She Walks in Shadows(38)

“Eunice,” she said. “You can come down now. I got rid of him!” And there was an ironic look that took after her father so much it was unbearable.

“We’re rid of his tired, old body. Help me bring it back up here.” She eyed me closely to see if there was any trace of euphoria rising within me. “Well, don’t look so glum. Your kind aren’t that sentimental.” She walked back down the stairs, iron step following iron step, whistling Mother’s song. It was mockery! All mockery! This was not the Asenath I’d known. Adolescence and Ephraim’s supervision had made her bigoted and cruel.

I followed her down the stairs and into the library. It was in shambles. Books were splayed open on the floor, their ancient spines cracked down the middle. The globe had somehow become dislodged from its axis and had rolled, dented, into the corner. Chairs were upturned and on the long, oak table lay Old Ephraim’s crumpled body. Asenath stood before him, her hands on her hips.

“Such a sad sack he was.”

“Are you sure he’s dead?”

“Not really. I hit him over the head with the globe, so he may just be world-weary.” She chuckled now, instead of the trickling cackle she had as a child. “But it’s nothing a little arsenic can’t fix. Why don’t you see to that? I have to get my things together. Next week, I am to start school at Kingsport. Father left it in his will that I am to be the ward of Hall School.”

“What about me? The Gilmans?”

“You’ll stay here. Keep the house running. Make sure that thing stays dead, for one. This isn’t one of your goldfish.” She gave me a wink and nodded at the body. “And make an inventory of the library. It appears we’ve had a little thief purloin some important tomes I will need in Arkham.” She leered at me. “I am on the cusp of a great discovery, Eunice. The greatest discovery of my entire life.” Speechless, I stared at the body.

“You will see to it, then?”

I looked at Asenath transformed — a young woman with murder on her hands and mayhem in her heart. She had become her father’s daughter. Or, more like, just her father.

“Well?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Mistress. Good, we understand one another,” Asenath outstretched her arms and yawned. “Oh, me! I am due for a nap.”

After dragging Master Ephraim’s body up the stairs and back into the attic, I laid it on my bed and assessed the damage. There was a huge lump on the back of his skull and a few superficial scratches on his face, but there was a faint sieve of breath. I’d seen worse with Mother. I retrieved some smelling salts from the kitchen and waved them under Master’s nose. No response. He was catatonic. I sighed and went fishing.

That night, my line seemed magical. At first, I caught several puny smelt. I decided to cut them up with my knife and use them as bait. By dawn, I had thrown back bluefish and perch until I caught a black gill. In the soft, rosy light, I could see its stripes were a pointillisme of the periwinkle center of each scale. Rather than throw it back like I’d done its brethren, or bash its head against the dock’s edge immediately, I held it up and stared into its flat eyes that flickered with every drowning gulp of air. I could see my body looking back, my harsh, flat face with protruding eyes that now seemed dim and stupid, gulping and hiccoughing and losing its grip. All I sensed was sexlessness, yet a drive to spawn and swim. When I hit against the dock, I was instantly back within myself watching the thrashing fish. That was when Asenath knocked on my skull and I realized what the struggle had really been about.

I strained to block her. While I didn’t think she wished me harm, she was that maniac’s daughter. In my blood was magic; in her blood was madness. What would she do with my body once she occupied it?

But if I am to survive, she tapped into my skull, I need a thriving body.

I muted her with more concentration, but her will had grown stronger over the years.

It’s like drowning on air, ‘Fhalma. I want to go to sea! Help me, ‘Fhalma! Help me go to sea! Help —.

The black gill’s flapping replaced Asenath’s communications. Inspired, I scooped it into my basket and ran up Washington Street.

V.

Then what happened? Why, it’s obvious, isn’t it Officer Shea? My sister is a fish. I trapped her in my body long enough to trap her into the black gill and keep my glow. She swims somewhere deep in Innsmouth Harbor, perhaps around the devastated remnants of Devil Reef. If I am truly romantic, I’d like to think she swims with our mother. For a while, I entertained I could evict Ephraim from her body and return her glow to its rightful place, but on the night that I saw Mr. Derby dragging Asenath’s body down into the cellar, I lost hope for that dream. But I was able to bring her body justice against Ephraim, although at Master Derby’s sacrifice. The despicable and horrid form that justice took only Mr. Upton can attest, but in Master Ephraim’s failure lies the only small success I could aspire to. When a bit of evil is smote from this earth, we’re all avenged. At least, the forgotten people.

How do you know I am not Ephraim? You don’t, but rest-assured, I have no interest in traveling body to body to body. Perhaps I could glow inside a banker, or a pretty schoolteacher, or even Mr. Upton and build beautiful things, if I were a mind. No. I am content in this body, and I welcome its change and its birthright — for whatever happens to my body, it is happening to me. It’s my story.