What Lies in These Woods

~Wednesday, November 27th, 1901
I was supposed to go hunting today. I had my satchel packed last 
night and plenty of spare ammunition waiting by my boots at the door. 
But when I awoke at dawn today I couldn't find Duke or Nemo anywhere. 
When I say that they're the best dogs money can buy I'm not exaggerating
by any margin, so when they didn't come for my call, my curiosity was 
piqued to say the least and more accurately, I was worried. I'll be 
damned if I'm going to lose a small fortune on a couple of beasts.
"Herbert," I shouted, my boots echoing on the hardwood as I paced 
impatiently through the upper floor of the manor. "Herbert, you find my 
dogs now or it's your hide."
“The dogs are just at the forest, Mr. Percy.”
“What?” I stopped at the top of the staircase, looking out the bay 
window over the steep drop of the roof and into the dusty orange tree 
line where the sun was just starting to rise. There they were, just as 
Herbert promised, hovering over what looked like an injured doe. They 
were nuzzling it. Lying next to it. Keeping it warm. What were two 
bullmastiffs doing keeping a sick doe warm?
“Why are you standing around? Fetch my dogs. Now!”
"Mr. Percy, every time I've gotten near them this morning they've 
started baring their fangs and if you don't mind me saying, I'd like to 
keep all my fingers. Maybe it’s best if you try them."
“Maybe it’s best if you’re out of a job by Christmas," I shouted, 
stomping down the stairs. I grumbled to myself. "Making me do the work 
of a fucking stable hand.” I slammed the door behind me as I walked 
outside into the dewy morning, my breath forming a small, warm cloud 
that hovered just over my lips as I walked the half mile to the tree 
line.
As I approached the dogs, they didn't stir. Not Duke, not Nemo, not 
even the frail, little creature they were protecting. They were 
protecting it, weren't they? The closer I got, the stranger the lump 
beneath my dogs began to look. The fur melted into the pile of golden 
leaves, as if it was just a pelt blanket and the body filled a perfect 
knot in the roots of the tree.
My breath caught in my throat as I saw that it was a young woman and 
that my dogs had been licking blood off her face. Had she been dead? No.
Probably not. Nemo would surely be eating her by now, wouldn't he? 
After whetting his appetite with all that blood? She was beautiful - 
absolutely beautiful, and naked from as far as I could tell.
I knelt down in the leaves next to her, wrapping one arm around Duke 
to steady myself and pulled the pelt down over her breasts. Indeed, she 
was naked. I stared at her chest for a bit - only to see if she was 
breathing or to see if her skin puckered at the stimulation of the crisp
November air. Nothing else of course. I didn't touch her. I just 
watched. The only way I could finally tell that she was breathing was 
the way the nest of her tawny hair pulsed around her open lips.
I brushed the hair from her face and still, she didn't move. She 
didn't even flutter her eyes. I didn't know what color her eyes even 
were. She was out cold and I wondered how long she's been in my woods. 
Does she live on my property, illegally? Does she poach on my property, 
illegally? Does she just walk here sometimes? Naked? At night? That 
can't be right. Does she have a father? A husband that I should be 
worried about?
"Herbert!" I shouted as loudly as I could. I hoped my voice echoed 
into Mr. Fucking Elward's property. "Herbert you get your crippled ass 
out here with a wheelbarrow." I didn't hear the uneven hobble of his 
lame legs running yet. "I have an unconscious girl on the edge of my 
woods!" I wrapped the pelt tightly around the girl's fragile body and 
carefully cradled her in my arms. She was so light - lighter than either
of my dogs and I carried her to the house. The dogs followed underfoot 
and barked as Herbert greeted us with the wheelbarrow at the front door.
"I needed that for the yard, you lazy son of a bitch, not to carry her up the stairs."
"Took me some time to locate it, Mr. Percy. Only Missus Eleanor ever cared about the garden and landscaping."
"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me? Go draw a bath or something."
At that, Herbert dropped the wheelbarrow and rushed upstairs. I heard
the creak of the water tank as I took the girl upstairs and into the 
grand bath.
"I - I don't know if this is proper," Herbert murmured, averting his 
eyes, as I slipped her naked body into the water that was filling the 
space around her, the brass of the tub coloring a slightly more copper 
as the blood rinsed off. "We should leave this to someone more 
equipped."
"Who? Missus Eleanor? I don't think she's coming back from the dead 
just for this, Herbert. And the doctor is a three days journey from 
here. So if this is wounding your beau monde decorum just fucking leave 
the room."
"I don't know some of the words that you just said, Mr. Percy, but I perceive they were meant to ruffle me."
"Just get some towels," I growled.
And he left the room.
I picked up the fur pelt that had been discarded on the floor and 
investigated it as the bath filled. It looked like an ancient fox fur. 
At least I think it was fox. The pattern didn't match any game I had 
seen in my woods perfectly, but looked familiar all the same. There were
patches where the hair no longer clung to the leather as if it had been
worn for years at a time.
I leaned over the tub, the water line now rocking just below the 
plush, pink mound of her nipple, and dipped my hand into the water. At 
first I created ripples, splashing against her skin, seeing if she would
stir. She didn't. I cradled her neck in my hand, keeping her mouth from
submerging, I ran my other hand down the length of her body. There had 
been so much blood, I had to check for wounds. I opened her legs and my 
hand stopped at her inner thigh where there was a soft slickness.
I slowly let her head sink under the water.
"She's slipping!" Herbert threw the towels on the ground as he ran 
into the room. Duke followed closely behind, barking precociously.
"I'm washing the sticks out of her hair, you lunatic,” I propped her 
head back on the lip of the tub. “Look at you, you've spoiled the 
towels."
Herbert kept a close eye on her for the rest of the day, taking her 
to Eleanor's room and locking it from the outside. Of course I have a 
house key, but I'll let the girl rest for now. Besides, Duke has been 
growling at me every time I even linger outside the door.
~Sunday, December 1st, 1901
She opened her eyes for the first time today and it turns out that 
they are a gilded shade of amber. This morning, my dogs had been reduced
to whimpering haunches and crying heaps in front of the door to her 
room. I took my key and I creaked open the door and Duke sieged the 
opening with his great square skull, thrusting his way into the room and
jumping onto the foot of the bed. That's when I saw the girl's eyes 
flutter open and her eyes were amber.
I walked over to the bedside and looked down at her. Her eyes seemed to register me while they flitted about the room.
"My pelt -" Her eyes closed again but her voice had been in a drowsy 
panic. I looked down to see that her fist was balled around Duke's ear 
and Duke curled into the girl's side, letting a loud huffing sound as if
he was sighing with relief.
I sat down on the other side of the girl and brushed my knuckles 
across her cheek. She pulled away in her fever dream and her lips 
quivered ever so slightly. Her face was flushed and her forehead had 
accumulated sweat from the days of bed rest. She smelled like pine trees
and woman. I raked my hand down her throat, stopping to examine if the 
superficial scrapes had been healing, reading the valleys of the scabs 
like braille as I moved my hands down her chest. I rolled the duvet down
to her waist, careful not to disturb Duke, who lay lethargically by her
side.
She was wearing Eleanor's nightgown.
"Good one, Eleanor," I thought to myself. "Even after death, you still manage to have my cock under lock and key."
I wrapped my hand around her pretty, little throat. I could do it 
with one hand. Not like that fat bitch Eleanor. My other hand moved to 
unfasten my trousers but there was a knock at the door. I would have 
jumped had I not known it was just Herbert.
"Mr. Percy? Mr. Elward was wanting you to accompany him to the church yard."
"I'll be down in a minute, Herbert."
"I'll tell him."
I stood up, straightened my vest, and locked the door from the outside.
~Thursday, December 12th, 1901
I was on top of her before she was even awake this morning. I had 
gotten into the habit of locking the dogs outside so they didn't try to 
bite my cock off, slipping in between the sheets, and spitting into my 
hand whether or not she was awake. So imagine my surprise when I see two
golden saucer eyes staring up at me with utter disgust. She didn't even
try to stop me.
"What's your name, then?" I took a rag off the dresser and began cleaning up.
"Alice."
I tossed the spent rag onto her pelt. I heard her breath hitch and 
watched as her body lurched forward. This was going to be fun.
"Alice, that's a pretty name."
"You should really let me go." For the first time since I'd met her, 
she stood up. She wasn't as short as I had expected, but her shoulders 
were still quite narrow. I think she was trying to be intimidating. 
"They will come looking for me."
"Who will? Because it's been a fortnight and no one's come looking 
for you," I said, stepping into my trousers and pulling them up around 
my waist.
"They haven't noticed I'm missing yet. They'll notice soon."
"Of course," I shrugged, adjusting my suspenders on my shoulders. 
"Well, while they're busy noticing, I'm sure as hell enjoying having you
around." I took three quick steps up to her and smiled, pushing my 
fingers onto her pillowy lips and in her mouth. "Besides, it's not like 
you're fighting back." I pulled on her tongue like I do to Nemo when 
he's misbehaving.
As I pressed my fingers against her teeth, she recoiled, pulling her 
head back and lightly pushing my hand away. "I can't fight back."
"Oh come on. You can do better than that." I mimicked her pawing my 
hand away. "Fight me," I growled. "Use your teeth and your claws and 
fight me. You might even enjoy it." I tried to goad her but she just 
stared at me with dead eyes and mumbled to herself.
"Hell for one night or a lifetime if I fight."
I grabbed her by the throat, my fingers overlapping the bruises I've 
been leaving. "What the fuck does that mean?" She said nothing. "I asked
you a question. What the fuck does that mean?"
I tossed her towards the dresser and her face ricocheted back. I could hear my dogs barking from outside the windows.
"You should let me go," she smiled, blood trickling onto her teeth in
a river from her nose. "I promise you, nothing good will come if you 
keep me here." She spat some of the blood onto her palm and wiped it 
into the balding patches of her pelt.
Crazy whore.
~Tuesday, December 24th, 1901
I'm sitting here, hauled up in my study, evening brandy in hand to 
ring in Christmas and looking at your portrait. I can't help but think 
this shit is your fault, Eleanor. You fat c*nt. You don't even look 
pretty in that painting. I paid for a fucking painter from Spain and you
still look like a hag.
Alice is stranger than I had originally assessed. Or at least she's 
very clever. Or there's a conspiracy against me. I don't know really, 
but I'm looking at you and I can't help but think this is all your 
fault.
Do you know what she said to me, Eleanor? Do you know what she said 
to me this morning while I was fucking her from behind? She said she 
could smell the strychnine all over the bed sheets. You understand why 
that's strange. It's odorless. That's sort of the entire point.
So first, she poaches on my land, then she turns my expensive hunting
dogs into fat, lazy lapdogs, and finally she accuses me of murdering my
wife and tells me she can smell the poison. We have a very grateful 
house guest.
Merry Christmas, love. The clock just struck midnight. I guess they 
don't have white Christmases in Hell but know that it's lovely here. The
woods look beautiful. Of course you being absent makes the view all the
more splendid, but let's not fight.
"Mr. Percy," I heard a soft whisper from the hallway as the snow 
dampened every sound in the way that only snow can. I took a deep swig 
of my brandy and carefully placed the glass back on my desk. I moved to 
the door quietly and dead bolted the lock, throwing a chair in front of 
the handles, bracing them from swinging inward.
"Alice?" I asked, my lips brushing the crack between the doors where a
sliver of golden light trickled out. “How did you get out?”
“Mr. Herbert let me out,” she mumbled. I watched as her silhouette 
seemed to drunkenly stumble down the hallway towards me. When she 
slammed her body against the doors, they shuddered, and I saw that she 
was once again naked. “It turns out he doesn’t like you very much.”
I laughed, pulling away from the door sharply and pacing back to my 
brandy. “Maybe that’s why he used to fuck my wife.” I spat the words up 
at Eleanor’s portrait and raised my glass again.
Alice whimpered from behind the door as she rolled her body across 
the wooden surface. “Maybe,” she cooed, “your wife didn’t fuck you 
because she hated you. It might have had nothing to do with another 
man.”
"Let me guess," I kicked my boots up on my desk in rhythm with the 
clock striking the final chime of midnight. "You can smell that in the 
bed sheets too?"
"As a matter of fact I can." I could hear that she was smiling; it was the way her voice stretched.
"You can't smell hate," I snarled through clenched teeth, "and you 
can't smell strychnine either. The shit never even got onto the bed. I 
don't know how you know about any of this, but it never touched the 
bed," I repeated. "I hid it with my gunpowder. I waited for a plague to 
come to this town. I waited for years for people to start dropping from 
brain fevers and and muscle spasms. Years," I shouted. "And do you know 
what I did? I soaked her pretty little handkerchief in it so when she 
dried her delicate fucking eyes in church," I stared again at Eleanor's 
painting, brow quirked in a cocky smile, "the same horrible illness 
befell my poor wife."
I took another sip of brandy and I heard my dogs begin to bark downstairs.
"Of course," I continued, "the groundskeeper also fell victim to the 
same disease. I alone remained healthy. It was a miracle, you 
understand." I laughed, pouring myself another glass. "Another miracle 
was that Herbert survived the fucking poison. Defiant little prick can't
even die right. He lived through it. Sure, he's a little worse for wear
now. He's dumb and his legs don't work but a perfectly timed epidemic 
isn't an excuse you get to use twice. So I'm stuck with a simple minded,
crippled, cuckolding manservant." At this point my voice was raised as I
was trying to combat the volume of my dogs downstairs. "I guess Hebert 
knows all of this though, right? That's how he told you? That's why 
you've been tormenting me?"
I heard a low, throaty giggle and a rhythmic tapping of fingernails 
on the door. "Herbert doesn't know. Like I said, I can smell the 
strychnine."
I paused and turned towards my window. I could hear Duke howling now.
"We're very intimate with the scent of strychnine," Alice said, 
scraping her nails against the door, "especially in these woods. The 
coyotes hunt the hare, so you poison the coyotes. You've been poisoning 
the meat, Mr. Percy, and I can't say we're very pleased."
The hair on the back of my neck began to stand up straight and my 
chest felt heavy. I tried to laugh the feeling away. "Is this the same 
'we' who is supposed to rescue you?"
"Yes." The voice that came from the other side of my study doors was 
not a voice but a deep, rickety growl. My dogs fell silent and their 
barks were replaced with what sounded like splintering bones. I jumped 
up to look out my window and saw shadows moving in the tree line, 
shadows silhouetted by a moon recently risen over the snowy horizon.
"What are you going to do, Mr. Percy?" She asked in a gravelly snarl.
"Are you going to jump out the window? You'll slip and fall. You can't 
go into the woods. We're all out there. You'd never out run them on 
broken ankles." I could hear her pacing on the other side like an 
animal. "You could fight me. You could use your teeth and your claws and
fight me. You might even enjoy it." She was mocking me as I had mocked 
her and she began throwing her weight into the door. She sounded 
heavier.
"You know why I didn't fight back?" She asked, clawing through the 
wood, the door slowly fracturing under the crashing of her body. "If I 
bite you," she said, "if I claw you, you'd be one of us."
The hallway was still dark, but a crack in the door was forming. She 
was breaking it down. I caught a glimpse of what looked like her pelt, 
but remembered she had been naked just moments before. I heard more 
howling coming from outside. Here I am, in my study, with a portrait of 
my dead wife watching me. I'm going to die on Christmas, aren't I? I 
fucking hate Christmas. Of all the ways I thought I was going to die, 
being mauled by werewolves on Christmas morning was not one of them.
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