The Dark Missions of Edgar Brim Read online

  “But I quaked with fear when I saw it. It was on two feet, of human shape, but huge and hideous in appearance. It stood a full foot taller than me. Naked but for a loin cloth, its skin like an alligator’s, its arms huge and hanging low like an ape’s, its giant face so repulsive it was hard to look upon. This was some sort of aberration, some mistake of nature, a living monster! It still seemed incredible that it could be the creature from the book, but in the epic, it hated loud sounds, so I began to shriek, perhaps as a strategy or in fear or desperation, I don’t know. I guessed that it preferred to strike by surprise and would have escaped if I had simply attacked it or even if I’d cowered or tried to get away. But enraged by this noise, it attacked me, just as I had hoped.”

  Edgar could see the scene on the moors long ago! He could feel the hag entering the room.

  “It came at me with superhuman speed and was on me in a flash. It seized me and, in anger, chose to torture me before it killed: it sank its massive canine teeth into my right arm at the shoulder and ripped it from its socket. The bone crunched and the ligaments tore away. The blood flew. I shrieked even louder. And yet, in the midst of this horror, it seemed my plan might be working: Grendel was incensed and irrational. It pulled back from me, knocking me to the ground, and began to eat my arm.”

  Edgar is in agony as he listens. His right arm aches.

  “I gaped up at it in terror, the pain almost rendering me unconscious. But I had spent years readying for this moment. Whatever this creature was, I knew that only a warrior of as stout a heart as Beowulf could defeat it. I had to be that way that night. Grendel loomed above me, devouring my limb and yet a perfect target. Still crying out in agony, I pulled my pistol from my cloak. My left hand would have to do the work. I started shrieking louder. It dropped my limb for an instant and put its hands over its ears. It was directly above me, just a few feet away, its wide chest open: an easy target. I extended the gun toward the monster, still crying out. Then I stopped shrieking. It took its hands from its ears and bent over, groggy from the effects of the noise, its chest actually pressed up against the gun. I knew that in the epic Grendel’s skin was as strong as armor and bold warriors had been unable to penetrate it with swords, and others in ensuing centuries who may have glimpsed it would have merely shot at such a beast from a distance. But now, with this modern-day gun pressed directly to the creature’s chest, the barrel within an inch of its huge heart, I believed I could kill it. I fired. Not once, not twice, not three times, but six, unloading every one of the bullets in the newly invented six-shooter I had purchased from America with the society’s funds, emptying the chamber directly into the fiend’s vital organ. It staggered and then fell like a giant, thundering down onto the earth. It seemed as if the landscape shook. I took my big knife and severed its head and left it for the ravens out on the moors.”

  Edgar can feel the hag receding from the room, but can sense her, still standing near the lobby door, watching.

  “I reeled back to the college, pressing my coat to my gaping wound, nearly bleeding to death. The cause of my injury, I told Headmaster Emeritus, and Spartan Griswold and Numb, was a wolf. They had never heard of wolves being on that part of the moors, but they accepted it, assuming it was a freak encounter. What else could they do?

  “But I feared the consequences of what I had done. I couldn’t stop thinking of what William Shakespeare had said about “hunters” being killed by other monsters. I left the college for a year to recover and live with Abraham here in London. But I couldn’t stop wondering if there were other aberrations out there, maybe worse than Grendel? It seemed a mad idea, as mad as believing the creature that I had killed was a demon from a story. But what if something even more terrifying and powerful knew what I had done? Would it come after me? All my anger drained from me and I lived in fear from that day until now.”

  “But nothing has pursued you, sir.”

  “Hasn’t it?” He got up. “I must go. We will speak more of these things tomorrow.”

  14

  You Have No Choice

  Tiger joined Edgar at the society’s meeting the next day. There was a surprise waiting for them when they gathered in the big room. In fact, there were two. One was beautiful to Edgar and he took note; the other was handsome to Tiger but she tried not to notice.

  Lucy and Jonathan Lear were sitting near their grandfather at one end of the big wooden table, with Tiger and Edgar at the other, and William Shakespeare presiding in the middle, with three empty chairs apparently containing the other curious gentlemen of the society facing him. Lucy had a china-white face and pale blue eyes, hair a unique copper color and wavy and worn a little longer than fashionable. She seemed anxious. Jonathan, fit and bronzed by the sun, acted as though this meeting was nothing but a lark. Everyone was introduced, Lucy quickly glancing down from Edgar’s flame-colored hair to the table as she nodded to him, and Jonathan smiling broadly as he stood and shook Tiger’s strong slim hand.

  Edgar peeked across at Shakespeare while everyone was exchanging greetings. The little man was staring at him with a dark face, but then quickly glanced away and the mad expression came over him again.

  He started the meeting off by singing “God Save the Queen” … solo. Everyone present used all the willpower they had not to stick their fingers in their ears. Then he called the meeting to order. He held his right arm in the air above his shoulders, palm out in an oath, nodding to the others (including the men in the empty chairs) to do the same. He barked out the goals of the society and swore to “initiate investigation of these demons, and ultimately, their elimination, for the betterment of man.” Then he threw back his head and uttered a hideous cry, the trademark monster call of the society. None of the others did the same, though one imagined that in Shakespeare’s mind, his good friends were complying. Edgar and Lucy each noticed the other stifling a laugh.

  Shakespeare then held forth, orating for close to three hours.

  “… These aberrations are mistakes made by God or nature, of crypto-human origin, likely given birth from the loins of human beings. They are part of our real world, but nearly immortal, living for centuries unless someone finds a way to destroy them. Great adventurers guided by scientists such as ourselves …”

  Jonathan yawned loudly.

  “… may have killed a number of these creatures, their activities kept from the world. It would not be good for the average person to know such things.” The little man looked condescendingly at the four young people, one after the other. “We tip our hats to these brave men. None have lived long afterward! Their courage is unparalleled.”

  “And well beyond your own, Shakes,” murmured Jonathan.

  Shakespeare stopped for a moment, glared around the table, cleared his throat and went on, entering upon (what he felt was) the meat of his subject for the day: Mary Shelley’s character, the Frankenstein monster, and how she created him. He spoke at length of a night long ago in Switzerland.

  “A mixture of fact and fiction,” mused Lear under his breath to Edgar.

  Shakespeare then discussed interviewing Robert Louis Stevenson about Mr. Hyde, then amended that to say he had known someone who had interviewed Stevenson on the subject, then amended that to say that he knew someone who knew someone who had read said interview. He briefly referred to Grendel and paused. But the professor, stationed at the far end of the table, was by that time snoring loudly.

  After saying on at least five occasions, “And so, in conclusion,” Shakespeare finally came to an end. “If there are aberrations left, they are the worst, for they must be almost unkillable, the ones from whom to stay away. But they must be destroyed!”

  The little man stopped suddenly. He was sweating profusely.

  “I must ask the chairman for permission to speak,” said Lear, rousing.

  “I shall consult the others,” replied Shakespeare. He nodded at each of the three empty chairs and turned back to the professor. “Proceed.” He sat down.

  Lear lo
oked like he wanted to beat him with a stick, but he went on. “I should like funding for the purchase of numerous weapons.”

  “Weapons?” asked Shakespeare, starting onto his feet again.

  “We shall need, first and foremost, a powerful pistol, a handgun that can be concealed on someone’s person, the most deadly rifle we can locate and perhaps something with a much larger bullet. This is why I am in London at this time.”

  “Really?” asked Shakespeare. “You are going to strike again after all these years? There shall be action? We shall attend! Sprinkle, you bolting hutch of beastliness, you must wear your hunting outfit and bear your musket!”

  “No need, gentleman—though I’m sure your brave actions would be invaluable—just funds for guns, some useful clothing and train fare for a number of people are required.”

  “A number?”

  “I do not know how many yet. I may need a few other things as well.”

  “What exactly are you after?” cried Shakespeare. “Tell us!” He sounded like a child. Edgar’s eyes were widening too.

  “It is a matter, as you often say, sir, of utmost importance and secrecy. There shall be a full report.”

  “A report!” cried the little man. “Why, yes, a report!”

  A short while later, Lear, his grandchildren, and Tiger and Edgar were on Drury Lane. Edgar was shaking a little and trying to hide it. Weapons and monsters! He could see the excitement on the others’ faces. Lucy’s freckled skin now had a good deal of color in it, going well, he thought, with her copper hair. Both young Lears were restless, as if anxious to tell Edgar and Tiger something. Tilley was flushed too, apparently thrilled by what she had just heard. Only the professor appeared composed.

  “I should like you all to come with me to the Langham for a moment. Perhaps we shall have some tea?” said Lear.

  Up Drury Lane they went, Lear in the lead followed by Edgar and Lucy side by side and then Jonathan and Tiger.

  “Would you take my arm, Miss Tilley?” asked Jon after a while. Edgar wondered if Tiger might slap him, and the athletic, dark-blond young man seemed like the sort who might actually like that, take it as a challenge or an opening salvo.

  “That isn’t necessary,” said Tiger. “I believe I can keep myself upright on my own.”

  Edgar considered offering his own arm to Lucy. Not everyone might think her attractive, but she exuded something that was perfect to him. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Tiger had a bold gait, but this slender girl walked in sways beside him, eyes sparkling with some idea. Then she stumbled. As she did, she reached out for him and slipped her arm into his, apologizing, but keeping it there.

  “May I speak frankly, Master Brim?”

  “Of course, Miss Lear.”

  She looked up at him as if she had known him forever. “My grandfather has something he must accomplish before he dies. It is a matter of life and death.” Her intensity took him aback; her thin lips were held in a straight line. “You know what it is.”

  “I’m not sure I exactly—”

  “I think that is why you are here with us. I will help him with my very life, and so will my brother. We have ample reason.”

  She turned her face forward and said nothing for a while. After another block or two, she gathered herself and spoke of other things. She asked him about school, about his past. He was alarmed at how much he told her. He even spoke a little of his fears, and this to a person who was a stranger but a few hours ago. It was as if she had some sort of power to draw things out of others, or at least, from him.

  Time seemed to fly. Behind him, Jonathan appeared powerless not to unload his whole life to Tiger too, though she said almost nothing. Edgar heard him mention that he was about to enter a respected military school, was already training for it, and that he and Lucy lived alone. Edgar wondered where their parents were.

  At the hotel, Lear asked for tea to be sent up to his suite and gathered them around at a table. He stood with his hands on the back of a chair, so no one else sat either.

  “I have something of importance to ask of you.”

  He sounded solemn. Edgar waited for one of the others to respond. But the professor was gazing directly at him.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I want you to be my ally on a sacred mission.”

  It had sounded almost thrilling when Lucy had suggested something similar, but now, in the professor’s deep voice, it was ominous.

  “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  “I want you to return with me and my grandchildren to the College on the Moors tomorrow, leaving in the early hours of morning.”

  “That is a slight change of plans, but yes, sir, of course, I need to go back anyway and—”

  “Not just to finish the last week of school, not just for your graduation.”

  “Sir?”

  “That child whom you befriended. I believe he was murdered.”

  Edgar swallowed. “Who murdered him?” He tried not to imagine a creature from his nightmares coming to life.

  “I do not know for certain.”

  “Then how can you—?”

  “A force that may have murdered many times before.”

  Edgar wanted to leave. He turned to Tiger, but she was fascinated. Lucy was still eyeing him, hope in her face. Jonathan sat back, trying to seem unimpressed.

  “Master Brim, there is something on the moors right now, an aberration, whom I would like you to help us pursue and kill.” Edgar felt dizzy. He pulled a chair back from the table and sat down. The others gathered around him, Tiger included. It almost seemed as if she were in league with them, though she was only just learning about all of this too.

  “Yes,” said Jonathan, “a monster.” He walked away and took a position at a window, as if he were concerned that they had been followed. “A lovely fellow.”

  “Will you help us?” asked Lucy.

  “Why?” Edgar asked. “Why do you need me?”

  “You have no choice, sunshine,” said Jonathan.

  “What does he mean?” asked Edgar, still addressing Lucy.

  “Don’t worry about that,” she said, shooting her brother a cross look.

  “Yet,” snapped Jonathan.

  Lucy knelt in front of Edgar and took his hand. Her red dress was spread out around her on the floor. She stared directly into his eyes.

  “Look, Edgar,” she began, “we know grandfather encountered some sort of aberration on the moors long ago. If one existed, is it not possible that there is another, or even more? What if they do know of each other’s existence, watch out for each other?”

  “You are talking like Shakespeare. This is madness.”

  “What if that is why this thing is on the moors, right now?”

  “This thing? Listen to yourself. Lancelot was ill. He was frail.” Edgar squirmed in his chair but didn’t pull back from Lucy’s hand. Her grip was strong. “This so-called Grendel could have been just some strange ape lost in the wrong part of the world.”

  “But haven’t you always feared such things were true?” said Lear. “What did your father believe?”

  “That was just a theory.” Edgar wondered if they would seize him if he bolted for the door. He looked at Lear. “How did you know my father? Where did you meet him?” But the professor didn’t respond. Edgar turned to Lucy. “Why me?” he asked again.

  But she still won’t answer his question. “What if they kill anyone who destroys a fellow demon and always have, with one hundred percent efficiency? And that’s why they are unknown? Maybe it’s true that no one who has killed an aberration has ever lived to kill another?” She paused. “Except my grandfather.”

  “Yep,” said Jonathan, “the old codger is still on the loose!”

  “Well, that’s proof, isn’t it?” said Edgar. “If it were real, sir, you would be long dead.”

  Lear shook his head. “After I went to London that year to recover from my wound, something else happened on the moors.” He held up his hand as if to wave o
ff any questions. “It made me think that another creature was near the college. I was terrified. I wondered if it would be up there when I went back, waiting for the right moment to pounce. I had to protect myself. So after I returned, I stayed off the moors and made sure I was never alone. But I also prayed out loud every night, assuring God or nature that I was done with monsters, real or imagined. I told the air that I would not pursue them and I even apologized to the Grendel creature. I felt a fool, but I hoped something would hear me, sense me. I also let it be known that I had written a paper with a groundbreaking theory, and if I were to die in a mysterious way, that paper would be published, but were I to die in old age of natural causes, it would be burned. If this demon was somehow aware, somehow watching through the windows, listening through the walls, following my conduct, somehow understanding out there on the moors, we would be in a stalemate: kill me and the existence of Grendel and another would be exposed; leave me and the secret was safe.… And I have lived!”

  “But—”

  “But I have been watched for nearly forty years. I haven’t seen anything, but I have felt it.” His head fell. “And my plan has had fatal flaws.”

  Jonathan left the window, stomped across the room and slammed the door on his way out. They heard his footsteps marching up and down the hallway.

  Edgar saw pain in Lucy’s eyes. He sensed she was about to cry and squeezed her hand tightly. She seemed surprised.

  “My mother died in childbirth,” she murmured.

  “Just like mine,” he said, not letting go.

  “I know.”

  How did she know that? he wondered.

  “I don’t have a father anymore either.” She wiped her tears. “He died last year.”

  “I killed him,” said Lear.

  “No, grandfather, don’t!” She turned back to Edgar. “They said it was his heart, but there is no history of such problems in our family.” Edgar thought of his own father’s death, but dismissed it. “Grandfather viewed the body. He won’t tell us what he saw.”