Cities Of The Androscoggin: Out Of The Shadows
Chapter Three: Spirits Of The Night
Darius was exhausted from his expenditure of energy on the hilltop so he decided that sleep was probably best. He
slept deeply and drifted to some other place where he moved among the
trees on streams of magic and danced in the glades with the pixies. He ran with the deer and made love with the nymphs in the moonlight.
He woke in the early am and his dream travels faded from his memory as the tangible world seeped into his senses. He fought it but soon he was stirring and rising from bed. He
pulled on a pair of jeans that had rested on his floor for the past
three days and stumbled his way into the kitchen where he managed to
find himself a cold can of Mountain Dew. He drank it and found the haze clearing from around him.
He stumbled into the living room and saw Monica still sitting in front of her computer. He changed direction to her room and stood in the doorway.
"Hey." She said in greeting.
Darius grunted and drank more soda.
"Did you have a nice nap?" She asked.
"I slept for nine hours." He answered. "I wouldn't call that a nap."
"Well, however you want to look at it."
"You been up all night?"
"No. I just got up a little while ago."
"Ah, I see."
He stood for a while doing nothing but drink and wake up. Eventually his mind was capable of more complex thought and he spoke again.
"Did you find anything yet?"
"Nada."
"That sucks."
"Yup."
He realized that his mind was not quite as awake as he had first thought. He stumbled into their study and sat at the large table for only a short while before he decided it was too quiet. He rolled himself over to their stereo and selected a CD from the soft book sitting atop it. He put it in and rolled back over to the table.
A nice, mellow tune always helped him wake up when he felt like this. Soon the CD started and he listened to the guitar heavy hard-core of Life Of Agony. He selected a book from his shelf of occult tomes and opened it on the table.
He made another serious attempt at 'A Comprehensive Account Of Modern Vampiric Hauntings' but after twenty minutes or so of trying to stay awake through it he gave up. He tried at a lighter work entitled 'New England Hauntings' and found it much more manageable in the early morning.
The sun poured in the windows of the room and he soaked up its warmth. After close to two hours he finished the section on Maine in the book. It dealt mostly with ghost reports on old farms or sites of Native American spiritual power. He
had come to discover as a ghost hunter that every other old farmhouse
in rural Maine had a ghost story and most of them were true. He had tracked down and cataloged over thirty in the last year alone.
With boredom setting in he decided a nice movie would help pass the time until Monica came up with something. He decided that a progress report should be made first. So it was a stop at the door to her room that he made on the way to the couch.
"Anything yet?" He asked.
"Not really." She answered him. "Are you aware of the massive numbers of people killed in the Lewiston mills?"
"Nope."
"In the Bates Mill alone there have been over ten hundred people killed in accidents since its construction started in 1852."
"Started?"
"Yeah. That's when they started building it. It wasn't fully completed for quite a few years then it started expanding until 1901 or 1902."
"Ah, I see. And I gather the textile industry wasn't exactly safe huh?"
"Not even a little. The mills started in Lewiston before it was even incorporated as a city. It started with sawmills and gritsmills but expanded into textiles with the cotton industry in the late seventeen hundreds. There
were over a dozen mills that burned to the ground, which is why they
probably started using brick construction, but they still got gutted
frequently. The machines were notoriously unsafe and are accountable for about two thirds of the deaths. They
continued claiming people until the government began to really crack
down on workplace safety in the seventies but that was around the time
the industry collapsed so I guess it wasn't much help to the mills
around here anyway."
"Wow. Thank you for that little history lesson. Did you think to check the people who have worked there and died over the years?"
"That's what I'm doing now. I need to get into public records first to check employee and death records. It'll probably take a while."
"Well, keep up the good work."
"Yeah. Thanks." She said sarcastically.
Darius walked on to the couch and started a DVD to entertain himself. He sat and watched Enemy Of The State. He loved the movie for numerous reasons not the least of which was the climactic Mexican standoff at its end.
He realized after the movie that he was very bored and getting low on soda so he decided that a store run was in order. He put his boots on and searched for his jacket until he finally discovered it on the study table. He walked into Monica's room with the intention of just telling her that he was leaving for a minute.
"I need caffeine." He stated.
"That's nice." She responded.
"Did you find anything?" He asked.
"I found a lot, I just don't know if any of it's useful." She answered.
"Okay." He said. "Do you want anything at the store?"
"How about a nice, buxom redhead?" She asked.
"But I've got one right here." He said patting her on the shoulder.
"Not for you, dipshit." She scolded.
"Oh." He said dejected. "I'll see what I can do."
That was when he spotted it on the screen. He turned back to get a better look.
"Wait." He said. "Scroll back up."
She did so and he saw the picture.
"Right there." He said pointing at the picture on the screen.
The
picture was an old black and white of five men standing side by side
next to the canal with the looming, brick edifice of the Bates Mill
behind them.
"That's him." He said pointing to the second one from the left.
"You sure?" She asked of him.
"Yeah, I got a real good look in the library. That is definitely him."
"Okay. I'll see what I can dig up on him."
"Cool. I'll be back."
"All right. Don't forget my redhead." She reminded him.
"I'll see if they're on sale and maybe pick one up for myself." He said as he walked across the kitchen and out the door.
***
Darius set out on foot and walked the few blocks down Pine St. to Webb Market on the corner of Pine and Bartlett. Webb Market was the kind of corner sore of which there were many in Lewiston with its dilapidated front and interior. They offered a wide variety of grocery items but sold mostly liquor, cigarettes and other standard convenience store items. Darius entered, went to the coolers in the back and grabbed a one liter of Mountain Dew, paid for it and left.
He stepped outside but took only two steps on the sidewalk before something made him stop. He took a drink from his soda and put it in his jacket pocket while looking around. Across the street was a credit union alive with mid morning business. Cars moved steadily past him up Pine Street. People were all around him walking, standing around talking and generally moving on with their lives. Something was wrong, he could feel it.
He
thought maybe he was picking up emotion from the three gangers on the
corner with their matching bandannas, but after a moment he was certain
it was not them. He recognized this presence. He closed his eyes, focused and felt around more carefully.
Something sinister and psychotic was lurking nearby. Darius could feel the thing's presence permeating the entire area. It was then that he recognized it as the thing from the library. It started to come up on him quick from behind and he tried to move away before it could reach him. He crossed the street and then the drive up for the credit union. A small alleyway ran down the center of the block from Ash to Pine and this is where Darius went.
Out of the immediate presence of people the thing rushed him. His body went icy as the thing grasped at his aura. He ran, only feeling the thing right behind him. He emerged onto Ash Street and crossed it quickly slamming into a rusted chain link fence on the other side. He panted. The thing was right near him somewhere but his fear was getting in the way of locating it.
Then it rushed him again. It
came on him hard and fast and he could feel it pulling at his life
essence and he then knew what those kids must have felt in their last
moments. He mustered his will and violently expelled a wave of energy from himself that succeeded in throwing the thing off him. He ran blindly down Ash Street with the thing right behind him.
In a panic he ran toward the massive, gray gothic face of St. Peter and Paul's catholic church. He bolted up the wide granite steps and stumbled on the top. He fell and skidded to a stop losing skin from his palms and knew the thing had him. But it did not take him. He rolled over and felt around. It was still here, and then he felt it concentrate in one place at the bottom of the steps on the sidewalk. Then reality began to bend and the shadows formed a tall man in a black trench coat.
Cobain stared at him for what seemed an eternity before turning and walking off up the sidewalk. Darius could feel him move away and eventually disappear. Darius fell back to a lying position and tried to catch his breath. He removed his inhaler from his jacket pocket and took two puffs before returning it. He just laid there and relaxed for a while.
He realized looking up at the giant spires that it seemed to be the church that had saved him. The thing couldn't step on holy ground apparently. If it wasn't a vampire, which seemed pretty evident now, then what were its weaknesses? He would need to see what Monica dug up on it first.
Eventually he got up and tried to walk home. His hands burned where he had fallen on them and his lungs hurt from the exertion. It
only took him a couple minutes to get back but he kept his senses as
alert as he could fearing that the thing would come back before he got
inside his warded apartment.
***
When
Darius entered the apartment he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it
on the back of the couch before entering Monica's room.
"What took so long?" She asked looking up to him. Suddenly the terror and panic that was still fresh on him rushed into her senses. She focused to keep it at a manageable level. "You okay?"
He sighed and sat down next to her. She turned to him.
"Yeah," He said. "I've just got to calm down."
"What happened?"
"I ran into him again. He chased me after I left the store. I think he was trying to feed again but I managed to get him off from me and I ended up at the church over there." He motioned in the direction of St. Peter and Paul's whose spires could be seen from Monica's window. "For some reason he couldn't follow me onto the church grounds. I thought he had me."
"Are you gonna be all right?" She asked concerned.
"Yeah, like I said, I've just got to calm down."
"Okay." She turned back to the computer, hoping to shake off the emotion that was so strong behind her. "I've found quite a bit but I'm saving it to the hard drive and I'm gonna make a hard copy for you so I'll be a few minutes."
"All right." He stood. "I'll be out here."
He took his now flat soda from his jacket and walked into the study to await Monica. He leafed through a book concerning Celtic faeries and read a little about forest nymphs. The images of Vixen and Pagoda came to him and he felt as if they were there with him but he thought he knew otherwise. The book had a beautiful painting of two nymphs dancing in a sunny glade and he longingly admired it, to be so free and happy. The faery way was not the human way, however, and he could not be as they were. This depressed him but deep down he knew he still had his dreams to visit these places.
Monica entered and distracted him. The thoughts drifted from his memory for the present. She held in her hand a bundle of printed pages. She sat down near him and placed the stack in front of him.
"There you go." She said triumphantly.
"Cool." He began to look at it and saw exactly how thick it was, precisely sixty pages. "Is there as short version?"
"Okay." She began. "His name was Scott Cobain. He was a textile worker at the Bates Mill. He was single with no children. He was, however, a notorious drunk and apparently came to work wasted one day and fell into a stitcher in the basement. That was in 1926. I checked out the machines and he probably would have been spit out the other side a kind of chunky liquid."
Darius made a face at her rather graphic description.
"That was right around the site of the first murder scene wasn't it?" He asked.
"I'm not exactly sure but it was all production floors down there so probably." She answered.
"Judging by the police photos those kids were obviously involved in some kind of self styled Satanism." He said almost to himself. "I bet they did something that woke him up and now he's pissed off. I got in his way so now he's after me."
"Jesus." Monica said. "Are we gonna be able to get rid of this thing?"
"I hope so." He reassured her. "He's eighty years behind the times."
"Do you think that's enough?"
"I don't know."
Monica sighed. She was not reassured and more than a little scared about the situation.
"Well," She said. "the ball's in our court. What do we do now?"
"I want to do bit more research then I want to go check out the mill again. This time I'm not gonna fuck around at all but I want to be prepared."
"So we wait?"
"No. We make sure he doesn't get us when we make our move."
Monica now felt a little better.
***
As the sun was descending on the far side of Auburn, Frankie Gagne was stirring in his bed. He had laid down for a late afternoon nap and was finally waking. The
police had finally stopped harassing him on a daily basis and now he
was allowed to go out whenever he chose without having to explain
himself to anyone.
He rose and got dressed in his room. It was now dark, he preferred it that way. He had always hoped he could bathe the world in darkness. He grabbed his dark jacket and put it on. He removed a tattered pack of cigarettes and lit one. He was about to open the door and leave when his radio came to life.
It played a death metal song from the band Morbid Angel. 'Confront me. Unholy one.' He had been listening to it earlier and the disc was still in the player. He could vaguely feel something evil around him but could not quite make sense of what he was feeling. He turned around and saw the figure in the corner.
He had seen this figure once before when it had killed his friend in the depths below the Bates Mill. It seemed much more collected and focused now. Cobain
stood silently in the corner of the dark room between a Black Sabbath
poster and a gory rendition of Christ's crucifixion. He seemed almost one with the shadows of the room.
Gagne turned full on to the specter, unafraid. He knew he had the protection of his lord and this thing could not hurt him.
"What the fuck do you want?" He asked it harshly.
"I want you Frank." Cobain said softly.
"You've run out of my friends and now you think you can take me, right?" Gagne challenged.
"No." Cobain said moving forward slightly. "I have come to make you a proposition."
"And what would that be?"
"I ask that you join me."
Gagne scoffed.
"What makes you think I would do that?"
"You and I are the same kind of people, Frank." Cobain said stepping forward.
"You and I are nothing the same." He spat back.
"Join me Frank and I can make you the person you have always wanted to be. Together we can kill and nothing can stop us."
Gagne stood up straight and turned squarely to Cobain.
"I plan to stand by my master's right side upon my death. You will only sit at his feet."
Cobain uttered an infuriated hiss. "Your master does not exist!" He spat. "Allow me to take his place."
Gagne pointed at him. "I will never join you."
"Then you are no better than your mindless followers and you deserve nothing better than they received. A horrible, screaming death that serves only to make me stronger."
Cobain took a swift step toward Gagne but he was quick. He moved a hand inside the opposite arm of his jacket and pulled a sturdy carving knife from its concealed place. He slashed quickly and Cobain doubled over. He turned and left the room with an arrogant stride. Cobain forced the gaping wound in his gut to heal and stood upright. The boy was stronger than he had thought. But unfortunately he was irredeemable. However his rage and insanity was strong and Cobain would deeply enjoy devouring it.
***
Gagne walked around the city for a long time trying to shake the feeling of dread that he had. That thing had nearly gotten him, if it were not for his faith he would have been devoured like his friends. But then, they were weak and did not truly believe or they would have stood up to the thing's attacks.
Eventually
he came to the railroad trestles that crossed the Androscoggin River at
the top of the falls over the small dam that focused water into the
canal. He came at them from the Auburn
side and walked around the concrete face set into the high bank of the
river and down to the bottom of the iron trestles.
Running
the length of the trestles were stout planks laid across the supporting
grid work creating a straight path to the other side of the river. In
the center of the river the trestles crossed a wooded island created by
the falls on one side and the canal on the other, the third side of the
island was another small dam between it�s shore and the crumbling Libby
Mill complex on the shore itself. The canal had been built close to thirty years after the construction of the Libby Mill and cut right around it's grounds.
On the far side of the crumbling brick edifice a bloated half moon hung low in the sky. Gagne admired it as he crossed the plank bridge to the island. He climbed off the concrete supports for the trestle and onto the rocky island shore. He stopped and pulled the tattered pack of cigarettes from within his jacket and lit another one.
He took a long drag and admired the beauty of the night, it was so still and tranquil. His
coven had used this island for sacrifices that required the open air or
the light of the moon upon them so the area was comforting to him. He walked toward the center of the island where the trees thinned as the ground sloped down and became soggy. He sat against a tall maple tree and smoked his cigarette.
The ground around him was blackened from a fire, one that he had set to purify the ground. It
had been close to two months ago and nothing had sprouted here and the
ground remained charred as if the fire had just been extinguished.
He was now relaxed. He finished his cigarette and ground it into the dirt with his boot. That was when he noticed the breeze. He looked around and saw the thing standing beside the concrete foundation of the trestles. Silently it walked toward him.
Gagne stood and faced it. He pulled his knife from its concealed place in his sleeve.
"Frankie." Cobain said in a whisper barely louder than the wind.
"I suppose you've come to kill me, huh?" Frankie said defiantly.
"No, Frank." Cobain said as he drifted closer. "I have come to give you another chance. Join me."
"I said no already and I haven't changed my mind."
"Then I will not kill you, Frankie." Cobain drifted closer. "I will devour you and then your power will be added to mine."
"I don't think so asshole. How about I gut your undead ass and string you up on the trestles?"
"Such spirit."
Cobain's upper body dropped and he rushed at Gagne. Gagne swung his knife but Cobain moved to the side quickly and then grasped Gagne by the face. The intense chill of Cobain's touch drained the heat from him and his life with it. He did not have the strength to scream or struggle. His body began to go numb and his head began to ache. His vision began to blur and vertigo struck him. Then he was unconscious.
***
Mythos could feel the disturbance as he approached the trestles. He knew he had found Cobain again and he was feeding. Giant, black, feathered wings burst from his back and he took to the air.
He rushed fast and low to the ground along the railroad tracks and then out over the canal. He dropped quickly toward the island and saw the scene. He
recognized Gagne without any surprise and could barely make out
Cobain's black form within the shadows of the trees and the darkness of
the blackened earth.
He tucked his wings and dove as fast as he could and shattered the membrane between the worlds when he became corporal. The rush of air and the spiritual crack snapped Cobain away from his meal as Mythos struck him in the mid-section. The two tumbled into the underbrush.
Cobain tossed Mythos from him and sent him back against a tree that cracked loudly with the impact. He dropped to the ground with a thud. Cobain turned and leapt through the air to the trestles nearly fifty feet away.
Mythos rolled and leapt with his wings spread and flew through the air and into Cobain. The collision knocked Cobain's head into one of the rusted iron crossbeams with a loud, echoing crack. Mythos flew out the other side and circled back into the framework to land on the plank bridge in front of Cobain.
Cobain moved in a blur, he landed three punches that knocked Mythos back and attempted a kick that was blocked. Mythos ducked and focused energy into a punch to Cobain's chest that knocked him back into one of the beams leaving a dent.
Cobain recovered as Mythos focused energy again and launched a small fireball from his hand. The golf ball sized ball of flame shot through the shadows as Cobain dove forward and rolled under it. It streaked off and struck a crossbeam before exploding.
Cobain came up from his roll and struck Mythos at an upward angle. Mythos lifted up from the planks and struck a crossbeam with his back and fell into the water.
Cobain jumped and grabbed hold of the upper lip and flipped onto the top of the trestles next to the tracks. Mythos then burst from the water with his wings spread wide. He landed heavy on the iron walkway beside the tracks and just dripped water, staring at Cobain.
"What are you doing in this city?" Mythos asked in a cold, calm tone.
"I am nearly finished with my business here." Cobain responded.
"You have invaded my territory. Make your stay here short and do not again make prey upon the people of this city."
"You don't need to worry, I only have a few more orders of business and then I will move on."
"You have one more phase of the moon within this city and then I will make sure you leave personally. This is my city and I do not appreciate trespassers. Consider tonight a lesson I will not repeat."
"You don't need to worry."
"I hope I will not see you in a month."
Mythos turned and walked away leaving wet boot prints behind him. He neared the end of the trestles and gently crossed the veil as his physical form vanished.
Cobain was furious. He knew he had been beaten and he was furious. That was a powerful spirit that fought with the fury of an abyssal soldier. Cobain was almost frightened but he knew he could out think it. He would still have this city but he would not confront that one again until he was much more powerful. After he ate the two hunters that had found him he would be close.
He stretched and could feel the young Satanist�s spirit melt within him. He had not gotten all of it, the rest had slipped away when Mythos struck him. It mattered not. He knew there was a power center somewhere in this city but he could not pinpoint it yet. He had been close all those years ago. After
he ate the hunters and found that center he would be able to eliminate
that ghost and take this city for his own, nearly one hundred thousand
souls all to himself. It would be glorious. From here he could move on to the vampire prince of Boston, the notorious Vandal. Cobain was truly surprised when he discovered that that one had attained such power.
Novels Home
Prologue: Releasing The Darkness
Chapter One: The Hunt
Chapter Two: The Fae Of The Wood
Chapter Three: Spirits Of The Night
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