was no new
recruit, but he said the screams...” Tilton passed a hand over his
face. “I’ll have to keep a close eye, make sure he doesn’t turn to
drink to silence them in his dreams.”
At his signal, the attendant pulled back the
sheet. The face of the dead man was frozen in an expression of
horror and agony. His chest gaped open, ribs and sternum a
splintered ruin, fragments of bone pushed outward, as if something
had shoved its way through his body. I was glad not to have
anything in my stomach.
Griffin leaned closer, a frown drawing down
his brows. “What the devil happened to him?”
“Some kind of animal attacked him,” the
attendant said unexpectedly. “Dr. Greene took a look at him at
Detective Tilton’s request. Some monster chewed its way through his
body. Teeth marks are clear, and you can see some of the hairs
still stuck in the wound.”
Bile burned my throat, and I swallowed hard.
“Dear lord.” I rather wished I could sit down. But Tilton had
brought me here for a reason. “What sort of creature would
do...this?”
“Nothing natural,” Griffin murmured. He
continued to inspect the wound far more closely than I would have
been comfortable with. “I take it your officer saw nothing when he
entered the jail, Detective Tilton?”
“Just Lambert and a great deal of
blood.”
A chill went through me. What could have
savaged the man in such a way, then simply vanished? And from a
locked cell, no less?
“You don’t have to make any guesses as to
what caused this in my hearing,” Tilton said, his gaze focused on
me now. “I don’t want to know. Cause of death on the certificate
will be heart failure. Ordinarily I wouldn’t trouble you, Dr.
Whyborne, but given Mr. Flaherty’s involvement, I thought you might
want to know.”
The attendant didn’t look surprised by any
of this. How many disturbing corpses were quietly whisked away
under the convenient label of heart failure?
“Did the other prisoner see anything?”
Griffin took a step back from the table. “Hear anything?”
“Just the screams.” Tilton shrugged. “They
woke him from his stupor. He said it was too dark to make out
anything, and I’m inclined to believe him.”
“I see.” Griffin watched as the attendant
tugged the sheet back up over Lambert. “Thank you, Detective
Tilton.”
Tilton’s mouth thinned. “We haven’t seen eye
to eye over the years, Flaherty,” he said. “To be honest, I would
have preferred you set up shop in Boston or Arkham.”
Griffin’s mouth quirked slightly.
“‘Widdershins always knows its own,’” he quoted.
That damned prophecy. But Tilton glanced
uncomfortably at me, then away. “So it would seem. And I’m not fool
enough to challenge it. As of now, my part of the investigation is
closed, and I’d like it to stay that way. These are no doings for
an honest policeman.”
We parted ways in front of the morgue,
Tilton heading back to the police department. Griffin and I stood
together on the walk. The eastern sky had begun to turn gray, and
the first birds chirped from the trees shading the road. “Honest my
eye,” Griffin said as the clop of hooves faded. “Still, it’s good
to have him out of the way. It gives me a bit of a freer hand,
without having to wonder if I’m to be hauled in for impeding an
investigation.”
“Quite.” My eyes ached from lack of sleep.
“What do you think happened?”
“I was going to ask you the same question.”
Griffin looked up at me. The street lamp found the occasional
lighter strand amidst his chestnut hair, gleaming like gold.
“Clearly sorcery was involved. The only question is: what form did
it take?”
I shook my head slowly. “Blast if I know.
There are tales of spectral hounds savaging or carrying people off,
but I would have to research to discover if they’re real or just
folklore.”
“Talk to your father first,” Griffin
advised. “He may be able to set us on the right track.”
“Unless he’s involved
recruit, but he said the screams...” Tilton passed a hand over his
face. “I’ll have to keep a close eye, make sure he doesn’t turn to
drink to silence them in his dreams.”
At his signal, the attendant pulled back the
sheet. The face of the dead man was frozen in an expression of
horror and agony. His chest gaped open, ribs and sternum a
splintered ruin, fragments of bone pushed outward, as if something
had shoved its way through his body. I was glad not to have
anything in my stomach.
Griffin leaned closer, a frown drawing down
his brows. “What the devil happened to him?”
“Some kind of animal attacked him,” the
attendant said unexpectedly. “Dr. Greene took a look at him at
Detective Tilton’s request. Some monster chewed its way through his
body. Teeth marks are clear, and you can see some of the hairs
still stuck in the wound.”
Bile burned my throat, and I swallowed hard.
“Dear lord.” I rather wished I could sit down. But Tilton had
brought me here for a reason. “What sort of creature would
do...this?”
“Nothing natural,” Griffin murmured. He
continued to inspect the wound far more closely than I would have
been comfortable with. “I take it your officer saw nothing when he
entered the jail, Detective Tilton?”
“Just Lambert and a great deal of
blood.”
A chill went through me. What could have
savaged the man in such a way, then simply vanished? And from a
locked cell, no less?
“You don’t have to make any guesses as to
what caused this in my hearing,” Tilton said, his gaze focused on
me now. “I don’t want to know. Cause of death on the certificate
will be heart failure. Ordinarily I wouldn’t trouble you, Dr.
Whyborne, but given Mr. Flaherty’s involvement, I thought you might
want to know.”
The attendant didn’t look surprised by any
of this. How many disturbing corpses were quietly whisked away
under the convenient label of heart failure?
“Did the other prisoner see anything?”
Griffin took a step back from the table. “Hear anything?”
“Just the screams.” Tilton shrugged. “They
woke him from his stupor. He said it was too dark to make out
anything, and I’m inclined to believe him.”
“I see.” Griffin watched as the attendant
tugged the sheet back up over Lambert. “Thank you, Detective
Tilton.”
Tilton’s mouth thinned. “We haven’t seen eye
to eye over the years, Flaherty,” he said. “To be honest, I would
have preferred you set up shop in Boston or Arkham.”
Griffin’s mouth quirked slightly.
“‘Widdershins always knows its own,’” he quoted.
That damned prophecy. But Tilton glanced
uncomfortably at me, then away. “So it would seem. And I’m not fool
enough to challenge it. As of now, my part of the investigation is
closed, and I’d like it to stay that way. These are no doings for
an honest policeman.”
We parted ways in front of the morgue,
Tilton heading back to the police department. Griffin and I stood
together on the walk. The eastern sky had begun to turn gray, and
the first birds chirped from the trees shading the road. “Honest my
eye,” Griffin said as the clop of hooves faded. “Still, it’s good
to have him out of the way. It gives me a bit of a freer hand,
without having to wonder if I’m to be hauled in for impeding an
investigation.”
“Quite.” My eyes ached from lack of sleep.
“What do you think happened?”
“I was going to ask you the same question.”
Griffin looked up at me. The street lamp found the occasional
lighter strand amidst his chestnut hair, gleaming like gold.
“Clearly sorcery was involved. The only question is: what form did
it take?”
I shook my head slowly. “Blast if I know.
There are tales of spectral hounds savaging or carrying people off,
but I would have to research to discover if they’re real or just
folklore.”
“Talk to your father first,” Griffin
advised. “He may be able to set us on the right track.”
“Unless he’s involved
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