A Murder of Crows - Chapter 9

I watched the proceedings with interest. The Powder had worked - the illusions were gone - for me. The house was almost completely empty, except for them, and what they brought in. Trent was shooting at nothing but air - but, unfortunately, the air wouldn't stop the bullets from hitting somebody if he fired in their direction. Math was in the middle of the room, speaking with Amelia. Weasel was on the ground, motionless. Claude was seeing things happening to things that weren't even there - Godfrey was a genius. Everything was an illusion.
"This house should be condemned - perhaps it is time to do so." I begin searching through my mind, trying to find the words to an exorcism I had practiced carefully for a month before coming here. At the same time, I begin to look for a safe location, out of Trent's lines of fire. Those bullets are getting dangerously close. I shift my derringer into my free hand, in case something should go wrong, and continue to watch and remember...

Amelia froze when she heard the shots, fearing for a moment they were more illusions. Then she saw Trent, firing in terror across the room. She looked at Math, then at the rest of them.
"We need to get out of this room, somehow," she said. "And soon."
She turned and knelt beside William, keeping one eye on the shots ringing out across the room. Checking quickly for injuries, she shook him gently. "Wake up, William. Please. We have to move."

Trent keeps firing, and I watch Amelia try to wake Weasel up. No other choice in the matter, unfortunately.
"Shield." A slight shimmering in the air, and the shield is in place. I mentally orient it towards Trent, so that any of his shots are more likely to be deflected, and I begin walking towards Amelia and Weasel, reaching into the bag at my hip for a small bottle of smelling salts.

Trent is oblivious to the actions of anyone else, and thus does not notice that the shades have been ignored by the others. He curls into a ball with his gun hand streched out, barrel pointed at the ceiling. He shakes uncontrollably. Expecting the shadow figures to slash and rip him to shreds at any moment.
He cries softly. Slowly he turns the gun toward himself.
"I'm sorry!" he whimpers. "I wish..."
He raises his head slightly to correct his aim.
As he does so he looks forward, his vision blurred and tearful.
The shades are but feet in front of him, but they have stopped. The leader raises his spear and drives it into the floor before the three figures melt away. The last thing to go is the spear which dissapears suddenly from Trent's sight with an audable 'Thrump' that everybody can hear.
Trent clambers slowly to his feet. For the first time since he arrived he looks calm and collected, and not just fronting such a stance.
He looks toward the others, and then at the revolver still in his hand.
"Sorry. It won't happen again."
He holsters the gun before walking over to help Weasel.

As everybody begins recollectig themselves, so do I. A sharp sting of pain crosses my right shoulder.
"Mon Dieu! That seemed so... Hey, what are you all loking at?"
I see the confidence in Amelia's and Math's eyes slowly fade away. Trent begins to mentally look for his bullet holes. William, Sarah and Wolfemann give a sudden look of helplessness.
I follow their gazes to my shoulder, where crystal and glass shards tore my clothing and housed themselves in my flesh. The blood seems a lot reddier in this gloomy lighting. The House is thirsty, and has started drinking.
"Yes, I know. These are more than illusions. Once we're in the oratory, I'll explain more..."
Math steps to my side, with concern in his eyes.
"I can help that, if you like."
"It's just a graze. Let's go."

"Your right, lets get moving. Come on William, up you come!"
Trent gently lifts Weasel to his feet, and carrying him if nessecery, starts to make for the safty of the chapel.

Weasel opens his eyes, a red glow lighting up in his pupils.
When Trent lifts him, involuntarily lifting him on his sprained ankle, an almost inhuman noise makes its way out of his throat, a squeal that seems almost animal.
Below him, Trent feels something starting to... change. The beast awakens.

I look at the wound on LaFitte's shoulder with concern.
"I can help you with that," I say, looking at the torn skin.
"It's just a scratch," LaFitte replies, brushing off my offer of aid.
"Still, even a scratch can kill..."
My voice trails off as I turn to look at William, sensing an awakening from within him. Muttering something under my breath, I look for Amelia, noting her proximity to William as well.
"Amelia! Trent!" I shout. "Back away from William slowly... don't make any sudden movements. And whatever you do, don't attack him."

Amelia looked at Math sharply, alarm kindling in her eyes.
"What are you talking about-" she broke off abruptly as William stirred and cried out.
Truly alarmed now, Amelia reached for him, oblivious to the danger. "What is it, William? What's wrong?" she asked frantically.

Weasel staggers back, escaping Trent's grasp. For some reason, he seems to be even shorter than before.
His gace contorts as if in intense pain, his mouth wide open as if screaming, though no sound comes from his mouth.
Then his skin starts to ripple, as if something is crawling under his skin. A red glow issues from his eyes.
His face stretches with a sickening, ruptering noise, elongating into a snout. Hair sprouts on his outstretches arms, dark claws forming on his fingers. Then his clothes rip, and something long and dark falls to the floor, like a tail.
Even as he tries to step deeper into the shadows, it seems that he is pushing the group away, trying to call out... but all that escapes from his throat is a snarl.

Gott in himmel!" I pull out my derringer, hoping that I don't have to use it - and wondering, if I do, which of the metals will work against him - if any would.
Or, perhaps, I should...Yes. I back out of the room, and pull the book that Math had given me out, opening the pages, searching for a spell that I have seen used only once before - and praying that I can find it in the place I remember it being in...

I had been standing outside the room, witnessing the events unfold before me. For some reason, I remained unaffected by what seemed to agonize the others, probably because I hadn't entered the room.
What I saw now, however, appeared to be something which came straight out of my worst nightmares.
"Mr. Weasel! What the ..."

I compose myself, walking quietly towards William. William snarls at me, his face turning more feral by the second. Hand not moving from the briefcase, I look him deep into the eye. I speak, quietly and soothingly.
"William Fudgick," I begin, quietly. "I know you are still in there, William... Fight it. Fight it with all the love, the hope, the life you have.... Fight it, William, it's your only chance."
I quietly hold a hand out to Amelia, hoping to pull myself between her and the potential danger.

Amelia reached out with trembling fingers and grasped Math's hand, her eyes never leaving William's face as the transformation continued.
"Listen to him, William," she said softly. "Please. You are strong, you can fight this. I know you can." She watched his eyes, his movements, for any sign of recognition and prayed that it wasn't too late.

Still snarling, the creature tried to back away, stopping short as it his a bookcase, knocking several tomes of the shelf till they hit the floor, some of them crumbling into dust.
It sat in a half crouch, eyeing the people around it, tensed as if to leap.

Trent backs away a few feet, but tries to keep himself between Weasel and as many of the others as possible. Instinctivly he begins to draw his gun,cocking it as he does, and is about to raise it toward Weasel when he pauses. A frown creases his face, and then he smiles! "Ok, William." He says gently.
He thumbs the hammer back to safty and slowly holsters it.
He turns his head
"Some of you, slowly move toward the chapel."
He turns back to William.
"It's the house, it want's you do do its work for it. Don't! Come on, of all of us this isn't you. Besides your not going to let this house win are you?" Trent is speaking quietly and calmly, as though to , in his case, a horse of almost human intelligence.
"Come on pal, shake it of."
He motions gently with one hand for the others to move, while the other is open showing peaceful intent to Fudgewick.

Finding the spell, I begin speaking the words directly from the book as I walk into the library. This is one of the most potent spells I've ever dared to cast - what might be the cost? Already, I feel the chill of the Dark entering my heart and soul, looking for another opening. If I had anything to say about it, it wouldn't find one. The words of the spell roll off of my tongue as I walk into sight, and then I point a hand at the thing that was William.
"Hold Person." I pray that the spell takes hold - I'm draining myself too much with all these spells.

As Karl points his finger and utters the spell's words, the creature screams - and leaps. It stretches out its claws, arching through the air in a blinding speed.
But before it reaches the end of it's leap, the magic holds. The scream is cut off, and with its arms outstretched, locked in the leaping pose, it collides with the legacy man, forcing the air from his lungs in the impact and forcing him back through the library door. It oddly crahses onto the ground, where it rolls on its back, its arms and legs held awkwardly stretched bij the magic.

Heaving, I push the creature off the top of me. Regaining my breath, I get to my feet and back away.
"Math, do you have anything like an exorcism spell on you? *gasp, gasp* If you don't, I suggest you check page 92 of that book you gave me *gasp*. I don't have the strength to cast it - you probably do. I suggest you hurry - I don't know how long that spell will hold, but it can't be for long - ten minutes at most, I would say. In the meantime, I suggest we tie him up - very, very tightly.
"Amelia, I'm sorry to say this - but, if the spell doesn't hold long enough, you may have to use that dagger Math gave you. If we do have to deal with him, it shouldn't be somebody he barely knows who has to do it - he certainly isn't likely to attack a near-total stranger first."

I release Amelia, and walk over to William's prone form. Crouching beside it, I look over to Wolfeman. I shake my head.
"Excorcism?" I say, quietly. "William isn't possessed, Karl. It is something inside that he has to fight. Not something from without. Nay... I cannot exorcise the Beast... but I think I have something that might do the trick of helping him."
With that, I turn back to William. Closing my eyes, I begin to hum. As the hum turns into words, you notice the lilting tunes of a lullaby emerge from my mouth, in archaic Gaelic. I sprinkle some sand lightly on William's brow, my words calming and soothing his spirit. The words of the lullaby seem to draw you all into sleep, as everyone catches themselves yawning slightly.

Amelia walked over to stand beside Karl, watching Math anxiously as he worked, at the same time trying not to listen too closely to the words of his spell.
"He's right," she said quietly, holding up the dagger. "And I fear this weapon will only succeed in destroying William. It will not slay the Beast. It will simply find another victim, as it did the first time." Quickly and efficiently, she thought bitterly. She did not bother to add that she could never use the dagger against William, no matter what the circumstances. The thought of it sickened her. William was strong, stronger than he knew, and Amelia truly believed his will would win out in the end. It must.
"You need rest, sorely," she said, noting Karl's ragged breathing and the sunken, pale cast to his face. "You'll need your strength for whatever comes next."

For a moment, the beast seems to fight the sleep, but after a few moments it gives in.
As it's eyes unfocus, the ratlike creature melts away, reveiling a familiar face.
Weasel's eyes are still open, but they seem to stare into nothingness.

The sudden change reminded me of those cultists in the Louisianna Bayou back in 1796... I lost a lot of good men that night...
"All. In the Oratory. NOW!"
"Trent, help me carry William..."
My shoulder, now fully healed, still stings a little... Well, you were counting on that, weren't you? Making me live forever...
"Well, at least he's not turning into a cracodile..." I mutter. Trent hears it, though, and his eyes widen like two full moons...
"What-?", he asks...
"Don't ask..."

"I don't want to know Claude!"
"Well, second time lucky, I hope. Up we go again."
Trent lifts William up, more gently than ever for fear of breaking Karl's enchantment, and makes his way towards the stairs.
"Someone go ahead and open the door."
As he waits he looks over his shoulder into Williams eyes.
"Come on try!" he mutters to William.

"Amelia, I know what you are thinking. Be thankful that Math's spell worked - William is once again himself. And you're right - I do need to get a little rest. This damned house, though, may not let me."
My sword might not, either. I could only hope that things started going better - at this rate, we're dead men.
I lean up against a wall, waiting for a chance to get into the Oratory and sit down.