She Walks in Shadows(35)

BODY TO BODY TO BODY


Selena Chambers

I.

I CAN SEE already by the prejudice gleaming in your Puritan eyes that coming here was a mistake. Have you never been to Innsmouth? Have you never seen people who are different from you? Of course you have and you tend to not give them the last word, either. But, given your station in life, Officer, I would wager your people were persecuted, too, during the burning days — for the judges looked down upon all that were disposable: not only those who were different, but those who were poor.

I see I have offended you. Good. Maybe you will better listen to me.

My name is Eunice Babson, and I was a servant to Mr. and Mrs. Edward Pickman Derby of Crowinshield House. Before that, I served Mrs. Derby and her father, Ephraim Waite in Innsmouth. I am aware that I and the Gilmans are under suspicion for blackmail, among other things. On that point, I want to make one thing clear: I was never with the Gilmans but against them. They jailed Mr. Derby in the library, and assisted Ephraim in all of his experiments and exploits. True, I uncovered his crime in the cellar and he paid me a fee for silence. But I neither laughed at him when he withdrew his checkbook from his coat pocket, nor could I be heard swearing revenge. I already had my requital years back, before Derby had ever laid eyes on Asenath’s young form.

Every woman’s body is a story, you see. This was a rare wisdom bestowed on me by my mother, whose body suffered unwanted attentions and abuse — a sacrificial trade for a notion of comfort and propriety. That was the story of her body and it ended miserably, as everything in the Ephraim Waite household was neither comforting nor appropriate. Each body that stepped foot inside became his body. Except mine. But that is not my body’s story. My story is of servitude. My body has been nothing but a tool for others to employ. It has served those I’ve loathed equally as those I’ve loved, including my sister Asenath.

That’s right. It has been one of many well-kept family secrets, but I am Mrs. Derby’s half-sister. I was the one who discovered Asenath’s body and also the one to save her glow from complete diminishment. However, those two incidents occurred several years apart. To fully comprehend my testimony, I must begin even further back than last Hallowmas past.

I was born in Innsmouth Harbor, in a damp, dry rot shack that was littered with fish scales and fried cod stink. My yard was the sea. In and around it, I discovered as much death as life. My pets were the turtles and crabs I caught while accompanying Mother on her fishmongering up by the pier.

When I grew weary of her haggling, I would wander away from her skirts and walk the shore, watching the fishermen empty their nets on the docks and see how the desperate fish flapped to find the edge back into life. When their struggle stopped, a strange ringing would toll in my ears and an aural soft focus would invade my vision as I found myself staring at the creature, its jaw awry, until it began to gnash and convulse again with a second gulp at life. This happened on several occasions and a town man lurking in the harbor noticed. It was Ephraim Waite, who was fascinated with the wharf and its inhabitants.

He circled me, sinister like a shark, all teeth and menace and rock-hard flesh of an ancient fossil. He spoke through a strained smile, which wavered when he realized I could not comprehend. He picked up my resurrected fish, slapped it against the deck, and shook it at me. Blood splattered my face. Terrified, I cried out and tried to run away, but he grabbed my arm. When Mother came to my rescue, she swiped his arm away from me and lashed him in his own tongue.

They argued back and forth. Sometimes, Mother would slip back into our tongue and I heard the words, “It’s in the blood.” Every time I heard the phrase, the argument seemed to abate. Next thing I know, I am standing in his library being instructed to call the Harbor Haunt Master by the Gilmans, who would tutor me until I adequately learned Yank. Mother became the cook.

I immediately took to reading and languages. I escaped into books and therefore, stayed out of Master Ephraim’s way. Mother, however, became a servant to suffering. She had acted desperately in gaining his employ.

We were but specimens to him. While he was fascinated in uncovering the secrets of our blood, it bothered him to have us roam about in his home. He said we stank up the place with our Harbor essence and would espouse phrenological theories of our features out loud as though we weren’t in the room. When aroused into a spiritual fervor by a concoction he’d made in his library, he’d roar about Devil Reef and stupid old Obed Marsh.

“Shipwrecked sailor, my eye! If you want to find your father, child, just grow some gills and go for a swim. I bet you can call on him at Devil Reef anytime, demon!”

When he was at a loss for words, he would beat us. In these instances, Mother would throw herself between us. With his fist in the air and a salacious grin, he would fall upon her and become excited by conquering things weaker than him, and fill the vessel with the only function he felt it and she and we served.

It was in this manner that Asenath was conceived. His interest in my blood-talent waned until he saw the power it had over his only golden child.

Master Ephraim had reluctantly desired access to the Marsh collection at one of the Esoteric churches. Since he now had fathered a child, he saw Asenath as an incidental excuse to take the Order oaths. He married Mother and made her lady of the house. The Gilmans took on all of the household matters, leaving my education in hiatus.

Mother was pleased with her elevated status at first, but after Asenath’s delivery, she slowly descended into a catatonic madness. Eventually, she boarded herself up in the attic and affected a black veil. She was going through the Great Change. In accepting that, she entered an extreme zealotry in which she neglected her children to prepare herself for going back to the water. Despite her baby’s wails, Mrs. Gilman had to prompt her to feed. Although I was only five years old, I changed her diapers and put bourbon-soaked pacifiers in her mouth when she teethed.