Duncan stood apart from the small crowd gathered on the windy hilltop near the outskirts of London, watching the plain brown casket get lowered into the ground. It looked to be a closed-casket funeral, although he wasn’t exactly surprised.
If he did the math right, Bertram Harvey was twenty-two when he first met Duncan, which meant he should only have been fifty years old this year. The poor bloke must have been involved in some sort of accident for his family to request a closed casket.
Duncan tipped his black fedora, keeping his head bowed in respect as the minister began an inaudible speech in a monotone voice. He wasn’t close to Bertram Harvey, but a part of him wanted to see how his old war comrade’s family was doing.
Perhaps he was nosy. Or perhaps he was just plain lonely. But there was always something heartwarming about watching mortals live out their lives.
The other guests kept their heads bowed as well, and nobody cast a single glance at the mysterious stranger in a black suit standing a small distance away from them. Duncan didn’t mind. The less he was noticed, the better.
Still, he wondered who had sent him the invitation letter in the first place. Could it be Harvey’s last wish to have ‘Charlie Ward’ attend his funeral? Did he reveal Duncan’s identity to his family members, after all?
Either way, ‘Charlie Ward’ was dead, as far as Harvey’s family members were concerned. Duncan was here as Charlie Ward’s ‘son’, because ‘Charlie Ward’ had ‘died of tuberculosis’ three years ago. After all, it would also be a convenient explanation as to why he looked like he was in his thirties instead of his fifties.
Or at least, that was the lie he had concocted on the way here.
Duncan decided to leave before the undertakers finished piling dirt on top of the casket. If he stayed any longer, Harvey’s family would start approaching him. And that was a complication he could do without.
Unfortunately, not everything went according to plan.
A shadow came into view from behind before Duncan could walk away. “Excuse me, sir. How are you acquainted with my father?”
He cursed internally before turning around with a polite smile.
The woman—or rather, the teenage girl—was still staring at him with a neutral expression. She was dressed neatly in a navy blue tea dress that blended with a similarly-coloured calf-length skirt that flared at the bottom. Her brown hair was parted off to the side and sculpted into a voluminous bob.
She waited patiently for the man to reply, although her expression harboured not even a hint of friendliness.
“My name is Duncan Ward,” Duncan replied as casually as he could. “I— My father fought alongside Bertram Harvey as a medic back in the First Great War. I am just here to pay my respects, and I should really be going now.”
The girl brightened her emerald green eyes, dropping her hostile façade immediately. “Oh, so you’re Charlie Ward’s son! Well met, well met! I’m Hilda Harvey, Bertram Harvey’s only daughter.”
“Charmed to meet you—”
“I’ve heard all about your father’s miraculous healing skills,” Hilda piped up quickly, almost impatiently, even. “Say, are you as well-versed as he in medicine?”
Duncan blinked, taken aback by how energetic the girl was despite her father’s funeral. “I— I suppose I am. What is this all about—”
“Lovely!” Hilda interrupted him yet again. “What are your thoughts about anti-tuberculosis agents? How about the effects of Cortisone— Oh, you know what? I have something to show you. I am a doctor too, and I need your advice about something. Won’t you come with me?”
“A doctor? At your age?” Duncan narrowed his eyes, his voice full of scepticism. “No offence, lass, but you look aye young.”
“I’ll have you know I was in an accelerated program for talented children. I started learning medicine and anatomy when I was twelve.” Hilda put her hands on her hips haughtily. “After which, it only took me three more years to ace the exams and get certified as a doctor. Surely you have heard about the seventeen-year-old medical prodigy who contributed greatly to the First Great War, haven’t you?”
“Uh… not particularly.”
“Well, you’re looking at her right now,” the girl continued as though she did not hear him. “Come on. Please, good sir? This won’t disappoint you, I promise!”
Duncan pursed his lips. He really was getting too old to be dealing with energetic kids like her. Still, he wasn’t in the mood to disappoint a girl, much less one whose father had just passed away.
Besides, she seemed the persistent type. Getting away from this girl was probably going to be much more trouble than it was worth.
“This better be good.” He nodded reluctantly as a wide smile spread along Hilda’s face.
“Oh, it is! It is!”
She bounded towards a nearby mansion. Duncan followed.
~ ~ ~
If there was one thing Duncan could confirm, it was that Bertram Harvey had certainly made himself a fortune in the past twenty-eight years.
According to Hilda, her father had found major success in an automatic machinery company that he started just a few years after the First World War. Business boomed thanks to the jump in output speeds his products brought to assembly lines, and Bertram Harvey quickly racked up enough money to buy a whole manor for himself.
Duncan walked into the huge hall, hearing his footsteps echo against the tall concrete walls. Some of the windows were painted glass, while the others were completely transparent. But in all of them, a common sight was visible to all who looked through.
A mighty oak tree stood tall and proud in the centre of the courtyard. It was evident that even the great mansion was built around it, as though giving due respect to the tree’s stoic, unyielding presence. After all, it had been growing there centuries before the mansion’s layout was even conceived, and it could very well continue to be for centuries to come.
“Over here.” Hilda gestured for Duncan to follow her into a room. She had dropped her voice to a remarkably serious tone for some reason. “I need you to stay calm, alright?”
“Why?” Duncan asked, cautiously approaching a rectangular wooden box that looked like another coffin. Hilda kept her hands in front of her, eyeing him intently.
Well, that isn’t suspicious at all…
He looked into the box.
“What…?” Duncan pulled away, snapping his head towards Hilda. “What is the meaning of this?”
“That’s for us to find out. That’s why I wanted your help,” the girl said grimly, walking up to the casket as well. “I have no idea what happened to my father.”
Duncan furrowed his eyebrows; he didn’t even know what to make of this… thing lying in the coffin.
It was Bertram Harvey. No doubt about that, since his face was still intact. The rest of his body, however, was completely unrecognisable. Every inch of skin from his neck down was covered in dull brown fish scales, while what should have been his hands werewolf-like claws instead. His legs were covered in cheetah-like spots imprinted unevenly on the scales.
Bloody hell, the poor man had been transformed into some chimeric abomination.
Duncan’s eyes shot to the gaping hole in Harvey’s chest. The cause of death was obvious: Cardiac impalement injury. In other words, Harvey was impaled through the heart by some kind of knife. His internal organs, unlike his external appearance, remained completely human.
“Who did this?” Duncan turned to Hilda.
“Me.”
“What?!”
“Father had been exhibiting strange symptoms a few months ago,” Hilda explained darkly. “I couldn’t deduce what happened to him; his vital signs seemed normal. It didn’t help that he refused to see a doctor either.”
She gripped the coffin.
“But just last week, he cooped himself in his room and refused to see anyone, not even me. It wasn’t until two days ago that I heard loud knocking sounds in his room. Concerned about Father, I knocked on his door, only to find it unlocked. So I entered his room, only to find this… thing in his place.”
“And then he attacked you?” Duncan asked.
Hilda nodded. “It was as if he had gone mad. Whatever became of him, it didn’t leave behind a shred of my father. Thankfully, there was a kitchen knife already in his room.”
She gestured at a bloodstained knife beside the coffin.
“I thrust it forward without thinking as he pounced towards me, and I… I killed him.” The girl clutched her head and crouched down. “Oh god, I killed my father. I’m… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that…”
Duncan pursed his lips. “Did you report this to the police?”
“What am I supposed to tell them? I can hardly believe this myself,” Hilda said. “My mother took care of everything else after I told her about this. She arranged for an empty closed-casket funeral while instructing me to keep my father’s real corpse here. She even told me not to breathe a word to anyone about this to prevent hysteria, but I know I can trust you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Father used to regale his tales in the First Great War. He often spoke fondly about someone called ‘Charlie Ward’, a medic who was skilled enough to heal his legs from certain death. I used to think he was simply exaggerating, but I have examined his legs myself and found their cells to be oddly younger than the rest of his body.”
Hilda grabbed Duncan’s arm.
“Please. If your father has taught you everything he knew about medicine, surely you are a lot better than I am. And that’s something I can’t say for most others,” she said. “Won’t you help me? I don’t know what happened to Father, and you’re the only one who might.”
Duncan groaned inwardly while expending a considerable amount of energy to avoid groaning outwardly as well.
Whatever Bertram Harvey had gotten himself into, it was clearly related to the supernatural. There were probably a hundred more efficient ways Duncan could supernaturally examine the cause of the man’s unnatural transformation, but he couldn’t do it with a human witness around.
So as it was, the witch doctor settled for leaning close to the corpse and tapping random spots in its torso.
“What are you doing?” Hilda asked curiously, leaning in for a closer look. “I’ve never seen a doctor do that before.”
“Go out more,” Duncan mumbled absentmindedly, keeping his third eye from glowing a little too fiercely. His fringe was doing a good enough job of hiding the faint golden glow in the middle of his forehead, but he had to remain careful.
Hold on. What on Earth was that?
The witch doctor dropped the act, staring at the corpse’s femur for real this time. He had only intended to do a cursory sweep of the corpse and simply tell the girl that he couldn’t figure it out, but there was… something else.
Duncan held his breath and focused his magic channels. His third eye resonated again as a faint outline of magic illuminated itself in the corpse’s thigh.
Something is… alive in there.
Hilda stared at him as he gestured for her to back away from the corpse. Duncan hid his left hand in his pocket, inconspicuously pooling defensive magic in his palm.
He traced the corpse’s femoral artery with his right hand, keeping a small amount of magic focused on his fingertips. It should be weak enough not to affect a human body, but if there was anything supernatural in there—
His breath caught as a small tear formed near Harvey’s femur. Something wriggled from beneath the scales.
“Whoa!”
Something small burst out from the corpse, leaping towards Duncan’s open mouth. He leaned back and swatted it with his glowing left hand, sending the mysterious entity screeching as it crashed onto the ground.
Without wasting a beat, the insect-like creature flipped onto its feet and scuttled towards Hilda instead. The girl scrambled away, but the creature was too quick. She screamed in both fear and pain as it drove its sharpened head into her shin, attempting to burrow into her body.
“Oh no you don’t!” Duncan growled.
Miniature glowing chains burst from his fingertips and hooked onto the creature’s abdomen. Duncan grunted with effort as he slowly dragged the wriggling insect out of Hilda’s leg. For a creature of that size, it sure was unnaturally strong.
A burst of magic energised the witch doctor’s chains, and the creature was finally yanked out of Hilda’s body. The golden chains dissipated as Duncan fell over, carried away by the momentum. The insect screeched in indignation and pounced towards him again.
“Tenere Vascellum!”
The creature crashed headfirst into an invisible barrier before it could reach its next victim, dropping onto a glowing blue platform. Duncan squeezed his outstretched hand into a fist as a cubic prism formed around the insect, trapping it inside.
He plucked the magic container from the air and heaved a sigh of relief. Wood creaked as Hilda got to her feet shakily, staring at him in disbelief.
“What… What are you?"
ns216.73.216.121da2
and then Add to home screen.