A/N: As a precaution I'm adding a warning for disturbing imagery in this chapter.
The Whistler - Chapter 9
By Karolyn Gray
Despite the general nuisance of his condition, his feelings of being separated and apart from the world around him, Nathan could acknowledge there were some benefits to being numb, even if he only reluctantly admitted that fact to himself. He suspected now was one of those times he should be glad he couldn't feel anything.
He felt unsteady and lightheaded with an unpleasant feeling of queasiness in his stomach that had stayed with him since finding the body in the woods. Though he couldn't feel it, of course, he was strangely certain he had a headache bordering on a migraine. All of this combined with a general lethargy left him seeking out solitude from prying eyes.
He had found that solitude in a simple camp chair under a tarpaulin setup near the ambulance waiting on stand-by. The EMTs had seen him coming, offered to look him over, and then just disappeared when he'd sat down heavily and waved them off. He'd closed his eyes and simply tried to forget his worry over the boy and the body he had seen, humming the tune that had haunted him in his dreams and continued on into his waking thoughts.
The noise of the site had quickly faded to just himself humming. He felt the urge to whistle but refrained. Something within told him that whistling would draw unwanted attention. The last real thought he had before letting his mind drift off was being grateful that no one seemed inclined to come bother him with one issue or another. He wasn't sure how long he sat there and honestly didn't care as he let the tension he felt slip away.
*~~Haven~~Haven~~Haven~~*
It was dark and under the heavy canopy of the forest no light from the full moon reached the forest floor. Only the dim light of the lanterns lit their way as he and the others follow the whistling man through the gloom of the woods. Behind him he can hear the other two boys stumbling over the debris of the forest floor—and earning muttered curses from their minder, an older boy with cruel eyes. But not him. Despite the darkness he saw everything clearly and easily avoided the obstructions and obstacles despite the heavy bucket he carried. The bucket sloshed thickly with the contents therein but he moved with an ease of grace he could see the Whistler admired when he cast his eyes back over his charges.
They came to a clearing, a glade of surprisingly large size—he guessed it to be about one hundred yards in diameter—the moonlight so bright he could have easily read a book under the glow.
At the center of the clearing were five tall trees arranged around a much large one. What struck him as odd was the five smaller trees were pine and the larger an old black spruce, all of them twisted and misshapen in a way he'd never seen trees look. The rest of the clearing had calf height grasses that were still as green as the height of spring and not a dried out brown, withered by the summer, fall, and oncoming winter. The glade smelled of blueberry and huckleberry thought he couldn't see bushes for either.
The Whistler kept going without a further glance back, his pace hurried and energetic. He followed quietly, remembering their instructions well.
He gasped and stopped at the glimmer of white he saw come around the cluster of trees. One, then two, then another and another. Ghostly white apparitions in flowing dresses. He blinked in surprise when he realized the figures weren't apparitions but girls. Five girls of varying ages—the oldest old enough to be considered a woman, the youngest about his own age. All of them had long dark hair and impish smiles as they frolicked and played with one another around the trees.
Their carefree laughter now reached his ears and he thought it is the most beautiful, melodic sound he'd ever heard. Fascinated, he dropped the bucket and slowly walked towards them rather than following the Whistler. As he got closer he could see a much older woman sitting at the base of the large spruce watching the girls with a sad expression. He wondered if the tears in her eyes were because the Whistler had brought such sadness here. But then he wondered why the girls seemed so happy.
Two of the girls—who look so much alike he was certain they must be twins—ran past him, laughing and shrieking, the ends of the dresses brushing his arm. He gasped at the sudden sensation of cold that washed over his skin. They continued on as if he wasn't there. He ran his hand over his arms disappointed to feel nothing once more.
When he looked up he saw the youngest one stop in her play and stare at him in surprise. She smiled timidly at him and he couldn't help but smile back, despite his normal bashfulness around girls. Giggling she ran up to him and offers him a blueberry. He cautiously took the fruit and ate it, for the first time the gnawing sensation in his stomach going away.
"Hi, I'm Alice. You're not supposed to be here yet." She said with a quizzical expression. "What's you're name?"
He frowned wondering how she could speak when her mouth hadn't moved, the happy, innocent grin still in place.
"My name is…" His words were cut off as he was thrown the ground, accompanied by the sound of fist hitting flesh, and his vision blurred before he was yanked back up off the ground to dangle by his hair.
"What are you doing?" The Whistler's eyes were cold with fury. When he didn't answer right away, gasping to catch the breath knocked out of him, he saw the Whistler's eyes narrow to slits as he hefted the knife in his hand.
"I'm sorry. I won't talk to her again," he whispered fearfully, cringing in the expectation of the man's wrath.
He was surprised when instead the Whistler's eyes widened in shock. He lowered him to the ground and knelt beside him, staring intently. "What do you see?"
He swallowed nervously and looked over to find the girl still smiling at him, the other girls still at play and the older woman sitting there eyes now fixed on him with a knowing expression.
"What do you see?"
"Girls. Five girls—sisters I think- and an older woman sitting by the large spruce." He replied and looked back cautiously at the man. The Whistler simply stared at him, face blank, but he could see something in the man's eyes he hadn't ever seen there before—fear.
The dark anger that had subsided within him after the death of the old man flared. He allowed a small, threatening smile to come to his lips at this realization that the Whistler was just like him. He could feel fear. He saw a similar smile come to Alice's face and he felt emboldened. "I was talking to Alice."
The Whistler jumped back as if he had been burned, shock and open fear now on his face. Alice giggled beside him and he found himself giggling along with her.
"Listen," she told him. She started whistling, a tune wholly different than that of the old man who had been the Whistler, the new man who had become the Whistler, and the older boy who was to become the Whistler. A simple song, beautiful, pure, ancient and far more powerful than anything the Whistler had been able to produce. He recognized it now as the song he had heard before, underneath the Whistler's tune.
He saw the Whistler regain his courage, face calm once more. Broadening his smile, he started to whistle the new tune. He knew what was coming even as the man backhanded him and sent him sprawling to the dirt.
"Do that again and I'll kill you. The Five Sisters are not for you."
"No he won't," Alice said with a laugh, the older four girls—now circling them-echoing her mirth. "He thinks you're the key to his salvation, but we know better. Don't we? She's coming for him."
"No you won't." He spat back, glaring up at the man with hatred. "She's coming for you."
When the Whistler lunged towards him he scrambled to his feet, whistling the new song, Alice and the sister's joined in. The man winced and stepped back, the other two boys and the older youth simply stared with blank expressions, and oblivious to what was going on. The Whistler warily walked around the child, pace steady but cautious as he twirled the long bladed knife in his hand.
"You really are special," the Whistler said evenly. Moving far faster than he thought possible the man was upon him, hand clamped over his mouth and nose, cutting off his air, as he slammed him into the ground, leaving him dazed.
"Listen and forget what you learned here," the Whistler commanded. The all too familiar tune filled his ears, the other boys adding their whistles to the man's own, joining in to overwhelm the new tune he had just learned—his anger subsiding once more in the darkness.
He struggled reaching out towards Alice only to find her staring at him with a hollow expression—skin grayed and cracked, hair ragged and limp, bruises purpling her face, blackened eyes, a split lip, and dark blood streaming from her nose, red marks and more bruising around her wrists, ankles, and throat, her dress shredded, dirty and bloodstained, hiding none of the bruises and cuts on her small body.
*~~Haven~~Haven~~Haven~~*
It was the smell that brought him conscious. Mud, sweat, and a musty, cloying scent his mind couldn't quite identify. In an instant he was awake, left arm lashing out and his hand seizing onto something even before his eyes were open.
He stared in disbelief at seeing the boy from the woods, whose hazel eyes were round with fear and trying to pull his arm out of Nathan's viselike grip. Almost immediately Nathan released him and the boy started to back away.
"Wait. I won't hurt you," Nathan assured the child, voice gentle. "You're the one I saw in the woods."
The boy stopped his retreat, looking down nervously as he rubbed a hand on his cheek, unknowingly smearing more dirt there, as he shuffled his feet a little. Nathan waited patiently, not wanting to scare the boy off before he had a chance to speak with him. After a short moment the boy peeked up at Nathan, looking uncertain and timid.
"I'm sorry I ran away. Are you mad?"
Nathan shook his head and smiled gently, leaning forward slightly. "No, I'm not mad at you running off, but you should stay here in camp."
"But I had to show you." The boy clearly looked upset.
"You had to show me the body?" Nathan clarified, feeling a little more nauseated by the boy's simple nod in response.
"You could have just told someone here." He gestured towards the camp.
He was surprised at the look that came to the boys face, a combination of anger and frustration. "They wouldn't have listened; they would've ignored me like always. You listened—you saw!"
By the time the boy had finished, he voice was cracking and tears had come to his eyes. Nathan scooped him into a hug and let him sob, murmuring reassurances to him until his body stopped shaking and his breathing smoothed out. Afterward, as the boy pulled back and sheepishly scrubbed his face of his tears, Nathan just patted him on the shoulder sharing a look with the kid that let him know that the cop wouldn't say anything about his crying.
"You know, I don't even know your name," Nathan commented.
"I have to go." The boy glanced over his shoulder, looking suddenly scared. Nathan looked over to where the boy was staring but saw only an open field and the forest beyond. When he turned back the boy was already backing away from him, looking more frantic with each step.
"Wait! What's you name? Do you know anything else about what happened? Who took the girl?" Nathan called after him. He was surprised when the boy stopped, now looking terrified. It wasn't the look, though, that made Nathan stop following the boy. It was blood pouring from the child's nose, down his face, and dripping off of his chin.
"What the hell?"
"I have to go!" The boy said his terrified look now sorrowful and resigned. "The Whistler is going to take another."
As much as Nathan wanted to run over and grab the bloodied child he sensed if he so much as blinked the boy would bolt. He hoped talking to him would calm him down enough for him to return.
"The Whistler? Could you describe him, maybe point him out if you saw him?" Nathan asked creeping slowly towards the frightened child.
The boy shook his head, facing turning pale as he spoke. "He's different. He'll see me and know to hide."
Nathan knelt down. "I promise you I won't let him see you. You'll be safe, but you have to tell me what he looks like."
The boy looked at him for a long moment, hazel eyes thoughtful as blood continued to dribble down his face and run down the slicker he wore. When he spoke he looked so solemn Nathan almost missed his words. "You have to listen to see him. You already know how."
"Nathan!"
The pair visibly jumped at Audrey's sharp voice cutting through the tense air. Nathan gave the boy a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, that's just my partner. You can trust her." He looked over his shoulder to see Duke and Audrey by the tent looking at him with matching querulous expressions. "Over here, Parker!"
"Wow, you look like crap, Nate," Duke commented irritably, still obviously upset over being left behind with Audrey to look after a body. Nathan admittedly didn't feel too bad about leaving Duke there, but his partner was another story.
"What're you doing over here? Did you find something?" Audrey asked, her cross expression giving way to concern and curiosity.
Nathan assumed he had a quizzical expression on his face as she gestured to where he was kneeling. "I found the kid I saw in the woods. He has some information on the murder." He told her wondering why she seemed confused.
"So where is he?" She asked.
"He's…," Nathan turned to look at the spot, already knowing somehow he would find the boy gone even before he looked. "Damn it, he was here a moment ago. Did you see any kids around here?"
Duke's eyebrows rose at the cop's words and Nathan easily noticed the pair share a worried look with one another. The dark haired man shifted on his feet, looking decidedly uncomfortable as he looked over the cop. "I think maybe you need to get some rest, Nathan. You're kind of acting like a," he coughed gently, giving Audrey another glance, "well a freak. And not the good kind."
Nathan rose to his feet in annoyance, ignoring his nemesis and focusing on his partner. "Audrey, he was here. Said another kid was going to be taken."
"Did he give you a description?" She asked, brushing back a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail, looking brighter at the prospect of finally having a lead in the case.
"No, I was trying to get him to come with me," Nathan admitted.
His partner's face fell at that, looking a little sour. "So we've got nothing."
"The kid called our perp the Whistler," Nathan informed the pair as he looked pointedly at Duke. "That sound familiar in anyway? A person's name, a boat, something?"
Noticing the staring match between the two men, Audrey shook her head even as she answered her partner's question. "New girl here. I don't know the town that well."
"Sorry, I can't think of anyone with a name like that." Duke added after another moment of staring down Nathan.
"Let's get Vince, see if he can do up a sketch of your mystery boy and ask around about this 'Whistler'," Audrey suggested.
"Alright," Nathan agreed, tiredly rubbing his neck and looking off to the woods. Frowning, he caught Duke by the arm as the smuggler turned to go back to the camp. "Does 'five sisters' mean anything to you?"
Duke's eyebrows rose at that, both could tell his first instinct was to make some lewd joke about Nathan's question but thankfully refrained from doing do. He shook his head after a moment's consideration. "No, not really."
"What do you mean, not really?" Nathan asked.
Duke looked surprised, before he snorted out a small laugh. "You mean you forgot that old story we used to tell girls we took to the woods? The one about the lost poachers that find those girls in a glen who were never seen again."
"Oh," Nathan looked abashed at that, noting that Audrey watching them with an expression that clearly indicated she didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed at the pair of them before she stalked off back to the camp.
"I think I need more sleep."
"You look like you could use it," Duke replied unhelpfully, grinning at an opportunity to gently needle his one time friend and sometimes rival.
TBC