The story that I am about to tell is a sad story, full of nothing but grief. I was told this story by Daithi who was a good friend of these unfortunate men for whom he doesn't want this story to be forgotten. The job of finding a place for the first lighthouse in this colony was given to two young explorers named Smitty and John. They had been up north for some time before coming here to help settle the land. They were inseparable, Daithi tells me. They left in the spring of the year before and weren't heard from again. The following is from a letter written by John that was found on the island, in the case that he could not explain what happened;
"It was accidental. It was sudden and I could do nothing to save his life. The house had been built before winter and all was fine. The lanterns were kept well lit every day to guide the ships. It was at the start of winter when the cold set in and things began to freeze over when it happened. Smitty was by the rocks when he fell and hit his head. There had been so much blood. There was no time for me to sail back to the mainland to get help and with the storms and rough water, there would have been no chance of our survival. He died that evening, not knowing what happened to him. He couldn't speak, couldn't even open his eyes. I couldn't keep the body inside because of the smell, so I made a makeshift coffin and propped him up outside. I waited. I waited for help for so long but none ever came. If you are reading this, it's because you let me starve. You forgot about us."
Daithi told me that help never came because whenever a ship would pass by, they would see a man leaning against the cabin's wall. They all said that he seemed just fine. Now, Daithi believes that the ghosts of Smitty and John are still there and need help moving on. Jonathan thinks that he can bring the Church Grim that far but I don't believe it.
I've been keeping an eye on him. He seems quite possessive over this Grim. One wrong word or look when he is talking about it and he gets upset with me for not believing in the benevolence of the entity. Daithi has told me that people are talking in town about him. They think it's him, that he is the witch. They think he's the one who started all of this with the help of a demon disguising itself as their Church Grim. I fear that someone will actually accuse him when the magistrate arrives. I have tried to defend someone before in a witch trial and failed...I don't know if I can do it again.
However, I know that Jonathan is a good man, he'd never make any deal, never talk with any entity, any demon.
Tyler slowly raised his gaze from the book on his lap. The small rowboat swayed back and forth on the cold, calm water. A blanket of mist floated through the air and soaked through the trees on the shore behind them and on the islands in front of them. Jonathan sat across from Tyler, his eyes on a piece of paper in his hands. He had drawn the Church Grim, sketched like the painting, and had brought it with him. Tyler stared at the paper and the recreation of the Church Grim's portrait there. He shivered.
I would not dare confess this to Jonathan or anyone else, but that certainly is starting to waver. Perhaps he has been tricked, or perhaps he knows full well what he is doing. I don't know which one is better, in this case, they are both damning. I am scared. I'm so scared for Jonathan. I pray that this stops soon for his sake. I can't watch another person burn.
"Do you see it?" Daithi pointed to a small island ahead of them. Among the snow covered trees were glowing lanterns meant to guide the ships to safety. Jonathan tucked the drawing into his pocket, turning to look over his shoulder at the island. Daithi set the oar down, letting the small boat float along the dark water. Tyler glanced down at the inky water, imagining that just below the surface, were creatures with sharp teeth and tentacles. Looking back up at the island, he could feel a weight hanging over him. He felt angry, he felt sad.
"What exactly do you want us to do?"
"Just...help them in any way you know how."
"We don't know how." Tyler coughed, pressing his hand over his mouth. He could feel blood hit his palm. He wiped it off on his jacket, not wanting Jonathan to see. "Talking with spirits tends to go along with witchcraft." Jonathan glanced back at Tyler, meeting his warning gaze.
"Than why are ye here?" Daithi snapped. Tyler's gaze fell from Jonathan.
"I want to help them," Tyler whispered after a few moments of heavy silence. "Despite it being considered witchcraft." He wasn't going to admit that he was avoiding the bloodletting the doctor wanted to try.
"Thank you for taking the risk." Despite his gratitude, there was still an edge of anger in Daithi's voice. When the boat finally docked, he was grateful to put some distance between himself and them. "You're welcome to go anywhere on the island. Just don't fall or anything."
"Right," Tyler said as he made his way up the beach towards the lanterns. The warm glow reflected off the undisturbed snow, giving it a sparkle in the dying light of day. He stopped by one of the lanterns that hung from a frozen tree branch, the golden thread on his coat sparkling in the golden light. Pressing his hand against the glass, he could feel the warmth of the flame. Something moved out of the corner of his eye. Tyler turned his head, his bright blue eyes scanning the trees; there was nothing there.
Looking back at the glowing lantern, he found himself reaching into his pocket for his pen and its capsule of ink. He opened his book to the next blank page. As he sketched the lantern, he could hear someone walking through the snow behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Daithi heading towards the small cabin. Jonathan was nowhere to be seen. Turning to look back down at the journal, Tyler began to cough. Tiny drops of spit and blood fell onto the paper before he could stop it. "Damn it," Tyler muttered. His inky black drawing of the lantern was now splattered with blood. He sighed and closed the book.
The narrow wooden door creaked open. The candle in Tyler's hand flickered in the cold air. The dim light illuminated the small room. At the far end, under the small window was a bed, it's blankets messy and covered with a thin layer of dust. On the small desk was a bowl and simple water pitcher. A black coat hung off one of the bedposts. On the bed by the pillow was a book, still open to the last page Smitty had been on.
"Nothing in here has been touched." Daithi had explained. "I don't want no one to touch it till they are at rest. Just try talking to them...anything. Please just try." Now, as Tyler closed the door, set the candle down on the table and sat down on the bed, he felt silly. He could lie to Daithi but that would be cruel.
So Tyler sat in silence in a dead boy's room.
He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes welling up with tears. He didn't want to cry.
"I'm not sad…" Tyler whispered. He bit his bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. "Stop it." Tears spilt from his eyes. He pressed a hand over his mouth to stop the sob from escaping his lips. "I'm so sorry…" Tyler whispered to the empty room. "I'm so sorry." He took a deep, shuddering breath as he slowly laid back on the dusty bed, his arms spread out like wings. His fingers curled around the blanket. Tears spilt down the sides of his head into his hair. He closed his eyes.
His fingertips felt cold, as if they had been dipped in the ocean. His head felt heavy. Slowly, he sat up, his head rolling from shoulder to shoulder. He opened his eyes. Everything in the room was where it should be, he didn't like it out of place.
"Tyler?" There was a knock at the door. His brow furrowed. "Are you alright?"
"Who is it?" He asked.
"Jon...Are you alright?"
"John?"
"Can I come in?"
"Yes…" The door opened. A man with a blue feather tucked into his hat stood in the doorway. His shoulders fell with a disappointed sigh.
"Tyler?" The man knelt down in front of him. "Can you look at me?" He didn't look at him. He kept his eyes on the door, waiting. "Tyler! Look at me!" He looked down at him. "Why do your eyes look like that?"
"What do you mean?"
"Tyler…" The man with a feather in his hat turned away, his gaze on the door; he looked scared. "Daithi!" Footsteps came towards the door. His eyes were on the door but did not see the tall man enter. He did not hear them talking to him. He simply stared for what only felt like a moment. A dark shadow stood in the doorway. He wanted to apologize for leaving him so suddenly. "Tyler!"
Tyler blinked and raised his head, looking up at Jonathan.
"When did you get in here?" Tyler managed to whisper.
Jonathan suddenly wrapped his arms around Tyler. Confused, he looked up at Daithi who could only stare back. "You weren't yourself. You just sat there for so long…"
"What are you talking about?" Tyler's brow furrowed. He remembered laying down after he had just walked in. Hadn't he just walked in the room? "I've only been in here a few minutes."
"No." Jonathan shook his head. "It's been a lot longer than that."
The fire in the hearth crackled and spat sparks into the chimney. Sitting by the fire, his book in his lap and pen in hand, Tyler found himself unable to write. He could only watch the flames and think about how his lungs rasped with every inhale and ached with every exhale. He felt exhausted but sleep evaded him.
"Are we going to talk about it?" Jonathan said with a sigh from where he sat across from Tyler.
"Talk about what?"
"You know what."
"No. I don't. What do you want to talk about, Jonathan?" Tyler's whisper was sharp. He shot a cautious glance at Daithi who was snoring on a cot across the room.
"You're sick." Jonathan hissed. Silence fell over the room. Tyler lowered his gaze from his apprentice. The warm firelight casted dark shadows onto the wooden walls.
The door to the dead boy's bedroom was closed.
"And?"
"How bad is it?"
"Jonathan...I can't tell you."
"Why?" His voice raised. Daithi stirred in his sleep. Tyler grit his teeth, his hands curling into fists. "Why won't you tell me?"
"Because I don't know how bad it is! I don't know and it terrifies me, Jonathan! I didn't want to scare you! Even if I did know how bad it is, I wouldn't tell you. How am I supposed to tell you that I might be dying from something I can't see? How am I supposed to tell you that you might be on your own soon?" The pen dropped to the wood floor. He covered his face with his hands. He couldn't meet Jonathan's stricken gaze. "You're right...We should have left when we had the chance. We should have gone home...I don't want to die here, Jonathan."
"You won't."
The fire crackled.
Tyler sighed.
The door to the dead boy's room stood open.
"How do you know?"
"I don't know…"
"So why would you say that?" Tyler couldn't stop the annoyance that came over him. He wanted everything to be fixed right now. How dare Jonathan think that he could just guess Tyler's fate? "Why would you guess about something like that?"
"Tyler, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
"You did anyways!"
"I'm sorry!" Jonathan cried. Before Tyler could say another word, he began to cough. His lungs burned as they forced phlegm and blood up his throat. Pressing his hands over his mouth, he closed his eyes as Jonathan got up to kneel beside him, his eyes wide with worry. "You should be resting...All of this can't be helping you."
"I-I'm fine…" Tyler wheezed.
"No, you're not. I'm taking you to Jamestown to get some proper help."
"I'm fine, Jonathan!"
"Stop lying!"
A shadow passed by the window.
Something hit the wall outside.
The two men froze. Daithi suddenly sat up, looking around the room in dazed confusion. Tyler slowly got to his feet, setting his book down on the arm of the chair.
"Did you do that?"
"No…"
"Than what was it?" Tyler whispered. Daithi got to his feet, silently moving for his gun that leaned against the wall by the door. He grabbed the gunpowder that hung beside it and moved back to the two Witch Hunters who found themselves unable to move.
Another shadow passed by the window.
"What have you brought here?" Daithi muttered as he struggled to load the gun.
"Excuse me?"
"This was never an evil place! What have ye brought here? Demons?"
"No! The Grim isn't a demon!" Jonathan cried. He turned to Tyler in desperation but he did not help him. Tyler stared at Jonathan, his eyes cold.
"The Grim doesn't talk to people! He doesn't do nothing but protect the church! What you're talking to is the devil himself! You're a witch! You've brought the devil to this place and I'll see you hanged for it!" Daithi screamed. The fire sparked violently. The trees outside stood still in the cold air. Prints appeared in the snow.
"He's not the devil! He's scared! His mother...She did it!" Jonathan cried, his arms up in surrender. "Tyler, please! You have to believe me! He's not the devil! He's not evil!"
"I saw the Grim in the woods, Jon." Tyler breathed. Jonathan stared at Tyler, his hands shaking.
"If they hang me for witchcraft...They'll hang you too." Jonathan threatened. "That book…" He pointed to Tyler's book. "It's your grimoire!"
"No, it's not!" Tyler yelled. "How dare you accuse me?"
"What have you been writing in that book?" Daithi demanded. Gritting his teeth, Tyler grabbed Venefica and held it open for Daithi to see. "It's a journal. I just write what has been happening to me! Nothing more!"
"Everything started after you arrived. Brian is possessed. People are going missing. People keep saying that the devil is knocking on their doors at night." Daithi spat. "Now there's something here that wasn't before! How dare you bring the devil to Smitty and John! They were good! Good, ye hear!" Tyler lowered his eyes to the floor upon hearing the pain in Daithi's voice. A cold gust of air suddenly blew the fire out. Tyler shivered as the room was plunged into darkness. "Oh...God…" Daithi breathed.
"Tyler…" Jonathan whispered. Tyler raised a finger to his lips. Silence fell heavily over the cabin. They could hear the wind outside. They could hear Tyler's wheezing breaths. They could hear a coyote call through the woods. They could hear footsteps coming through the snow, getting louder and louder as they approached the door. They couldn't take their eyes off the door. A garbled laugh came outside.
There was a knock on the door.
Then a second knock.
Then a third.
Then silence.
Tyler grabbed the gun from Daithi, storming towards the door. He curled his hand around the door handle. "Don't!" Daithi screamed. Tyler yanked the door open. A gust of cold air filled the cabin. There was nothing there; just snow and a goat's hoof prints. Looking up from the snow, Tyler's eyes widened. A great black mass was rushing towards him from the trees. It seemed to ooze across the snow. Tyler held up the gun and fired. Sparks flew around his face. The bullet went through the mass and embedded itself in a tree. A hand curled around Tyler's arm and pulled. He fell to the wood floor as the door slammed shut.
Dazed, Tyler slowly propped himself up against the door. Daithi stood in front of him, his eyes wide with horror. From where he stood by the fireplace, Jonathan looked pale and unsteady, as if he might faint. "You let him in…" Daithi whispered. Tyler looked up at him as he heaved for air. He could taste blood.
"Who?"
"The devil…"
