009-The Strange Tale of Griffin Shard - Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Fear is a terrible thing and it followed Rufio all the way home. He feared for his young daughter and for his beautiful wife. He feared his own mind, a near certainty that he is caught in some kind of fever dream and fit of madness. He touched his forehead as he crossed the cobble stone street and his fingers came away wet with blood. He winced slightly from the burning pain that accompanied his touch. Surely then he wasn’t dreaming. That meant that he must be mad. That old man could not wield such power. It was the stuff of fairytales, malarkey and prattle that had no validity in the real world. Still though his fear followed and clawed ever deeper into his gut. Would he test the old man? Would he risk his family by ignoring his commands?

Rufio did not believe there would be much harm in adhering to the man’s wish. He would listen and take the confession. It was not worth the risk of the slightest harm to his family. All the old man wants is to speak his mind. Rufio decided he would listen and write down the vile words the old man spoke. He would do this for his family and because he believed God would smile down upon him for hearing the words of a condemned man.

Satisfied, Rufio rushed home.

* * *

The hour was late and Rufio was careful not to make too much noise as he changed his clothes. His wife was snoring softly and did not wake as he changed. He kissed her gently on the forehead and slipped from the room. He paused at his daughter’s door and pushed it open slowly. He saw her shape wrapped up in blankets. He walked over to her bedside and gently pulled the blanket from her head.

He didn’t immediately notice her flesh was missing. It wasn’t until he pulled the blanket down past her chin that he saw the gristle and bone of her jaw and the wetness of the muscles twinkling in the moonlight.

“Dear god!” He shouted. The skinless face of his daughter turned to him, teeth gleaming and wide.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” She asked.

Rufio staggered back and fell against the wall. He hid his face in horror and agony. He heard her slide from the bed and that slight peeling sound as her bare, skinless feet stepped across the wooden floor. He could almost see the bloody footprints in his mind’s eye and the thought nearly drove him mad.

“Are you okay, Daddy?”

Rufio opened his eyes. His daughter stood before him with a curious look on her face, her beautiful face. He had imagined it all. He placed his hand on her cheek.

“I…I’m sorry for waking you. I had a start that’s all. Let’s get you back into bed.”

She smiled that smile that always warmed his heart and climbed back into her bed. Rufio kissed her and covered her with the blanket.

“Are you going back to the bad man?” She asked.

Rufio tucked the blanket under her chin, “Yes. I will see you in the morning. Sweet dreams my sweet, Alouisa.”

She closed her eyes and Rufio slipped from the room. He pulled the door closed and rested his burning head against the cool wood. Never had he had such a fright and his heart was only now beginning to slow. He knew then if that old man made any attempt to harm his daughter that he would rip him apart limb from limb and knew that God would smile down upon him as he did so.

* * *
The walk back was rather stressful for Rufio. Despite his vow, he was still incredibly shaken by the vision of his daughter stripped of her skin. He rubbed at his head and winced in pain as his fingers brushed against his wound. It was a miracle that Alouisa had not noticed it. She would have been frightened to see her Father hurt. But, luck at that moment was on Rufio’s side and she did not see. After tucking her in he quickly gathered the supplies he was ordered to bring and set himself back to the rundown old mansion that was holding a man most foul. He arrived on the doorstep just as the bell began to chime the hour. He quickly stepped inside and locked the door behind him. He heard the old man hacking away upstairs.

“Just made it eh, Rufio?” The man laughed.

Rufio scowled and climbed the stairs to the old man’s bed chambers. He entered and pushed the door closed behind him.

“Did you get it all?”

“I did.” Rufio answered.

“Good. Leave the parchment on the desk. Bring the quill and inkwell to me.”

Rufio complied. He handed the quill and ink to the old man.

“Kneel down here. Closer you fool.”

Rufio obeyed and scooted closer to the bed. He knew the man was frail and despite the earlier events he did not think the man could do much damage. He realized how foolish this assumption was when the old man swiftly jabbed the quill into the wound on Rufio’s forehead. He felt the sharp edge dig into his skin and scrape against his skull. His eyes welled with tears and he cried out in pain. He tried to pull away but the man clamped his hand on the back of Rufio’s head. It felt like a vice grip and he was unable to pull away.

“Calm yourself. You’re mewling like a newborn calf. It won’t be but a moment or two more.”

But Rufio could not be calmed. He could feel a strange sucking sensation where the quill had entered his flesh. Finally, the man shoved him away. He turned over the inkwell and dumped its contents to the floor. He placed the tip of the quill against the lip of the well and Rufio watched in horror as his blood streamed forth to fill the inkwell.

“God in Heaven! This is witchery.” He gasped.

“It may very well be. But I am no witch.” The man held out the quill and ink well to Rufio, “Shall we begin?”