Fanfic: The Whistler - Chapter 20 [Haven, Rated: T]
Title: The Whistler - Chapter 20
Author: Karolyn Gray
Fandom: Haven
Summary: A child kidnapping and murder case is disturbingly familiar to Nathan.
Main character(s): Nathan Wuornos, Audrey Parker
Rating: T
Warnings: violence, kidnapping, child murder
Spoilers: Up to 1.13 Spiral
Disclaimer: Haven, characters, and related indicia is owned and copyrighted by E1 Entertainment, Syfy, NBC Universal, Stephen King and all related parties. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work of fan based fiction and is not endorsed or affiliated in any way, shape, or form to the owners and/or copyright holders.
Author’s Notes: Thanks to Nat, PKD, and Scar for beta reading. All errors that remain are mine. The story is currently rated T but later chapters may push the rating up to M for subject matter.
The Whistler - Chapter 20
By Karolyn Gray
"That way, go...go!" Nathan urged the boys onward as they raced through the heavy woods. The canopy was so thick that the woods were in perpetual shadow making traversing the treacherous terrain difficult. He followed the boys, occasionally searching behind them to see if their attacker was still following. No more shots had been fired, but Nathan wasn't foolish enough to think their pursuer, most likely Absalom Mitchum, was not far behind them.
The boys had held up well so far but he could tell they were getting tired and slowing down. Nathan tried to remember the maps of the location and his own memories of the area but could think of no safe spot to stop and rest, even for just a moment.
Ahead of him he saw Kenny stumbled to his knees with a cry as he misjudged a jump over a root and tripped. The young boy slid on the muddy ground a full three feet before he stopped and pushed himself up. Mud and muck streaked his pants and hands. Mike stopped and turned to see what happened as Nathan reached Kenny and pulled the panting boy up off the ground. The cop waved at Mike to keep going as he settled the exhausted boy in his arms and ran.
They soon reached what appeared to be a small shallow furrow leading into what appeared to be a glen. Nathan wordless nodded to Mike to go on ahead of them. He paused as he realized the place looked familiar. Shaking his head, he blinked several times in surprise, certain he was hallucinating. Or dreaming again.
Wytchebough.
The glade was as large as he remembered, filled with grasses still as green as if it were spring time. At the center of the glade stood the six twisted trees he remembered as well-the five smaller pine trees arrayed around the larger old black spruce. And around the trees he could see the five sisters waiting, the old mother standing among them, watching-whistling their song.
At the sound of the tune, Nathan felt invigorated as his fear washed away. He knew this place, knew this song.
The boys would be safe here.
He didn't feel the palpable threat of Abe Mitchum's wrath as he had when they left the cabin behind. He could still hear the Whistler's song in his mind, but it was distant. Even muted against the sister's song he still could feel the old anger within trying to break free of the dark recesses in which he had locked it away.
Knowing he needed to make sure the boys were safe before he confronted Abe, Nathan followed Mike down the slope, cautious about making it down the slick, muddy ground with his charge. Halfway down, a shot was heard and Nathan found himself flung the rest of the way. Kenny cried out as Nathan flung him to the side so as to avoid crushing the small boy under his larger frame. They both landed heavily at the bottom, just short of the glen.
Nathan rolled onto his back and tried to tell the boys to run, but he found himself unable to breathe. The boys were instantly at his side, each pulling on his arms to get him sitting upright, Mike's cold touch shocking sense back into the cop's disorientation.
Kenny gasped in shock and quickly let go of Nathan's left arm. "You're hurt."
Nathan looked at his left arm and saw the blood blossoming from the two bullet holes-one in his shoulder and the other in his upper arm-little rivulets flowing down the front and side of his shirt. He grimaced at the injuries, knowing they were bad but not yet life threatening. The wounds didn't hurt, of course, but when he tried to move his damaged limb he could tell it didn't work right, lacking range of motion and strength.
The detective heard a soft rustling in the brush above them at the top of the small hill. He quickly pushed the boys into the open field of green and put a finger to his lips to indicate he wanted silence. Both boys instantly crouched down and Nathan used his right arm to push himself to his knees. He spotted the bloodied hand axe he dropped nearby and grabbed it tightly around the wooden handle as he rose to his feet, making sure he was crouched low.
He didn't understand how but he somehow knew where their attacker was. It wasn't just the sounds he could hear; he could inexplicably feel their assailant. Turning in the direction he sensed the danger, he carefully scanned the area, zeroing in on the spot he heard the rustling coming from. He pointed towards the waiting sisters, slowly waving his hand for the boys to start moving.
The sisters themselves were now walking towards them, gracefully gliding through the grass.
A soft whistle cut into the still afternoon air. The Whistler's call. Anger flared within him, almost painful with the shocking intensity of its reaction to the sound.
"Run!" Nathan whispered.
"He can't," Mike said quietly.
The Whistler's song became louder, starting to drown out the sister's melody.
Nathan ignored the tune. He felt himself wanting to listen even as he felt the blocks he had put on that old, dark anger being to crumble in response. The melodic whistling of the sisters combined with the darker tune in his mind, the one planted there so long ago brought forth a fury. Only the strange anger he felt combined with his concern for the boy's wellbeing made it possible for him to resist the call.
He turned to see Kenny now standing staring back over Nathan's shoulder with a blank expression, enraptured by the Whistler's tune. Mike looked back and forth between the boy and the man with a helpless expression. Nathan knew Mike wouldn't be able to help him and simply gestured for him to back away into the glen. They boy's hazel eyes hardened as he nodded his refusal to leave with a stubborn expression.
It almost made Nathan want to smile. Almost.
A twig snapped noisily behind him. Nathan turned slowly, already knowing who would be there. Abe stood there with a pistol in his hand and a cruel look on his face. His clothes where worse for wear from their race through the woods, his jeans and boots streaked with grime and his red checked flannel shirt torn in places.
"I am disappointed in you Nathan. Truly I am. To choose to allow an injustice to stand, to be a slave to the past rather than be free," the older man shook his head, with obvious regret.
"What you offer isn't justice or freedom," Nathan replied, shifting the hand axe in his grip. "You're a vicious murderer."
Abe stared at Nathan intently, scrutinizing the police officer with a look that made Nathan feel as if the older man could see every thought, every dream, he'd had ever had. He whistled three notes, which made Nathan flinch involuntarily at the pain that he felt in response. Seeing his reaction Abe shook his head with a disappointed and grim expression. "You've been corrupted. I can sense a different song with in you. No matter. I'll find others to end the cycle, even if I must wait another generation to complete the work."
Nathan nodded to himself. He had to stop Abe, one way or the other. Tightening his hold on the axe he stalked up the incline towards the other man. "This ends here."
Abe lined his pistol up with Nathan, who didn't so much as blink at the older man's threat as he continued forward. Abe's eyes widened in concern as the cop didn't stop. Realizing his threat meant nothing to the younger man he chose a new target and quickly aimed the pistol at Kenny. That made Nathan stop.
Nathan was more than willing to be shot. His affliction-as much as he hated to admit it-would give him the advantage of not feeling the bullets and perhaps time enough to stop Abe once and for all but he couldn't risk anyone else. Abe waved him back down the incline and into the glen, following carefully so as not to slip on the muddy ground.
The sisters had stopped their approach and simply waited. Their song was a dim hum in the background of Nathan's mind.
Abe smiled slightly. "Do you really think you can beat me, you're mentor?"
Nathan's anger and frustration roared to life, filling him with a sickening rage. "You're not my mentor! You're nothing but a monster!"
The older man chuckled. "There it is, that beautiful righteous anger you keep locked away. It's so wonderful to see the real you again."
"Go to hell," Nathan snarled, unable to stop from lunging forward.
Abe waggled the pistol once. It was enough for bring Nathan back from his bloody minded thoughts, pushing back images of tearing the man apart from his mind. The darkness within him howled in primordial rage at being denied release.
"Tut-tut, Nate," Abe warned him with a malicious grin. Nathan took a step back lowering the axe to his side. "Good boy. But you were always such a good boy, weren't you? Garland's little boy, his special little man. Isn't that what you father used to call you?"
Nathan remained silent, angry and seething, but kept himself under control. He was well aware Abe was trying to goad him into rash action.
"A pity no one knew about the evil within you, the monster you are," the old man said conversationally. He grinned slyly at the cop. "Of course I did, but they'll never know that part. Imagine the horror when I reveal the truth to the town."
"What do you mean?" Nathan asked warily.
Abe actually looked surprised at Nathan's question. "You've been corrupted; you're too dangerous in this state. I can't allow you to threaten my work. It's my fault, really. I made too many mistakes with you, didn't cultivate you as I should have. But you can still contribute to our kind's salvation."
The old man shook his head looking regretful for a moment. "You were my greatest accomplishment, my finest work. Do you remember?"
The Whistler's tune came forth, deafening loud, merging with the sister's song and a counterpoint the primal beat within.
Nathan winced, and then cried out in pain. The axe thumped heavily on the damp ground, muffled by the grasses of the glade. Grasping his head he felt the unexpected pain sear through his mind and stab down through his spine, setting his whole world afire in agony. Sensations he hadn't felt in years engulfed him as the memory came forth.
*~~Haven~~*~~Haven~~*~~Haven~~*
Clean. Precise. Sharp.
The blade flashes, dips, and comes away tipped in red. A brief scream, a gush of blood.
Whistling.
It's over so quickly, it doesn't seem real.
The old man's dark eyes are wide in betrayed disbelief. His young killer can see his own reflection in those glossy black depths as a part of him revels in what he sees therein. The Whistler's mouth opens and closes in gasping breaths, a red tint staining thin lips with each new breath. The old man won't be whistling anymore as his sinewy long fingered hands grasp his throat, a wet gurgling sound emerging, as trickles of blood seep forth through the fingers coating his neck and chest. In moments, it is over. The old man falls to the floor, limp, lifeless.
Without the fear it was so easy.
"Well done, my son."
He smiles enigmatically; pleased he has made the foolish man happy, as he feels the shift within occur. The darkness stirs inside, reaching out and connecting to the new whistling man-the old one's song reclaimed by his son. Underneath he hears the other song. He will kill him-this new Whistler. He will make him suffer for his cruelty.
He wants that. It wants that.
He wants to stop this evil man, who's made him see and do terrible things. The darkness within agrees. It is pleased with him as It whispers ancient promises in his mind.
It soon slips away, under the cloak of fear that returns to bide its time.
*~~Haven~~*~~Haven~~*~~Haven~~*
Nathan gasped as he came back to the present, finding he had fallen to his hands and knees as the - Nightmare? Memory? - washed over him. Was it real or his imagination?
'It's real enough.'
What he doesn't doubt is the old man's death-the death of Absalom Mitchum's father, Gabriel, at Nathan's young hands. It had been the Whistler's orders but still his own doing. Nathan knew he could have resisted Abe's orders to kill Gabriel, but Gabriel was as equally as evil in intent as his son and It had wanted them both as part of their pact.
He remembered how he, Saul, and two other children, Michael Forrester and Anne Hunning, were ordered to dispose of Gabriel's body. Anne had tried to run away but was caught by Saul. She had been punished and deemed unworthy.
He never saw her again.
"It was you-you're family the whole time," Nathan said in shock, finally understanding what was happening. The memories made him want to wallow in self loathing, but he could feel it still, that ancient force within driving him on. Now, he no longer feared It. He was beginning to understand what It wanted.
He needed to end this.
It needed to end this.
In agreement they acted.
Nathan's knelt down, a steely gaze fixed on Abe. His hand slowly found the handle of the axe with a perception Nathan would have claimed was actual touch, yet somehow too ephemeral for that sensation to be an entirely accurate description. He wrapped his fingers around the wood handle securely once more.
"It's our right to protect ourselves," Abe said simply, unconcerned that Nathan had armed himself once again. "To prevent what happened here from ever happening again."
"What happened here?" Nathan asked curiously, realizing Abe wasn't referring to the murders Nathan had witnessed.
Abe narrowed his eyes, trying to determine if Nathan was genuinely interested about what happened. "Perhaps if you knew the truth, you would see things differently," Abe muttered. He looked hopeful as he continued. "Perhaps you can still be saved, my son."
The older man gestured to the woods around them as he told his tale.
"The Mitchum's long ago were common folk, working at the port repairing ships. They were also known for being fair minded in disposition and judgment and able to make others see reason. Many in Haven came to them to settle disputes. William Mitchum was tasked by the Selectmen and Mayor to negotiate a resolution to a dispute that would take him to New York for several months. He agreed to go with the promise that his wife and five daughters would be protected from the woeful events occurring around town. What we now call the Troubles."
Abe paused as he noticed the youngest sister approach, the same little girl Nathan now remembered. The darkness within him churned at her approach in recognition as well. Nathan saw the sorrow in the girl's eyes as she held out her hand, a single blueberry resting there.
"You see her?" Abe asked, sounding unnerved as he had when Nathan was but a child.
"I always see her," Nathan said quietly, reaching out his right hand to accept the fruit from her cold hand.
Nathan closed his eyes at the terrifying sounds and sensations that washed over him.
*~~Haven~~*~~Haven~~*~~Haven~~*
It was cold. Large men with knives and axes and ropes and burning pitch. There is hatred and evil in their countenances.
There is the sensation of fists striking flesh, tearing of clothes, screams from her mother and her sisters, screams from her own throat as the men curse them, cut them, touch them, and hurt them. The men stuff their mouths with foul tasting cloth, bound securely in place with gags, to muffle their cries.
The ground is slippery with mud and blood, bare feet scraped raw and their remaining clothes torn as they are dragged screaming through the woods by their bound hands. They come to the glade, their breaths gasp out as wispy contrails into the freezing night.
Each man takes their time, punching, slapping, cutting, violating. She cries out along with her mother and sisters. The cruel men merrily laugh and start all over again.
Her last vision, her last breath is that of a man she had thought her father's friend-a man who had once gifted her with sweets to cheer her up when she was mourning the loss of her youngest brother to sickness- his heavy frame pinning her to the ground. He moves over her, heavy, suffocating, thick fingers squeezing her neck. Something builds within and she shrieks through the gag until all went black.
A time later she returns and can see. She wishes she could not.
She cries as she watches them tie her limbs together, carve the foul words on her chest, and then hang her naked form from the smallest pine, her tears heavier as each sister and finally Mother follow, to mockingly dangle and rot for ninety-nine days.
She cries again when Father finds them, led by the woman as ancient as the land, but he can't hear her weeping for him. No one can.
Her anger explodes, seeking an outlet.
Through his righteous anger and bereavement Father can hear her demands for justice. And he acts, unleashing their gift upon Haven. When it is done, she, her mother and sisters are content, ready to depart this world for the next. But it goes wrong. Justice is twisted; her brother's fury, no longer tempered by Father's wisdom by untimely death, twists the gift given to them.
Twenty-seven years later, the nightmare cycle begins. They are bound to Wytchebough, waiting for another to hear them.
So the cycle repeats each generation. William's descendants never listen to the song as it was intended. The darkness flows and with each new cycle the sisters relive the nightmare and the sacrifices until the troubles pass.
Again. And again.
*~~Haven~~*~~Haven~~*~~Haven~~*
Nathan opened his eyes, his vision watery at the flood of images, and he can taste the tears that reach his lips. He brushes them away quickly. He popped the blueberry into his mouth, chewing slowly as Alice smiled at him, her eyes cold and calculating. He understands now. All of it.
He fixed an equally icy gaze on Abe Mitchum. "I know what happened."
"William and his son returned three months later to find his wife and daughters missing, their home burned. No one in the town claimed to know what happened, but a woman, a stranger, told him a story of unspeakable things done in the forest. She led William, the town constable and a dozen men to the place. They found his wife and daughters there, hanging from the trees. Terrible things had been done to them."
"When William sought justice the Selectmen and Mayor deeded the land to William as compensation for his loss, mocking him by naming it Wytchebough. He stood on the steps of the gathering hall and cursed the town with the deaths of their children until the murderers turned themselves in to face justice. And his curse came to pass: twenty-seven children of the six men that carried out the heinous act were killed by their parent's own hands at William's command. A twenty eighth child-a son-was spared when his father came forth and admitted his crimes, giving name to the other five men involved before he killed himself. The town lynched the five men, as well as two Selectmen and the Mayor."
Nathan shook his head at Abe before he continued.
"But it didn't end. When the Troubles and the Five Sisters arose with them. Another twenty seven were chosen and sacrificed and they went away. And so it happened every time the Troubles arose. The Sisters rise to seek revenge upon Haven for what was done to them. The Mitchums carry out that revenge-twenty seven murders of appeasement."
Abe actually smiled at Nathan re-telling of his family's story. "Then you understand now. The twenty seven sacrifices required of each generation are to appease the Five Sisters. Do you understand now my desire to end the cycle and release them?"
"All I wanted was to end William Mitchum's curse on Haven. The town has paid for the sins they committed against his wife and daughters in this place. With you, Tricia, and Kenny I would have succeeded in finally releasing them from the torment of Wytchebough," Abe said. "Tricia was the hand to destroy their physical prison, Kenny the eye in which to see them to their final rest, and you the mind to guide them. It would have been glorious."
"Except the Sisters don't want the sacrifices," Nathan said flatly. "They never did."
"Just as you don't want to free the Sisters from Wytchebough so they may rest. You wanted them gone so you could control Haven," Nathan said matter-of-factly, spinning the axe in hand once. "The Sisters have been holding back William's curse as best they could. Somehow you discovered this and viewed it as a threat to your plans."
"Nonsense! I want to save Haven. You've condemned Haven to another cycle of sacrifice." Abe shook his head dismissively.
"You have no idea of what will happen if the Sisters are no longer here to hold back William's curse," Nathan warned the older man.
"I know exactly what I'm doing." Abe snorted contemptuously. "Haven will be purged, its sins washed away. And I will see our kind rise to our rightful place."
It slinked out of the dark recesses of Nathan's mind, that ancient anger that had been buried within him all those years ago. It showed him what awaited Haven. Visions of hundreds of people, their afflictions brought forth all at once, chaos and violence racking the town as those like Reverend Driscoll and his followers were beset upon by Haven itself. Friend would be set against friend, family against family, and devastation would level the town in one final paroxysm of destruction that would leave nothing in its wake. There would be no losers, no winners, no families, no friends, only the suffering dead.
That is what It showed him so long ago.
"You've got it all wrong, Abe," Nathan said quietly, "So very wrong."
Abe chuckled at that. "Perhaps. But don't worry. You'll still serve a purpose, Nathan. Pity you'll only be remembered as a killer-a butcher who so loathed his affliction that even as a boy he hunted down and brutally slaughtered his own kind. Oh how shocked the town will be when Kenny here tells them all the horrible things you've done before I rescued him. Won't you Kenny?"
Kenny remained silent. Abe frowned whistling sharply. The boy blinked slowly and nodded once before speaking, his voice devoid of emotion. "Yes, Mr. Mitchum."
Abe smiled and suddenly tossed the pistol to the ground between him and Nathan. Nathan watched in surprise when the other pulled forth a long, old looking knife that reminded me of the bayonets he'd seen in history books and documentaries.
"Now, first things first," Abe said with sinister smile. "We have to do this properly."
TBC
Author: Karolyn Gray
Fandom: Haven
Summary: A child kidnapping and murder case is disturbingly familiar to Nathan.
Main character(s): Nathan Wuornos, Audrey Parker
Rating: T
Warnings: violence, kidnapping, child murder
Spoilers: Up to 1.13 Spiral
Disclaimer: Haven, characters, and related indicia is owned and copyrighted by E1 Entertainment, Syfy, NBC Universal, Stephen King and all related parties. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work of fan based fiction and is not endorsed or affiliated in any way, shape, or form to the owners and/or copyright holders.
Author’s Notes: Thanks to Nat, PKD, and Scar for beta reading. All errors that remain are mine. The story is currently rated T but later chapters may push the rating up to M for subject matter.
The Whistler - Chapter 20
By Karolyn Gray
"That way, go...go!" Nathan urged the boys onward as they raced through the heavy woods. The canopy was so thick that the woods were in perpetual shadow making traversing the treacherous terrain difficult. He followed the boys, occasionally searching behind them to see if their attacker was still following. No more shots had been fired, but Nathan wasn't foolish enough to think their pursuer, most likely Absalom Mitchum, was not far behind them.
The boys had held up well so far but he could tell they were getting tired and slowing down. Nathan tried to remember the maps of the location and his own memories of the area but could think of no safe spot to stop and rest, even for just a moment.
Ahead of him he saw Kenny stumbled to his knees with a cry as he misjudged a jump over a root and tripped. The young boy slid on the muddy ground a full three feet before he stopped and pushed himself up. Mud and muck streaked his pants and hands. Mike stopped and turned to see what happened as Nathan reached Kenny and pulled the panting boy up off the ground. The cop waved at Mike to keep going as he settled the exhausted boy in his arms and ran.
They soon reached what appeared to be a small shallow furrow leading into what appeared to be a glen. Nathan wordless nodded to Mike to go on ahead of them. He paused as he realized the place looked familiar. Shaking his head, he blinked several times in surprise, certain he was hallucinating. Or dreaming again.
Wytchebough.
The glade was as large as he remembered, filled with grasses still as green as if it were spring time. At the center of the glade stood the six twisted trees he remembered as well-the five smaller pine trees arrayed around the larger old black spruce. And around the trees he could see the five sisters waiting, the old mother standing among them, watching-whistling their song.
At the sound of the tune, Nathan felt invigorated as his fear washed away. He knew this place, knew this song.
The boys would be safe here.
He didn't feel the palpable threat of Abe Mitchum's wrath as he had when they left the cabin behind. He could still hear the Whistler's song in his mind, but it was distant. Even muted against the sister's song he still could feel the old anger within trying to break free of the dark recesses in which he had locked it away.
Knowing he needed to make sure the boys were safe before he confronted Abe, Nathan followed Mike down the slope, cautious about making it down the slick, muddy ground with his charge. Halfway down, a shot was heard and Nathan found himself flung the rest of the way. Kenny cried out as Nathan flung him to the side so as to avoid crushing the small boy under his larger frame. They both landed heavily at the bottom, just short of the glen.
Nathan rolled onto his back and tried to tell the boys to run, but he found himself unable to breathe. The boys were instantly at his side, each pulling on his arms to get him sitting upright, Mike's cold touch shocking sense back into the cop's disorientation.
Kenny gasped in shock and quickly let go of Nathan's left arm. "You're hurt."
Nathan looked at his left arm and saw the blood blossoming from the two bullet holes-one in his shoulder and the other in his upper arm-little rivulets flowing down the front and side of his shirt. He grimaced at the injuries, knowing they were bad but not yet life threatening. The wounds didn't hurt, of course, but when he tried to move his damaged limb he could tell it didn't work right, lacking range of motion and strength.
The detective heard a soft rustling in the brush above them at the top of the small hill. He quickly pushed the boys into the open field of green and put a finger to his lips to indicate he wanted silence. Both boys instantly crouched down and Nathan used his right arm to push himself to his knees. He spotted the bloodied hand axe he dropped nearby and grabbed it tightly around the wooden handle as he rose to his feet, making sure he was crouched low.
He didn't understand how but he somehow knew where their attacker was. It wasn't just the sounds he could hear; he could inexplicably feel their assailant. Turning in the direction he sensed the danger, he carefully scanned the area, zeroing in on the spot he heard the rustling coming from. He pointed towards the waiting sisters, slowly waving his hand for the boys to start moving.
The sisters themselves were now walking towards them, gracefully gliding through the grass.
A soft whistle cut into the still afternoon air. The Whistler's call. Anger flared within him, almost painful with the shocking intensity of its reaction to the sound.
"Run!" Nathan whispered.
"He can't," Mike said quietly.
The Whistler's song became louder, starting to drown out the sister's melody.
Nathan ignored the tune. He felt himself wanting to listen even as he felt the blocks he had put on that old, dark anger being to crumble in response. The melodic whistling of the sisters combined with the darker tune in his mind, the one planted there so long ago brought forth a fury. Only the strange anger he felt combined with his concern for the boy's wellbeing made it possible for him to resist the call.
He turned to see Kenny now standing staring back over Nathan's shoulder with a blank expression, enraptured by the Whistler's tune. Mike looked back and forth between the boy and the man with a helpless expression. Nathan knew Mike wouldn't be able to help him and simply gestured for him to back away into the glen. They boy's hazel eyes hardened as he nodded his refusal to leave with a stubborn expression.
It almost made Nathan want to smile. Almost.
A twig snapped noisily behind him. Nathan turned slowly, already knowing who would be there. Abe stood there with a pistol in his hand and a cruel look on his face. His clothes where worse for wear from their race through the woods, his jeans and boots streaked with grime and his red checked flannel shirt torn in places.
"I am disappointed in you Nathan. Truly I am. To choose to allow an injustice to stand, to be a slave to the past rather than be free," the older man shook his head, with obvious regret.
"What you offer isn't justice or freedom," Nathan replied, shifting the hand axe in his grip. "You're a vicious murderer."
Abe stared at Nathan intently, scrutinizing the police officer with a look that made Nathan feel as if the older man could see every thought, every dream, he'd had ever had. He whistled three notes, which made Nathan flinch involuntarily at the pain that he felt in response. Seeing his reaction Abe shook his head with a disappointed and grim expression. "You've been corrupted. I can sense a different song with in you. No matter. I'll find others to end the cycle, even if I must wait another generation to complete the work."
Nathan nodded to himself. He had to stop Abe, one way or the other. Tightening his hold on the axe he stalked up the incline towards the other man. "This ends here."
Abe lined his pistol up with Nathan, who didn't so much as blink at the older man's threat as he continued forward. Abe's eyes widened in concern as the cop didn't stop. Realizing his threat meant nothing to the younger man he chose a new target and quickly aimed the pistol at Kenny. That made Nathan stop.
Nathan was more than willing to be shot. His affliction-as much as he hated to admit it-would give him the advantage of not feeling the bullets and perhaps time enough to stop Abe once and for all but he couldn't risk anyone else. Abe waved him back down the incline and into the glen, following carefully so as not to slip on the muddy ground.
The sisters had stopped their approach and simply waited. Their song was a dim hum in the background of Nathan's mind.
Abe smiled slightly. "Do you really think you can beat me, you're mentor?"
Nathan's anger and frustration roared to life, filling him with a sickening rage. "You're not my mentor! You're nothing but a monster!"
The older man chuckled. "There it is, that beautiful righteous anger you keep locked away. It's so wonderful to see the real you again."
"Go to hell," Nathan snarled, unable to stop from lunging forward.
Abe waggled the pistol once. It was enough for bring Nathan back from his bloody minded thoughts, pushing back images of tearing the man apart from his mind. The darkness within him howled in primordial rage at being denied release.
"Tut-tut, Nate," Abe warned him with a malicious grin. Nathan took a step back lowering the axe to his side. "Good boy. But you were always such a good boy, weren't you? Garland's little boy, his special little man. Isn't that what you father used to call you?"
Nathan remained silent, angry and seething, but kept himself under control. He was well aware Abe was trying to goad him into rash action.
"A pity no one knew about the evil within you, the monster you are," the old man said conversationally. He grinned slyly at the cop. "Of course I did, but they'll never know that part. Imagine the horror when I reveal the truth to the town."
"What do you mean?" Nathan asked warily.
Abe actually looked surprised at Nathan's question. "You've been corrupted; you're too dangerous in this state. I can't allow you to threaten my work. It's my fault, really. I made too many mistakes with you, didn't cultivate you as I should have. But you can still contribute to our kind's salvation."
The old man shook his head looking regretful for a moment. "You were my greatest accomplishment, my finest work. Do you remember?"
The Whistler's tune came forth, deafening loud, merging with the sister's song and a counterpoint the primal beat within.
Nathan winced, and then cried out in pain. The axe thumped heavily on the damp ground, muffled by the grasses of the glade. Grasping his head he felt the unexpected pain sear through his mind and stab down through his spine, setting his whole world afire in agony. Sensations he hadn't felt in years engulfed him as the memory came forth.
*~~Haven~~*~~Haven~~*~~Haven~~*
Clean. Precise. Sharp.
The blade flashes, dips, and comes away tipped in red. A brief scream, a gush of blood.
Whistling.
It's over so quickly, it doesn't seem real.
The old man's dark eyes are wide in betrayed disbelief. His young killer can see his own reflection in those glossy black depths as a part of him revels in what he sees therein. The Whistler's mouth opens and closes in gasping breaths, a red tint staining thin lips with each new breath. The old man won't be whistling anymore as his sinewy long fingered hands grasp his throat, a wet gurgling sound emerging, as trickles of blood seep forth through the fingers coating his neck and chest. In moments, it is over. The old man falls to the floor, limp, lifeless.
Without the fear it was so easy.
"Well done, my son."
He smiles enigmatically; pleased he has made the foolish man happy, as he feels the shift within occur. The darkness stirs inside, reaching out and connecting to the new whistling man-the old one's song reclaimed by his son. Underneath he hears the other song. He will kill him-this new Whistler. He will make him suffer for his cruelty.
He wants that. It wants that.
He wants to stop this evil man, who's made him see and do terrible things. The darkness within agrees. It is pleased with him as It whispers ancient promises in his mind.
It soon slips away, under the cloak of fear that returns to bide its time.
*~~Haven~~*~~Haven~~*~~Haven~~*
Nathan gasped as he came back to the present, finding he had fallen to his hands and knees as the - Nightmare? Memory? - washed over him. Was it real or his imagination?
'It's real enough.'
What he doesn't doubt is the old man's death-the death of Absalom Mitchum's father, Gabriel, at Nathan's young hands. It had been the Whistler's orders but still his own doing. Nathan knew he could have resisted Abe's orders to kill Gabriel, but Gabriel was as equally as evil in intent as his son and It had wanted them both as part of their pact.
He remembered how he, Saul, and two other children, Michael Forrester and Anne Hunning, were ordered to dispose of Gabriel's body. Anne had tried to run away but was caught by Saul. She had been punished and deemed unworthy.
He never saw her again.
"It was you-you're family the whole time," Nathan said in shock, finally understanding what was happening. The memories made him want to wallow in self loathing, but he could feel it still, that ancient force within driving him on. Now, he no longer feared It. He was beginning to understand what It wanted.
He needed to end this.
It needed to end this.
In agreement they acted.
Nathan's knelt down, a steely gaze fixed on Abe. His hand slowly found the handle of the axe with a perception Nathan would have claimed was actual touch, yet somehow too ephemeral for that sensation to be an entirely accurate description. He wrapped his fingers around the wood handle securely once more.
"It's our right to protect ourselves," Abe said simply, unconcerned that Nathan had armed himself once again. "To prevent what happened here from ever happening again."
"What happened here?" Nathan asked curiously, realizing Abe wasn't referring to the murders Nathan had witnessed.
Abe narrowed his eyes, trying to determine if Nathan was genuinely interested about what happened. "Perhaps if you knew the truth, you would see things differently," Abe muttered. He looked hopeful as he continued. "Perhaps you can still be saved, my son."
The older man gestured to the woods around them as he told his tale.
"The Mitchum's long ago were common folk, working at the port repairing ships. They were also known for being fair minded in disposition and judgment and able to make others see reason. Many in Haven came to them to settle disputes. William Mitchum was tasked by the Selectmen and Mayor to negotiate a resolution to a dispute that would take him to New York for several months. He agreed to go with the promise that his wife and five daughters would be protected from the woeful events occurring around town. What we now call the Troubles."
Abe paused as he noticed the youngest sister approach, the same little girl Nathan now remembered. The darkness within him churned at her approach in recognition as well. Nathan saw the sorrow in the girl's eyes as she held out her hand, a single blueberry resting there.
"You see her?" Abe asked, sounding unnerved as he had when Nathan was but a child.
"I always see her," Nathan said quietly, reaching out his right hand to accept the fruit from her cold hand.
Nathan closed his eyes at the terrifying sounds and sensations that washed over him.
*~~Haven~~*~~Haven~~*~~Haven~~*
It was cold. Large men with knives and axes and ropes and burning pitch. There is hatred and evil in their countenances.
There is the sensation of fists striking flesh, tearing of clothes, screams from her mother and her sisters, screams from her own throat as the men curse them, cut them, touch them, and hurt them. The men stuff their mouths with foul tasting cloth, bound securely in place with gags, to muffle their cries.
The ground is slippery with mud and blood, bare feet scraped raw and their remaining clothes torn as they are dragged screaming through the woods by their bound hands. They come to the glade, their breaths gasp out as wispy contrails into the freezing night.
Each man takes their time, punching, slapping, cutting, violating. She cries out along with her mother and sisters. The cruel men merrily laugh and start all over again.
Her last vision, her last breath is that of a man she had thought her father's friend-a man who had once gifted her with sweets to cheer her up when she was mourning the loss of her youngest brother to sickness- his heavy frame pinning her to the ground. He moves over her, heavy, suffocating, thick fingers squeezing her neck. Something builds within and she shrieks through the gag until all went black.
A time later she returns and can see. She wishes she could not.
She cries as she watches them tie her limbs together, carve the foul words on her chest, and then hang her naked form from the smallest pine, her tears heavier as each sister and finally Mother follow, to mockingly dangle and rot for ninety-nine days.
She cries again when Father finds them, led by the woman as ancient as the land, but he can't hear her weeping for him. No one can.
Her anger explodes, seeking an outlet.
Through his righteous anger and bereavement Father can hear her demands for justice. And he acts, unleashing their gift upon Haven. When it is done, she, her mother and sisters are content, ready to depart this world for the next. But it goes wrong. Justice is twisted; her brother's fury, no longer tempered by Father's wisdom by untimely death, twists the gift given to them.
Twenty-seven years later, the nightmare cycle begins. They are bound to Wytchebough, waiting for another to hear them.
So the cycle repeats each generation. William's descendants never listen to the song as it was intended. The darkness flows and with each new cycle the sisters relive the nightmare and the sacrifices until the troubles pass.
Again. And again.
*~~Haven~~*~~Haven~~*~~Haven~~*
Nathan opened his eyes, his vision watery at the flood of images, and he can taste the tears that reach his lips. He brushes them away quickly. He popped the blueberry into his mouth, chewing slowly as Alice smiled at him, her eyes cold and calculating. He understands now. All of it.
He fixed an equally icy gaze on Abe Mitchum. "I know what happened."
"William and his son returned three months later to find his wife and daughters missing, their home burned. No one in the town claimed to know what happened, but a woman, a stranger, told him a story of unspeakable things done in the forest. She led William, the town constable and a dozen men to the place. They found his wife and daughters there, hanging from the trees. Terrible things had been done to them."
"When William sought justice the Selectmen and Mayor deeded the land to William as compensation for his loss, mocking him by naming it Wytchebough. He stood on the steps of the gathering hall and cursed the town with the deaths of their children until the murderers turned themselves in to face justice. And his curse came to pass: twenty-seven children of the six men that carried out the heinous act were killed by their parent's own hands at William's command. A twenty eighth child-a son-was spared when his father came forth and admitted his crimes, giving name to the other five men involved before he killed himself. The town lynched the five men, as well as two Selectmen and the Mayor."
Nathan shook his head at Abe before he continued.
"But it didn't end. When the Troubles and the Five Sisters arose with them. Another twenty seven were chosen and sacrificed and they went away. And so it happened every time the Troubles arose. The Sisters rise to seek revenge upon Haven for what was done to them. The Mitchums carry out that revenge-twenty seven murders of appeasement."
Abe actually smiled at Nathan re-telling of his family's story. "Then you understand now. The twenty seven sacrifices required of each generation are to appease the Five Sisters. Do you understand now my desire to end the cycle and release them?"
"All I wanted was to end William Mitchum's curse on Haven. The town has paid for the sins they committed against his wife and daughters in this place. With you, Tricia, and Kenny I would have succeeded in finally releasing them from the torment of Wytchebough," Abe said. "Tricia was the hand to destroy their physical prison, Kenny the eye in which to see them to their final rest, and you the mind to guide them. It would have been glorious."
"Except the Sisters don't want the sacrifices," Nathan said flatly. "They never did."
"Just as you don't want to free the Sisters from Wytchebough so they may rest. You wanted them gone so you could control Haven," Nathan said matter-of-factly, spinning the axe in hand once. "The Sisters have been holding back William's curse as best they could. Somehow you discovered this and viewed it as a threat to your plans."
"Nonsense! I want to save Haven. You've condemned Haven to another cycle of sacrifice." Abe shook his head dismissively.
"You have no idea of what will happen if the Sisters are no longer here to hold back William's curse," Nathan warned the older man.
"I know exactly what I'm doing." Abe snorted contemptuously. "Haven will be purged, its sins washed away. And I will see our kind rise to our rightful place."
It slinked out of the dark recesses of Nathan's mind, that ancient anger that had been buried within him all those years ago. It showed him what awaited Haven. Visions of hundreds of people, their afflictions brought forth all at once, chaos and violence racking the town as those like Reverend Driscoll and his followers were beset upon by Haven itself. Friend would be set against friend, family against family, and devastation would level the town in one final paroxysm of destruction that would leave nothing in its wake. There would be no losers, no winners, no families, no friends, only the suffering dead.
That is what It showed him so long ago.
"You've got it all wrong, Abe," Nathan said quietly, "So very wrong."
Abe chuckled at that. "Perhaps. But don't worry. You'll still serve a purpose, Nathan. Pity you'll only be remembered as a killer-a butcher who so loathed his affliction that even as a boy he hunted down and brutally slaughtered his own kind. Oh how shocked the town will be when Kenny here tells them all the horrible things you've done before I rescued him. Won't you Kenny?"
Kenny remained silent. Abe frowned whistling sharply. The boy blinked slowly and nodded once before speaking, his voice devoid of emotion. "Yes, Mr. Mitchum."
Abe smiled and suddenly tossed the pistol to the ground between him and Nathan. Nathan watched in surprise when the other pulled forth a long, old looking knife that reminded me of the bayonets he'd seen in history books and documentaries.
"Now, first things first," Abe said with sinister smile. "We have to do this properly."
TBC