all.”
“Oh? That must be hard to bill.”
“I write books about my exploits. They generate enough income to keep me going.”
What I wouldn’t give for an Internet connection right now—I can smell scam all over
this guy. “I hate to be picky, but I’m not sure you’re really what we’re looking for
in a monster-hunter right now. Do you have a résumé you could leave with us?”
Cassiar sighs, uncrosses his legs, and leans forward. “I don’t blame you for being
skeptical, Ms. Valchek. Monsters, for the most part, are fiction. I’ve never come
face-to-face with a vampire or a werewolf, though I have found evidence that suggests
such creatures did once exist. And I believe they might again, if the Gallows cult
has its way.”
I pluck a porcelain knickknack from a shelf and toy with it. I’m not even sure what
it’s supposed to be—a puppy? A kitten? A horribly deformed duck? “If you don’t hunt
vampires or werewolves, what do you hunt? Sasquatches? The Loch Ness Monster?”
“Oh, I’m intimately familiar with the supernatural, Ms. Valchek. Demonic possession
is all too real, as are malevolent spirits like poltergeists. But what the Gallows
cult is trying to do is far worse; they’re trying to drag something physical across
the Great Divide. Not a spirit, not a nebulous entity, an actual being. In fact, they may have already succeeded—and it could lead to something utterly catastrophic.”
“What, an evil undead hangman isn’t bad enough?”
“He is only the first. Should the cult be able to bring him through, others may follow.
As terrible as the Gallowsman is, his threat is nothing compared to monsters that
could turn others into beings like them.”
“Others. You’re talking about the V and W words, right? Or should I throw a Z in there, too?”
He shakes his head gravely. “At this point, I don’t know. But yes, vampires and werewolves
are certainly possibilities. The living dead are less likely, for occult reasons that
are difficult to explain—essentially, the Gallowsman already fulfills that role, which
makes it difficult for anything similar to cross over without his active help.”
Charlie nods. “And he doesn’t play well with others. Luckily for us.”
“Exactly.”
I toy with the knickknack and don’t say anything for a minute. I don’t know what to
think; Charlie clearly believes him, but I’m not so sure.
No, that’s not quite it. Everything he’s saying makes sense and fits with what we’ve
discovered so far—it’s the man himself I’m having trouble with. There’s something
off about him, something not quite right. It’s like if I caught a glimpse of him out
of the corner of my eye, I’d see someone else.
But so far, he seems to know more about the situation than we do, and that’s worth
a lot. “Tell me about the cult. Why are they doing this? What do they stand to gain?”
“Beyond occult power? The Gallowsman’s a locus, not just for despair but for bad luck
itself, the swirling destructive side of chaos. Like a curse come to life.”
“Doesn’t sound as if he gets invited to a lot of parties. So why would the cult want
him around?”
“When brought here by the death of a suicide, the Gallowsman has a specific purpose—to
bring suffering to the one the suicide blames for their pain. But when there’s no
suicide, he has no focus. He can be directed by those that summoned him.”
“Like a weapon,” Charlie says.
“When needed, yes. But there is another very real, very tangible benefit to summoning
the Gallowsman. He draws ill fortune and hopelessness to him—and away from those he is bound to.”
I frown. “So he’s like a giant four-leaf clover and supernatural Prozac, in handy
two-legged form?”
Cassiar smiles. “I suppose. Who wouldn’t want an endless supply of happiness and good
luck? Especially when you could inflict the opposite on your enemies?”
He has a
“Oh? That must be hard to bill.”
“I write books about my exploits. They generate enough income to keep me going.”
What I wouldn’t give for an Internet connection right now—I can smell scam all over
this guy. “I hate to be picky, but I’m not sure you’re really what we’re looking for
in a monster-hunter right now. Do you have a résumé you could leave with us?”
Cassiar sighs, uncrosses his legs, and leans forward. “I don’t blame you for being
skeptical, Ms. Valchek. Monsters, for the most part, are fiction. I’ve never come
face-to-face with a vampire or a werewolf, though I have found evidence that suggests
such creatures did once exist. And I believe they might again, if the Gallows cult
has its way.”
I pluck a porcelain knickknack from a shelf and toy with it. I’m not even sure what
it’s supposed to be—a puppy? A kitten? A horribly deformed duck? “If you don’t hunt
vampires or werewolves, what do you hunt? Sasquatches? The Loch Ness Monster?”
“Oh, I’m intimately familiar with the supernatural, Ms. Valchek. Demonic possession
is all too real, as are malevolent spirits like poltergeists. But what the Gallows
cult is trying to do is far worse; they’re trying to drag something physical across
the Great Divide. Not a spirit, not a nebulous entity, an actual being. In fact, they may have already succeeded—and it could lead to something utterly catastrophic.”
“What, an evil undead hangman isn’t bad enough?”
“He is only the first. Should the cult be able to bring him through, others may follow.
As terrible as the Gallowsman is, his threat is nothing compared to monsters that
could turn others into beings like them.”
“Others. You’re talking about the V and W words, right? Or should I throw a Z in there, too?”
He shakes his head gravely. “At this point, I don’t know. But yes, vampires and werewolves
are certainly possibilities. The living dead are less likely, for occult reasons that
are difficult to explain—essentially, the Gallowsman already fulfills that role, which
makes it difficult for anything similar to cross over without his active help.”
Charlie nods. “And he doesn’t play well with others. Luckily for us.”
“Exactly.”
I toy with the knickknack and don’t say anything for a minute. I don’t know what to
think; Charlie clearly believes him, but I’m not so sure.
No, that’s not quite it. Everything he’s saying makes sense and fits with what we’ve
discovered so far—it’s the man himself I’m having trouble with. There’s something
off about him, something not quite right. It’s like if I caught a glimpse of him out
of the corner of my eye, I’d see someone else.
But so far, he seems to know more about the situation than we do, and that’s worth
a lot. “Tell me about the cult. Why are they doing this? What do they stand to gain?”
“Beyond occult power? The Gallowsman’s a locus, not just for despair but for bad luck
itself, the swirling destructive side of chaos. Like a curse come to life.”
“Doesn’t sound as if he gets invited to a lot of parties. So why would the cult want
him around?”
“When brought here by the death of a suicide, the Gallowsman has a specific purpose—to
bring suffering to the one the suicide blames for their pain. But when there’s no
suicide, he has no focus. He can be directed by those that summoned him.”
“Like a weapon,” Charlie says.
“When needed, yes. But there is another very real, very tangible benefit to summoning
the Gallowsman. He draws ill fortune and hopelessness to him—and away from those he is bound to.”
I frown. “So he’s like a giant four-leaf clover and supernatural Prozac, in handy
two-legged form?”
Cassiar smiles. “I suppose. Who wouldn’t want an endless supply of happiness and good
luck? Especially when you could inflict the opposite on your enemies?”
He has a
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