28 December 1905
The property owned by Aaboukingon and Joanna Matteson housed a beautiful yard bordered by a creek and a number of old, strong trees. A great many animals made their homes in the forest that stretched beyond their land claim, and little attention was paid on most days to the birds who gathered nearby but did not sing. The pathway from the road was largely in shade, a place of quiet serenity opening to the estate where both husband and wife were asleep late into the morning. Abe had only just mustered the energy to move about the house unassisted, and Joanna was busy fretting over him. He probably could have been more active, if Joanna wasn't so insistent on his need for a little more rest to ensure he didn't strain himself. All things considered, it was little surprise they did not pay mind to the ravens watching the shadows from their perch beside the house, even though one raven had a faint blue glow to her. It was less of a surprise they did not see the men who moved through those shadows this morning.
I would have warned her, if I could. I made to move, to go to the window and speak of all that was coming, but the other looked at me with knowledge and pain in her eyes and I knew I could not. We knew what was to come of this day, and the need for it to happen as it had always happened.
When Old Tom, Reverend Halzberg, and Dr. Price arrived in Madison the afternoon prior, they began to ask around after Miss Wozniak. Few in the small town knew her name, but on further questioning did mention rumors of strange recent occurrences centered on one estate. The trio were able to gather enough information to be certain they were on the right track, and spent the night making their plans. The doctor brought his gun, the reverend a glass flask of grain alcohol, and Old Tom an early-model lighter and enough malice for the lot.
The door was unlocked as Joanna had last entered in haste. Quietly and slowly, the three crept in to find any sign of magic. After what they'd found at Manfred's house, they expected the usual sort of things, stacks of demonic books and runes carved into wood and circles painted onto floors. They heard someone moving around upstairs and made their way to the study. Once there, they set about digging through for anything that looked arcane and, turning up nothing, began to bicker about whether this was even the right house. Meanwhile, we flew around the property until we found a branch to see through the right window.
"You already remember this," my companion said. "From every perspective there."
"You're just as connected to this as I am."
"Yes. But I don't need to watch. Why do you?"
"I have to know," I answered. "I have to know it from my own perspective." She began to preen, occasionally glancing up to watch.
"I'm sorry, I don't believe I heard you knock," Joanna interrupted, standing in the doorway with a folded sheet. The men stopped and turned.
"Now, Miss Wozni-" Reverend Halzberg began.
"Mrs. Matteson, actually." Joanna stood just a little more upright as she glared at the reverend. "Shall I fix you gentlemen a pot of tea before you go?"
"I'll recognize no union between you and some red devil!"
"I suppose it best I never asked that of you, then." She cocked her head slightly, peering at his hand. "Is that a flask, Reverend? I do hope you've not soiled your gut on my account."
"S'not fer drinkin, you harlot!" Old Tom shouted.
"I'm afraid you're being very rude. Please, what brings you all here?" Dr. Price held his hand out toward Old Tom as if to stop him and stepped forward.
"You must know, young lady, that your...consort appears to be at the center of some very troubling events in Allegheny," he offered.
"As do you three. The difference being that we left Allegheny."
"The problems, you see, did not."
"Perhaps you should look for a more local cause, then." Old Tom pushed past the doctor and pointed violently at her.
"It's that boy you brung round! He hexed the damn river, s'what he done!"
"I assure you, he's done no such thing."
"Then why's it--"
"Dying," Aaboukingon said as he walked around from the stairs. "The river is nearly dying, elder. But have no fear, it will recover. I'm not the only soul it has."
"You should be resting, dear," Joanna said, rushing over to him. He waved the concern off and turned his attention to Price, who had raised his gun toward him.
"Have you come with such violent intentions, doctor?" Joanna, seeing the gun, gasped and stepped back.
"I mean to save my city. I don't intend to do anything unnecessary," Price answered.
"This entire journey is unnecessary. The river will survive, and so will you, if you respect them."
'What do you mean, calling yourself a soul of the river?"
"Exactly that. I am one of the spirits that call the water home; we push the floods out, we sing a song only the fish know, we have watched tribes come and go." He began to step forward, with a gaze so steady that all but Price stepped back away from him as he advanced. "I saw your fort rise and your city grow, your boats and your trains and your bridges, what are they to me? Trinkets, passing like everything else. The river is stronger than you know, gentlemen, and though we pass through dark times now, we will outlast every building you could ever hope to raise on our shores." Price fired a shot, the bullet passing through Aaboukingon's head unhindered, leaving momentary ripples on his face. Joanna screamed as the round shattered an ornamental vase in the room across the hall.
"Devilry!" Old Tom shouted. Price stumbled backward, cocking his revolver for another shot. Halzberg scowled and began praying, clutching his flask tight.
"You should go," Aaboukingon growled. Joanna noticed a bit of blood dripping from his slightly shaking arm.
"I'll take no orders from demons!" Halzberg shouted, throwing the flask at a nearby bookcase. The glass shattered and the alcohol splashed across the books and onto Halzberg's sling. Price raised his gun again, and Joanna dove forward to shove Aaboukingon aside. She made contact just as Price pulled the trigger, the bullet ripping through her chest. Aaboukingon hurried to her side, frantically checking the wound. She stared at him, eyes wide in shock and trying to catch her breath. He was trying to encourage her, begging her to hold on, promising to find a doctor or someone, anyone, some way to help. She reached up, slowly, and wiped a tear from his cheek.
Price leveled the gun at him, firing again, and hit Aaboukingon's shoulder. There was no ripple this time, just lead tearing into flesh and blood, causing Aaboukingon to fall forward onto Joanna. She let out a soft whimper, and he met her gaze, then scowled. He turned and stood, his whole body trembling, staring at Price with a gaze that pierced to the bone like the cold of the river under ice. Price frantically tried to cock his gun again, but before he could, Aaboukingon's hand shot up and Price choked as he rose off the ground untouched. Aaboukingon yelled as he slowly closed his fist, Price shriveling and gasping for air as water began to seep out of his skin. Blood began dripping from Aaboukingon's eyes as the other two men tried to inch away from Price, crying out for Aaboukingon to stop. Price let out one last breath as his skin began to crack and tighten like leather. Aaboukingon fell to the ground, coughing up blood. Price, now a dried husk, fell with a dull wet thud into a puddle of the water from his own body.
Old Tom ran over with his lighter, striking it until he had flame and setting it to the books hit by the flask. As he turned to run out, he bumped into Halzberg, whose sling quickly caught flame from the lighter. The Reverend began to shout and stumble backward, and Old Tom took that as his queue to run. Aaboukingon pulled himself up to one knee. As Old Tom went to pass Aaboukingon, the younger man grabbed him by his ribs with one hand and threw him back into the room. He slammed into Halzberg and both collapsed into a heap. By now, Joanna was taking sharp, shallow breaths, and watching Aaboukingon as her eyes began to glaze over. He grunted as he forced himself to his feet, then lifted Joanna and carried her out of the house as the fire spread behind them.
We flew around the house again, using the smoke to mask our movements as other animals left the area. Not that they were watching us, anyway. I watched as Aaboukingon tripped and stumbled, shaking his head to maintain focus and looking around as though lost.
"He isn't doing it," the other warned as we passed overhead.
"I know! But he has to, how else-"
"Do you remember what she saw?"
"Nothing! She has no memory of this, and his mind is..." I landed and tried to think. She landed next to me and nudged me.
"Hey. Hey! They don't remember. We know what needs to happen." I took a deep breath and watched as Aaboukingon fell to one knee and began struggling to stand.
"You're right." We flew down and landed in front of him, and he staggered for a moment as he stared at us.
"You...you're the Two!" He said, his eyes growing wide.
"Why are you-"
"No time. Just follow us." With that, we took flight again, and began leading him on. He struggled, but kept pushing forward. Sometimes we had to circle back, make sure he didn't lose us, but we knew the journey wasn't far. Joanna looked like she was already dead, but we could all feel her barely hanging on. We landed on the far bank of the creek, and watched as he dropped to his knees and lowered her in. Running his hand over her, he called the water to follow. The water flowed up and over her chest, washing over the wound and glowing. Finally, her breathing returned to normal, and as she sat up she saw him briefly smile before passing out on the bank next to her. By that point, we were back in the trees, out of her sight.
"What now?" I pointed toward the car that pulled up to the edge of the property.
"The trio arranged an escape," I answered, "But they aren't the ones who'll use it."
26 December 1905
EXCERPT FROM THE DAILY RECORDS OF DR. HAROLD PRICE, OF ALLEGHENY CITY, PENNA.
The Reverend brought Old Tom to the clinic after lunch. They agreed to wait as I tended to the youngest Parnitski boy, and we spoke in my office. It seems that he had a regular meeting with some local clergy, and a colleague asked after young Miss Wozniak. It had come to this man's attention that she was married by a judge late last week to a man with a foreign name, and he, having remembered her as someone Rev Halzberg had mentioned as a member of his flock, was wondering why he was not tasked with such a ceremony. The Rev was able to dismiss the other's concerns and gather some information on the whereabouts of the pair. Old Tom made his urgency clear, citing the river running red over Christmas. I agreed to help, if we were certain this would set things right in our city. Both insisted it would. I have cleared my schedule for tomorrow, we shall depart at dawn.
17 December 1905
EXCERPT FROM THE DAILY RECORDS OF DR. HAROLD PRICE, OF ALLEGHENY CITY, PENNA.
Took morning constitutional by the river and was met with a most foul odor. Met with Old Tom, who reported that the river began clouding up with silt over-night and there was talk of many dead fish washing ashore downstream. It has become apparent that whatever curse that redman brought upon our community has not been absolved. We must finish this. Old Tom assures me he is working on a solution. I have pledged my support to whatever he can find.
11 December 1905
Recovered from the logs of the Riverboat Hastings
Manfred's house burned down last night. I fear Old Tom, Dr Price, and their boys had a hand in it, but official word from the Rev Halzberg is they were at a pot luck at the time. No chance of getting a different song from those birds. There was a body in the house, they believe it was M himself, but was badly burnt and hard to tell. Report this morn says they found him in a circle of candles and books, looked demonic, some of the books were covered in strange symbols. Got asked if I knew anything after police were told we had received a strangely marked bell from him. I told them we had got a decorative bell, sure, but it weren't good for use and we no longer had it. They seemed content with that.
I put in for a move downstream. I want no more of this business in Allegheney.
23 November 1905
Official transcript: portions of the damaged diary of Joanna Wozniak, as recovered by the police department of Erie, PA, on the evening of May 28, 1974.
I have determined to keep a record of all I have learned thus far of Abe and his story. I cannot continue investigating at the moment, as he has fallen terribly ill, but this information is too important to be lost as he recovers.
On the evening of Tuesday, the 21st of November, I received word that Abe had been bedridden all day and was refusing doctors. I made arrangements with my family, who were deeply frightened for my safety after an event earlier that day with the Reverend Halzberg, Doctor Price, and Old Tom. I know not the details, but Father warned me that my home may be less welcoming
I arrived around lunch on the following day, and found Abe in dire straits. He was delirious, his body bruised, and he was coughing up the most dreadful bile. He continuously muttered in a language I did not recognize, but would occasionally say fragments of a thought in English. It took me nearly the entire evening to piece these words together, and realized that he seemed to be claiming to need moving water. He appears to believe he has a connection with it,
I solicited help from my driver, and we carried Abe to the stream at the edge of the property. When placed in the water, his mood grew more stable, and his words became more clear. Within the hour, his symptoms passed to where he could maintain his own composure. I sent the driver away, and we discussed his condition.
Abe believes himself to be a spirit of a river, and not a native man at all. There is a part of me that wants to believe this is simply part of his poor health, a fleeting fancy that will pass as his mind grows strong again. But, it all makes sense. I fear that I have thrown in my lot with a pagan spirit, that the Reverend was right about him. No, I know Abe better than that. If he is a spirit, he is a blessed one, his heart pure and his touch soothing. If he is a spirit, let him be an angel. If he is an angel, let him be my angel.
pages from here until entry dated 30 November have been torn out
21 November 1905
Excerpt from the daily records of Dr. Harold Price, of Allegheny City, PennA.
Old Tom joined Reverend Halzberg and I on our Tuesday brunch. Tom reports that the river had a burst of dead fish this morning and fears the waters are cursed. He says the crew of the Hastings have reason to believe something was called from the water shortly before the savage arrived.
Concerned for the fate of the river, we collected a few more fishermen and made for the Wozniak estate. Viktor was welcoming, and heard our case for sending the boy away, but informed us that Joanna was in the City to-day and assured us that he had already seen to it that the savage was far from Allegheny. When pressed, he confessed that he had given the boy a parcel of land to live on!
We informed him that such sacrifices to a dark spirit would surely doom us all, but he was insistent it was the only option he had. We left feeling that we would get no resolution from the Wozniaks without more pressure, and spent the after-noon gathering supporters and posting flyers. We shall see their estate fall before we allow this curse to consume our city.
12 November 1905
I sincerely apologize for not tarrying with you after church to-day. I left in quite a hurry and have only just recovered from the most distressing news.
As you and Brandon saw on your visit Friday, Abe and I have been attempting to establish his full identity. His ability to actually command the water in our creek was a surprise to both of us, and he was so proud to have been able to entertain you both with it free from judgement. However, it appears that others have learned of this gift, and have conspired to label him a witch, or worse, a demon.
Rev. Halzberg was intensely cross about his broken arm, and would not even allow Abe to enter the church for service! I tried to explain that it was merely an accident, and Abe apologized profusely, but the Rev. cited rumors of magic being performed on the estate and insisted that no evil spirits would be allowed in this church as long as he was ministering there. Doc. Price even threatened to throw Abe out of the building himself if we would not comply!
What charity the Rev. shows! When I begged him to show mercy as our Lord has shown to us, he told me that I should have to choose between himself or Abe. Well, Marilyn, I do not wish to sound disrespectful of the cloth, but it appeared to me in that moment that Abe was in need of help which I could render, and the Rev. was in need of help I could not. And so we departed.
My parents are greatly troubled by this turn of events. They have begun to speak, where they do not think we can hear, of giving Abe a parcel of land with a small house they no longer use, south-east of Pittsburg. Abe has informed me that if it would make my life easier, he would accept such an offer, and I would of course be welcome to spend as much time as I like there. I do not wish to see him go, but I fear if they make the offer it shall be either that or throwing him out into a community that wishes to see him harm.
Do thank Brandon for the resources he sent over. We noticed in one writing that ‘Aaboukingon’ is the name one tribe had for the river from which Abe emerged. We shall have to look deeper into that lead, perhaps he simply took the name of the first thing he recognized. Abe has sworn to repay you both for your kindness.
7 November 1905
Excerpt from the daily records of Dr. Harold Price, of Allegheny City, Penna. (now part of Pittsburgh)
My first visit after lunch was the Reverend Liam Halzberg, and the nature of the case was so bizarre that I feel it deserves special consideration. It seems he had received concerns about Miss Joanna Wozniak and her strange visitor. I confessed to the Reverend that I had heard of this affair, and was quite under the impression the Injun fancied himself a suitor, though I had no knowledge of the lady’s opinion on the matter and liked to think she was above such foolish notions.
The Reverend, of course, felt it his duty to appraise the lady’s fidelity, and to ensure the lad had no aims at abusing her charity. She confided to the Reverend, and he in myself, that she had had no improper relations with the man, that she was trying to help him recover from some unknown trauma, and that she would appreciate the faith and assistance of those who feel more comfortable speaking about her than to her. I do not know the wording she used, but it is clear that it was delivered in a manner the Reverend found distasteful.
But then came the injury. Concerned that Miss Wozniak was keeping something of the matter, he went in search of the Injun, who was taking a rest at a creek running through the estate. He reports that the man appeared to be in something of a trance, and when he attempted to speak with him in a level tone, he did not answer. The Reverend recounts that he then raised his voice and repeated his concern, that the man be not misguided about any lasting benefits from his situation, and appeared to have won the man’s attention. But when the man started muttering in some dark, unknown language at the Reverend, the latter grew afraid that he was responding with a curse.
The Reverend tells me he then grabbed the man’s shoulders and demanded consideration of his words, whereupon the latter threw the Reverend across the creek! When I met with the Reverend, who left the estate quickly and in a daze, his arm was broken, his side and leg bruised, and his clothing torn from the rocks. I set his arm, of course, and praised his efforts to protect the young lady from such a beast, even at his own peril. Neither I nor the Reverend know whether it was the fall or the man who broke the arm, but we are convinced that Miss Wozniak is entertaining a dangerous savage, and will be spending the morrow ensuring that our neighbors keep a safe distance until this matter can be resolved.