The Monocle Man Read online

  “Too late,” the voice from within her spoke. “Tick-Tock… tick… tock… I’m afraid not.” Lillian laughed again and lurched into the air. The shackles dug into Jakob’s waist as she clutched either side of him with her feet. She swung the manacles behind his neck, steadying herself. “Play with me Jakob,” she said, tilting her head to the side. Her voice a mockery of her true age. Too high and jilted. Unnatural.

  Jakob pulled up both his hands and set them against his sister’s chest. He pushed with everything he had, trying to separate her from him. But the manacles behind his neck, and her grip at his waist held fast and the two twirled about the room. The odd dance continued as Crowley pulled himself to his feet. As Jakob spun with the girl wrapped around him, Crowley held up two hands and motioned in the air. Motioned for Jakob to both keep it up and keep the girl’s back to Crowley. The panic in Jakob’s eyes lit the room. His neck was being rubbed raw as Lillian maintained pressure with the manacles. Every second scratched another layer of skin away and he felt a trickle of blood snaking down and into the collar of his shirt. His eyes darted this way and that, trying to avoid the obstructions in the room. A dresser here. A side table there. The bed. All the while trying to maintain his eyes in Crowley’s direction.

  Crowley huffed as he bent over the satchel. A bolt of pain arcing up his spine and into the back of his head. The tumble was worse than he first thought. For a moment the room spun. A sense of lightheadedness and nausea enveloped him. He leaned forward a little too far and almost toppled over. But another deep breath steadied him. He withdrew the headpiece from the bag; pulled loose the straps, opening the device. He knew the trick would be to fasten the leather mouth guard as soon as possible. That and attaching the apparatus to the manacles. And then the shackles. If he could cinch the strap across her mouth fast enough, he just might buy the two of them enough time to get the rest of the job done.

  As Crowley approached Jakob nearly tumbled over. But he righted himself, and for leverage took several steps backward until his back was against the tall bureau behind him. Crowley moved with the efficiency of a man half his age. He lifted the head restraint high and waited just a moment for the opportune time. But Lillian struggled. So Jakob did the only thing that came to mind. He lowered his hands to his side. His eyes softened, and he swallowed hard.

  “I’m sorry Lil,” he spoke in hushed tones.

  At once Lillian seemed taken aback by the look of defeat on Jakob’s face. She paused. Was it defeat? She wasn’t so sure now. And even a creature as old as the thing inside her realized all too late the two men were seizing the moment. The apparatus came crashing down over Lillian’s head. At once the world went dark for her. Crowley pushed on her back, forcing her into Jakob a moment while his hands gripped either side of the leather restraint. He pulled it tight into the girl’s mouth. Her cry stifled in an instant. Jakob’s eyes watered.

  “Quick!” Crowley yelled to the young man.

  Jakob took a few steps to the bed and with the help of the other, hoisted the girl from him. They slammed her down on the mattress and as Crowley went about fastening the chains to each other, Jakob pressed on her chest, trying to hold her steady. Lillian thrashed and screamed muffled profanities at the two. Soon, Crowley had the entire device secure. Jakob stood up… back… and looked down at the bed. Down at his little sister. And the tears came more freely. It was all he could do not to wretch. This eleven-year-old girl, bound in iron shackles and manacles. Secured with a thin, metal hood over her face. A leather strap wrapped around her mouth. The only solace he took, was he couldn’t see her face. And she his.

  After straightening his attire a moment and taking some time to regain composure, Crowley fished on the floor for the bottle he’d lost. The one Lillian knocked from his hand. It lie just under the bed. He picked it up and examined it. Jakob watched from across the bed, his legs struggling to hold him upright. Crowley looked at Jakob, then smiled. He poured the remaining few drops from the bottle on his finger and repeated the incantation. Then rubbed the finger on the head restraint. This time, Jakob thought he almost heard the metal shrink.

  2

  2.

  Jakob spent some time outside the bedroom, sitting, his back against the wall in the hallway. It took a great deal of courage and deep breathing to once again steady himself. He stared down at his hands. They shook. His eyes, still wet from the anguish. When he’d walked from the bedroom he traipsed down the hall, dragging each foot behind him. Exhausted, both physically and mentally. He supported himself with one hand along the wall, before turning, letting his knees buckle, and crumpled against it. Even now, under some control, his body shivered. He heard his sister thrashing about through the wall and closed bedroom door. The clink of metal as she struggled against her restraints. Her cries, muffled against the leather strap stuffed in her mouth.

  What had he done?

  She was only a child.

  Was any of this necessary?

  The bile rose in his throat as each question surfaced. Her continued struggle sounded in the house and he knew somehow, that yes, everything they’d done was necessary. He didn’t need Crowley to remind him of that. Something had hijacked Lillian. Something grew inside her.

  Bugs.

  That’s what Jakob thought. Call them demons or fallen angels. Call them spirits, specters or ghosts. None of these names mattered much. What they were… were bugs. Infesting a living host. A child, innocent to the sins of the world and now doomed to perpetrate new sins upon the earth. They were methodical and thinking. Not without purpose, albeit a purpose of their own. Puppeteers of a sort. But they were bugs. Insects of the netherworld. And Jakob prayed he’d maintain the strength to squash this one in particular. Prayed harder still that Lillian would be free. Escape it unharmed and continue with her life, innocent and childish. As it should be.

  The door to the bedroom sprung open and Crowley stepped from it. His head scanned the hallway and immediately dropped as he noticed his young companion seated against the wall.

  “Come my young friend. There’s much to do.”

  “I know,” Jakob returned. “Though I wasn’t quite sure until a moment ago whether I could continue.”

  “Nonsense Jakob! You are far more worthy than you give yourself credit. And we’ve done well. She is secure and for the moment, out of harm’s way. But there is only so much time. We must take her from this place and transport her to our next location. Only then can we begin the ritual which might free her!”

  “Yes,” Jakob sighed, his eyes staring across the hall. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

  Jakob got to his feet with some difficulty, but steadied himself once there. He entered the bedroom again and steeled himself against the sight of his sister bound and gagged on the bed. The medieval looking devices kept her struggles to a minimum, allowing for only a small range of motion. But her hands endeavored to reach the mask. And her lips made little more than a whimper with the leather strap in her mouth. He thanked God at that moment her eyes hid behind the apparatus, keeping him from seeing them. How lost he might find himself to look into those eyes, which he considered would beg for his help at this moment. He’d never be able to restrain himself.

  Crowley removed one last thing from his satchel. Something Jakob had not seen him either procure or put in the bag. The man removed several pieces of metal tubing. These, he slid together, forcing the end of one into the end of another until he had a staff nearly as tall as he. He thread the chains on the shackles and manacles over the rod. Together, they lifted the little girl, hoisting her from the bed, each end of the staff resting atop either of their shoulders. Lillian hung between them as they exited the room and made their way down the stairs and out into the early morning where Crowley’s carriage waited.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  BROOKWISE NH

  BROOKEWISE, NEW HAMPSHIRE

  Both are freezing. Garrison hears the chatter of Annalise’s teeth as the couple walk forward into the night. They’
d been following the trail now for almost ten minutes. If you can call it that. The echoes of a young boy’s voice clings to the breeze. The snow subsided but the temperatures feel as if they’ve plummeted. Every now and again he grips her hand tighter, hoping some sense of warmth will pass between the two. When he started out with her, his confidence remained unwavering. After all, she’d heard the voice too. Brent, beckoning to his older brother. But now? Well now, he isn’t so sure. Maybe the cold is getting to him, fraying at the absolution he had moments before. He can’t say. But the further they venture into the wood, the less his resolve holds up. He realizes that they haven’t left a trail. Didn’t cross his mind to do so. These were, after all, his woods. He and Brent had run through them repeatedly and never once got lost. But tonight is different. Tonight there’s the snow covering the ground. The ever encroaching dark. And he had set out fool-heartedly, assuming the voice of his little brother would be a beacon along the way. But the voice had grown silent over the last couple of minutes. Even as the two press on, Garrison wonders if this is all for naught.

  “Gary?” Annalise questions in a soft voice.

  “Yeah?”

  “Please tell me you remember how to get back,” she says through chattering teeth.

  “Yeah, yeah I know how,” Garrison fibs. Though he hopes it’s only a half lie.

  “How much further?”

  At this he stops. Looks ahead into the trees and dark lying before them and sighs. The question is as good as any. How much further? Garrison turns to look at his companion. Annalise’s clutches herself in a hug for warmth. She’s trembling, though feigns a smile.

  “Maybe we should go back,” he says. Her eyes widen.

  “No, no, I’m all right. Just a little cold.”

  “You’re not just cold Annie, you’re shivering.” He puts his hands on either of her arms and pumps them up and down, trying to warm the girl.

  “Really Gar, I’m fine. I can manage.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” He sighs again.

  “Well I’m not,” he states, looking to the landscape ahead.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. I just… Maybe I imagined it all. Maybe-”

  “But Gar! I heard it too!”

  He’d forgotten that part. It’s enough to give him pause and consider sauntering on. But no. Even if she’d heard the voice, Brent’s voice, where were they heading? They’d entered the wood using Brent’s beckon as a leader. But the voice vanished some time ago. Now, they were blind out here. Walking further into the night with no real purpose or destination. As much as he wants to find his little brother, Garrison can’t fathom the two getting lost. Maybe this idea of his will do more harm than good. They have to turn back. Have to.

  “I know,” he concedes. “But we really should head back. I’m not sure-”

  “Gary? Gary, are you there?” Brent’s voice calls out. The two freeze in their tracks. Eyes dart around in a frantic motion.

  “Gar-”

  “I heard it,” he tells her. “I heard it.”

  “It sounds close Gar.”

  “Shh.”

  “Gary? You there?”

  “Brent?” Garrison yells into the wood. “Brent, where are you?”

  “Brent?” Annalise adds to the call.

  “Gary?” His little brother’s voice beckons.

  “Over there,” Garrison points as his feet pull up and out of the snow in haste. Annalise tags along close behind as he rushes into another part of the wood.

  Brent’s voice calls a time or two more, adding to the increasing sound of boots crunching snow. Occasionally a branch pops and cracks beneath their feet. Annalise tenses as Garrison trails off into a narrowing copse of trees. She slows her pace a little while navigating the terrain, steading herself around the numerous and narrow trunks. Her breath catches in her chest the further she pushes on. It’s as if the trees are swallowing her.

  Moving closer.

  Tightening their grip.

  She bounces off one, her shoulder connecting with the sapling, sending a sharp pain up her neck and into her jaw. Garrison has disappeared in the dark before her. She’d listen for his steps but fears if she waits too long she might lose him altogether. So she carries on. Annalise plunges into the dense foliage around her. Her breathing comes in ragged and shallow breaths. And despite the cold, she’s now sweating. She’s about to scream Garrison’s name when she pops out into a tiny clearing, almost running straight into his back.

  “Jesus Gar,” she says, wrapping her arms tight around his neck. “I thought I’d get lost out there.” She pulls back when his arms don’t envelop her. “Gar?”

  She pulls back and sees the blank stare in his eyes. He seems barely aware that she’s there in the clearing. She steps back and waves a hand in front of his face. His stare hardens a moment before… he blinks. Head snapping side to side, he shakes off the trance and looks at Annalise. Tears well up in her eyes. The panic on her face softens.

  “Annie,” he whispers. “Annie?” The last few minutes comes crashing in. Garrison can’t help feeling ashamed. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” With both hands he reaches out and grabs her. She tightens up for a moment before letting his arms enfold her. “I am so sorry.”

  “Gar? Are you all right,” embracing him back.

  “Yeah. I think. Did I just run off?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “I’m glad you caught up.” He’s on the verge of tears considering how awful it would have been, him coming to from the strange trance which overtook him, only to find Annalise had gotten lost. He pushes her a few inches away, his hands fastened on her upper arms. “Look,” he says, turning her.

  When she spins her eyes glance across the small clearing. It’s hardly a clearing at all, so small. But at its center sits a massive piece of a tree. The remaining trunk of a once giant. A root system above the surface arcs into and out of the ground, some nearly as tall as she; the roots more than several feet thick, some even larger. The trunk of the tree is wide as several automobiles, broken and jagged a good twenty feet from the ground as if it toppled over. But no remnants of its previous life, save the trunk, are apparent. The massive tree which should be lying on the forest floor is absent. It’s as if the tree itself were torn from the lower, uprooted trunk and the roots snaked and slithered around some tear in the landscape, cocooning it.

  It’s alive, Annalise ponders to herself.

  Somehow, it’s illuminating. It glows in a faint flicker as if the finest mist of fireflies were circling the roots and the base of the trunk. Not glowing yellow or green, but a pale near-fading, off-white. The glow pulses. As if breathing. And at once Annalise understands why Garrison had been so enraptured.

  “You see it too.” Garrisons states in quiet relief.

  “I… I see it Gar. What is it?”

  “I don’t know,” he returns.

  2

  2.

  The two watch in wonder for some time as the fireflies swirl and dance around the broken and ragged behemoth of a tree trunk. The firefly haze plays with their eyes; their sense of reality. Within moments of trying to follow the dancing mist both Garrison and Annalise grow dizzy. She almost stumbles and falls, but he reaches out to secure her. They hold on to each other as the trunk wavers. It bustles and moves; a million ants crawling across the surface of a static tv screen. All black with only the slightest dotting of gray and whites popping through. Garrison takes a step toward the phenomena.

  “Garrison? What are you doing,” Annalise questions, holding tight to his wrist.

  “I need to check,” he answers.

  “Check it? Are you crazy?”

  “Annie, there’s something about this. We should-”

  “Stop!” She insists, yanking hard on his wrist. Garrison halts and turns toward her. She expects to see that ever-consuming trance again, but instead notices only determination. His countenance is rational and thinking.

  “Listen,”
he starts, wriggling his wrist from her grasp and taking her hands in his. “I know this looks unusual, but I can’t help feel… well…”

  “Feel what?”

  “I can’t help feel this has something to do with Brent.”

  “But how Gar?”

  “He’s in there Annie. I… I sense it.”

  “What?” Annalise pushes his hands away. Her frantic demeanor bolsters through. “You can’t be serious? We don’t even know what this is? It’s supposed to be a tree Gar. But look!”

  “I’m not sure how to explain it, Annie. But this is more than a tree.”

  “More than a tree? You’re out of your mind!”

  Garrison offers up a smile. That same warm smile he always wears. The one that makes her young heart flutter and stomach go buggy. He turns away and steps to the trunk. His feet, though buried inches in the snow seem to kick up the fireflies in his wake. She wants to grab him again. Pull him away. But the fear inside keeps her from getting too close to that thing. A tree? She wonders now what it is. It may have started out as a tree, but now it’s something entirely different. Though Garrison appears content on discovering more, sure he’ll find Brent there, she can’t help feel waves of evil pouring from it. And so her feet falter as she tries to work up the courage to stop him.