Beckon

a few years. He said he had work for me to do.”

George frowned. “What kind of work?”

“Horrible work.” Henderson looked down and shuddered. “The devil’s work.”

“What was it?”

“He said he needed… specimens, he called them—five or six every month. He gave me very detailed instructions on what to do and how to have them sent. He said I would find plenty of suitable subjects in San Francisco. People no one would miss. Vagrants, prostitutes, criminals. He said I would be doing the city a favor. All I had to do was sedate them and have them transported to Wyoming. Henry Mulch would arrive with a coach every month like clockwork. And Vale said if I missed a single deadline, the perilium would stop and Julia would die. If I told anyone or tried to send help, Julia would die.”

George recalled Vale’s boasting about his negotiation skills. “So he found out what you needed most and exploited that to get what he wanted. He used your fear against you.”

“It’s what he does best. It’s how he has survived here for so long.”

“So what did he do with them? The… specimens?”

Henderson grew pale at George’s question. “There’s something down in the caves. The N’watu call it the Soul Eater—they worship it like some kind of god. And it’s the source of the perilium.” He turned away. “The N’watu must supply it with a new offering—they… feed it a human soul in exchange for the perilium.”

“Feed it?” George couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What do you mean? What is this thing?”

“It’s… some kind of animal.” Henderson seemed to struggle for words. “A creature that drinks the blood of its prey. The N’watu say it feeds on a human soul and in exchange provides that soul’s energy back to them.”

“This is crazy!” George found his mind reeling again. He got up and paced the room. The more information he gained about this town, the more hideous and terrifying it became. “So then everyone’s role here is somehow involved with finding new victims.”

“One way or another,” Henderson said. “If we don’t provide the N’watu with a new sacrifice, the perilium will stop. And if the perilium stops, we’ll all die. Just the way you saw Amanda die.”

“How many specimens did you send him?”

“I don’t know.” Henderson rubbed his eyes. “I wouldn’t keep count. You have to understand, I had to become another man altogether to do this work. Like Jekyll and Hyde. Sometimes I would find two or three at a time to send. I swear I didn’t know what he was doing with them.”

George grew indignant. This man truly believed he had done nothing wrong. He had justified his role in the deaths of possibly hundreds of innocent human beings. “What did you think he was doing? You’re a doctor. You’re supposed to save lives!”

“I saved Julia’s life. As long as Vale kept getting his specimens, she had enough perilium. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t sacrifice a stranger—or a thousand strangers—to save Miriam.”

George’s indignation suddenly abated. He’d made just such a choice last night. Amanda’s life had been in his hands and he’d sacrificed it for his wife’s. He no longer had the moral high ground from which to judge Henderson.

He wondered how long Henderson had kept this secret bottled up inside him. His voice softened. “Then what happened? How did you end up here?”

Henderson sighed and sank onto the couch. “It got to be too dangerous for me to stay in San Francisco. I was getting old by then and in danger of getting caught. Vale said it was time and I could come to Beckon to stay. He said he would give me the perilium and he had additional work for me to do.”

George frowned. “You wanted the perilium too? Even after everything you knew about it?”

“For a chance to regain my youth? To live with my Julia forever? Yes, more than anything. I drank it too.”

“Despite all the people that had been killed.”

“These were vagrants, criminals. After a time I came to accept what had once been unacceptable.” His gaze turned cold. “Don’t judge me too harshly. It’s not as hard as you might think.”

“And what happened to Julia?”

Henderson turned away. He went to the window and hung his head. “She never knew the truth about her cure or the things I had done on her behalf. She only knew that perilium was a fountain of youth, and she was perfectly happy in her ignorance. Then one day she found my journals. She confronted me and I had to tell her everything. She hanged herself not long afterward.”

George didn’t know whether to hate the man or pity him. Despite his complicit role in all this evil, George couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Because now he found himself in the same predicament.

Henderson left, and George woke Miriam to give her some breakfast. She ate quietly, not speaking much. George knew she must be preoccupied with thoughts of her own mortality. He tried to engage her in conversation but with little luck.

Vale kept them consigned to their room, and as the hours passed, George could see Miriam was growing more and more withdrawn. By noon she complained of a slight fever and a headache that grew worse as the day wore on.

George sat at the bedside, wiping the sweat from her forehead with a cool, damp washcloth. He still couldn’t get the vision of Amanda’s death out of his head. And now as he watched Miriam’s condition worsen by the hour, he found his own resolve weakening.

He stood over her bed as she opened her eyes, shadowed by dark circles, and offered him a weak smile.

“I can’t do this,” he said at last, his voice shaky. “I can’t just stand around and watch you suffer.”

“George…” Her voice was soft and her breathing grew labored. “This place—this man—is evil. You need to be strong. You can’t… give him what he wants.”

“I’m not going to let you die.”

“I’m… not afraid. You need to let me go. You’ll never be free of him if you don’t.”

George shook his head. He’d just gotten her back after four years, and he wasn’t about to let her go again. He went to the door, where Mulch was standing guard.

“I need to see Vale—now.”

Mulch led him to the dining hall, where everyone was gathered eating. The Brownes, the Huxleys, the Dunhams, along with Carson and Henderson. George noticed that this evening there was little conversation and the general mood seemed more subdued. And no wonder, George thought. Vale had just killed off one of their own with about as much detachment as if he had traded in a used car for a newer model. He sat in his normal place at the head of the table and raised an eyebrow as George entered.

“Hello, George,” he said, glancing at his watch. “I’ve been expecting you. I assume you’ve had a change of heart?”

“Yes.” George tried to mask his contempt. “You win. I’ll do whatever you want me to do. Just give her the perilium.”

“A wise choice,” Vale said. “I’m looking forward to integrating you into our group. And now that Amanda has left us, I think Miriam would fit this role perfectly.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that.” Miriam’s voice came from the doorway.

George turned. “What are you doing?”

Miriam’s face was deathly pale and glistening with sweat. “I’m coming here to s-stop you from making… a mistake.”

“It’s okay,” George said. “The money doesn’t matter to me.”

“It’s not about the money,” Miriam said, stepping gingerly into the room. “It’s about your soul. I can’t let you… get involved in what they’re doing here. I won’t do this.”

“Come now, Mrs. Wilcox, get off your high horse.” Vale gestured to the others at the table. “In Beckon, we have found an end to disease and suffering. And even time has no power to ravage your body. I’ve made you young and beautiful again.”

“On the lives of those people down there?” Miriam looked at the others. “Do they have to… die so you can live?”