Read Whitechapel: The Final Stand of Sherlock Holmes for Free Online

Britain existed. Those texts describe a god that disguised itself as a plant, grown in the mountains that Indra and Agni ground into powder and drank. It is said that any mortal who drinks it is flung into divinity.”
    “Is that it?” Monty whispered, staring at the bottle.
    Will drank deeply from it, setting it back on the counter, half-empty. “There is only one way to find out,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Off I go, boys. I will see this monster for myself.”
    Will opened the back door and vanished into the darkness. Clifton and Monty looked at one another silently, then down at the bottle.
     
    ~ * * * ~
     
    The boys stared in wonder at the iridescent trails of modulating light left by the lightning-bugs, connecting them all to one another. Clifton laughed, putting his hand out to grab one of the glowing threads and held his hand up, seeing pure light dripping from his fingers.
    Monty realized it was just a spider’s web clinging to Clifton’s hand but as he tried to pull it away, the web stuck to him as well. Monty found himself bound to Clifton, unable to pull away.
    “How strange that I never recognized the song that each cricket was singing. Do you hear them Monty? So many different voices.”
    Monty nodded, staring up at the tree tops which seemed only a few feet away from the surfaces of the stars. “I am going to climb them,” Monty said. “I’ll never return.”
    “Oh don’t be silly,” Clifton laughed. Suddenly, he went silent. “Did you hear that?”
    “Stop trying to scare me.”
    “Be silent,” Clifton said. “I hear something.”
    A horrible scream rang out in the woods. Both boys dropped to the ground instantly. The voice was like a terrified child or woman. “What the hell was that?” Monty whispered. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, and he felt like he might vomit. The drink had been bitter, tasting of bark and smelling like ivy, scratching his throat as he swallowed. His eyes burned, and he was sweating as if it were a summer day.
    “Let’s go back,” Clifton said, pulling on his shoulder.
    “I hear something again.” Monty lifted his head in the air, cocking his ear toward the darkness. Branches were creaking and cracking, and something large was being dragged through the woods. “Over there.”
    Both of the boys bent low, crouching as they approached. Ahead in a cluster of trees, hidden in the shadows, a small calf slammed down onto the leaves and dirt of the wood’s floor.
    The creature came out of the shadows hunched over, its claws sweeping over the calf. It struggled, as if trying to rise, but the beast struck it back down to the ground with a heavy blow. The calf kicked wildly, but the beast grabbed it by one of its legs and pinned it down, leaning over the bleating animal and ripping it open with one long shining claw. Blood sprayed into the cold air.
    Clifton moaned in terror, and Monty felt the back of his leg go warm and wet against him. The beast grabbed the calf by the scruff of its neck, yanking it backwards and sinking its claw into the exposed pale throat.
    “Christ, it’s Will,” Clifton groaned. “It’s your brother. He’s become a demon! Run, Monty, or the devil will claim us too!” He stumbled out of the thicket and darted through the darkness.
    Monty could not move. The beast looked down at him with bright red glowing eyes, and beckoned, offering him the dripping meat of the calf. “Will?” Monty whispered.
    The beast’s height and shape changed as it stepped into the moonlight, taking its twisted, grinning face. “Come, Monty. Share in the kill. Join me.”
    “No,” Monty gasped, backing away. “No, I can’t! Clifton, wait!”
    He broke into a sprint, tearing blindly through the thick, thorny brush. By the time he found Clifton, both were wheezing and bloodied from branches whipping them as they escaped. Neither of them spoke, listening to the silence of the woods save for the birds and crickets. “How far did we run?” Clifton