Chapter 19. The Hunter

As soon as I stepped through the portal, I was assailed by the biting cold, wind weaving itself through my shirt and jacket. "Don't worry about the cold," Silas said over the howling of the wind, it's no harm to us, you get used to it. Come on." Silas trudged through the shin-deep snow, in the gathering dark, into the shell of a settlement, littered with bloated mounds that I could oy have presumed to be the slain Deep Ones.

Silas stopped over one of the mounds, and brushed the snow aside to reveal the fishlike maw of a Deep one, remarkably preserved the ice. I moved over. Setting my doctor's bag aside. The condition of the body was truly remarkable, with even its tinfoil-like irises still very much intact.

"Is there a building we can take the body to?" I asked. "I'd rather do a necropsy somewhere less exposed."

Silas wordlessly nodded in the direction of one of the cabins, and we dragged the frozen remains inside, laying the bloated, froglike thing out on the table. Closing the door, I began my examination. "Right." I said. "Bear in mind, I'm a surgeon, not a pathologist, so if you need any kind of toxicology done, I'm not of much help."

"Youre not a fishmonger either, so less talking, more cutting." Silas said, lighting up yet another cigarette.

I turned to my work, opening the carcass across it's broad neck, then splitting the chest from where I presumed the sternum would be, down to the pelvis.

The first thing to strike me was the apparent flakiness if the muscle tissue. While it was still brownish yellow, as expected of a human, the muscle had a filament-like quality, similar to cod. The smell, faint as it was in a frozen state, was that same sickening mix of man and fish. The lungs of the creature were somewhat diminished, but i did note that a kind of "swim bladder" was present in the abdomen.

The bones were mostly humanlike, and many were badly broken, no, shattered. The damage seemed to be fairly comprehensive, as if the thing were crushed or hammered to pieces, with something that appeared to have four didtinct ridges. "Silas... come look at this." I said, pointing at one of the indents.

Silas peered over into the indent, "Hmm..." He took another drag of his cigarette, before looking at it more closely.

"I want to be sure I'm not the only one seeing this..." I told him. "I mean it looks like..."

"A human fist?" He cut in. "Looks that way."

"Do you think a vampire did it?" I continued, examining similar marks all over the creature.

"Could be, but frankly I doubt it, vampires tend to tear, rather than crush. Besides, no blood drained, or evidence of magic or even weapon use. This was probably a human."

The implications of this were staggering. A human did this? "We need more bodies, this can't have been one person's doing." I said.

"Hang on," Silas stopped me as I made for the door. Our first priority should be the transformation bile, once we have a sample, feel free to analyse away.

"How do we even find it?" I asked. "If it's even here, that is."

Silas tapped his nose. "You can sniff it out."

"Why not you? You've the same sense of smell I do." I protested

"One, I don't want to, two, you've actually been close enough to the stuff to know the smell, so you won't waste as much time trying to find it, and three, the sooner you learn to use your new senses properly, the better. Any questions?" He replied, clearly revelling in telling me off.

"Fine." I stepped outside, followed by Silas. Focusing hard, I inhaled the frigid air, I tried to take in and sort the competing odours of the air around me. At first, I could smell the pine trees, the damp, earthen smell of the soil, the faint tang of the sea air. Then came the fetid smell of the bile, cutting through them, alongside a distant reek of death and corruption, coming from the forest's edge.

"There." I said pointing to a collapsed cabin. As we crossed the empty street, I noticed a set of roughly human-sized hollows in the snow, accompanied by more frozen Deep Ones. "Silas, were the bodies of Deep Ones taken from here?"

"Hmm?" He grunted, looking at the hollows. "I hadn't noticed, but its probably wolves or something, pay it no heed. Now, get this cleared, you need to get those muscles working."

Reluctantly, I went to clear the debris, only to find that the thick wooden beams and wads of thatch were to me, feather-light. I cleared it away, the smell of the bile coming from a cellar. Silas and I descended, and I lit the way with a conjured orb. In the cellar, we found a makeshift cell and a desk covered in filthy medical equipment. The cell was little more than a chain and shackles bolted to the wall, and a wooden cell door. The shackle was ripped open violently, and the door was in tatters.

Silas immediately picked up a vial of the foul ichor he'd been looking for, amid rusted syringes and tubing, before turning his attention to the cell. "Well, someone didn't much like the accomodation. I mean, it has its rustic charm but I can see that cleanliness is an issue..." he rambled.

"Do I have time to finish the necropsy?" I asked him. "Before we have to leave, that is."

Silas scratched his stubbly beard. "Depends. How long do you want to take..."

"A few hours..." I began.

"And just like that, you lost me. Stay if you want, but don't expect me to stay here freezing my tits off all night, I'll come back in the morning, will that be enough?" Silas grumbled. "No takebacks though, no getting scared, because I'm the only one able to open my teleportation gate."

"It should be, yes." I told him.

"Right then," he said, bile in hand. He leapt cleanly up out of the trapdoor. "See you in the morning, then. Try not to die."

8pm

I returned to the cabin, and continued the necropsy. From my dissection I managed to glean the following, although more specimens would be ideal to get a better idea of the variation between individuals. I also noticed that the temperature was dropping considerably, hardly surprising, given my location. A pervasive smell of decay permeated the air, even indoors, although my specimen was both still fresh, and the smell was that of rotting meat, rather than fish. Snowfall had also intensified considerably.

9pm

I had completed the majority of the dissection and had moved onto taking scale and tooth samples, as well as making sketches of the creature's anatomy. There was also the question of the disposal of the body, I supposed cremation would be best, once the snow died down. The smell persisted, though, as did the snowfall.

9.30pm

The snowfall continued showing no sign of fairing off, as such, I resigned myself to simply waiting out the storm indoors. I decided now was an appropriate time to try and practice my sorcery.

10pm

Without use of my blood as a medium, I was still unsucessful in making use of pyromancy. The wind has died down, but the snowfall has continued. I did, however manage to generate great heat through my telekinesis, by way of essentially rubbing air against itself much like how rubbing your hands together warms them, albiet at greater speeds.

10.45

I heard a knock at the door. Three distinct raps. I ignored it. If there was anything I knew about this area, it was that it wasn't known for its human population, much less visitors to a village that had been abandoned for years. Without windows pointed the same way as the door, I had no idea what was actually outside, nor did I have any interest in finding out, unarmed as I was.

After a few moments whatever the door was knocked on again. I could at least appreciate its commitment to not entering unannounced. I felt a sort of psychic pressure seep into the cabin, akin to a feeling of rising water. I percieved it as a vitality-sapping cold, but it had little effect on me, apparently. A perk of being technically dead, I supposed. I became keenly aware of my own psychic signature as opposed to that which wasn't mine.

Just then, a greyed fist smashed open the cabin's window. An emaciated-looking arm, freakishly long, and tipped with yellowish bone claws erupting from gnarled fingers. Ugly red lesions dotted the dessicated flesh, and brownish bloodstains lingered on the hands. The arm flailed, being perhaps four feet in length, swiping at air.

I was taken aback, certainly. I could make out some of the thing's features from behind the frosted glass pane. It was certainly anthropoid, but distended and ghoulishly thin. It clawed away the glass, seeming unaffected by the sharp shards now decorating its arm. The thing crawled through the opening, spiderlike, with a scuttling gait so clearly at odds with its humanlike frame. Getting a good look at it, it was like an emaciated corpse, only recently disinterred, hairless and disproportionate.

Its neck snapped to face me in a spasmodic movement, bringing me face-to-face with it. It was, again, vaguely humanlike, but its lips, ears and nose had seemingly been clawed off, revealing needlelike fangs and ragged bone. Sunken eyes, like white marbles bore into me. Whatever it was, it must've once been human.

Even now with my heightened speed, the thing pounced on me before I could react, one set of bone claws sinking in between my ribs, and the other clamping on my throat. I fell to the ground, its slavering maw inches from my face.

Blindly, I swung my fist into the creature's jaw, connecting but not breaking bone, or loosening its grip. Claws dug deeper, piercing my liver, causing me to cough out blood. Instinctively, I grasped the creature's wrist, and projected a wave of force into its body. There was a dessicated tearing noise as its left shoulder was dislocated, i ripped its now- immobile arm out of my side, pooling blood from the wound in my hand, igniting it, and pushing my hand into the creature's face.

It staggered back, releasing an ear-splitting howl through putrefied vocal cords, clutching its face. When the burning subsided, it lowered its claws to reveal a mostly human skull, save for the mangled, mutated jaw. A thick, tentacle-like tongue unfurled from its throat, licking my blood from its dislocated arm. As soon as it did that, the arm tore and snapped back into place, and it shrieked again, the sound seeming to rattle my brain.

The puncture wounds in my side were healing already, billowing steam. I tried using telekenises to hold the creature down, covering it in a blanket of force, trying to flatten it rather than simply push it back. It noticed, collapsing to all fours, snapping at me. Its jaw unhinged, ribcage snapping and expanding, and it shrieked again, the ear-splitting sound breaking my focus. It wasn't just a sound, though, there was a psychic component. I didn't sense it, but I surmised that much from the fact blood began to leak from my nose and ears.

As I turned to wipe the blood away, a mistake on my part, the thing leapt onto my back. Claws dug into my throat, tearing a hole in my trachea, making me collapse. Mercifully the creature backed up, consuming its prize, the sound of tearing flesh and chewing sickened me. I tried to plug the wound in my throat, but the bleeding didnt stop, and trickled from between my fingers. I was slick with blood by now, and the floor wasn't much better. I ignited it all.

I could feel my psi begin to coalesce. My wound wasn't fully closed, but it was nearly there. I was wreathed in fire, and the cabin was set alight. The creature's dead eyes seemed to widen as it saw the flames spread.

I pulled myself to my feet, sucking in a pained breath and readying myself.

The creature seemed to be posessed by a mortal fear of flame, as upon seeing the cabin begin to burn, it attempted to flee out of the same window it broke into. I pulled it back telekinetically, slamming it into the now-blazing section of floor that I'd bled on. It writhed and spasmed, as I made a dash for the exit.

I barreled through the window, out into the snow, landing awkwardly, but nonetheless soothed by the cold on my now-blistering flesh. Indeed, healing created a horrendously uncomfortable itching and burning sensation. I wasn't done just yet, a burning figure, scarecrow-like emerged from the same exit, dipping aside as I tried to blast it back inside. It staggered forward, somewhat more upright, flesh blackening, peeling, then regrowing, spurts of coagulating blood staining the snow.

It was certainly weakened, but it wouldn't die. It needed to be dismembered. I had never tried it before, but maybe my telekinesis could be refined to slash rather than tear or bludgeon. I imagined a plane of force, impossibly thin, projected at the creature.

One dessicated arm fell to the ground, the humerus cleanly sliced.

Then the other.

Both legs were cut then, causing the thing to topple over, a torso, still twitching, lay in the snow defenceless. I  wasnt taking any chances, I released a cascade of slashes down onto the chest, flaying it until naught but a blackened heart lay unharmed in a pile of gore. I picked it up, feeling its insidious chill creeping into my hand.

I flung it into the fire. It sizzled and seemed to resist for but a moment before exploding in a greenish-grey conflaguration. It seemed as if it were screaming out, and with its wicked unlife snuffed out, so too was the blizzard. I collapsed back into the snow, breathing heavily.

"My fucking notes!" I shouted out after a while. I had left them in the cabin. The cabin I set on fire. This meant that I needn't have bothered staying here and getting almost killed, all because I didn't pocket the damned things before commiting arson.

I had a good laugh to myself about this. It was entirely absurd that only a month ago I was waiting to die, and now I was in the middle of a godforsaken arctic village, having bested some unknown monster in unarmed combat.

I lay there in the snow like a sandbag until dawn, when Silas reappeared, standing over me with a grin and a lit cigarette between his teeth. "Morning! Love what you've done with the place!" He said, before hauling me to my feet and handing me a blood vial and dragging me back through the portal.

"I'll admit, I conveniently forgot that you were unarmed in Windigo territory, but... you didn't die, so I'd call it a win, no?" He said, when we were back in the kitchen.

I stared at him blankly. "Yeah... I lost my notes though..."

Silas snorted, grinning. "Couldn't make it up..."

Edith entered the room. "Aspen..." she trailed off. "Umm.... you look... worse for wear."

"Yeah, you could say that." I turned to her. "How are you?"

"Better than you, it would seem, do I want to know?" She said, stifling a laugh.

"No, probably not..." I answered. "Get up to much yourself?"

"Well..." Edith said. Before unfurling her hand, creating a flickering wisp of flame. "What do you think?"

I was conflicted by this, if only a little. She managed to do what I couldn't, easily, and this stung. Nonetheless, I cared about her, and for that reason I was happy for her. "I'm impressed. Did Helen teach you that?"

"Mhmm!" She murmured, grinning, and clearly delighted. "It gets better!"

Edith took a step back, and a set of ringlike markings appeared on her face. The outline of an angel appeared in radiant light, before solidifying. A golden fascimile of an angel stood before me. I jumped out of my chair, knocking it over as I backed up, ready to slice it to pieces.

Silas put his hand out to stop me. "Woah, easy... Edith can summon echoes of things that die in her prescence. It's a valuable trait."

I lowered my hand, and Edith dismissed the echo. "Sorry to startle you, Aspen. There was probably a better way to introduce that."

"It's fine." I assured her. "Can you teach me how to do that?"

Silas cut in. "No, sadly. Edith's ability to do that is a "have it or you don't" sort of thing. Most of us have a unique magical skill inherrent to us alone. It's just a case of finding it. Edith had fairly low latent aptitude before being turned, so its surprising she got such a useful one. I would expect her to have something less spectacular."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Silas." Edith joked.

"How do I figure out mine?" I asked.

"You don't, apparently, you just... do it." Edith answered.

"She's right." Silas added, lighting up yet another cigarette. "I mean, given you were already psychic when you turned, you should just be able to pull it out like that." He explained, snapping his fingers.

"Like fuck I was psychic before... this." I snorted.

"You were. Even your letters had faint traces of your psychic signature. It was strong from day one, which is one of the reasons I picked you for the panacea." Silas explained.

"It's also why your lack of apparent power is... unsettling. It could be a side effect of being a vessel, or you could be cursed, hard to tell." He continued.

"Excuse me?"

"Mmm. I'm more leaning towards curse, I can sense a sort of binding placed on you..." he murmured. "You ever piss off a witch?" He joked.

"Unless my mother counts..." I remarked.

"It's possible. Psychic traits are hereditary. Were any of your family said to be able to hex people?" He asked, seemingly taking my joke seriously, although he wasn't actually wrong.

"Yeah, actually, my mother, my grandmother, and my great grandmother all did, as far as I've heard. All rumors, though." I said.

"Not quite." Silas said. "It's highly, highly probable that's why you never  manifested powers until literally forced. Take a psychically sensitive child, have a psychic parent, who likely has no idea they are psychic, and have them hex their child unintentionally, purely from their contempt, and there you go, one would-be psychic, kept from developing"

"You have to be joking..." I muttered to myself. "Even now, she has to control me."

"Care to elaborate?" Silas asked.