The Second Birth of Frankenstein (The Department 19 Files #5) Read Online Free

given time to investigate them more thoroughly.
    Now, he was no longer so sure.
    He and Scott had been sent out to gather wood for the fire while McTavish and the others secured the furs and cleared snow from the clearing that would serve as their campsite. They were on the final leg of their journey home from a trading mission to the Selkirk Settlement, where they had acquired four heavily laden carts of pemmican, the mixture of dried meat and fat that was essential for survival in the northern wilderness.
    At the edges of the settlement, they had come across a tribe of Métis that Wallace had traded with on a number of occasions, but who had been forbidden by law from taking pemmican out of the wide swathe of land that comprised the Selkirk Settlement to sell. The judgement had been unpopular, particularly with the North West Company, who had previously traded large quantities of it with the Métis, and it had been impossible not to notice the unpleasant atmosphere that had descended as they drove their full carts past the tribesmen. No harsh words had been exchanged, but the tension had been tangible. There were whispers in the forest that the Métis were preparing for war with Selkirk, at the urging of the North West Company, rumours that Wallace hoped were untrue, but found entirely plausible.
    As a result, his first thought when Scott screamed was that a rogue Métis warrior had followed them along the Red River Trails, waited until the two of them were separated from their colleagues, and attacked from the shadows. Wallace dropped the armfuls of branches he had gathered and turned in the direction of the scream, his hand going to the long knife that hung from his belt.
    Scott was staggering through the trees, screaming and clawing at something on his back. Wallace ran forward, sending up clouds of white as he churned the snow with his huge feet, then skidded to a halt as the thing on his colleague’s back turned to look at him. It appeared to be a man, but if so, how it had the strength to even move was beyond Wallace’s understanding. The thing looked starved, the sharp points of its bones visible beneath a thin covering of grey skin and tatters of wool and cloth. Long white hair hung down its back and its face was ashen, the colour of winter, grey and empty. A matted beard hung almost to its waist below an open mouth, a black maw from which animal grunts were emerging, and its eyes glowed red, the flickering colour of Hell. It hissed at him, then buried its face in the back of Scott’s neck. Blood flowed, and Scott screamed again, breaking Wallace’s paralysis.
    He ran forward again and barrelled into the clawing, thrashing figures, sending them crashing to the ground. They separated as they fell, and he leapt at the grey thing, hacking at it with his knife, a bellow of fury erupting from him. Skin split, spraying blood across his arms and face, and the creature screamed in pain as it bucked and twisted beneath him. Wallace didn’t relent; he brought the sharp edge of the blade down again and again, hacking thick, wedge-shaped wounds in the grey flesh, until the creature managed to free an arm and drive it into his face.
    Wallace rocked back, stunned by the power in the blow. The arm propelling the fist was as thin as a newborn’s, but he doubted he had ever been hit harder. Blood ran down his throat from his nose, and he tipped back on to the snow. He was moving again instantly, but the creature was gone; he heard movement in the trees, saw the ghost of something flicker in the distance, but then Scott started to scream again, and he crawled over to the man. His limbs were thrashing wildly, and he took a tight hold of them, trying to calm him, to hold him steady. Wallace looked round, and saw Paterson in the distance, staring at him with his hand over his mouth, his eyes wide with horror. In his arms, Scott screamed and screamed, and he was about to bellow for Paterson to get help when something thundered into