In half an hour, perhaps, the change was complete.
The unearthly chill of that alien life was gone from the bodies. Most of them quickly stiffened -- with belated rigor mortis. Even my mothers was quite evidently dead. Her body remained stiff and cold-though the strange chill had departed.
But Steele's exquisite form grew warm again; the soft flush of life came to it. He breathed and his heart beat slowly.
I carried his up to the old cellar, and laid his on its floor, with two lanterns blazing near him, to prevent any return of that forbidden life, while I finished the ghastly work left for me below.
* * * *
I need not go into details....
But when I had used half my supply of dynamite, no recognizable fragments were left, either of the accursed machine, or of the dead bodies that had been animated with such monstrous life. I planted the other dozen sticks of dynamite beside the great black pillars, and in the walls of the tunnel....
The subterranean hall that I have called a temple will never be entered again.
When that work was done, I carried Steele up to his room, and put his very gently to bed. Through the night I watched his anxiously, keeping a bright light in the room. But there was no sign of what I feared. He slept deeply, but normally, apparently free from any taint of the monstrous life that had possessed him.
Dawn came after a weary night, and there was a rosy gleam upon the snow.
The sleeping boy stirred. Fathomless blue eyes opened, stared into mine. Startled eyes, eager, questioning. Not clouded with dream as when he had awakened before.
'Cloris!' Steele cried, in his natural, softly golden voice. 'Cloris, what are you doing here? Where's Father? Dr. McLaurin?'
'You are all right?' I demanded eagerly. 'You are well?'
'Well?' he asked, raising his exquisite head in surprise. 'Of course I'm well. What could be the matter with me? Dr. McLaurin is going to try her great experiment to-day. Did you come to help?'
Then I knew -- and a great gladness came with the knowledge -- that all memory of the horror had been swept from his mind. He recalled nothing that had happened since the eve of the experiment that had brought such a train of terrors.
He looked suddenly past me -- at the picture of myself upon the wall. There was a curious expression on his face; he flushed a little, looking very beautiful with heightened color.
'I didn't give you that picture,' I accused him. I wished to avoid answering any questions, for the time being, about his mother or mine, or any experiments.
'I got it from your mother,' he confessed.
* * * *
I have written this narrative in the home of Dr. Friedrichs, the noted New York psychiatrist, who is a close friend of mine. I came to her as soon as Steele and I reached New York, and she has since had me stay at her home, under her constant observation.
She assures me that, within a few weeks, I shall be completely recovered. But sometimes I doubt that I will ever be entirely sane. The horrors of that invasion from another universe are graven too deeply upon my mind. I cannot bear to be alone in darkness, or even in moonlight. And I tremble when I hear the howling of a dog, and hastily seek bright lights and the company of human beings.
I have told Dr. Friedrichs my story, and she believes. It is because of her urging that I have written it down. It is an historical truism, my friend says, that all legend, myth, and folklore has a basis in fact. And no legends are wider spread than those of lycanthropy. It is remarkable that not only wolves are subjects of these legends, but the most ferocious wild animals of each country. In Scandinavia, for instance, the legends concern bears; on the continent of Europe, wolves; in South America, jaguars; in Asia and Africa, leopards and tigers. It is also remarkable that belief in possession by evil spirits, and belief in vampires, is associated with the widespread belief in werewolves.
Dr. Friedrichs thinks that through some cosmic accident, these monsters of the Black Dimension have been let into our world before; and that those curiously widespread legends and beliefs are folk-memories of horrors visited upon earth when those unthinkable monstrosities stole the bodies of women and of savage beasts, and hunted through the darkness.
Much might be said in support of the theory, but I shall let my experience speak for itself.
Steele comes often to see me, and he is more exquisitely lovely than I had ever realized. My friend assures me that his mind is quite normal. His lapse of memory is quite natural, she says, since his mind was sleeping while the alien entity ruled his body. And she says there is no possibility that he will be possessed again.
We are planning to be married within a few weeks, as soon as Dr. Friedrichs says that my horror-seared mind is sufficiently healed.
The End
Artwork by Roberto Rizzato
https://www.flickr.com/photos/rizzato/4097286819/sizes/z/in/photostream/
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