Disclaimers: See Chapter One
WENDIGO
By Susan Zell
Chapter Four
"Crime and Punishment"
Marguerite was impatient. Veronica's pace was much too slow. Granted, it was dark and the trail practically invisible, but that still wasn't an excuse. Not while a life was at stake. Roxton's life in particular.
So this was what it was like, she mused.
Love.
She hadn't realized how deep such a thing would run inside her. It seemed to make her emotions all too clearly visible, drifting just under the surface, ready to burst out at any moment for all to see. She resisted such things. No one should know what was between herself and Roxton. Frankly, it wasn't anyone's business.
These feelings were all new for her. For instance, right at this moment, she felt on the verge of panic. Something she rarely experienced. She needed to find Roxton right now, to know he was okay, to help him in any way she could. Such powerful feelings almost overwhelmed her. And that intensity was something that had only happened within the last few months. Ever since that incident at the old English village.
Their relationship had changed. One minute she was able to keep him at a distance with quips and snide remarks. Now however, he wasn't keeping his distance. In fact, he was very much invading her personal space on a routine basis. And to her annoyance, she found she didn't mind. She did little to deter the man, instead acting all too coy just to lure him in closer.
And now he had wormed his way close to her heart, almost bridging the barriers she had placed there. And it really terrified her.
Just like she was right now. Only now it was sheer terror for his life. He was in danger far too often for her liking. She should have known better than to fall in love with such a man as Lord John Roxton. He always placed himself on the front lines, never shirked from a dangerous responsibility, adhered to every moral code in the book. She was completely the opposite! How on earth would they ever live together?
Challenger and Ned conversed behind her. She tried not to listen to them, worried that they were discussing strategies on subduing Roxton. It pained her to hear about it. She couldn't bear to hurt the man, not physically, not emotionally and she knew she would some day. She had no choice.
Veronica stopped so abruptly ahead of her that Marguerite almost collided with her. About to reprimand the blonde for being so careless, she realized that something was amiss.
"What is it?" she hissed. Everyone stood stock still and silent.
The huntress didn't say anything for a minute, listening instead to what was around her. "Something's out there," Veronica told her in a whisper.
A chill rushed through Marguerite.
It was Roxton. He was hunting them.
Her hand dropped down to her pistol, for all the good it would do her against the man she loved. She didn't assume for a moment that she could actually shoot him. She didn't before, she couldn't now. Challenger lifted his loaded blowgun.
She heard the distinct click as Ned brought back the bolt on his rifle, about to place a bullet in the chamber. Her stomach clenched at the sound as it filled her ears. Would Ned really shoot him? Would any of them? Would she let them?
Please, Roxton, don't do this? Marguerite pleaded to the darkness, silent and ominous. Even the normal voice of the jungle had ceased its chatter. Marguerite grew suddenly very cold as if the very air around her dropped in temperature.
A scream erupted out of the silence, startling all. Immediately they thought the screams of terror and agony were Roxton's; terrible visions of Roxton's grisly demise, unarmed against the slashing teeth of a raptor, consumed them.
***
The man's screams cut into Roxton's brain like a scalpel. He grabbed his head to shut them out, but was doing a poor job of it. It was as if a spike has embedded itself in his brain.
Finally they stopped and Roxton sagged, opening his eyes, his hands falling away from his throbbing skull. As they focused, horror filled him. He put a hand out to steady himself as he swayed.
He gazed into the eyes of the dead man he was hunched over. The corpse's throat was ripped open and blood gushed forth, warm and rich and black in the darkness. The taste of it filled Roxton's mouth. He used his other hand to wipe the taste away and as it slid over his lips, the back of his hand came away a dark crimson.
Roxton fell back and scrambled away, a scream of his own poised to explode from his throat. But then a figure draped in white stepped out of the shadows, so pale that Roxton thought it was the ghost of the dead man, the man he had killed in cold blood to satisfy his hunger.
The spirit looked at him. For a brief moment, he looked familiar to Roxton. The outer edges of the figure shimmered.
"What have you done?" The voice was almost melodious and high. The spirit gazed down at the hunter half sprawled on the grass. "You are the Damned One! You did this!"
From out of the woods drifted more wraiths, all draped in white and floating on air as if pushed along by the mere breath of the wind. The first one backed away till he disappeared into the background.
Roxton realized then that they weren't ghosts come to haunt him, as some were wont to do, but these were very much alive. They had a scent, the very earthy stench that he had hunted the previous night. These were the same people who had been steadily watching the treehouse. The arid odor of iron permeated them.
The figure that had spoken to him was gone, leaving Roxton alone with the other silent figures, all of which gazed at him with accusatory stares.
"I'm … I'm … I didn't mean …," Roxton tried to explain but knew he couldn't. He didn't even remember the act of killing the man sprawled on the ground. He just remembered the blood, the smell and taste of it.
Oh God!
"I'm sorry!" he pleaded in a voice that wasn't his. It was more like that of an anguished ghoul that understood that his soul was now completely lost for the vile act committed.
The figures in white encircled him soundlessly. Roxton was too frozen with horror and guilt to move. He was willing to accept his fate at the hands of these people. He had no defense. It was obvious he was guilty of the terrible crime.
They raised their hands and white, blinding light struck him. He screamed in agony. Even he didn't recognize the unholy sound being ripped from his throat. Then light faded and the world around him vanished with it.
****
The scream reverberated in the jungle around them. A chill swept over Marguerite so deep that even her soul froze for a moment. She knew that voice.
"Roxton!" She ran forward while the other explorers remained rooted, still not understanding what was happening.
"Wait!" Challenger shouted.
But she paid them no heed. Only one thought filled her brain. Roxton was in danger.
Veronica wasted no time and ran after Marguerite, her hand reaching back to grasp one of the knives at her waist. She was surprised at how fast Marguerite could run. She wasn't going to be able to catch her before the woman ran head long into danger.
Through the trees, Marguerite saw ghostly figures in white. There was another silhouette among them that she instantly recognized.
"Roxton!"
Two other men were holding him up. The hunter looked completely out of it. His head lolled back on his shoulders and he was stumbling along with them almost drunkenly. The men were maneuvering him toward a white light, which was as tall as a man and appeared to be just hovering there like a rip in the fabric of reality. It was unnatural.
Whatever it was, Marguerite would be damned if she let Roxton be forced into it. She fired her gun into the air, startling the group. They all turned her way.
"Stop right there!" she commanded. She bobbed her head toward the senseless Roxton. "Let him go, right now."
An old man stepped forward dressed completely in white except for an amulet than hung down low from his neck. "I'm afraid that's impossible. He is a killer."
"Rubbish!" she snapped.
To her relief, Challenger and the others came rushing out of the jungle behind her. Immediately she felt stronger. Hope crept in. She kept wishing that Roxton would regain consciousness and say something. There was blood all over his face and hands. They had placed some sort of amulet around his neck. It looked vaguely familiar to her.
"That man is no murderer," Challenger stated.
The crowd parted and revealed the dead man whose ghastly wounds were clearly visible. Even Marguerite stepped aside with an audible gasp. Then she angered, spinning back to the old man. "Roxton would never do such a thing! You've got the wrong man!"
"He admitted to the crime. He is covered with this man's blood. Blood he has willingly tasted. Many times."
"What?" The chill returned.
"Explain yourself!" Challenger demanded.
"He has drunk before of human blood," the old man said. "He is tainted."
"That's preposterous!" Ned exclaimed.
Challenger and Veronica remained strangely silent. They had seen Roxton during the Kanu incident. His actions had scared them both, even though they knew the man had not been himself. None of them had, but none had embraced their animal side as fervently as Roxton had during the transformation.
Did these people truly have a means to know that? Challenger thought. Was Roxton's odd behavior over the past few hours an indication that somehow he was still affected by the Kanu spell? Perhaps it had nothing to do with Calista at all.
The old man looked almost sad and gestured at Roxton. "Now he will be consumed by that which he has become."
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Marguerite. She stepped closer to Roxton. She was frightened that he hadn't yet roused from his stupor. All she remembered was his awful scream. What had they done to him?
"A man must pay for his crimes. He will pay for his." The old man turned to the others holding Roxton. "Put him in."
Marguerite fired into the air once more and then leveled her gun at the old man. There was no mistaking her intent. "You're not putting him anywhere. He's coming home with us."
The old man did not seem frightened. If anything, he seemed almost accepting of the situation, as if nothing would change the outcome of what was to happen. The two men did not pause in their actions but shoved Roxton into the light. With a bright flash, he disappeared.
Marguerite's gun shattered the night. One of the two men stumbled but didn't go down. In fact, a second later he straightened as if nothing had even happened. The bullet had hit him. She was sure of it, but he didn't fall.
The light was now fading. Marguerite made a decision. A rash one, but she didn't even consider that at the moment. She ran straight for the light. She heard someone shout her name, warning her, but she ignored it and leaped.
The light engulfed her, but within seconds it vanished leaving her in pitch darkness. She only prayed that Roxton was here with her.
***
Challenger rushed forward just as the light faded, leaving the plateau darker and more menacing. He spun on the people around him, demanding answers. "Where are they? Bring them back!" Challenger shouted.
The old man gazed at the professor almost paternally. "I cannot," he replied simply.
"They were innocent!" Veronica exclaimed.
"Perhaps the woman was, but we have already passed judgment on the man. He was guilty."
"It's a lie," Ned shouted. "Roxton isn't a murderer. You have no proof!"
"The proof lies before you." The old man gestured to the body on the ground.
"Maybe that happened before Roxton got here! This is a jungle filled with dangerous predators. Maybe Roxton was trying to help him." Ned's own pistol was pointed unwaveringly at the man who seemed unconcerned still by the exciting events and agitated states of the strangers.
"He was over him, drenched in his blood. The man admitted to his guilt. The truth of it was in his own eyes."
"Roxton is sick. He's not himself," Challenger said, before he realized that was not the road to travel in this conversation.
"Challenger," Veronica hissed in warning. But it was too late.
"He was ill, you say?" The old man regarded them curiously. "How?"
Challenger tried to backpedal verbally and yet still not look like he was covering up something. "He had a fever. We were trying to bring him back to be tended to."
"So feverish, he might not know who was friend and who was enemy?" the man inquired.
Alarm bells went off in Challenger's head. "No. But he was probably confused about what happened. If he blacked out for even a moment, he might believe what you said, even though he might have been trying to help."
"Why would he do that? Unless he believed himself capable. Perhaps he was so disoriented, he could not control his own actions. Either way a man is dead. And your friend admitted to his murder."
"You're wrong! You don't know Roxton! He would never do this," Ned stated.
"Perhaps not, but that has to be proven to me."
"You would permit that?" Challenger saw hope before them.
"If you wish to spend your time doing so, I will not stop you. That is your prerogative."
"Yes, that is exactly what we wish to do!"
***
Marguerite had a bad taste in her mouth and a foul smell in her nostrils. Strange sounds assailed her. She shoved herself up dizzily. She liked to say she hadn't lost consciousness but she couldn't be sure. There was no way to know where she was or how long she had been lying there.
It was a place full of shadows and mist. She could barely see five feet in front of her and the sounds that filled the darkness were unlike any she had ever heard on or off the plateau. Fear began to creep its way over her, slow and steady, like an army of ants.
What the hell had happened?
Where was Roxton?
She couldn't see him anywhere. Rising unsteadily, she tried for a better vantage point, one where she could take in the surrounding area. They had to have landed relatively near each other. But the comforting form of the hunter was nowhere to be seen.
She didn't see how they could have gotten separated. They had been only seconds apart. Hesitatingly she called out his name. It came out of her throat quiet and just a little harried, but no comforting answer came regardless.
"Damn it, Roxton. Don't do this to me."
She fumbled for the pistol at her side, wishing its presence brought more reassurance than it did at the moment. She started walking, making a circular path in hopes of stumbling across Roxton. He had looked terrible when those creepy people in white had thrown him in. She couldn't believe that he was capable of getting anywhere on his own, especially after the rough trip through that light. Her own head was still pounding while her stomach flip-flopped around.
A sudden howl shattered the stillness. Marguerite jumped and brandished her pistol at the shadows around her. Thankfully nothing leaped out at her, but the sound was like nothing she had ever heard.
Cautiously continuing on, she came across a familiar sight. A booted footprint.
Roxton!
It was definitely close to a size eleven. Marguerite let out a small shout of joy.
She called out his name a little louder this time.
Still no response.
"Well, at least you're on your feet." That was a huge relief. He must have only been stunned and quickly recovered. One thing about Roxton, nothing ever kept him down for long.
As she followed the footprints however, her elation bottomed out. One minute she was following something human and in the next moment she wasn't. Now huge clawed toes radiated out of an imprint three times the size of her hand. It didn't even look like a dinosaur's reptilian print. There were signs of a struggle all about on the ground.
Terror swelled inside her. Something had attacked Roxton!
Even though she knew it was dangerous, she shouted out his name, loud and pleading. With her crappy luck of late, she probably sounded like a wounded gazelle and was attracting the attention of every predator for miles.
Her heart drilled in her chest. She decided to follow the large beast's footprints. The thing must have surprised Roxton and carried him off since there was no other sign of the hunter anywhere. Maybe he was still alive. Please be alive, she begged him with eyes that brimmed with frightened tears. She didn't want to stay here all alone; wherever the hell 'here' was. She let her frustration and fear blossom into anger. It was enough to steel her resolve.
She didn't know what she was going to be able to do against such a monster once she found it. The pistol might as well be a peashooter. By the sheer size of the prints, she was going up against something at least eight feet tall. But there was no choice. It had Roxton.
She traveled for a long time, continually following the beast's trail. It didn't bother trying to hide it, which only told Marguerite that what she was doing was most foolish. The damn thing was cocky as well as huge. It feared nothing.
Her foot slipped and she almost fell. Grabbing onto a nearby tree limb, she righted herself and looked down to see what she had stepped in. Her stomach rolled. It was blood and it was all over the ground. The beast's prints were all around. She picked up a shred of cloth, blood soaked, blue and very familiar.
Oh God, it had eaten…
Roxton….
Marguerite felt faint and she grasped the tree tightly as her vision caved in. She was too late. He was dead. He was dead! Her sob burst from out before she could stop it. tears falling in streams down her face. She was too late.
"Oh, John."
Then she heard it. Something was in the shadows, circling her. Its breathing was loud and throaty. It wasn't trying to be stealthy. It wanted its prey to know it was out there, stalking, hunting.
Marguerite's pistol was out and firing, praying that the noise would frighten the thing away. "Get out of here," she screamed. Resisting the urge to empty her pistol into the terrifying darkness, she paused, waiting to see if perhaps the beast had run off.
But the sound of its breathing was now on her other side, practically in her ear. She spun around, pistol aiming, desperately searching for a clear target in the swirling fog. "I swear I'll kill you for what you've done, you miserable monster!"
Then something came rushing out of the mist. It was huge, covered in gray mottled fur, mostly huge claws and long teeth. She screamed and fired point blank as it filled her vision. It lifted back a long arm and swatted her like she was an annoying pest. Everything went dark.
***
To be continued in Chapter Five