Hell's Eyes

Sir Elias Thomason’s Hell’s Eyes

by

Brianna R. Shaffery

For my beloved.

— Sir Elias Thomason

***

For the community of readers and fellow writers/authors I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know and befriend. — B rianna R. S haffery

Foreword

F or those of you familiar with my Heirs of Tenebris trilogy and the two introductions to the world and setting of my novels, you may remember a passing reference to a fictional novella called Hell’s Eyes by Tenebrese nobleman Sir Elliot Thomason from the “Cerbertes” section of Tenebris: An Introduction (the first and second editions). But perhaps this is your first foray into Tenebris, and so you may be wondering: who is Sir Elliot Thomason? What is Hell’s Eyes, and how does this connect to the young adult fantasy trilogy I’ve written? Well…it’s a bit of a long story! When I wrote the first edition of Tenebris: An Introduction , I was attempting to flesh out more about Tenebris, its history, its culture, its people, and immortalize all these little references and ideas blossoming in my head the more I thought of Fire & Flight and realized I had a sequel or two to write. The more I asked myself about these facets of universe creation and began building this entire world, the more things started to connect and strike a chord within me. And then the cerbertes was born. This is a creature that Xander has a history with, and I wanted to know more of its backstory, particularly how it came to have the common nickname of “hellhound” like we see in the Heirs of Tenebris trilogy proper. That’s when I got this idea of popular media influencing

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the creature’s reputation, and thus, Hell’s Eyes and Sir Elias Thomason were born. Having spent so much time developing this world and this trilogy, I’ve grown quite attached to the history and culture of Tenebris. Com mitted to the stories of both my characters and the details laid out in Tenebris: An Introduction to the World of the Heirs of Tenebris Trilogy , I’ve decided to try my hand at writing this series tie-in and adopted what I imagine to be Sir Elias Thomason’s style. While this may be a different style than the main story of my Heirs of Tenebris trilogy, this is not meant to be a continuation to it or a prequel of it, but rather an extension of the world existing within its pages. I hope you enjoy this glimpse into Tenebrese popular culture and my attempt at writing in a Gothic-inspired style while exploring the history of the cerbertes. Happy reading! B rianna R. S haffery

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Table of Contents

Chapter One The Curious Affliction of Mr. Elliot Noblémyn. . . . . . . 1 Chapter Two AffairsoftheAfflicted. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .3 Chapter Three Hell’sHound....................11 Chapter Four Will&Testament.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .19 Chapter Five A Most Dangerous Expedition . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 Chapter Six HunterandtheHunted.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .27 Chapter Seven HeroesShallRise..................33 Appendix. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37

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Chapter One The Curious Affliction of Mr. Elliot Noblémyn

M r. Elliot Noblémyn was of normal stature and equally average character. He went to work at the accounting firm where he’d been employed since finishing his schooling; he came home at night and ate his supper and repeated the monotonous routine day after day after day. Sometimes, Elliot deviated from this routine by waking up early and stopping at the town bakery for a warm cinnegal before he began his day of work at the accounting firm. Other times, he worked so late he slept on the settee in his otherwise simple office, only to return to his darkened home to change into a fresh set of clothes and begin his routine all over again. But lately, Mr. Elliot Noblémyn woke in the morning drenched in a cold sweat, his heart racing in his chest and his eyes flitting about his bedroom as though the thing of his nightmares was about to pounce. Each day, the citizens of Halberry, who knew Mr. Noblémyn as a friend, a neighbor, or their cordial accountant, witnessed a new testa ment to his haggardness. It all began with his disheveled hair one day. Unnoticeable at first, but when paired with the dark circles under his eyes and the skittish flinches that replaced his usually genial nature, the people of Halberry began to wonder about what was happening to Mr. Elliot Noblémyn, a man who had been entirely unassuming in all the time the town had known him.

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“It’s just not like him,” Miss Elsie Hyacinth said to Mrs. Weaves one morning as they stood together in her bakery. “He’s not come in for three weeks now, and it’s most unusual for him. He hasn’t even hardly stopped to converse with me or Mr. Quiller or even said ‘hello’ to either of us in as much the same time.” Mrs. Weaves nodded, sniffing as she watched the man in question jump back nearly three feet when the door to Halberry Herbary across the street opened and a patron—another of their neighbors—stepped out in front of him. Pursing her lips together, Mrs. Weaves watched the short exchange a second longer, eyeing the way Mr. Noblémyn gave the passerby a wide berth before she clicked her tongue. “That certainly isn’t like Mr. Noblémyn at all. I wonder what sort of snicket he’s gotten himself struck by.” “Aye, it is a wonder,” Elsie said distractedly. Her lips twisted into a frown, observing Mr. Noblémyn a moment longer until he was no longer in her line of sight from within the bakery. Shaking herself from her concern, she turned to Mrs. Weaves once more and made to change the subject. “So, your usual order then?” “That will do, thank you.” Mrs. Weaves gave her a crisp nod and waited as Elsie set about packaging up her provisions. A woman of business, the curious case of Mr. Noblémyn’s sudden affliction had faded from Mrs. Weaves’s mind, but Miss Elsie Hyacinth’s was quite enraptured by the mysterious change in the town’s most trusted financier as she handed Mrs. Weaves the packages containing the inn’s dozen loaves of bread and four dozen pastries.

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Chapter Two Affairs of the Afflicted

F or many days more, Elliot experienced jitters and terrible unease. He flinched every time the door to his office opened or closed or each time someone called upon him, their voice much too loud for the raw sensitivity of his ears, until he finally stopped going to work altogether. By the time the fourth morning had come around and she hadn’t seen Mr. Noblémyn pass by in either his comings or goings to work, Miss Elsie Hyacinth began to worry. She’d never known him to miss a day of work in all the years she’d known him. She’d also never known him to go so long without stopping into her bakery. As she untied the strings of her apron and donned her cloak, she determined to pay him a visit. Elsie hummed to herself as she wrapped a cinnegal and poured some fresh cocholee into a pitcher that she covered with some cloth and placed both into her basket before saying farewell to her mother and father, who’d come to relieve her of her duty to the bakery. More often than not, Elsie spent her afternoons wandering the town and surrounding forestland, glad to breathe in the cool air of the trees for a change after spending the long morning hours baking. But today, she would make an exception to her usual routine, for Mr. Noblémyn’s sake. Offering friendly nods or pleasantries to the people she passed on her way to Mr. Noblémyn’s modest home, Elsie began to wonder if maybe

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she would be imposing on Mr. Noblémyn. She quickly squashed the thought, realizing that if he was as ill as she believed him to be, he’d certainly need someone to check in on him and ensure all was right. Bolstered by her resolve, Elsie picked her chin up and carried on her way to the edge of town and Mr. Noblémyn’s home. As she stopped before the burgundy-painted door, Elsie took a moment to adjust her cloak and gather herself, not wanting to give Mr. Noblémyn the wrong impression by the slightest misfortune of her appearance or of her obvious worry, should it put him on the offensive. She was merely a neighbor calling upon another out of concern for their wellbeing. That was all. But the tiny voice in the back of her head and the heat blooming along her cheekbones knew the truth. She did find Mr. Noblémyn to be quite charming, and so perhaps her concern for him was a little stronger than it should have been given the nature of their acquain tanceship, but still, who else would see to Mr. Noblémyn? He had no family in Halberry that she knew of, and no one she had spoken with had mentioned they had seen him recently or intended to call on him out of their shared concern. To be frank, the few coworkers he had were relieved to have not seen him recently. Their dismissiveness and relief irked Elsie. Had they no compassion? Or common decency? Elsie soothed the line of her lips and shoved her irritation aside. She was here now, and that was all that truly mattered. Someone was at least taking care to see after Mr. Noblémyn and get to the bottom of this mystery. Knocking softly on the solid wood door, Elsie called out, “Mr. Noblémyn? It’s Elsie Hyacinth. May I come in?” A squeak of fear met her announcement, as though her presence on his stoop had startled him. “Mr. Noblémyn?” Elsie tried again. “Are you in?” “Y-y-yes!” came a frantic reply followed by a curious symphony of

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clicks and shings . Elsie frowned, tilting her head in the hopes that she could hear something more. Just as she’d turned toward the side in an effort to look through the apparently shuttered window on the front of Mr. Noblémyn’s house, the door creaked open a fraction. Elsie’s eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Mr. Noblémyn’s sallow face and round, frightened eyes. His gaze darted about, as though searching for something Elsie couldn’t see. A bout of nervousness trickled into her bloodstream. She was tempted to cast her gaze about in search of the thing Mr. Noblémyn feared was waiting behind her, though her rational mind knew nothing was there. “Mr. Noblémyn?” Elsie asked gently, fearing she would only frighten him more. His frail hands shook where he grasped the door, preventing her from entering or seeing him in full as he hid behind its width. “Are you all right?” He hummed, still not meeting her eyes but said nothing, further provoking her worry. “May I come in, Mr. Noblémyn? I brought you some cocholee and a cinnegal,” Elsie said, making to take a step forward. Mr. Noblémyn reared back, nearly slamming the door in her face as he flinched so vio lently she feared he’d dislocated his soul from his body. “Mr. Noblémyn!” she gasped, slowly reaching out to him but thinking better of it. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I only meant to invite myself in, as it’s quite apparent that you’re not in good health.” Elliot stuttered, a hand pressed to his chest as though the touch could ease the thunderous pounding of his heart. “I-I’m sorry, Miss… Miss Hyacinth. P-please, do c-come in.” Elsie scrutinized him, though kept her features in what she hoped was a schooled enough expression so as not to upset him further. Care fully stepping forward, Elsie turned and shimmied through the narrow opening Mr. Noblémyn had allowed her to pass through. As soon as she stepped foot over the threshold and was fully inside his entryway, Mr. Noblémyn forcibly shut the door. Elsie whirled as the lock clicked into

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place and watched as he secured several bolts back into place. Peering through the dim light of the house, Elsie couldn’t decide if it was panic or curiosity that dominated her bloodstream. Heart fluttering in her throat, Elsie couldn’t help the feeling that she was a trapped pyrosa, and that perhaps she shouldn’t have come at all. As if sensing her gaze on him, Mr. Noblémyn turned. One hand lingered on the last of the shiny locks as he dragged the other over his haggard face. “Pardon the locks. I-I’ve had a terrible time sleeping at night.” “Have you been burglarized recently, and that’s what has you so… out of sorts?” Elsie ventured a guess, carefully inching her way down the hall in the hopes that the space would open up to another room, putting some distance between her and what she now believed was a shadow of her neighbor. This was not Mr. Noblémyn. At least, he was not the Mr. Noblémyn she knew, or that Halberry had come to know. Elliot quirked his head, considering the best way to respond. By all accounts, the truth would sound implausible, but a lie would not come to his pinwheeling mind. “Burglarized? N-no, no, nothing of the sort.” “Ah,” Miss Elsie breathed, still eyeing the locks. “And so the locks are…because…?” As if noticing them for the first time, Mr. Noblémyn jumped, his eyes widening when next they met hers. Stammering, he explained, “They’re for protection…” “What from?” she asked hesitantly, her stomach knotting the longer they stood in the stifling hallway. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but no reply came. Taking matters upon herself, Elsie straightened her shoulders and adjusted her basket. “Perhaps we could sit? The cinnegal is getting cool, and we both know they’re best enjoyed warm.” Her words struck Elliot like a bolt of lightning, startling his dazed mind back into some semblance of functionality. Jolting forward, he

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waved his hand, motioning down the hall. “Y-yes, please. I apologize, I-I haven’t been myself lately.” Again, Mr. Noblémyn dragged a hand over his face, as if he could wipe away his obvious exhaustion and refresh himself in an instant. But alas, Elsie knew he was no Caster, and while she’d often been suspected of weaving magic into her baked goods, she was but a master of sugar and flour and nothing more. But perhaps Mr. Herman Basil—the town’s Healer and resident herbalist—could be of some help. A sleeping draft, or— Elsie nearly dropped her basket as her eyes fell upon the papers scattered over Mr. Noblémyn’s darkened sitting room. Tacked to the walls, covering the table in dilapidated piles, and littering the floor, Elsie could just barely make out the same harried depiction on the ones she could see in full. “Oh,” Mr. Noblémyn started, “um…please, pardon the mess. I…I wasn’t e-expecting company.” “Please,” Miss Elsie said, taking a step into the room and clearing a spot on the low coffee table for her basket, “don’t worry yourself about it. After all, I should probably be apologizing to you for calling on you without so much as a telegram to announce myself.” Putting her hands on her hips, she surveyed the room once more, wondering just what to do with it all—and how to handle Mr. Noblémyn. She’d expected to find him bedridden, not skittish beyond his wits. Soup couldn’t cure his affliction, and neither could any herbal remedy she knew of. Considering whether or not she could leave Mr. Noblémyn for a few moments to fetch Mr. Basil, Elsie found herself guiding him to a seat and handing him the cinnegal. “Now how about we let some light into t—” “No!” Mr. Noblémyn gasped, shooting to his feet and nearly throwing the cinnegal across the room. “Please, you mustn’t open the windows!” Elsie stopped, frozen in her efforts to throw the shutters open by

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the desperate volume of his voice, and glanced over her shoulder at him. “And why ever not?” Mr. Noblémyn dropped his gaze, kicking at the thick decorative carpet of the sitting room. “I…I’m afraid.” “Of what? The light? Is it because your head aches?” Elsie asked, hoping there was a sensible answer for his strange behavior. The more she considered him, the more she was given the impression of a frightened child hiding from the shadows under their bed. Elsie’s mind sparked. That was exactly what Mr. Noblémyn was. He was frightened of some thing, of the large, snarling, sharp-toothed hound in his crude drawings. “Mr. Noblémyn,” she started softly, approaching him cautiously and laying a gentle hand on his arm. He flinched under her hand, but did not move away. “Did something attack you? In the woods?” “No,” he whispered, clasping her hand between his. “But I saw it.” “You saw it?” Elsie asked, fighting not to pull away from his clammy hold. “The creature from your drawings? In the woods?” Mr. Noblémyn shook his head fervently. “In my dreams.” Elsie’s breath stuttered. “In your dreams?” she echoed in disbelief. At Mr. Noblémyn’s admission, Elsie nearly laughed, wholly realiz ing the hysteria that had overcome the man, but the look on his face stopped her and her disbelief before it could take root. Taking in the grim line of his lips and the hollow of his face and the wide-rimmed terror of his eyes, Elsie knew this was a man beyond his wits who truly believed in the madness that his mind had succumbed to. “All right,” she said slowly, softly. Taking Mr. Noblémyn by the arm, she gently bade him to sit back on the couch and sat down beside him. “So this is the creature that haunts your dreams, and now your waking moments?” “Yes,” Mr. Noblémyn responded, nodding adamantly. “I haven’t the slightest idea what to do about it, though. It’s everywhere, and… and…it’s always watching. Always watching with those unyielding eyes,

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a-and—and—and that wicked gleam, like fire. Its gaze burns! P-please, Miss Hyacinth! D-don’t open the w-windows. T-those…those eyes!” Elsie reluctantly encouraged him to go on, hoping that the Mr. Elliot Noblémyn she knew would shine through the haze of the harried man before her. “It’s just terrible, Miss Hyacinth! I haven’t a moment’s peace hardly all season—why, I can’t remember the last time I didn’t see it lurking about, or had a night of rest. It’s just always about,” he said again, clasp ing her hand tightly now. “Always about, always watching, prowling, waiting with its deep obsidian eyes and bone-crushing teeth! And I just know it’s waiting for me, and with it, my worst fears. I don’t want to die, Miss Hyacinth! There’s still so much I want to do, and I-I—” “Shh,” Elsie shushed him as he began to hyperventilate and hiccup. “It’s all right, Mr. Noblémyn. There’s nothing here but the cobwebs and all these drawings.” Easing her hand from his, Elsie stood and glanced about. “What if...” she started, mulling over what she could possibly do to help him. “What if I help you clean things up around here and we eat a good meal? Perhaps you’ll be able to sleep better without all this…without your home being in such disarray?” Mr. Noblémyn shrank in his seat, nearly curling in on himself from how severely his shoulders curved inward, making him shrug over his knees. Elsie knelt in front of him, trying to catch his eyes and make sure he was listening to her. “This isn’t good for you, Mr. Noblémyn. You have to take care of yourself, or else this monster will win. Is that what you want?” Mr. Noblémyn shook his head. “Good. Then you’ll let me help you?” “Yes?” he said skeptically. Resolved to helping Mr. Noblémyn retrieve his wits, Elsie stood and turned back toward the room, meaning to begin the first task on

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her growing list of ideas. But Mr. Noblémyn stopped her, catching her hand in his and holding firmly. Glancing back at him, Elsie’s heart wrenched, seeing a glimmer of the Mr. Noblémyn the town of Halberry had once known shining in his eyes. “Will you stay with me? Until it leaves?” he murmured, finding the courage within himself to hold her gaze. “I can stay,” she said slowly, thinking over the promise she was offering. “But I’ll have to leave early in the morning again to stock the bakery. I’ll come back as soon as I can if you want me to.” Mr. Noblémyn quietly agreed to the terms she laid out. Free for the moment, Elsie returned the cinnegal to him and set about collecting the sketches from the walls and scattered around the room. She even managed to convince him to let the light in by opening the windows, saying she would watch for anything that might threaten to come through them. But the only thing that did was the gentle breeze and the dusky light as the sun began to set as Mr. Noblémyn finally fell asleep, his stomach full of cocholee and the cinnegal Elsie had brought for him. Sighing heavily, Elsie wondered whatever she was to do with Mr. Noblémyn when next he woke, or the absurd notion that a nightmare could haunt him even in his waking moments.

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Chapter Three Hell’s Hound

E lliot Noblémyn woke slowly, blinking the blurry haze away until his vision resumed the clarity he’d once known. Light streamed in through the open window, dancing on the wooden surface of the coffee table and the soft pile of the sitting room carpet. Miss Elsie Hyacinth had left earlier in the morning, before even the weakest streams of sunlight had broken through the morning haze of mid-Harvum, but she had left a note which Elliot now found waiting for him under the vase he hadn’t seen in quite some time. Somehow, before Miss Hyacinth had left to see to her duties at the bakery, she’d managed to fill the forgotten vase with fresh flowers. He wondered briefly where she might’ve picked them, but his curiosity vanished as soon as it had come, replaced by the sudden wonderment at having slept his fill the night before. Jumping from the cozy seat, Elliot folded the blanket Miss Hyacinth had draped over him at some point in the night and threw it back where once he’d sat. Nearly dancing his way through the sitting room on light feet, Elliot had half a mind to go into work. Bounding up the staircase, Elliot hummed to himself, grateful for the dazzling sunlight streaming in through the open windows all around the house. A shadow flickered at the top of the stair. Elliot ground to a halt. Dread slithered into his veins like an icy chill. His breaths came in short, rapid gasps. In time with his pounding heart, one long-clawed

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forepaw landed on the floorboards of the top landing. Elliot’s breath caught as a wet snout nosed its way past the corner of the doorjamb.

The creature. It was there.

A low growl penetrated the air, raising the fine hairs on the back of Elliot’s neck and along his arms and legs. An unshakeable certainty came over Elliot. The creature was waiting for him, lurking just around the corner. The creature, with its onyx-colored eyes that held a raging fire—a fire that consumed the mind and taunted its prey with paralyzing visions of their deepest, darkest, most formidable fears. A hellish fiend, the hound was not— could not —be of this world. Of all the creatures in Tenebris, this was one most unnatural. “It is not real,” Elliot muttered under his breath. Miss Hyacinth’s words from the night before came to him. “I will not let it consume me.” But still he could not— would not—take another step. A tendril of shadow wrapped around the corner at the top of the staircase as another paw came into view, landing with a thump against the floorboards. The shadow lapped at the floor like an impatient tail. Elliot took note of it, watched it tap the floor, once, twice— “Not real…not real..” he said, his throat going dry with his inability to control his mind. No taller than his knee, the hellish hound came into view. With a growl as fierce as its sharp-toothed snarl, Elliot did not waste another fleeting moment. Fearing for his life, and his sanity, Elliot staggered backwards, grab bing for a lifeline that did not exist as his eyes met those of the creature. His mind seized before he could even cry out.

***

It was only some hours later when the noontime sun had reached its zenith over the town of Halberry that Elsie Hyacinth forced herself into

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Mr. Noblémyn’s home after several attempts at gaining his attention. Fearing he’d relapsed upon waking, Elsie readjusted her basket and went around to the side of the cottage that faced the woodland at the edge of town. Perhaps that was the source of all of Mr. Noblémyn’s troubles: there was something stirring in the woods and making strange noises at night, keeping him awake. That had to be the answer to all of Mr. Noblémyn’s troubles as of late. Elsie was certain of it as she gripped the edge of the windowsill with one hand and hitched up her skirts with the other. Finagling her way into the cottage with her basket still in hand, Elsie let her skirts drop as her booted feet hit the hardwood floor of the kitchen. Huffing, she took a second to glance around. Her breath clouded in front of her. Furrowing her brows, Elsie clutched her shawl tighter around her shoulders. It shouldn’t have been so chilly in Mr. Noblémyn’s home, even if the fire had gone out. A tingle of dread trailed down Elsie’s spine. The utter silence seemed cavernous as her thoughts began to echo in her mind. Where was Mr. Noblémyn? Why hadn’t he come to investigate the noise she surely made breaking into his home? Elsie shook her head and took a moment to gather her composure, wondering if perhaps Mr. Noblémyn’s affliction wasn’t contagious before she set her basket down on the kitchen table and called out his name. “I’m terribly sorry to have broken in, but you weren’t answering the door,” Elsie continued, stepping out into the hallway. “I’ve come bac—Mr. Noblémyn!” Elsie rushed to the base of the hallway’s staircase where Mr. Noblémyn lay unconscious. She grasped his shoulders and again called his name, shaking him slightly. Realizing her effort to rouse him was in vain, Elsie took a gulp of air and forced her frazzled mind to function. A pulse! She needed to check for a pulse, and breath. That was what the town

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herbalist had instructed them to do during the training courses he’d offered for those inclined to learn a bit of medicine. Finding both breath and an erratic pulse, Elsie sat back on her heels, finding that her own breath came a little easier now that she knew Mr. Noblémyn was at least still alive. Debating if she should leave him alone in order to get help, Elsie finally broke her hesitation and stepped over him. Rushing toward the door, she hastily fumbled to undo the vari ous locks he’d installed over the past several weeks and burst through the door. Glancing toward the center of town, Elsie shouted for help, hoping someone was near enough to answer her call. “What’s the matter, Miss Hyacinth?” the postmaster puffed, nearly falling forward at the abrupt stop to his momentum. “I-it’s Mr. Noblémyn! He’s fallen!” she gushed, trying desperately to explain that their neighbor was injured but finding that she hadn’t the slightest idea what had happened or when the accident had occurred. “Calm yourself, Miss Hyacinth. I’ll fetch Mr. Basil. Just stay here with Mr. Noblémyn and see that he doesn’t move should he wake. We don’t know the extent of his injuries,” the postmaster said, gripping her shoulders and holding her gaze with a steady certainty that instantly calmed her. No matter how delirious she seemed to him or how odd Mr. Noblémyn had been acting these last several weeks, the postmaster knew time was of the essence and dropped his sack of letters at Miss Hyacinth’s feet, rushing off for Halberry Herbary just as he said he would. Watching him dash off for the center of town, Elsie, took a breath and then another, her chest rising and falling with each deep inhalation she forced into her lungs. What was she to do? A low groan made Elsie’s heart jump. “Mr. Noblémyn?” she asked, hurrying back into the house and the

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few yards down the hall where he lay. “Don’t move. I’ve sent Postmaster Reginald for Mr. Basil.” “It was here,” he cried wetly, “the creature.” The words were more of a low hiss compared to the wild hysteria in his eyes, but Elsie understood the urgency Mr. Noblémyn had intended them to have. “Are you certain it wasn’t just a trick of the light?” she asked softly. Pity rose in her throat. After such an ordeal, still, all he could think of was the wretched hound he’d drawn over and over again. Perhaps Mr. Noblémyn was truly descending into madness. “Hel...hellhound,” he slurred, his eyes falling shut once more. Elsie started panicking once more. “Mr. Noblémyn, I need you to stay awake, please!” “Has he come round then, Miss Hyacinth?” The assured voice of the town’s herbalist came from behind her. “Uh, yes? Well, he was,” Elsie tried to explain, but it was too late. Mr. Noblémyn had succumbed to the darkness again. “Hm,” Mr. Basil muttered something under his breath. “Did he say anything before falling unconscious again?” Elsie thought back to the moment just before Mr. Basil and Post master Reginald returned. Furrowing her brows, she tried to decipher the mumbled words and make sense of them for herself. “He said something about a creature—a…a ‘hellhound,’ I believe?” “A hellhound? I’ve never heard of such a thing, have you, Mr. Basil?” Mr. Basil remained silent, wracking his brain for a moment as he paused in his examination of Mr. Noblémyn. His heart rate was elevated, his breathing still slightly erratic and not like one at rest but more like one who had just undergone some serious shock or rigorous activity. “For how long has Mr. Noblémyn been talking of such a creature?” Several possibilities came to Mr. Basil’s mind, a few of which he was confident he could cure and a select handful of which he wasn’t altogether certain there was a cure for.

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“I’m not certain,” Miss Hyacinth admitted. “I noticed a few weeks ago that Mr. Noblémyn was acting strangely, but only thought to check in on him yesterday after I hadn’t seen him for quite some time.” “Yes,” the postmaster agreed, recalling the strange occurrence of what he now knew to be Mr. Noblémyn’s decline over the last season. “I didn’t notice it at first, but Miss Hyacinth is right. Mr. Noblémyn hasn’t been right for many weeks now. It was like he was paranoid and frightened all the time.” Mr. Basil hmph ed. If only someone had said something sooner, he might’ve had a better chance of saving Mr. Noblémyn, but if he truly had been afflicted for many weeks as Miss Hyacinth and Postmaster Reginald had said, the chance that Mr. Noblémyn could recover from the shock to his mind had grown too slim to instill much confidence in his options. “I shall have to see what I can do,” he said decidedly, unwilling to show his concern to the others, particularly Miss Hyacinth, who still seemed shaken at having found Mr. Noblémyn in such a state. “Miss Hyacinth,” he added, “you said you called upon Mr. Noblémyn yesterday?” “Yes,” she said, her mind reeling at the question and what Mr. Her man Basil might be implying by it. “Why do you ask?” “I’d like to know everything you noticed of Mr. Noblémyn, what he said, how he acted, every detail you can recall. You may very well be the last person to have seen him since yesterday, and therefore the key to how I might treat him.” Elsie frowned at his explanation and the lack of assurance that Mr. Noblémyn would recover with the help of those treatments. Halberry’s herbalist hadn’t said those very important words at all. “I can try.” “Good. Come along and give me your report while Postmaster Reginald and I get Mr. Noblémyn settled in my infirmary.” Elsie sniffed, nodding her head. Still, Mr. Basil hadn’t offered them any ounce of certainty that Mr. Noblémyn could be saved. If only she’d

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sought him out sooner, perhaps then Mr. Noblémyn would have gotten treated in a more timely manner and wouldn’t have fallen to his death as a result of his curious ailment.

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Chapter Four Will & Testament

P ostmaster Reginald helped carry Mr. Noblémyn from his house at the edge of Halberry town to Mr. Basil’s infirmary on the sturdy cloth-and-shadow-wood litter he wasn’t entirely convinced hadn’t been passed down from Healer to Healer since the Herbary’s establishment. But it held firm under Mr. Noblémyn’s weight, as it had under many a person’s weight before his. After he and Mr. Basil had transferred the unconscious financier to one of the four beds in Mr. Basil’s infirmary, Reginald took his leave to continue his route, leaving Miss Elsie Hyacinth in the stiff company of Mr. Herman Basil. Elsie watched as he examined Mr. Noblémyn with glowing hands, humming to himself every now and again. Slowly moving his hovering hands from head to toe, she remained silent until finally Mr. Basil’s magic faded and he resorted to poking or prodding Mr. Noblémyn as if doing so would explain his condition. But with each second that ticked by with the beat of her heart, Elsie knew that Mr. Basil had found nothing. Realizing the deep quirk of his brow and the slipping slope of his lips, Mr. Basil finally straightened, knowing that even a conventional examination of Mr. Noblémyn would yield the same result as his magical examination.

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“Miss Hyacinth,” he started in what he hoped was an approachable tone, “could you tell me what Mr. Noblémyn was like when you called upon him yesterday?” Elsie nodded, swallowing the anxiety quivering in her throat. “He was…out of sorts. I would say he was very frightened, but of what I don’t know. He had all these bolts and locks on the door, and did them up again as soon as I was inside. He’d also had all the windows latched and hardly a candle lit.” “Curious, though expected,” Herman muttered, already aligning Miss Hyacinth’s description with the list of symptoms he knew Mr. Noblémyn would experience if his theory was correct. Elsie arched her brow. Her temper sparked, and she could not keep an irritated lilt from her voice. “Expected?” “I have a theory, though I am still uninclined to share it until you can confirm my suspicions. Please continue, Miss Hyacinth.” Eyeing the town’s Healer coolly, Elsie did as he bade and told him of the drawings that had littered Mr. Noblémyn’s sitting room before she’d cleaned them up this morning. “I’ve never seen such cold, merciless eyes before. Every drawing seemed to feature them, though I never knew Mr. Noblémyn to be an artist. But the strangest part, well to me at least,” she said with a tight, rueful smile, “is that Mr. Noblémyn claimed he had only seen the creature in his dreams. I would have thought he had been attacked by it in the woods for it to instill him with such fear, but yet, to my knowledge, Mr. Noblémyn has never seen this creature otherwise.” Slowly, Mr. Basil nodded. “That is indeed strange, Miss Hyacinth. Tell me, what do you know of a creature called the cerbertes?” Elsie’s frown deepened. “I did not think they lived so close to civilized country. Aren’t they all but extinct now, anyways?” “So they say,” Mr. Basil sighed, scrubbing his face. He didn’t dare say the theory had been rebuked by a zoologist who’d found they’d withdrawn to the deepest parts of the Shadow Forest where humans

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dared not stray. “I am not certain of anything anymore. Mr. Noblémyn is exhibiting all the known signs and symptoms of a cerbertes attack, but so few patients have actually been observed so soon after a sight ing that there is not much I can do. Furthermore, there have been no reports of a cerbertes sighting in this area. So the questions we must solve are: how did Mr. Noblémyn come to be afflicted in such a way? And what can be done to save him?” Elsie’s eyes snapped back to Mr. Basil, having drifted to study Mr. Noblémyn as if she might notice something the Healer might have missed. “You think Mr. Noblémyn can be saved?” “It is my hope that he can be, yes,” Mr. Basil explained. The tension slipped back into his voice, as if Elsie’s question was unwelcome. But to her surprise, he continued. “If Mr. Noblémyn’s case is truly caused by a creature he had seen in his dreams and not a real, living cerbertes, it is possible that there is some remedy that could revive him and soothe his psychosis.” Elsie nodded, trying to sift through the Healer’s prognosis. “How do we determine for certain whether or not Mr. Noblémyn saw a cerbertes, or if his affliction is truly caused by his psychosis?” “Well, I can almost assure you that Mr. Noblémyn does not have a history of psychological or neurological conditions that would result in an episode such as this without warning. And secondly,” Mr. Basil paused and seemed to bristle before he said, “I do believe this situation is too dangerous for you to continue aiding me, Miss Hyacinth. I do not want to risk earning the town’s ire because I allowed our resident baker to let herself fall prey to a cerbertes.” “And what of yourself? You’re the only Healer for miles. You can’t be the unfortunate victim of a cerbertes either.” Herman paused in his ministrations, caught between his sense of duty and pride and Miss Hyacinth’s sound logic. “Then perhaps we should both go, as I wouldn’t entrust this task to anyone but myself—well,

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that may not be true. The young Miller may be of some help in this matter…” He trailed off with his thoughts, wondering just how he could safely procure the evidence needed (the evidence being the existence of a cerbertes in the woodland surrounding Halberry), and what he could worth risking in order to get it. “I’m afraid it will have to the two of us, Miss Hyacinth,” Mr. Basil finally concluded. “I fear I would incur Ms. Miller’s wrath if something were to befall her son.” Elsie couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling up past her lips. “Pardon me. I don’t mean to find humor in such a dour affair, but I imagine Ms. Miller would run you out of town or worse if something were to happen to poor Dudley.” “Wouldn’t that be a sight?” Mr. Basil smiled almost wryly. Elsie dropped her gaze to her clasped hands sitting in her lap. “I suppose it would be.” “It’s getting rather late, Miss Hyacinth. We’ve done all we could for Mr. Noblémyn tonight. What is the latest you have to be back to the bakery?” Her brow scrunched. “The latest? Well…I would say early in the evening, preferably, so I could get a proper night’s rest. Why?” “The best time to catch a cerbertes would be just after dark or before the sun rises in the morning.” “Oh,” Elsie said, blinking. Forcing herself to meet Mr. Basil’s wizened eyes, she asked, “When would it be at its weakest?” Mr. Basil sat back in his chair with a creak. Loosely folding his arms over his chest, he turned contemplative. “Now that’s the million-libac question…”

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Chapter Five A Most Dangerous Expedition

E lsie leaned against the countertop of Mr. Basil’s infirmary vaguely listening as he instructed Liza about what needed to be taken care of in his absence. “Ready to go, Miss Hyacinth?” Mr. Basil shouldered his pack. Faint clinking and tinkling accompanied the movement, cluing Elsie into the potential potions and tonics sitting in wait in case they had need of them during their excursion. “I suppose there’s no time like the present.” She smiled thinly, tight ening her grip around her bow. Her stomach clenched at the realization that her bow and arrows probably wouldn’t do her any good. “Are you quite certain you’re up to doing this, Miss Hyacinth?” Mr. Basil asked, noticing the tight purse of her lips and the anxious flit in her gaze. “Quite certain, yes,” she said hurriedly. “Have you any weapons with you, Mr. Basil?” His eyes twinkled with unshed laughter. “I believe you’re armed enough for the both of us, Miss Hyacinth. Though, if it eases your mind, I have my pistol and all the magic within me should we need it.” “You doubt we’ll find the creature, then?” she asked, taking note of how at ease the town’s Healer seemed. He hummed, gesturing to Liza at the wooden table that served as

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their workbench. “I was just telling Liza that a cerbertes so close to civilization is unlikely, though not impossible. I remain both hopeful that we will find nothing but also that we will find some clue to help Mr. Noblémyn.” Liza glanced up, having heard her name and thinking she was needed. Quirking her head at all that Herman had said, she interjected, “You hadn’t said as much to me. You only explained that the likelihood of a cerbertes this close to Halberry was slim.” Elsie watched as Mr. Basil opened and closed his mouth, blinking harshly for a moment before giving a rather flustered quip in reply. “Well, I hadn’t thought of my hopes until just now, so there.” Elsie bit back a smile, turning her head away. “Anyhow, we’ll lose our opportunity to discover the truth of the matter if we don’t leave now. Shall we, Miss Hyacinth?” “I suppose we shall,” she sighed, taking a step toward the door. “I hope to see you later, Liza. If not, please remind my mother that Ms. Weaves prefers the loquette loaves, not the honey-and-herb loaves.” “I’m sure there won’t be any need, but in the event that there should be, I’ll pass along your reminder.” “And remember: Mr. Noblémyn must receive that tonic every hour as the sand runs out,” Mr. Basil added, pointing to an hourglass by Mr. Noblémyn’s bedside. “I know.” Liza waved him off with a huff. “No need to spill a jay’s tears.” Herman scoffed. “I would never. A jay’s tears are too precious to spill. Well then, if you’re quite confident that you have things handled, Liza, we’ll be going.” Liza hummed lightly. “I’ll have lunch prepared for your return.” Elsie’s stomach roiled at the thought of food. Still, she managed a weak smile and said as she and Mr. Basil stepped foot over the threshold and into the weak light of the nearing dawn, “Goodness, Liza, that’s much too thoughtful of you!”

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If Liza replied, her words didn’t reach Elsie as Mr. Basil shut the door firmly behind them, asking, “You remember what I told you of the cerbertes?” Elsie nodded. “Of course: don’t look into its eyes, dispatch it on sight, and don’t let it get near me.” “Exactly,” Herman praised, rather happy to have found such a capable partner as Miss Elsie Hyacinth for an expedition such as this. “Aside from the danger posed by the unknown, I do believe it’s a rather beautiful day for a stroll, wouldn’t you?” “I’m afraid I’m too focused on the danger to have noticed, Mr. Basil.” Mr. Basil laughed heartily. “A fair plight, I admit. ‘Twas a grand idea to go this morning. I would have gone at night, but perhaps you’ll have saved me yet.” His words did nothing to dispel Elsie’s worry. Dread filled every fiber of Elsie’s being as the pair came to the outskirts of Halberry. The last homes—Mr. Noblémyn’s included—came into view, and beyond them: the Shadow Forest.

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Chapter Six Hunter and the Hunted

T he dim illumination of the Shadow Forest was just enough to see by, though Herman Basil still conjured an orb of light so he and Miss Hyacinth might make out any prints left behind by the beast they sought. Unfortunately, Elsie Hyacinth couldn’t help but fret over the knowl edge recently imparted to her by her compatriot. She understood now what Mr. Noblémyn had meant during his hysteria before promptly reentering his current state of unconsciousness. The more these details turned over in her head, the more she agreed with his delirium: a cerbertes was nothing more than “hell’s hound.” A hell hound if ever she had heard of one and understood the meaning of the word “hell.” The haunting silhouettes of the ashen trees with their dark sapphire leaves in the distant dimness did nothing to quell her burgeoning nerves. And from what she could see of their immediate surroundings, Elsie found no comfort in the once-familiar forestland. Mr. Basil seemed not to have a bother to spare, as he’d said nothing since they’d entered the Shadow Forest proper. She took that cue and remained silent despite the questions and curiosities bubbling in the forefront of her mind. Instead, Elsie kept an arrow and her bow at the ready, prepared to draw at a moment’s notice as the light of the Forest and that which glowed from Mr. Basil’s magic cast grim shadows on her imagination.

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***

Herman found himself a bit anxious the farther from town they walked and how the ground they’d canvassed since had garnered them no results. There was absolutely nothing to see. He was about to say as much to Miss Hyacinth, when the flicker of a shadowy tail caught his eye. Quickly, he placed a hand on Miss Hyacinth’s arm and drew to an abrupt stop. Before she could utter a word of exclamation or question, he pressed a finger to his lips and tilted his head in the direction that had piqued his interest. Miss Hyacinth, thankfully, understood his meaning, and her eyes never strayed from his. Her only reaction was to arch a brow, to which he shrugged lightly and nodded. Elsie pressed her lips into a grim line. Returning his nod with a single bob of her head, she brought her bow up. Herman extinguished his glowing orb of light. Letting his magic simmer in his veins, he wove the first hints of energy between his fingers, not quite ready to unleash it—that was, not until he could confirm what he had seen. Silently leading the way, Herman kept his eyes up, praying his peripheral vision was competent enough to see the threat he feared lurked in the dim shadows. To meet a cerbertes’s eyes would mean cer tain death—or at least, certain psychosis if Mr. Noblémyn’s condition was anything to consider. That, and the hope that the creature’s eyes on its prey was not enough to bewitch him, paralyzing him with the image and belief that his own worst fears had come true, were the only two hopes he allowed his mind the room to spare at the moment. Elsie, on the other hand, wasn’t sure if she wanted to see. Half tempted to shut her eyes completely and rely only on her instincts to pick up on whether a beastly creature stood before her, she scrounged up the scraps of her courage and followed after Mr. Basil, keeping her

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eyes up as he’d instructed her last night as they’d planned their foray into the Shadow Forest to search for the hellish predator. “Miss Hyacinth,” Mr. Basil breathed, “I do believe we’ve found our fiend.” A small yip met the herbalist’s words, making Elsie lower her bow. “Why, it’s just a kit!” At the very edge of her vision, Elsie could just make out an uncer tain creature attempting to appear like the predator it should’ve been. Crouched low to the ground in a pose meant to strike, the cerbertes let out a low growl that sounded much like a hungry stomach and less of a menacing deterrent. Forgetting herself, Elsie laughed. The sound of Miss Hyacinth’s laughter was like thunder in the oth erwise still wilds of the Shadow Forest. Startled as he was by it, Herman was no more startled than the cerbertes kit, who yelped at the sound and fled before he could even attempt to do away with it in order to save Mr. Noblémyn. “It just might be, but that does not mean we are in any less danger…” Herman said slowly, turning a curious gaze on Miss Hyacinth, “though I have read that perhaps cerbertes kits are not as adept at stunning their prey as their grown counterparts. At any rate, it is mere conjecture.” “And I, for one, am quite happy with keeping it at that,” Elsie said, catching her breath. Frowning, she glanced to where the cerbertes kit had been and onward to where it had fled. “What are we to do now?” “The only thing we can do,” Herman muttered, taking a step through the bushes to follow in the young fiend’s footsteps. “If we wish to free Mr. Noblémyn from the hound’s bewitchment, we must return to Halberry once this matter is dealt with.” “And the cerbertes? What of it?” Herman paused, unwilling to say what he hoped they both knew to be the only solution. “Miss Hyacinth…” he began, “we cannot allow it to—”

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A growl rumbled behind them, raising the hair on both their necks. Before she could stop herself, Elsie whirled around. Her eyes fell on the charcoal fur of a large beast with sharp elongated teeth and a snarl that the very sight of drained the blood from her face. “Don’t look into its eyes!” Mr. Basil cried, leaping in front of Elsie. The grown cerbertes lunged. A blast of cool teal magic flashed before Elsie’s vision, forcing her to shut her eyes and turn her face against the brightness. A whimper wrenched her heart. Peeling her eyes open, Elsie gasped, “Herman!” In a blink, she drew her bow and loosed her arrow. A sick thump filled her ears, followed by a wet yowl—turned broken whimper as the cerbertes kit fell. “Miss Elsie, are you all right?” came Mr. Basil’s frantic reply. Herman whipped around, his hand glowing with his teal-colored magic as he prepared to fight the new threat, but found a tragic scene written over Miss Hyacinth’s face. She took a deep shuddering breath, but did not turn away from the sight of the cerbertes kit that had drawn its last breath. “Elsie, come now,” he said softly. “There is nothing more to be done here.” But she did not answer. “Miss Hyacinth?” he asked, taking a step forward. A twig cracked under his foot, piercing the stark silence. Elsie flinched violently. Her wild eyes glanced about, trying to find the source of what had sent her heart pounding furiously against her chest so hard she feared it would burst through her skin—a fear that only made it beat harsher still. “Oh dear,” Herman murmured under his breath. “You’ve glanced at its eyes, haven’t you, Miss Hyacinth?” “I-I—” Elsie started, unable to form neither words nor thoughts beyond the scene that played before her mind’s eye.

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Elsie wrapped her arms around herself, unaware of her surroundings or the absence of the chill she felt as surely as she saw her worst fears playing before her very eyes. Why was she so cold? Why hadn’t she thought to wear her thick cloak? “Miss Hyacinth,” Herman said, “if you can hear me clearly, know this: I will help you, but to do so, I need to render you unconscious in order to quiet your mind. I’m terribly sorry to have gotten you into this, but I thank you for saving my life.” As the anxiety and never-ending questions flooded her and grew to a crescendo, Elsie jumped at the touch that landed on her arm. She misunderstood the soothing voice for that of someone who would do her harm and began striking out at them, desperately attempting to clear her mind of the chaos consuming her. The voice calmly spoke to her, telling her she was safe and to give up her fight, but Elsie wouldn’t—she couldn’t —before a heaviness ultimately consumed her, blanketing her mind in hazy silence. Numbed by it, Elsie let her body sag, uncertain if it was relief or paralysis that weighed her down. Blinking slowly, two visions fought for Elsie’s attention: that of her darkest nightmares and the reality of sapphire leaves haloing the concerned features of Mr. Herman Basil arranging her in his arms, still quietly offering her assurances that she would be just fine by the next sunrise.

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