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

and pressed the blade of his knife against Wallace’s cheek. “There isnae anythin’ oot there!” he bellowed, flecks of spit landing on Wallace’s face. “There’s nothin’ but bears an’ wolves. Only devil in these woods is tied up a front o’ me. Dae ye ken?”
    Wallace didn’t respond. There was clearly no point in attempting to convince McTavish of what he had seen, especially given Paterson’s refusal to admit the truth. He had tried, and that was all he could do.
    McTavish withdrew the knife, then turned on the rest of the men, who were standing as still as statues, watching him.
    “Get movin’!” he shouted. “Dinnae make me tell ye again!”
    The three men jumped, then turned and made their way tentatively towards the trees. McTavish eyed them, then stomped away in the opposite direction, slamming through branches and kicking up snow until he disappeared into the darkness.
    Wallace watched them go, his heart racing in his chest. Silent stillness fell over the campsite; he could hear nothing of his colleagues, nor see any sign of them. It was as though the forest had swallowed them.
    Then an ungodly shriek tore through the freezing air, a terrible screech that rose and fell and seemed to go on forever. Instantly, it was answered by wolves, a chorus of soft, almost mournful howls that floated over the trees, dozens, perhaps hundreds of them, some barely audible. Wallace’s blood froze in his veins as the cacophony echoed around him, his breath held tight in his chest as the noise gradually faded away to nothing.
    He felt fear coursing through him, and resolved to use it to his advantage. He flexed the muscles of his back and heaved with all his strength against the post he was tied to. He felt it loosen instantly, took a deep breath, and heaved again. The post moved, sliding upwards a few inches as the icy ground’s hold on it gave way. Wallace gritted his teeth, ignoring the pain shooting through his shoulder blades and down his bound arms, and heaved himself forward with all the strength he had. The post slid upwards again, more easily.
    One more push,
he hold himself.
One more will free it.
    Something landed in the clearing with a heavy thud, and rolled towards the fire. It came to rest near the edge of the now roaring flames, and was still. Wallace looked at it for a long moment, then threw back his head and screamed up into the night sky, a vast, unearthly noise that shook the trees and the ground. And even as he screamed, he heard laughter float among the trees, a high cackle of glee.
    Grant pounded back into the campsite, closely followed by Munro and Paterson. The three men were breathing hard, and looking frantically around, their knives raised.
    “Where is he?” shouted Munro. “What happened?”
    Wallace managed to drag a huge, freezing breath into a body that had been fixed in place as he screamed, and slowly lowered his head. His mouth was full of saliva, and he spat it on to the snow before nodding towards the thing that had been thrown into the clearing.
    “There,” he said. “It’s there.”
    Munro frowned, then stepped round the fire next to Wallace.
    “Mary Mother of Jesus,” he said, his voice low and cracking as Paterson and Grant followed his gaze.
    Staring back at them, with wide eyes and an expression of profound confusion, was McTavish’s head. His hat was still in place, and his skin was pale and seemingly unmarked. But where his body should have been there was only a ragged stump, torn flesh surrounding a bright white nub of bone.
    “Dear God,” said Paterson.
    “
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death
,” whispered Grant, “
I will fear no evil.
” He crossed himself, his eyes wide.
    “We have to find his body,” said Munro.
    “Why?” asked Wallace. “What good will that do you or him?”
    “We have to,” repeated Munro. “It’s only decent.”
    “Don’t be a fool,” said Wallace. “Decency left this place long ago. Untie me