Chapter 22
"During supper, when the devil had already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, to betray him,"
Book of the Healing Church 13:2
Ettie. Her soft features, coupled with her pointed scowl and elbows, muddied his mind. His rationality chipped from his picturesque view, grimy streets with grimy buildings and a grimy sky.
Where could she be?
Ettie was not found with Doctor Iosefka. In fact, she had no recollection at all of his wife. Ettie was not located in Lucas' apartment. In fact, Lucas was not there either, having been replaced by a beast and outed for his apparent blood addiction.
Ettie was a viglinant woman with a sharp tongue that had gotten her out of many precarious situations. However, no stinging, abrasive words would fend her away from beasts or the immorally obligated men. Oh, this made his head pound, and Fredricx wanted to complement the feeling by pounding it against the nearest wall.
"Think," Fredricx cursed himself, "Queen's grace, think."
From the distance, a high pitched bell toll reverberated down the alleyway. It was not like the heavy bells of the church that sounded throughout the city. This was something particularly small, but powerful. Regardless, the noise caused him to flinch. However, it was gone as suddenly as it started, and the Hunter went back to thinking.
Yharnam was no quaint town, but certainly full of backwater. He would never find her in the midst of the Hunt. Even if there was not the threat of the streets, it would still takes days to locate her. However, he had far less time than that. The newspapers would more than likely show grainy photographs of her possible corpse before he could find Ettie.
He wanted to shout, no, scream for her. Wandering the streets, he would call her name on a loop like a broken phonograph. Thankfully, he caught himself before the syllables could graze his lips. Beasts, there were beasts around every corner. Beasts that knew no difference between a Hunter who was out to slay and one that was frantically searching for a beloved individual. Undoubtedly, Fredricx would kill beast or otherwise.
He transversed the stairs he had been gunned downed earlier. That same beast, tattered from his whip, lay contorted against the street. Yet again, a few paces forward, the stone was slightly less dirty in one particular spot, cleaned by his face when he had been deliriously spooning the ground.
His oppressor had not wandered far as if challenging Fredricx to return to this very location. They would clash again, but this time, it would be its blood that spilled. The rats would feast.
The wolf beast did not notice as he approached from behind. Feeling the whip, warm and smooth in against his palm, he flung it!up and across his torso. The links bit into the fur. With a swift yank, they were drug out, ripping and tearing trenches. A roar was its response.
The beast withered and turned. Dark marble eyes met his. A snarl formed over the canines of the beast man. It lunged at him, but, for once, Fredricx was quicker as he ducked the outstretched claws. He slashed the whip again and again until the creature crumbled. It slouched to the ground with a distinct thud. The scent of blood grew strong. In fact, it was almost overwhelming to the senses for it was beyond sour.
It cried out at him, but Fredricx quelled the noise with the heel of his boot. The whip was limp at his side, slathered with red and tufts of fur as if something liberally buttered had been dropped on the floor of an unswepted barber shop.
Additional beasts rushed at him. These were far less human and far more animal, avian really. They were crows, but quintuple the size without a fear of him. They had sharp beaks, slightly agape with what seemed to be meaty, internal chunks. Their feathers were long with the wingspan of a hefty child. These three creatures flew clunkily, but still bearing their talons at him.
Distinctively, Fredricx's arms covered his face. His nose dug into the worn leather of the arm of his coat. Thankfully, the beasts did little than scratch at him. He tried the whip on them, but the overgrown crows appeared too evasive. Clenching his fist and jerking the weapon blindly about, he willed it into a cane. He did not will enough because it remained unbound in its flacid links.
They hissed at him, putting the contents of their mouth on full, unashamed display. Carrion guzzled in their throats with red as plentiful as water.
The crows devolved into jabbing Fredricx with their beaks. His bottom half was not as fortunate. The material of his pants easily gave away to the beasts' requests. Not only did they tear out bits of his flesh, they swallowed them whole as well.
Abandoning the whip, he reached for one of the birds with his bare hands. It was not quick enough to dart away, and the creature's neck crumpled under his grip. The snap was sickening, and red spilled through his fingers and rained onto the ground below. Likely, it was a ungodly mixture of human and beast.
The remaining beasts were just as fortunate. The last and largest one struggled against him, flapping its wings to create some distance and to cause Fredricx to release his grip. It was unsuccessful, but did manage a vengeful spray of spittle all over his face, making his eyes burn with acid. Gritting them closed, the Hunter flailed among with the bird momentarily before wrenching the bird to its death.
XXXX
The Church, he thought, the church might house others for safekeeping during the Hunt. Fredricx was not sure what the requirement was to reside there. Wealth? Religious prestige? Luck? Friendship?
He exchanged the limp bird for his limp whip and headed to toward the looming spires. He attempted to quench the burning of his eyes with a swipe of his shirt sleeve. This only irritated them more, so Fredricx blinked until they watered.
On his way back through town, it was eerily quiet. Corpses, human and else, lined walkways. Disrespectfully, Fredricx rifled through their pockets. Regardless, it was worth the potential hauntings as he pocketed a few blood vials, some ashy pence, and a watch, which if he would have found long ago, would have bought back his wedding ring from the con artist at the pawn shop.
With all the gold he was going to make from this Hunt, he would take Ettie down to the jeweler's on the highest end of town and have a ring custom made for her. She would have any stone of any color of her choosing. He might replace his too, while they were at it. Looking down at his hand, Ettie's ring was still lodged on his smallest finger. Find Ettie. Assure her safety. Find Ettie. Assure her safety.
Even a block away from the Chapel, he could smell it. The smell was so saccharine that it wrinkled his nose. The incense was heavy hanging in the air. No wonder the beasts had dispersed. In fact, he had only seen a Hunter, brandishing an ax, chasing after a beast on the upper level of the city.
Surprisingly, the door to the Church, from what he could see, was left wide open, incense wafting from the inside. On second thought, that might not be such a good sign. Taking a deep breath in, he stepped through the threshold of the Chapel, which he had never done before as the sinner he was.
Instead of a devastating scene or a room full of huddled people, this large room was empty. Lanterns casted the room in a yellow glow except the ceilings, which were so tall that the light could not penetrate the darkness. There were altars and chairs lining the edges. Each wall had its own door, all of which seemed fastened shut.
Ettie was not here. Fredricx jangled on the closest door. He was greeted by a masked beast, so it was quickly shut again. Banging on the door followed, but there was no advancement. The next door was locked. Even rocking it about on its hinges, the door remained glued. Finally, there was one left. Before Fredricx could reach for it, there was a voice. It startled him.
"Ahh, a Hunta are ya? Very sorry, the incense must've masked your scent."
He looked around and then down. He saw it. It had spoken to him. It was a pitifully deformed creature with grey skin and long arms, but no lower bodily extremities. It was coated in a red shawl that covered the head and was spread all about the ground around it like it was sitting in a pool of liquid. It was so gangly with sullen eyes and a skull almost bursting through tight skin.
Despite the appearance, its voice was so gentle with words carefully chosen despite the accent. Its eyes, though sunken, glimmered in an unbeastily way, no, in a humanly way. The creature smiled up at Fredricx from its position on the floor.
Honestly, he was not sure if he was to draw his weapon upon it or speak with it. He would quickly find out either way.
"I am," Fredricx nodded curtly.
The thing continued, "Good, good. I've been waiting for one of your ilk. These Hunts have everyone all locked up inside. Waiting for it to end... It always does, always has, y'know. Since forever."
Fredricx's silence was interrupted by that same pitched ringing. It was closer this time and almost made the Hunter reflexively cover his ears. His reaction must have been visceral as he set a hard jaw with gritted teeth.
"Hunta, are ya quite alright?" it asked.
"Didn't you hear that?"
The creature paused and tilted its head, straining to listen. "No, Hunta."
The noise passed, and Fredricx tempted to loosen his facial expression. Likely, this was without success. He remained silent.
It shifted uncomfortably under his nonresponse. "But," the creature began again after some silence, "It won't end very nicely, not this time. Even some folks hiding inside are goin' bad. The screams of wimminfolk, the stench of blood, the snarls of beasts... none of em's too uncommon now. Yharnam's done fer, I tell ya."
Again, the soft spoken creature awaited a response from Fredricx, who did not humor it. Awkwardly, it spoke up again as if it could not bear the silence. "But if you spot anyone with their wits about 'em... Tell 'em about this here Oedon Chapel. They'll be safe here. The incense wards off the beasts. Spread the word... tell 'em to come on over. If you wouldn't mind... Hee hee..."
Fredricx was not sure what to make of the cackling, but, again, it looked at him with eager eyes, waiting and luring a response.
"I'll tell them," Fredricx pacified.
There was at once light despite the creature's grey hue skin. "What's ya name, Hunta?"
"Fredricx."
"Fedicx," the creature repeated with its quirky accent, "Pleasure to meet ya."
Hopelessly, Fredricx inquired about Ettie with no avail. Not a single soul, human or else, had been through Oedon's Chapel, according to the creature. Just it had occupied the space seemingly waiting for someone to take refuge with him.
"I'll take good care of ya Ettie if ya send her this way once ya find her, Hunta Fedicx. Promise," the creature held out its long fingers up toward Fredricx, who bent over slightly to shake its hand.
The Hunter gave a final dip of his head before reaching for the final closed door. It opened before he could touch the knob, revealing a library of sorts. Cold breeze tickled his little exposed skin, causing little bumps to form on his neck.
"Name's Judas," the creature squeaked, following it up with another chuckle.
With that, Fredricx descended into the belly of the Church.