The Monstrumologist by Rick Yancey

Author:Rick Yancey
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Northeast, Legends, Myths, Travel, Fiction, Ghost Stories (Young Adult), Other, Supernatural, Scientists, Monsters, Careers, Horror tales, Fables, Business, Apprentices, Diary fiction, Horror, Science Fiction, Horror & Ghost Stories, Fantasy Fiction, Juvenile Fiction, Michael L. Printz honor book, Magic, Action & Adventure - General, New England - History - 19th century, Orphans, Fantasy & Magic, United States, Orphans & Foster Homes, People & Places, First person narratives, Family, Action & Adventure, Occupations, General, Fantasy, Diary novels, Horror stories, Children: Young Adult (Gr. 10-12), New England, Children's Books - Young Adult Fiction
ISBN: 9781416984481
Publisher: Simon and Schuster
Published: 2009-09-22T04:00:00+00:00

I remained at his bedside throughout the night, in a grueling vigil different only in kind from the one the night previous, while the doctor drifted in and out of a light and restless sleep. Inevitably, as I started to nod off, he would jerk awake and call out in a voice bordering on panic, “Will Henry! Will Henry, are you asleep?”

To which I would answer, “No, sir; I’m awake.”

“Oh,” he would reply. “You should rest, Will Henry. We’ll need all our strength in the coming hours. By now he must have my letter, and if I know John Kearns, he will be on the earliest train.”

“Who is John Kearns?” I asked. “Is he a monstrumologist?”

He laughed dryly. “Not in the strictest definition of the term, no. By profession he is a surgeon—and a brilliant one, I might add. By temperament he is something altogether different. I would have preferred Henry Stanley, if I knew where to find him. Both have hunted Anthropophagi in the wild, and Stanley is a gentleman from the old school, nothing like Kearns.”

“He’s a hunter?”

“I suppose one might call him that, in a manner of speaking. He certainly has more experience than I, for I have none at all in regard to Anthropophagi. I should caution you, Will Henry,” he added, his tone becoming grave, “not to tarry too long in the dominion of John Kearns’s philosophy. Avoid him if you can.”

“Why?” I asked with a child’s natural curiosity, tweaked, as is all childlike curiosity, by sober admonition.

“He reads too much,” was the doctor’s odd reply. “Or not quite enough. I have never been certain. At any rate, steer clear of Dr. John Kearns, Will Henry! He is a dangerous man, but the hour calls for dangerous men, and we must use every tool at our disposal. It’s been two nights since they last fed; they will hunt again, and soon.”

“What if they already have?” I asked, the thought bringing me fully to my senses. The room seemed to shrink and fill with menacing shadows.

“I assure you that they haven’t. The unfortunate Mr. Gray should keep them satisfied, at least for another day or two.”

I did not give voice to the objection that immediately leapt to mind: But what if you’re wrong? I’d tried that tack before, and had paid dearly for it. So I held my tongue. May God forgive me, I said nothing. Perhaps if I had spoken up, he might have questioned his assumption. Perhaps if I had insisted, perhaps if I had been unrelenting in my doubt and negligent in my trust and deference, six innocent people might not have suffered nearly unimaginable deaths. For, even as he was speaking these soothing words, a family was being slaughtered. While we drowsily whiled away the deadest hours of the night, the beasts were busy imbuing them with blood.

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