Cold Heart Chapter 2

I don’t really remember the walk home, or preparing for bed, but I must have, because before I knew it I was sliding under the covers. I had trouble falling asleep, and then, when I did sleep, I dreamed.

After waking in a cold sweat for the third time, I decided to stay up and read. The first book I fished out from under my bed was my math textbook. I stared at it for a moment, thinking of the first day of class, when Professor Nickleson had assigned it. Then I slid it gently back under my bed. The second book my hands fell upon was my Dungeons and Dragons Monster Manual. I figured it made as good a distraction as any other book. Flipping it open to a random page, I started to read about the myriad of imaginary monsters that stalked the Dungeons and Dragons world. About twelve entries in, one of the pictures caught my eye.

It showed a man, long limbed and slender, with pale skin and spiky blond hair. His eyes were a pale, watery blue, and beneath them his face was split by an evil, red tinted smile. A blade that looked almost like an ice-skate’s blade grew from the bottom of his bare feet, and thick, talon-like claws tipped his fingers and toes. In his clawed hands he held a frozen arm that looked a bit like it had been chewed.

I wondered what had caught my attention. Not the arm, that wasn’t unusual. Lots of the monsters in the pictures were eating people. His appearance wasn’t that unusual, either, as a fair number of the monsters in the book were humanoid. Still, something about this picture bothered me.

I looked the entry beside it. “Entari,” I read. “This foul creature is feared by the people of the north. It mostly preys on the weak, using its power over ice to freeze them solid or rending them with its claws. Occasionally it will only freeze part of its victim, rendering them helpless but not killing them, so it can devour their living flesh.”

I shuddered. Okay, maybe this wasn’t the best choice of reading material. I shoved it back under my bed and pulled out my US History textbook, which I read until, around dawn, exhaustion finally forced me to sleep.

I awoke in a sort of slouched sitting position with my head pillowed on the history textbook. Wincing, I sat up and rubbed my aching spine. Great. Now, on top of everything else, I had a sore back. Plus side, I hadn’t had any more bad dreams, or, at least, none that I could remember.

It took me three tries to brush my teeth. The first two times, I forgot to add toothpaste. The third time, I forgot the brush. It wasn’t until I raised my hand to my face that I realized I was holding my nail clippers, and I’d just squeezed toothpaste all over the counter.

When I went out to the common area to get some breakfast, I found my roommate crying on the couch. That explained why she hadn’t been complaining about me hogging the bathroom.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked. Kaylee usually wasn’t the sort to cry. Drive me crazy with her continual cheery chattering, yes. Cry, no.

Kaylee sniffed. “I suppose you haven’t heard yet. One of the professors on campus died last night. Professor Nickleson.“ She sniffed again, and her eyes filled with tears.

“Why are you crying about it?” I asked, as I got down a bowl and some cereal. “You weren’t in any of his classes. Have you ever even met him?

“No, but he’s dead!” she sobbed. As if that was any explanation.

“Millions of people die every day,” I told her. My hands shook as I tried to pour the milk. I decided to have my cereal dry. “There’s nothing different about Professor Nickleson. At least, not to you.”

Kaylee just sobbed.

“Could you please stop that?” I asked her. “I’m trying to enjoy my breakfast.”

She glared at me. “How can you be so cold?” she shouted, before stomping into her room and slamming the door.

I could still hear her sobbing through the walls. I couldn’t understand why she was so upset. She’d never met him, after all. She’d never heard his slightly nervous laugh, or seen his short, shy smile. He’d never told her he understood what it meant when she said that sometimes the numbers sung.

Normally I liked cereal. Today, it just tasted like cardboard. Well, actually, that was what it tasted like every day, but today… I suppose it tasted like a slightly blander version of cardboard? Maybe it was the lack of milk. Maybe I just wasn’t that hungry today. Either way, I couldn’t bring myself to finish the cereal.

I picked up the bowl and started to carry it to the sink. It slipped from my hands and shattered on the floor. For a second the shattered bits of bowl looked like body parts. An arm, two legs, and that rounder shard right there could be the head…

“Shit!” I cursed. Breathing heavily, I fished around under the sink for the dustpan and the broom. The simple, repetitive act of sweeping calmed me down a bit. By the time I’d cleaned up the mess and fetched my book bag, I felt much better.

As I was leaving for my first class of the day, my eyes fell on an envelope that had been placed outside my door. It had my name on it. Curious, I tore it open and read the note inside. It just said, “Did you like my present?”

I frowned. It looked like I had a secret admirer. Again. This sort of thing had happened a lot in high school before word had finally got around that I just wasn’t interested in dating. Tracking down and discouraging would-be lovers was always a pain in the butt. I decided to just ignore this one for now. I just didn’t feel up to dealing with him. Besides, he was obviously incompetent ; I’d never received any present. He might end up giving away his identity if I waited, which would save me the trouble of finding it out.

It was a lovely day outside. The sun was shining, and the birds were singing in the trees. I growled and wished that I had my bb gun. Maybe I could have songbird for lunch. There were reporters outside the Mercker building, were the body had been found. I cursed under my breath. I hated being the center of attention at the best of times, and this was definitely not the best of times. I decided to avoid them by taking the scenic route to class.

Entari. There were over a million results on google. I clicked on a link to a site called the sceptic’s encyclopedia, and read the entry. Apparently the myth had a life outside of the Monster Manual. In fact, the introductory paragraph called the creature “the chupacabra of the north,” and noted that it was frequently blamed for odd occurrences, including everything from sudden cold snaps to cattle mutilations. Another site had a number of eye-witness accounts. Some of them claimed to have seen the creature itself while it was on the hunt. Other had only seen strange frost or frozen animals covered in bite marks. A few claimed to have only narrowly escaped being eaten themselves.

There were older stories, too. Some, like the more modern accounts, were about devoured livestock or people. Others involved changelings, entari infants trade for human ones so the human mother would raise the little monster as her own. One sad story was about a girl named Dereline who was so beautiful that an entari, despite his frozen heart, fell in love with her. He could not bear to think of her growing old and dying while he lived on, ageless for all eternity, so he froze her and carried her up to the peak of a mountain so her beauty would never fade, thinking that, as long as he carried her memory in his heart, she would never truly die. Which was just a bit stupid, in my opinion. Dead is dead, whether or not you’re remembered. Also, Dereline herself probably would have preferred the growing old and dying option. I know I would.

I looked up from my laptop and stared at my salad. It was dinner time. I’d had a relatively normal day, aside from the press. Almost too normal. It was like when Professor Nickleson had died, the world hadn’t missed him. And that just felt wrong.

Kaylee sat down across from me, placing her bookbag in an empty seat and unloading her food from her tray. “Hey,” she said.

I nodded to her, and turned back to my computer. “Hey yourself.”

“Um…” Kaylee looked a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry about this morning. I just heard about… Well, about you being the one who found the body. And I’m sorry. I was a bit melodramatic this morning. You’re right, Professor Nickleson’s death didn’t have anything to do with me, but, well, it did have something to do with you, and I just wanted to ask… Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

I’d been hearing variations on this same theme all day. Well, not the bit about being sorry, but the whole concerned bit was getting to be just a little too familiar.

“I’m fine,” I told her. “And I don’t want to talk.”

She frowned. “You never want to talk.”

I snorted. “At long last, you catch on.”

 “I’ll just sit here, then. Just in case you change your mind,” Kaylee told me. Then she frowned, and added, “Unless you want to be alone?”

I shrugged. “You can stay if you want.”

Kaylee stayed, and then, after we were done eating, she walked home with me, despite the fact that it would make her late for her after dinner class. I had to admit, I was a bit touched. And a bit annoyed. It was like suddenly acquiring an extremely talkative extra shadow.

First thing I did when I got home was pull a popsicle out of the freezer. I peeled off the wrapper and bit off a bite, savoring the delicious chill. Yum. Dessert.

Kaylee shuddered. “I don’t see how you can still eat those things. When I see them, I can’t help thinking about… well, thinking about Professor Nickleson’s fingers.”

And thank you, Kaylee, for that wonderful image. I took another bite and shrugged. “I love popsicles.”

“Sorry, I suppose that was a bit uncalled for,” Kaylee apologized. She turned to go, then stopped and whirled back around. “Oh, I almost forgot. You got a package today. Someone left it outside the door, and it had your name on it, so I left it outside your room.” Kaylee grinned, and added, “Think you’ve got a secret admirer?”

I grimaced. “I hope not. Aren’t you late for class?”

“Oh! Yes! Class. Right.” Kaylee dashed out the door and darted away.

I picked up the package. On the outside it said: “For Jennifer, with love.” I grimaced. Might as well see what he left.

I tore open the package. Inside there was a note which read, “Thinking of you.” The size and position of the note entirely obscured the box’s other contents, so I lifted it out. Underneath was a layer of pink tissue paper. And underneath the tissue paper…

I yelped and dropped the box. Its gruesome contents spilled out onto the floor. A hand. Professor Nickleson’s hand. It had been missing from the crime scene, I realized. I hadn’t noticed, shocked as I was, but now, I remembered. And this hand looked… Well, it looked like it had been chewed.