Eidolon Read Online Free Page A

clutched at his side.
    The cold around us deepened. Frost raced across the glowing
window of a nearby house, and my breath burned in my throat and lungs. My shoes
slid in the ice and slush. The giggle came again, and more street lamps went
out, plunging us into darkness.
    Terror rode the night wind above us, and I saw no choice but
to face it. Firming my grip on my revolver, I stumbled to a halt, prepared to
offer whatever defense I might.
    “Griffin! Your matchbox!” Whyborne called.
    Any other man I would have questioned. Him, I obeyed without
hesitation, pulling out the matches and tossing them to him.
    The matchbox brushed his long fingers, before bouncing off
their tips. He grabbed for it and missed, sending the box spinning off into the
snow. The light in the house went out, plunging us into complete darkness.
    “Blast it!” he exclaimed.
    An icy wind came rushing at us from the sky. I braced my
revolver, desperately wishing I had some target on which to fire. “Duck,
Whyborne!” I shouted. Something evil drew closer, the force of its malevolence
bearing down on us like a freight train. My finger tightened on the trigger.
    Whyborne called out a series of arcane words. Fire burst
into being in mid-air, blindingly bright after such utter darkness. An
amorphous shape, like a shadow come to life, flinched back. The giggle turned
into a squeal.
    Even as the flaming bits of the matchbox fell to the
sidewalk and went out, the sense of oppression vanished. The light in the house
came back on, and the air lost its unnaturally deep chill.
    Whyborne rose to his feet. The wet stains on his cuffs and
trousers showed where he’d gone down on hands and knees to search for the
dropped matchbox.
    The theater would never let us inside in such a state. My
heart sank, but I managed a smile. “Well done, my dear,” I said, clapping him
on the shoulder. “Let’s see if we can’t catch a cab now. The sooner we’re quit
of this thing, the better.”
     
    V
     
    Not long after, a hansom deposited us in front of the Lester
house. An older residence, it obviously dated from colonial times. Dark trees
huddled against it, their branches forming a vast net over the roof. The only
light came from one of the downstairs windows, shining dimly through drawn
curtains. No smoke rose from the chimneys.
    Had everyone gone out? Even so, surely some servant should
have kept the fires going.
    The door opened even as I reached for the heavy, fist-shaped
knocker. Miss Lester stood on the other side, dressed in a simple white gown.
The candle in her hand cast an almost unearthly glow over her, but failed to
bring forth any color from her pallid skin.
    “You’re late, Mr. Flaherty,” she said. Her gaze shifted over
my shoulder to my companion. “Mr. Whyborne, is it not?”
    “Dr. Whyborne these days, Miss Lester.”
    “Ah, yes. I remember now. It was quite the scandal when you
left for Miskatonic.” Her eyes returned to me. “You have the talisman?”
    “Yes.”
    “Come with me.”
    She led the way inside, and we followed. The house felt no
warmer than the street, and my breath steamed in front of my face. How did Miss
Lester, clad in only a dress without coat or gloves, stand it? Surely, the
mortuary business in Widdershins couldn’t be so poor the family couldn’t afford
to heat their home.
    She’d worn a coat earlier, when she came to hire me. Had she
needed it then, or was it simply camouflage of a sort, meant to keep from
arousing too much note when she stepped out on the street?
    “You don’t seem concerned about your cousin,” I said. My
voice echoed oddly in the confined space of the hall.
    “You returned with the talisman, so you either convinced Mr.
Nivens to give it to you of his own will, or he is dead,” she replied. “Either
state is a satisfactory outcome, I assure you.”
    We moved through the narrow hall, the gas jets lining it
unlit. The freezing air smelled faintly of cold dirt, underlain with a whiff