. Now why would you think it was?”
“He works here. I haven’t been able to find him all morning.”
“Well, if I was your daddy, I’d need a drink after seeing a sight like this. He’s likely at the saloon and will be home later. Best if you go home and wait for him there.”
“Okay. I’m sorry, sir. I was just scarred it might be him.” Lewis reduced the waterworks to a light sob and let his teary, eye contact work its magic.
Feeling awkward and unsure of what to do, the detective bent down and gave Lewis a hug to reassure him. Lewis took the opportunity to carefully slip his hands into the man’s breast pocket and remove his notebook. When the detective broke the hug, he was none the wiser. Lewis rubbed his eyes dry and thanked the man for both his knowing and unknowing assistance.
“Thank you, sir, I feel better now.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Run along then, lad. This is no place for a boy your age.”
Lewis did as he was told. He was well away from the crowd of gawkers by the time Gideon and Antoine caught up with him.
“What the devil was that all about?”
“You wanted a look at the detective’s notebook.” Lewis produced the notebook from his pocket and handed it to his uncle.
“Impressive,” said Antoine.
“Most,” said Gideon with a nod of approval. “Now let’s see what we have here. The victim is Walter Jackson. He comes in early to get the smelter heated up for the day. He was found when the first shift came in. Or rather, his devoured, mostly to the bone, legs were found in the front office, then his arm by the changing station, and finally the rest of him by the smelter. Ripped open like the others. Missing most his internal organs along with his eyes and his tongue. The detective’s current working theory is animal attack.”
“He was a good man,” Antoine bowed his head and said a silent prayer. “Der is nah’ting der we didn’t know already.”
“No there isn’t.” Gideon must have seen the disappointment on Lewis’ face because he quickly added, “Not right now at least, but every bit of information helps. This was a good get, Lewis. Well done.”
“What do we do now?” he asked bypassing his uncle’s patronizing remark.
“Now we search all of Uptown and pray we get lucky,” was Gideon’s uninspired response.
And so they hunted. They spent hours walking the streets, checking every building and alley, canvasing the neighborhood, looking for any sign of the foul, murdering beast they had set loose upon the world.
They were still patrolling well after sunset when a Creole woman came running down the street in a fit of hysteria.
“A demon! A demon from hell! It killed him! Ripped him apart. Loa! Loa!!” The words came rushing out of the woman in a jumble, barely audible between sobs.
“Calm, sweet sister. It will be alright. Where did ya see de beast?” Antoine spoke in a melodic, soothing voice, but the woman refused to be slowed by their questions. She continued to scream and flee, leaving her direction of origin as their only clue.
They hurried toward the source of the woman’s fright. Will must have sensed his fear. The Border collie was never more than a foot away, constantly searching the shadows for threats to his master. Maybe that was why the pup was the first to find the demon’s latest meal.
Lewis was horrified to find yet another mangled corpse, but was more than a little relieved to find the creature already gone. From the looks of it, the victim had been a lamplighter in the middle of his evening rounds. The man’s equipment and the lack of light on half the street made that much obvious. Faced with his imminent doom, he had run back toward the light, perhaps hoping it might provide some discouragement to his attacker. Or maybe he was just following that primal instinct that made human beings identify darkness as danger and light as safety. Whatever his motivation, he did not make it far.
The man had been slashed open just like the others. His throat was torn out, and of his limbs, only the left arm remained attached to the body. Bits of flesh and bone were scattered about like debris from a sunken ship. Blood pooled beneath the body, the dark red looking black underneath the moonlight. This man’s death had not been a humane one. Indeed it had been about as horrible a death as Lewis could imagine anyone ever having.
Gideon cautiously stepped around the various pieces of corpse and bent down low to examine what remained of the man’s upper torso.
“The teeth marks are different here than on the other three bodies. Those were definitely human or at least a close approximation. These are more canine in nature,” was his uncle’s assessment.
“Dogs, or maybe der be more den one creature?” Antoine put forth as an explanation. The thought of more than one of these horrible monsters roaming the streets sent shivers down Lewis’ spine.
“No, the attack patterns are too similar, and if more than one of these things was loose, I think we’d have seen more signs of it at the house. There were no attacks during the day, but then the sun goes down and another body shows up.” Gideon paced as he considered the problem. He stopped when he reached a conclusion. “It’s hibernating during the day, using its victims as food to fuel some sort of metamorphosis.”
“Dat is a long leap, Professor.” The incredulity in Antoine’s tone was light, but it was there.
“Perhaps, but it fits the evidence. There’s nothing else we’re going to learn here.” Gideon nodded to the police officers who were beginning to arrive on the scene. “Let’s leave the police to their work while we tend to ours.”
Casually they moved away from the body and melted back into the gathering crowd of onlookers. When they were clear of the crowd, they found themselves standing on the edge between the lighted streets behind them and the darkened path before them. If Lewis hadn’t been so completely terrified, he might have found the setting rather literary.
“No lamplighter ta finish de rounds.” From the tone in Antoine’s voice Lewis could tell he wasn’t the only one who was ill at ease, not that a little bit of nighttime would faze his uncle.
“That’s unfortunate. You’d think there would be redundancies for things like this. Lewis, hand me my bag.”
Lewis did as he was told. His uncle pulled out three lengths of cloth and a thermos. Carefully he soaked each piece of cloth with whatever liquid the thermos contained. Gideon then broke off three lengths of wood from a nearby tree and wrapped the ends with the soaked cloth. He handed one to each of them and used his lighter to light each one in turn. At the end of two minutes’ time they each held a brightly burning torch. “I’ll take point, Antoine guard our rear, Lewis stay between us and stay close.”
As they moved into the unlit section of the city, Lewis could feel the darkness increase around them despite the fire they held in their hands. The blackness weighed on him, an outward sign of the shadows that now marred his own soul. Envy was one the deadly sins, and his envy of a mirage had cost four people their lives already. Maybe his mother had been right to get as far away as possible from him. Maybe he really was good for nothing.
A woman’s high pitched scream cut through the night, freezing the party in its tracks.
“Whe...” Lewis started to ask where the scream had come from, but held his tongue at Gideon’s raised hand.
Another scream came, cut off abruptly by some unknown horror.
“This way,” was all his uncle said as they rushed toward the cry for help, knowing they would not get there in time.
A few minutes of sprinting through a maze of side streets brought them to two partially consumed corpses. To Lewis they had the look of a young couple, or at least the remnants of one. The man lay face down in the street. His spine had been removed, and most of his right side had been eaten away. His gnawed-upon legs had been haphazardly discarded a few feet away.
The woman looked to be lying face-down as well until Lewis got closer and saw that she was in fact right-side up. It was simply her head that had been twisted all the way round. Her rib cage had been ripped open in the same fashion as Mrs. Dunham’s, though her insides were not entirely missing but rather lay next to her, half eaten.
Lewis looked at the scene and made a mental inventory of the items surrounding the bodies. He tried to stay cold and detached like his uncle, pushing down his guilt and focusing on the problem at hand. He could deal with the additional blemishes on his soul later, after they’d stopped this demon. Somewhere inside him he registered the fact that he no longer wretched automatically at a sight such as this, and that worried him immensely.
“It appears we interrupted the beast. On your guard. It may still be lurking about.” Gideon emphasized his point by drawing his pistol. Lewis imitated his uncle, though he doubted he’d be much good with his in this light.
A shadow moved in the corner of his eye. Lewis turned, raising his pistol, but saw nothing there.
“Top hat, bonnet, cigarette case, lighter, and a walking cane. That’s it. Nothing that tells us why these people. Damn it all to hell I’m missing something.” Gideon’s voice was tight and full of rage. Lewis wanted to tell his uncle that this was his fault, but shame stopped him from confessing his role in all of this.
Again something stirred at the edge of his vision. Again Lewis turned with his pistol raised only to find nothing waiting for him. He took a few steps forward to be certain, but his torch revealed nothing but an empty sidewalk. His guilty conscience had him jumping at shadows.
“Lewis, what de ya see?” Antoine asked.
“Nothing. Just a figment of my imagination.” He started to walk back toward his companions when Will began barking in earnest. The collie’s warnings were soon joined by a deep, guttural growling noise.
“Down boy!” screamed Antoine as something leaped out of the darkness at Lewis. The shape was intercepted in midair by Will. The pair fell back into the night. A few seconds of barking and growling and the collie burst back into the light with a shadowy figure hot on his tail. Gunshots rang out as Gideon unloaded into the figure with his pistol.
The shots did nothing to slow the creature down. Indeed, the only evidence that it had been hit at all were the bits of blood that flew from it as Gideon’s bullets struck flesh.
It was only a few paces from Lewis now.
The beast snarled with its wolfish snout, its beady, scarlet eyes burning with hate.
Lewis raised his pistol to fire, but his finger froze on the trigger. Fear and guilt gripped him. He didn’t want to die, but maybe it was the fate he deserved for unleashing this demon on the world.
At the last possible moment Antoine stepped between Lewis and the beast. The creature’s teeth sunk into the large man’s arm, causing him to drop his torch. Lewis cowered as Antoine brought his own pistol to bear, firing multiple rounds into the creature’s belly.
The beast released its grip on Antoine as it howled in rage and pain. Antoine’s dropped torch flickered on the ground next to the beast, alternatingly draping their foe in darkness and light.
The beast stood upright like a man, just short of six feet in height. The demon’s skin was a patchwork of oozing blood-red bits and charred, cracked pieces as black as coal. Its hands were closer to claws in description and it possessed long, spindly talons for feet. Blood dripped from its teeth and ran down its naked form. Lewis didn’t know if this was the Devil, but if it wasn’t, it was certainly one of his spawn.
Gideon had reloaded his pistol and wasted no time in unleashing another torrent of gunfire. The beast let out an unearthly scream and took off into the night.
“Report!” barked Gideon.
“Alive,” came Antoine’s rueful call.
“Lewis?” His uncle’s voice had a note of worry to it. Lewis was still too stunned by the events of the last few minutes to find his voice.
“Lewis! Lewis!” The second shout finally snapped Lewis out of his stupor.
“I’m all right.” Lewis felt like he was the farthest thing from all right he could be.
“Antoine, you’re injured.” His uncle spoke the words as cold assessment rather than caring inquiry.
“It be no ding.” The blood soaking the voodoo doctor’s sleeve suggested otherwise.
“We have to go after it.” That what not what Lewis wanted to do, but he felt that he had a responsibility stop the creature before it could kill again. Whatever the cost.
“Nonsense. Between us we put a dozen bullets in the monster and we hardly slowed it down. If we give chase, we’ll end up like those two there.” Gideon pointed to the disemboweled couple, and Lewis needed only a quick glance to lose his will to continue the hunt. “Come on. Back to the house. With any luck the demon will be dormant again until tomorrow night. We need to regroup and come up with a plan, one a little bit more advanced than our previous shoot-and-pray strategy. Chin up, everyone. We had a bad night, but tomorrow will be different.”
“Why is that?” Lewis didn’t understand why his uncle didn’t share his own despondency at the beast’s escape.
“Because now we know what we’re up against. And once you understand your enemy, you can beat your enemy.”
December 24, 1881
By the time Lewis awoke, it was already approaching midday. Will lay next to him on the bed, looking worriedly at his master. After he dressed, he found his uncle and Antoine in the dining room, poring over maps and books and the policeman’s notebook he had stolen an eternity ago. They looked haggard. Lewis doubted they had gotten much sleep, if they had gotten any at all. Another thing to feel guilty about. At least Antoine’s wounds had been dressed.
“There’s something I’m missing. Something that connects the attacks that I’m not seeing.” Gideon’s voice was strained and his frustration was visibly boiling over.
“You said last night that you knew what we were up against.” Doubt filled Lewis.
“I do. The problem is that I don’t know what I know yet. All the information is here. I just have to piece it together.” His uncle spoke with what Lewis considered to be an unearned confidence. “We have to go over the other murders again. What connects them?”
“De tree before dawn yesterday. None during de day. Den tree more last night,” Antoine recapped for them all.
“Then none again today. It hibernates during the day. We’d already sussed that out. No, I mean the individual victims. That thing covered a lot of ground the last two nights in what could hardly be called a straight line. Why that route? Why those people?”
“It was looking for the easiest kills?” Lewis posited.
“Hardly. It completely bypassed the orphanage, and why go to the basement of the infirmary then leave when there you have plenty of tasty, immobile human snacks above you? List every victim in order for me, telling me where and how they were found.”
“Mrs. Dunham was in de kitchen baking de morning bread. Remi was in de basement at Touro Infirmary working on de building boiler. Walter Jackson was getting ready for de day at de ironworks. Dey found him by de—”
“By the smelter! That’s it! The missing piece! Right in front of me the whole time. How could I be so stupid as to miss it? It’s so obvious. Can’t you see it?” Lewis looked to see if Antoine understood what his uncle was going on about. It was a comfort to him that the large man looked as lost as he was. “The heat! It’s drawn to heat! Mrs. Dunham had the oven going. St. Croix was stoking the boiler at Touro. Jackson was working a smelter—”
“—De Gaslamp lighter had a torch wid him...” came Antoine’s wide eyed comprehension.
“There was a cigarette case and a lighter by the couple.” Lewis excitedly chimed in.
“Now put it all together. Everything we know about this monstrosity. It’s nocturnal, it’s drawn to sources of heat, it’s hiding somewhere in City Park, and bullets merely seem to annoy it.” Lewis could see the gears turning in his uncle’s head now.
“Dat seems te be de long and de short of it,” Antoine affirmed.
“So if we can’t kill it, we’ll have to send it back to where it came from.”
“Ain’t no easy ding to trick de Devil back to Hell Professor.”
“We’ll need some sort of heat source, something large enough to lure the beast to us. We won’t be able to get it to the lab. We’ll need some place wide open in or near the park.” His uncle was pacing again.
“Den it’s a good ding Papa Noel rides tonight.” The words stopped Gideon mid-stride. A smile broke out all over his face.
“Antoine, you’re a genius. Can you make the arrangements in time?”
“It shouldn’t be a problem. Can you say de same?”
“Are you asking if I can build a portable generator capable of powering an extradimensional portal between now and sundown? Antoine, please, I’ll be done with an hour to spare.”
“Best be to it den.” Without further discussion Antoine headed out the door.
Gideon was about to do the same when the need to confess suddenly overwhelmed Lewis.
“Uncle...” The words stuck in his throat. “Uncle, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“Lewis, I need to get to my laboratory.” His uncle looked at him and his facial expression went from stern to concern in an instant. “Lewis, what is it?”
“It’s just that...” Lewis forced himself to tell his uncle his shameful secret. “The truth is that this is all my fault. I snuck back down to your laboratory after everyone had gone to bed. I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it. I just wanted to see him again. I turned the dials back to where you had them before. I swear all I did was watch them. I didn’t touch anything other than the dials, honest. They’re all dead because of me.” Tears filled his eyes and he began to sob uncontrollably.
“Is that what’s been eating at you this whole time? Lewis, I’m going to say something now, and I want you to listen very closely because it’s important that you believe me. None of this is your fault. It can’t be because the fault lies with me. I tampered with the natural order of things. More than that, I did so in the most cavalier way possible. There should have been nothing for you to find when you snuck back down. It was the height of arrogance and idiocy to leave that connection open and unmonitored. I have no idea what possessed me to do so, especially in light of the obvious temptation it offered you. Everything that has happened has been a result of my hubris and not your innocent desire to see your father alive and happy again. You are a good lad, Lewis, as good as I’ve seen.”
“But mother said—”
“My sister is a ghastly woman completely unable to look beyond her own petty needs. What your father saw in her I’ll never know. How she could send you down here alone to stay with a stranger, at Christmas of all times, absolutely boggles my mind, but I’m damn glad she did. Now, there’ll be time for feeling feelings later, but right now we need to get to work. We have a beast to slay and honor to regain. Are you with me?”
“Yes sir,” Lewis said. Will barked his affirmation as well.
The work took most of the afternoon, but Gideon was good to his word. They finished loading the equipment onto the wagon while the sun was still two fingers over the horizon. Gideon, Lewis, and Will rode to the park in silence. Lewis assumed that his uncle was too preoccupied with going over the plan in his head to speak, and Will was too preoccupied with sticking his head out the window and barking at passing streetcars to pay much attention to his master.
Their destination was well into the park, a clearing somewhere along the bank of the Mississippi. They found Antoine waiting for them when they arrived. Lewis was still completely in the dark about what the plan was. If he had to guess, he would say the giant, twelve-foot-high stack of wood they were setting up next to them was going to be involved in some manner or another. But something about the demeanor of the two adults made him think it was best not to ask questions at the moment. He simply got to work unloading the wagon.
Gideon had not just brought with him a stack of lab equipment. He’d also loaded the wagon with a small armory. Lewis pulled out a gun with a single long barrel and some kind of pumping mechanism attached to the bottom. He had never seen anything like it before although, given the frequency at which he had been making that observation lately, he supposed his uncle’s custom firearm was apropos. While he was admiring it, his uncle came up behind him and snatched it out of his grasp.
“What is that?”
“It’s a shotgun.”
“It doesn’t look like any shotgun I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s because it’s a repeating shotgun, one of the many tricks I have hidden up my sleeve and years ahead of anything that bastard Browning’s come up with. Any other questions?” His uncle meant it as a dismissal.
“Who’s Papa Noel?” Lewis asked immediately
“Cajun Santa Claus. Every year on Christmas Eve people light huge bonfires to guide him in. Now back to work.” Suddenly their plan made much more sense to Lewis.
By the time they had set up the equipment to Gideon’s satisfaction, the sun had sunk long past the horizon and given way to the black of night. The general apprehension Lewis had felt all day was now completely gone, replaced by a more palpable sense of doom.
“The generator has limited power. Once you turn it on, we’ll have less than five minutes to drive the demon back to whatever hell it came from. Stay out of sight, and don’t throw the switch until you hear me shout for it. Understand?”
Lewis nodded at his uncle’s instructions.
Across the river, giant pillars of fire came roaring to life as families began to light their bonfires in celebration of Christmas.
“Dey light the way for Papa Noel,” came a jubilant shout from Antoine.
“Then we’d best do the same,” was the gruffer response from his uncle as he lit the pyre next to him. Antoine had long since chased off any other revelers on their side of the river, so when Gideon started their specially chosen bonfire, it stood out like a fiery beacon against the dark. If they were right about the demon’s attraction to heat, it would be impossible for the creature to resist the bonfire’s lure.
“What now?” Lewis asked
“Now we wait for the Devil to show himself,” was his uncle’s intense reply.
They did not have to wait long.
The ground trembled under their feet, alerting them to the demon’s approach. The beast let loose with a horrible cry as it stepped out into the moonlight. This was not the same creature they had faced the previous evening. In its day of hibernation it had grown almost six feet and now stood over twelve feet high. Massive leathery wings had sprouted from its back, each one as wide as the beast was tall. Its skin was the deep black of the void, making the demon almost impossible to see.
“Bigger than I remember. And with wings. That’s certainly an unfortunate development.” His uncle spoke the words casually, showing defiance through his nonchalance.
Gideon opened fire with both pistols, unloading shot after shot into the demon’s chest. A roar of anger escaped its throat.
“I tink you got its attention,” Antoine called out, staff in one hand, pistol in the other.
“Yes, I think you might be right,” Gideon responded as the beast increased its speed from a lumbering stride to a quick gallop.
The demon closed the distance between itself and Gideon in mere moments. Lewis cringed as the boom of gunfire turned into the hollow clicks of an empty chamber.
His uncle let his now useless weapons fall from his hands, diving toward his right to escape the beast’s slashing claws. Lewis watched his uncle repeat the tactic twice more, each escape narrower than the last, the creature allowing Gideon no time to do anything but dodge.
Eventually Gideon’s luck gave out and the demon’s claws found flesh. His uncle cried out, instinctively reaching out for the newly formed gash in his thigh.
The creature raised its hand back to strike, ready to deliver the deathblow.
“Gideon! Roll!” Antoine bellowed while unleashing his own barrage of pistol fire. The bullets did minimal damage, succeeding only in puncturing a few holes in the creature’s leathery wings, but they did manage to distract the beast long enough for Gideon to roll clear.
The creature swept its wing back at its attacker. The wing struck Antoine with incredible force and sent the large man flying through the air. He landed in a heap, clearly dazed by the blow.
The demon turned its attention back to Gideon, who was struggling to get upright.
Lewis pulled his pistol from its holster.
His uncle had told him to remain hidden, but if Lewis didn’t act now, the monstrosity was sure to devour both Antoine and Gideon. Lewis was old enough to know that sometimes doing what is right means not doing what you’re told.
He inhaled deeply, aimed, and pulled the trigger as he exhaled. The shot exploded from his gun with a thunderclap, the recoil nearly ripping his arm out of its socket. The bullet struck home, burying itself in the creature’s shoulder.
Its howl cut through the night. The beast turned, its fiery red eyes locking in on Lewis.
“Lewis, run!” He did not need to hear his uncle’s advice to heed it.
The ground rumbled underneath the demon’s lengthy stride. Lewis’ legs pumped up and down with the fury of a railroad piston, but he was quickly losing his lead. A loose branch sent him tumbling to the ground, and Lewis knew he was about to die.
Or at least he would have if not for his faithful pup. Will came sprinting out of the shadows, letting out a howl as the collie launched itself into the creature’s knees. The demon bellowed and toppled over, mirroring Lewis’ fall of only moments before.
The monstrosity’s flailing hands caught Will with a glancing blow that sent the dog flying through the air.
Lewis scrambled to his feet, and it was then that he realized his mistake.
In fleeing from the demon he’d led the creature too far away from Gideon’s invention. Now, as the beast righted itself, it stood between Lewis and his companions and was headed toward him and further away from his uncle’s trap.
Antoine and Gideon were running toward them, but both were injured and moving slowly. Lewis was on his own, and somehow he had to force the beast back in the right direction.
He could figure out only one way to do that. He just prayed that he was fast enough and small enough not to die.
The demon was fully recovered now, gaining momentum with every step. Lewis had seconds to act or be eaten.
Lewis did the only thing he could do to avoid being gruesomely devoured. He sprinted headlong toward the creature that wanted him for supper.
There was a moment of confusion in the beast’s eyes, then a soul wrenching noise erupted from its throat. Lewis thought it must be laughter. Lewis responded with a war cry of his own, screaming manically as he rushed forward to impending doom.
When the beast was only steps away Lewis, raised his pistol and fired.
The demon pulled up, covering its face as Lewis ran between its enormous legs.
Lewis didn’t dare slow down or look back. He made a beeline for the generator, hoping he had bought himself enough distance to make it in time.
The trembling earth beneath him told him that his time was quickly running out. He pushed his young legs harder than he ever had in his life.
Lewis could clearly see his companions now.
Gideon stood ready with a shotgun as Antoine retook his position in his chalk circle.
Strange, ethereal shapes began to form around Antoine as he pointed his staff to the heavens and mumbled incantations to the wind.
Lewis rushed past Antoine and Gideon, feeling the demon’s hot breath on his neck as he pushed to cover the last few yards between himself and his uncle’s generator before the beast could consume him.
The explosion of a shotgun blast was followed by another howl of rage from the demon. Lewis was almost to the generator now. He went into a baseball slide, gliding across the dewy grass and coming to a stop with the generator’s switch in his hand.
“Now!” his uncle screamed.
Blue sparks of electricity started flying out of Gideon’s machines, supercharging the air while simultaneously blackening any bit of earth they touched. Reality began to twist as colors became fluid and comingled. The same horizontal funnel of electricity and fire that had appeared in his uncle’s lab two nights ago began to form, tearing a hole in the fabric of the universe. A chorus of infernal shrieks poured forth from the opening, cutting through Lewis’ defenses like a dagger to his soul.
The wind howled and thunder bellowed as lighting rained down all around them.
Antoine slammed his staff into the ground and shouted something indecipherable. The phantoms that had been gathering around him went flying toward the creature, harrying it in a way that Lewis did not understand.
The demon staggered backwards as Gideon unloaded shotgun blast after shotgun blast into its chest, delivering on the deadly promises of its maker.
Lassos of light and fire emerged from the portal, wrapping themselves around the demon’s limbs. It howled in pain as it was pulled unwillingly toward the red-blue wall that had spawned it.
With one last swipe of its massive claw, the beast seized Gideon by the ankle and yanked him to the ground, trying to pull him with it into the awaiting abyss. Lewis could only watch as his uncle’s specialized shotgun went flying out of his grasp and out of his reach.
Lewis knew he was too far away to reach his uncle before he was pulled through the gateway. He looked to Antoine but saw that he too would be unable to close the distance in time. Gideon had only moments before the hell beast dragged him through the gateway.
With a flick of his wrist Gideon produced a pistol from his coat sleeve. Taking no time to aim he fired off a shot at the generator.
There was a blinding flash of light, and a deafening blast ripped through the air as the generator exploded and the portal collapsed upon itself.
Scorched equipment and spent shotgun shells littered the earth. It was quiet. Not a sound to be heard except for crackling of the bonfire’s flame.
And at the center of it all sat the severed right hand of the demon.
December 25, 1881
His uncle stood up, dusted himself off, carefully replaced his hat on his head, and said in a uniquely unflappable voice, “Well, I think it’s safe to say we missed Midnight Mass. I’m not sure about the rest of you, but I think could do with a spot of breakfast. Doctor Laveau, I believe your wife is hosting Reveillon this year?”
Antoine let out a hearty laugh and Lewis joined him. Will came running into his arms, covering his face in kisses. Lewis decided that Christmas with his uncle was vastly preferable to spending the holidays with his mother.