Dead of Winter (38 page)

My enemy, my brother, bound together by fury and eternal loss.

When the Indian doll finally burned to ash, Tom joined the other six men at the conference table where they were quarreling over supper. Charles, the Cree butler, poured tea in everyone’s cups, while a teenage maid—the same doe-eyed girl Tom had seen the officers take down to the cellar—served plates of food. She briefly made eye contact with Tom and then averted her eyes. Walter Thain, a corpulent man shaped like a walrus, put his hand on her back as the girl set a plate of toast covered with brown paste and sardines in front of him. Percy Kennicot fidgeted with his trembling hands. The officer had never been the same since his wife had been found butchered and half-submerged in a frozen stream. Brother Andre stared at the center of the table, deep in thought, while Father Xavier debated with Lt. Hysmith and Dr. Coombs.

“She has the lycanthropy disease,” said the doctor. “And in a matter of hours or days she will become a werewolf.”

“Nonsense,” argued Father Xavier. “She is merely possessed by an evil spirit. Let Andre and I perform an exorcism.”

“Gentlemen, don’t listen to this charlatan,” Dr. Coombs said. “She needs medical treatment, not Catholic witchdoctors.”

“We can’t just leave her in there,” Hysmith said. “If Zoé could break her ropes, then so will Willow. Last thing we need is another beast loose in the fort.”

“Enough!” said Pendleton from the window. The arguing men silenced. Their leader turned around, his eyes glazed from too much brandy. “I will not have any of you speak of my wife in with disrespect. Lady Pendleton is to stay in her bedchamber until we find a cure. Doctor, tell me there’s a way to stop this disease.”

Dr. Coombs shook his head. “Sir, I don’t have an answer yet. The virus appears to be invisible. If I can’t trace the viral cells, then it will be very difficult to find a cure. All I can do for now is explore the reactions of different medicines. See if any reverse the symptoms.”

“Doc, how long will she sleep?” Tom asked.

“Through the night. I gave her a strong dose.”

Tom said, “Then we have till morning to figure something out.”

Dr. Coombs said, “I’d like to try some different elixirs—”

Father Xavier slammed his fist on the table. “If you men will listen to me,
I
have a way we can stop this disease.” The priest’s intense eyes held everyone captivated. “The Church calls the disease ‘The Devil’s Plague.’ The Jesuits have been battling it for centuries.”

Dr. Coombs glared. “Why didn’t you tell us this?”

“As an exorcist, it is my duty to maintain secrecy until I have absolute conviction. After seeing the disfigurement of Jean and Nadia Chaurette’s bodies, I am now certain that the cannibals were not infected by some microscopic organism, but by an evil spirit that possesses them.”

Dr. Coombs expelled a husky laugh. “Priest, you think everything is the work of the Devil.”

“And you found nothing in the blood samples to indicate the contrary.”

The doctor sneered.

“Doctor, let him speak!” yelled Pendleton. “I want to hear his theory. Father, continue.”

“The Jesuits faced an outbreak similar to Manitou Outpost back in the 1600s.” Father Xavier opened his duffle bag and pulled out a book with a worn cover. “
The Jesuit Relations
from the journal of Father Paul Le Jeune. He was a missionary who came from France to Quebec to help convert the Montagnais-Naskapi tribe. He was the first to document this plague in Canada. In 1635, he reported a native man at Three Rivers as behaving cannibalistic and uncontrollable. He tried to eat his family. Later in 1661, the plague broke out again in greater numbers at a fort in Northern Quebec. This is what he documented.” Father Xavier read the handwritten journal aloud:

At the outset, they are detained at Tadoussac several weeks, an epidemic sickness having arisen there which causes many deaths. Upon entering Lake St. John, they hear of the deaths of some Indians belonging to their party; these men have been put to death by the other savages, because they were seized by a mental disease which rendered them ravenous for human flesh. It is a sort of werewolf tale, which the missionaries receive somewhat cautiously. What caused us greater concern was the intelligence that met us upon entering the Lake, namely, that the men deputed by our Conductor for the purpose
of summoning the Nations to the North Sea, and assigning them a rendezvous, where they were to await our coming, had met their death the previous Winter in a very strange manner. Those poor men were seized with an ailment unknown to us, but not very unusual among the people we were seeking. They are afflicted with neither lunacy, hypochondria, nor frenzy; but have a combination of all these species of disease, which affects their imaginations and causes them a more than canine hunger. This makes them so ravenous for human flesh that they pounce upon women, children, and even upon men, like veritable werewolves, and devour them voraciously, without being able to appease or glut their appetite—ever seeking fresh prey, and the more greedily the more they eat. This ailment attacked our deputies; and, as death is the sole remedy among those simple people for checking such acts of murder, they were slain in order to stay the course of their madness.

“The priest describes the infected as werewolves,” Dr. Coombs said. “That supports my theory.”

“Somewhat.” Father Xavier handed the journal to Pendleton. “But unlike the mythical lycanthropes, those with the infection do not grow fur or shape-shift into wolves. Father Le Jeune was more accurate when he later described the infected as ‘Devils.’”

“As in possessed by the Devil?” Tom asked.

“Yes,” said Father Xavier. “The Jesuits believe Satan is possessing people through a spiritual disease, spreading his demon seeds in a way that is more frightening than any of the ten plagues prophesied in the book of Exodus.”

148

“The Devil’s Plague goes through four stages,” said Father Xavier. “First, a person becomes filled with fear. If he confesses his sins to God and prays for guidance, then fearful thoughts pass on without effect. But in the absence of faith, fear and guilt cause someone who is spiritually weak to descend into a downward spiral. This makes him vulnerable to the temptations of evil spirit. This invisible force goes by many names: Satan, Lucifer, the Devil, Legion.” The priest paused, his radiant blue eyes gazing across the table at Tom. “If the sinner acts on those temptations, then evil spirit leads them down a dark path of despair and clouds their mind with illusions. Stage two is when the sinner imagines things that are not really there.”

Tom thought of the morning he had imagined his wife standing in his kitchen, not seeing that she was really Willow…the scratching sounds coming from his crate, as if the whiskey bottles inside were demons clawing to get out…Chris’ ghost lying under the covers in his bed, then standing outside the window with his mother. Illusions. The Devil tempting Tom further into his downward spiral. His right hand trembled. “Are these illusions what finally drive a man to madness?”

Father Xavier nodded. “Belief in the illusions opens a doorway that evil can enter. Stage three begins when a demon spirit possesses a sinner’s body. They are so lost at this point that they become puppets to the demon controlling them.”

Tom said, “So the fourth stage the infected person becomes what the natives call windigo.”

The priest nodded. “Stage four is called ‘the Turning.’ The infected grow claws, sharp teeth, their bones stretch, and their skin withdraws around the skeleton. They hunger for flesh and resort to cannibalism. At Manitou Outpost, the entire colony went through the stages from demon possession to physically turning into demons.”

Pendleton said, “Father, can you save my wife?”

“Yes, when she wakes up, Andre and I can perform an exorcism on her demon. As long as a person is still in the early stages of possession, then they can be saved.”

“And if they turn fully into a windigo?” Tom asked.

“Then death is the only solution.”

149

“What I need to know is…” said Father Xavier as he studied the bewildered faces of the men sitting around the table. “Has any one of you seen peculiar phenomena or suffered nightmares?”

“What do you mean by ‘phenomena?’” asked Inspector Hatcher.

“Ghosts, demons, strange visions, anything out of the ordinary.”

Pendleton, Thain, Hysmith, and Dr. Coombs shook their heads.

Percy Kennicot’s hands trembled as he set down his cup of tea. “I have, Father.” Behind wire-rimmed glasses, he had gray circles under his eyes. Percy glanced at his fellow officers and then at Father Xavier. “My children have been suffering from nightmares. Last night my youngest woke up screaming. I spent half the night rocking Mary Kate to sleep. This morning she drew a picture of her nightmare.”

“Not this again,” Pendleton said.

“I think everyone should see it.” Percy reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He opened it and placed the drawing in front of Father Xavier. Sketched in black charcoal was a stick figure with broad antlers. It was standing in the forest, almost as high as the trees. Father Xavier felt his heart drop.

Dr. Coombs said, “All kids have nightmares of the bogeyman.”

Inspector Hatcher tapped his finger on the drawing. “I’ve seen this before, back in Montréal. When I tracked the Cannery Cannibal to his hideout. On the walls was a mural of a horned beast.”

Pendleton said, “That’s purely coincidental.”

“What if they’re connected somehow?” the inspector said. “Gustave Meraux performed Satanic rituals to a demon god. Now here it is again.”

Pendleton said, “It’s just a child’s drawing.”

“The inspector may be right,” Father Xavier said. “The horned beast has shown up in countless places, everywhere from cave paintings to books on pagan rituals.”

Percy said, “Last night I swear I saw this very creature.” He pointed to the window. “Amongst the trees was a head with enormous antlers.”

“You probably saw a moose,” said Hysmith.

Percy shook his head. “I have been on enough hunts to know a moose when I see one. No, this beast was tall and stood upright, like a man. The eyes reflected the moon. I felt like the creature was looking straight into me. I blacked out for a spell, and when I awoke the beast was gone. Then this morning, after seeing my daughter’s drawing, I began to ask myself, what if the thing that killed my wife was the windigo?”

“That’s nothing but a legend,” said Hysmith.

“The winter demon is real,” said Father Xavier. “For over two centuries, the Jesuits have been searching for the windigo. It has stalked the Ontario woods, as well as Quebec, and become a part of the native legends. Father Jacques described witnessing this beast at Manitou Outpost before he and the others turned cannibal.” He remembered a passage from the diary:
I have beheld the gaze of the Devil and feasted upon the beast’s sacrament.
Father Xavier said, “I believe it was the windigo that turned Father Jacques and the trappers into cannibals.”

“If such a beast indeed exists, then why is it stalking my forts?” Pendleton asked.

“That I am not certain,” answered Father Xavier. “But in many cases where the Devil’s Plague broke out, the attack was brought on by a curse from a medicine man or woman seeking vengeance.”

“You think an Indian summoned the windigo?” asked Hysmith.

“It’s quite possible.”

“But who?” asked Walter Thain. “There are over a dozen Indians living inside our fort.”

Master Pendleton slammed his fist against the table. “That fucking bitch.”

150

Tom’s blood pulse quickened as the soldiers surrounded Anika’s cabin. Rifles aimed at her door and windows.
No, this can’t be happening.
Tom tried to remain calm as he stood at the foot of her porch steps.
God, please let her be innocent.
“Anika, come out. We need to speak with you.”

When she didn’t respond, Master Pendleton approached the porch. “God damn it, woman, come outside this instance!”

The door remained closed. The light inside the windows went dark.

Shit
, Tom thought. “Anika, please, we need you to cooperate.”

Around the back of her cabin echoed frantic barking.

Pendleton shouted at the soldiers, “Bring me one of her dogs!”

Lt. Hysmith and a private went to the kennel and dragged Ozaawi out by the nape. The husky whimpered as Pendleton put a pistol to its head. “Anika, if you don’t come out this bloody minute, I’m going to start killing off your dogs.”

The front door opened, and Anika rushed onto the porch. “No, don’t hurt them!”

The soldiers swarmed the native woman and threw her to the ground. She struggled against them. One soldier pressed her face into the snow. Tom shoved him to the ground. “Do not hurt her!”

Anika’s face was half-covered in snow. She glared up at Tom. “What’s this about?”

“Please, just do as they say. We’re going to have to look inside your cabin.” He followed Pendleton and Hysmith up the front steps and crossed the threshold. Tom was immediately struck by the odor of damp soil and garlic. On the kitchen table were bowls of feathers, bones, roots, and blood. Boiling in a pot was a red brew of twigs and crow feathers. Tom stirred the soup, and a bird’s gray carcass floated to the top.

Hysmith grimaced. “Told you she’s a bloody witch.”

At a bench covered with baskets of herbs, Pendleton picked up a white fur mitten that matched Willow’s coat. His face twisted. Growling, he brushed past Tom and stomped outside. Pendleton backhanded Anika hard across the jaw. “You cursed us, you fucking witch!” He pressed his pistol barrel to her head.

“Wait!” Tom rushed down the steps. “Don’t shoot!”

“Stand back, Inspector!” Pendleton cocked the pistol. “Woman, why are you trying to ruin me?”

Down on her knees, Anika stared up with angry eyes. “If you’re going to kill me, do it.”

Tom said, “Both of you, calm down.”

Pendleton’s fiery gaze remained locked with Anika’s. “She deserves to be executed.”