Page 27 of Unruly
“Do you think the Horror tore those pages out?”
“Hard to say. I’ll have to read them to see if I can glean anything from it.”
Borja hands me his phone. “What can I do in the meantime?”
For a moment, I focus on the historical records of every soul in the underworld, calling up the specific one I need and flicking my wrist. The hefty book appears in my hand, and Borja gasps as his eyes go wide.
“We should refresh our knowledge of the Horror’s origins and history. When it was among the living, its name was…” I close my eyes to remember. “John Henry Wolcott. Turn to the W section and start there.”
“John Henry Wolcott,” Borja repeats, taking the book from me and flipping pages.
While he does that, I focus on the small screen in my hand and begin perusing the missing chapters. It’s hard to say if the pages went missing before or after the Horror’s arrival, but perhaps there’s a clue hiding in these pages.
The room is silent while we both study our respective literature, but then Borja makes a choking sound that draws my attention to him. When I look up, his face is scrunched in terror.
“What’s wrong, Borja?”
His head snaps up, his eyes wide. “He fucking ate people.”
Ah yes, it’s coming back to me now. “I remember him. He hosted extravagant dinner parties and selected one guest to participate in acts of Victorian spiritualism.”
“Participate? He killed them using archaic rituals and then prepared meals that included parts of them. That’s some Hannible Lecter shit.”
“I have no idea who that is.”
“Fictional serial killer who ate parts of people.”
“I see. Well, it was unusual time. If I recall, his dinner parties were renowned.”
Borja nods. “It says his victims went along with it willingly, believing he was some kind of portal to an improved afterlife.”
“He was killed by a victim’s husband, if I recall correctly?”
“Yes, stabbed to death during a séance.” Borja turns the page. “Wolcott became a Horror ten years after his death when he figured out how to return through a spirit board, which he allegedly haunted for months before being banished.”
“By me. That Horror was my first assignment.”
“Right, and a Horror isn’t supposed to be able to get out again, so how did this one?”
“That’s the answer we have to find.”
He nods. “Anything helpful in those chapters?”
“Nothing concrete, but I get the sense that someone was either attempting to summon or attempting to banish a spirit. It would be ideal if we could find a way to locate whoever tore these pages from the book.”
“That seems hard. We don’t have the first clue when it happened.”
“No, we don’t.” I put the phone down and pick up the original book instead, flipping through its pages for some unseen answer or direction. After a couple of minutes, slightly frustrated, I set it down on the couch cushion. The book falls open to a page with a slip of paper tucked in the seam. “What’s this?”
Borja scoots closer as I pull the note out.
“What does it say?” Borja asks.
“Donated by the Wolcott family, 1910.”
“As in John Henry Wolcott?”
“Perhaps, yes. I wonder who it was donated to. There could be a connection.”
