Simon Green - The Spy Who Haunted Me

“Eddie has a point,” said Walker. “If this is a Hyde, why hasn’t he attacked us?”

“Let him try,” said Honey. “I’ll kick his nasty ass for him.”

“You’re missing the point,” I said. “Sasquatches don’t kill. There’s never been a recorded incident of a Sasquatch killing a man. Not here, not anywhere.”

“But if I remember what I saw on television correctly, this creature did terrorise a house full of people,” said Honey.

“And this far out in the woods, what chance would he get to kill people?” said Walker. “If he did make his way back to his home-town, the people there would shoot him on sight. Hydes may be brutal, but they’re not stupid. He’d know he was safe out here in the wilds, satisfying his violence on the wildlife.”

“Then why hasn’t he attacked us?” said Honey.

“Because he’s enjoying this,” said Blue.

“We’ve got to lure him forward, into the light,” I said quietly. “We need to see exactly what we’re dealing with.”

The Blue Fairy looked at me for the first time. “You want to get up close and personal with a full-blown Hyde? Pure evil in human form? Well, you know best, I’m sure. You’re a Drood; you know everything. You go right ahead. I’ll be several miles away, running for the horizon at speed.”

“Where’s your pride?” I said just a bit tetchily.

“Where’s your common sense?” said the Blue Fairy.

“We wear the torc,” I said patiently. “Nothing can harm us.”

“You keep believing that,” said the Blue Fairy. “I’ll put my faith in a good pair of running shoes.”

“Unfortunately, I have to side with the Drood on this,” said Peter. “We have to supply proof of what this creature is, and while I have my state-of-the-art phone camera at the ready, to get a good picture I need the thing to step forward into the light. In fact, I’d really like to get some before and after shots, and maybe even some film of the actual transformation.”

I hated to agree with the annoying little twerp, but he had a point. “I could armour up, drag him in, and hold him down,” I said. “Hydes may be big and brutal, but they’re still just flesh and blood. My armour should be able to handle him.”

“You armour up and he’ll run,” said the Blue Fairy. “And you’ll never catch him in the dark.”

“I’m still not too happy about letting that thing get too close,” said Walker. “Hydes live to kill.”

“I know an industrial spy we can hide behind,” said Honey.

A sound came to us from out of the dark. It might have been a growl, or a chuckle. Something about the sound made my hairs stand on end. No man ever made a sound like that, nor any kind of beast. There was a touch of Hell itself in that sound, and the Hyde knew it and gloried in it.

“Well,” said Walker. “I was hoping to save the last vestiges of my Voice for a real emergency, but . . .” He stepped forward and addressed the dark directly in front of the Blue Fairy. “You. Come here.”

I shuddered at the sound of his Voice. I think we all did. It was Walker’s legendary Voice that could not be argued with or disobeyed. Some say it contained vestiges of the original Voice. The one that said, Let there be light. I didn’t like to believe that. It would have opened too many questions as to just where Walker got his Voice from . . . The dark itself seemed to hesitate, as though struggling, and then the Hyde came lurching forward into the firelight, drawn forth against his will like a dog on a leash or a fish on a hook. He lurched forward another step, fighting every inch of the way, hating us all, but still he came and stood before us.

He was clearly a man, but just as clearly something more and less. He was taller than any of us but seemed shorter because he was so stooped over. His great overmuscled back rose up into a hump, and his square bony head thrust out at the level of his chest. He glared at us all with bloodshot eyes from under heavy protruding brows. Long ragged jet black hair hung down around a fierce, ugly face full of every sin man ever contemplated. His clothes were rags, torn and tattered and soaked with blood not his own. His huge hands were thickly crusted with dried blood, like horrid gloves reaching up to his elbows. Elsewhere his skin was flushed, stretched taut, full of pulsing blood. His eyes were deep set, watchful, crafty, and he smiled a cold happy smile, full of all the evil in the world.

Just to look at him was enough to make you want to kill him. Just the sight of him filled me with disgust, hatred, loathing: a basic primordial need to attack and destroy something that shouldn’t exist in this world. Something too horrid to be borne, an abomination on the earth. Standing before us, he was all the forbidden needs and impulses of man made flesh and blood and bone and let loose in the world. All the worst actions that a man could conceive of without conscience or compassion or any fear of consequences. All the most evil men in the world, and there have been so very many of them, were just glimpses of the Hyde within.

I could feel my torc burning coldly around my throat as though trying to protect me from the contamination of the creature’s presence.

Almost instinctively, the five of us had moved to form a circle around the Hyde, like hunters with a prey too dangerous to be allowed to escape, though none of us wanted to get too close. I could see the same confused expressions of fear and loathing in the faces of the others, see their hands clenched into fists, twitching and jerking, wanting to reach for weapons. Or maybe just to kill the awful thing with their bare hands. I knew what they were feeling, because I felt just the same.

The Hyde stood very still, half crouching like an animal, his eyes darting back and forth though his head never moved, searching out which of us was the weakest and most vulnerable. The one it would be most fun to torment. His crafty eyes finally settled on Honey, the only woman in our company, and her dark coffee face went stiff and taut under the impact of his loathsome gaze.

“Pretty pretty,” said the Hyde in a voice smooth as silk, sweet as cyanide. “So good of you to come visit me in my backyard kingdom. I like you. You look good enough to eat.”

“Shut your filthy mouth,” said Honey. Her voice wasn’t as firm as usual. She couldn’t hide the revulsion she felt.

“Change back,” Walker said to the Hyde. “Become human again.”

But though his words cracked on the night with all the authority of a man used to being obeyed, it wasn’t enough. They were just words. He’d used up all his Voice. The Hyde laughed soundlessly at him.

“What’s your name?” I said. He looked at me, and the force of his gaze was like a backhand across the face.

“Names,” he said. “Why, sir, does plague have a name? Does rape or torture, cancer or senility have a name or identity? I am what I am, and I glory in it. I’ll trample you all beneath my feet, rip the flesh off your bones, and stick my dick in all the holes I make.”

“Your name,” I said. “Tell me your name.”

“You mean, who I was, good sir? Forget him. He doesn’t matter. He never did. But I matter. I will do terrible things until the world sickens from my very presence. I will wade in blood and offal and sing happy songs, and I will make children from every woman I meet, because I am a very potent nightmare. I will people this land with Hydes, remake this rotten world in my awful image, and love every minute of it. My name? Edward Hyde, at your service, sir, and this is Hell nor am I out of it. The old jokes are always the best, are they not?”

His smile was very broad now, and I hated him more than I had ever hated anyone.

“How does it feel?” said Peter, fighting to keep his voice steady. “How does it feel, to be Hyde?”