Crimson Falls (The Depravity Chronicles) (26 page)

“The dead bodies
in 1990,” Anna said with a heavy sigh.

“My father,”
Matthew added.

“A Wendigo is
essentially nomadic,” Anish instructed. “He cannot stay in one place too long.
Its behavior would draw too much attention and thus put it in danger. So it
travels, returning every twenty years or so to its favorite locations. It also
hibernates. I believe this is where it plans on doing that.”

“That’s one
tourist we can do without,” Anna joked.

“Why would it
want to hibernate in Crimson Falls?” Sam asked.

“Alan summoned
it here,” Anish answered. “A very unwise decision. But for someone who has
mastered certain aspects of demonic magic, it is not a surprise that he would
get cocky.” 

“An expert?”
Anna asked. “What do you mean?”

Anish thumbed
through the grimoire quickly, then picked up the workbook and did the same.
“Alan has researched the many demons of Hell. He has memorized their symbols,
their names, and the different ways they preferred to be contacted or summoned.
Alan understood the hierarchy of Hell, which demons were safe to contact, what
demons weren’t.”

“Some demons are
safe?” Jake asked, dumbfounded.

Anish laughed.
“Only in the sense that they are friendly to humans, at least on the surface.
Some demons refuse to respond to humans, while others will respond and then
wreak havoc on the human’s life. As it is in both life and death, knowledge is
power.”

“And so the
Wendigo doesn’t live in Hell?” Anna asked.

“No, it’s too
hot there for them,” Anish laughed. Matthew, too, chuckled. Everyone else just
stared at them. “The best way to explain a Wendigo is to tell you its creation
myth.”

“Creation myth?”
Anna repeated.

“Yes, it means
the story about how the Wendigo first appeared in the legends of the Algonquin
people,” Matthew explained.

“We don’t have
time for a ghost story,” Jake complained.

“Would you
rather die?” Anna asked rhetorically. She gestured to Anish to begin the story.

“Centuries ago,
before our lands became known as ‘The New World,’ we lived in peace with
nature. We embraced the spirit world, communicating with our ancestors as well
as the gods. We beseeched the spirit world for their countenance and guidance,
not only for the good of our people, but also to protect us from evil.

“Throughout
human history, there have been men with impure hearts. When their spirits are
tested in times of great peril, they often reveal the evil within. In the
season when the moon was red and the stars cowered before its power, a great
famine spread across the land. Crops died, water evaporated, and many people
died from starvation.

“But there was
one man, Matchitehew, whose name means ‘he has an evil heart.’ While his family
and tribesmen were starving, he had hidden a stockpile of food under the
floorboards. His wife and children were near death, for he would not share his
food. He knew, however, that death was certain and would find him when the food
supply had been extinguished. Thus, he could not accept the fate he had been
given. Denying his place in the circle of life, he became crazed with hatred
and despair. Matchitehew called upon vengeful, malevolent spirits to save him
from certain death. What he did not anticipate was that these spirits, or
demons, had no interest in his pleas.

“Legend holds
that after the demons refused to fulfill his wishes, he attempted to curse
them. Unfortunately, he was not spiritually adept, nor was he prepared for what
would be unleashed upon him. Within a few hours, his hunger became insatiable.
He devoured what food remained in his home, then raped and pillaged throughout
the village, gorging on what food he could find. Soon there was no more food,
and no wildlife to hunt as they themselves had either migrated or perished.

“Upon returning
to his home, Matchitehew looked upon his wife and three children with ravenous
eyes. Within a few hours he had eaten more food than his stomach could hold. He
began vomiting with such force that he was sure he would die. But he did not.
Even the regurgitated food was too tempting to resist, so he feasted upon it.”

Anna shook her
head, unable to imagine the horror about to unfold in Anish’s story. She knew
that Anish’s story had only begun to tell the tale of the Wendigo. Anish had
paused, almost as if giving everyone time to digest what he had said. No pun
intended.

“Whatever good
that remained in Matchitehew’s heart was fading. As his wife screamed in their
bed, he began to look at her with different eyes. She looked at him, and
commented on his appearance. ‘Husband, your eyes are red. Certainly you must be
ill.’

“He studied his
wife’s body, and could almost hear her heart beat slowly as death began to
consume her. He studied her neck as if it were a skinned rabbit roasting on the
fire. He burned for her, but not in a sexual way. No, his desire was to open
her arteries, guzzle her blood, and tear her flesh with his teeth. When he
licked his lips, his tongue was seared by his teeth. Shocked, he touched his
mouth and realized that his lips were no longer thick, his teeth no longer
muted and dull. They were sharp to the touch. When he looked at his hands, they
had become larger, with sharpened fingernails that curved like a bear’s claws.

“Frightened,
Matchitehew ran from his home and into the forest. He shrieked more loudly than
he could bear, causing what wildlife remained to rustle in the trees and
retreat with haste. Only one thought consumed him: hunger. A craving unknown to
mankind up to that point in our history. He could not fight it, could not fully
understand it. As the seconds passed into minutes, he became less of himself.
He had little understanding that he was transmogrifying into a monster. A
demon.

“His yearning
for human flesh became so overpowering that he returned to his home to see if
any food remained. When there was none, he approached his wife, who had died
only seconds before his arrival. No longer able to control himself, he pounced
on her body and began to tear at the flesh on her neck. The taste was
excruciating and magnificent. He found himself only being temporarily satiated,
and as he began to devour her face, it did not please him as her neck had.

“When he could
no longer find satisfaction from his wife, he murdered his children and dined
upon their necks and faces. He then began to move through the village, unable
to quench his thirst or satisfy his hunger. Upon the last neck, the last drop
of blood, he returned to the woods and shrieked at the red moon. He was no
longer Matchitehew. He had become a demon, a member of the undead. He moved
through the forests, attracted to cold climates and small villages.

“The demon spent
the next several months, and years, wandering the cold forests of northern
Minnesota and southern Canada. Soon, shamans and elders began to speak of the
Wendigo, a demonic ice beast who nomadically roamed the forests searching for
food. His appetite cannot be appeased. His spirit cannot be freed. Evil reigns
in the Wendigo. And every now and then, a new Wendigo is born.”

“Wow,” Anna
sighed. “That’s quite a story.”

“How is a new
Wendigo born?” Matthew asked.

“By summoning
the demon spirit of the original Wendigo, who was said to be killed in the
seventeenth century. Although the physical body was destroyed, the wretched
spirit lived on. After all, it had become a demon.”

“I wasn’t aware
that people could become demons,” Matthew commented.

“That’s because
you are restricted by Christian understandings of demonology,” Anish said
gently. Matthew simply nodded.

“So wait a
minute,” Anna said, waving a hand in the air. “So are we saying that Alan
summoned a Wendigo, and then became possessed by it? Is that how a Wendigo is
born?”

“It is difficult
to say,” Anish said. “Some legends say that people can become possessed when
they engage in cannibalism. Others say that excessive greed and evil hearts can
turn a person into a Wendigo.”

“I’ve heard of
the Wendigo psychosis,” Matthew said. “It’s a culture-bound syndrome that says
people believe they are Wendigos, bound to be cannibals and are clinically
insane.”

“That is born of
Western thought and medicine,” Anish corrected. “The Wendigo is real. It is a
demonic, spiritual entity that has once again found its way to Crimson Falls.”

“How was the
original Wendigo killed? I mean, how do you kill it?” Anna asked.

“With silver and
with fire,” Anish said. “Once it is unconscious, it must be dismembered and
then buried in several places upon sanctified, holy ground.”

“You mean a
cemetery?” Matthew asked.

“In some form or
fashion,” Anish agreed.

“Are you freaking
kidding me?” Jake huffed. “This is unreal. Are you guys buying this bullshit?”

“Jake,” Anna
began, but was interrupted.

 “While you were
telling your tall tale, I managed to find something that might help us figure
things out!” Jake said.

“What are you
doing?” Anna asked as she realized that Jake was reading Alan’s workbook,
makeshift diary.

Jake dismissed
her with a flick of the wrist. “Listen to this.” He cleared his throat to add
to the drama.

June 11, 1990

ü
 
I made my first attempt to
summon a demon tonight. Although I didn’t see anything or feel anything, I know
I did it right. It will just take a few times.

July 11, 1990

ü
 
I made contact with Samael,
the Angel of Death. I wish him to do my bidding. I thought Samael was still an
angel, so I was surprised to see him. He made it clear he wanted me to do evil,
but he could not kill him for me. I had to find some other way to kill MM...

August 11, 1990

ü
 
I spoke with Azazel tonight,
chief of Hell’s armies. He told me to not listen to Samael, that he was an
angel who had intercepted my summons spell. He promised me that in time that
wouldn’t happen.

ü
 
Azazel made it clear that
demons could assist me with killing MM, but at my power level I would need to
do part of it myself. Have to get more powerful…

“There are pages
missing here,” Jake said as he tried to find the next entry. It jumps from
August to November.”

“Let me guess,”
Anna interjected. “November 11, 1990.”

Jake nodded.
“Here goes.”

November 11,1990

ü
 
I said a summoning spell
tonight that a few demons have chastised me for. I called for a Harbinger of
Death to come to me from close by, someone who would kill MM for me.

ü
 
The strangest thing happened.
I caught a glimpse of a large, ice-like demon with yellow fangs and deep,
hallowed out red eyes. They were like red suns and it was hard not to stare at
them. It breathed heavily, then shrieked so loudly I thought I would lose my
hearing. It was like the bomb air raids in Vietnam. I covered my ears.

ü
 
I made it clear to the ice
beast that he had to kill MM for me, and that he would forever be under my
control. After I told it who to kill it just vanished.

“Is there more?
Something after the 11
^th
?” Anna asked, drawn in by the story.

“I’m getting
there,” Jake said, annoyed at being rushed. “November 13
^th
, 1990.
Probably Friday the 13
^th
.”

“Is that what it
says?” Anna asked.

“No, I’m just
saying,” Jake growled. With another clearing of the throat, he continued
reading.

November 13,1990

ü
 
I can’t believe it! MM is
dead. And right where he should have died. A few other people died, but I never
said it couldn’t kill anyone it wanted. I will have to fix that next time I
need it to kill for me.

ü
 
Tried to summon it. Wouldn’t
appear. What’s its name?

November 15, 1990

ü
 
I tried to summon the ice
beast again tonight to thank him and give him further orders, but couldn’t get
him to come back. I don’t know his name.

ü
 
I talked to Azazel and he
said I screwed up. I had spoken with entities outside his command, outside his
spiritual realm of damnation. He didn’t tell me what I had summoned. Not sure
even he knows.

ü
 
I hope I didn’t free
something I should not have freed…