Dead of Winter Read Free Page B

arrived two weeks ago, and ever since, has wreaked nothing but havoc among the inmates.”
    At the bottom of the stairs, the undercroft tunneled beneath the old fortress.
    Torches illuminated an arched ceiling and metal bars. In between the cells, water dribbled down moss-covered walls. Father Xavier’s shoes splashed through puddles. He winced at the foul smells of urine and defecation. Francois covered his mouth with a handkerchief.
    “We’re still working on the sanitation,” the warden said with embarrassment. “We are understaffed at the moment. Several workers quit since Gustave arrived.”
    Moaning issued from many of the cells they passed. Most were shrouded by the sepulchral darkness. Inside one half-lit chamber, a fat man with a massive head emerged from a corner. “Feed time! Feed time!” He pressed his cheek against the bars, his bulbous tongue licking the air.
    Father Xavier reeled at the prisoner’s brown teeth and atrocious breath.
    “Not yet, Mortimer. Six-thirty is feed time. Six-thirty!” Paddock banged his cane against the bars and the fat man retreated. The warden shook his head. “My apology, Father, but they have to learn routine or the whole place becomes a madhouse.” He laughed at his own joke.
    From somewhere down the tunnel echoed a cackling scream.
    “That’s Gustave,” the warden said. “The craziest of them all.”
    The high-pitched laughter made Father Xavier shudder. As a boy, he had once seen a group of gypsies at a carnival. One of the performers, a fire breather wearing clown makeup, spewed out long tongues of fire then cackled at the crowd. The ominous laughter had made young Xavier sprout gooseflesh. The priest’s fist tightened around his duffle bag. He quickened his steps. “Tell me what you know about Gustave Meraux.”
    The warden, hobbling on the cane, did his best to keep up. “I’m sure you two have heard of the Cannery Cannibal.”
    Father Xavier nodded. The past two years had been a time of darkness for Montréal. The Cannery Cannibal had haunted the harbor, killing thirteen women, most of them prostitutes.
    Warden Paddock said, “Gustave earned the name Cannery Cannibal, because he took the women back to the cannery where he worked, cut them up, cooked their meat and innards, and stored them in little tins. He’s a bloody sicko, that one.”
    As they reached a barred door separating this chamber from the next, Father Xavier took a deep breath. “Your report stated that Gustave has given you reason to believe he is possessed by the Devil.”
    Paddock’s keys jingled as he searched through a large key ring. “Upon his capture, Gustave has been the source of many bizarre occurrences. The prisoners on either side of his cell were found dead. One gouged his own eyes out. The other rammed himself into a wall until he bludgeoned himself to death. And our rat population has doubled. They seem to be drawn to Gustave’s cell like he’s the bloody Pied Piper.”
    Francois said, “So the cannibal has become a man with ungodly abilities?”
    “A man?” Warden Paddock gave a nervous laugh as he tried different keys in the door. “I don’t think any of us comprehend what he’s become.”
    Father Xavier said, “But you are sure he embodies a demon?”
    “I come from the moors of Ireland, Father. I know the Devil when I sees him.” He slipped in a key that fit. “Ah, here we go.” The barred door creaked open to an even narrower passage. From the darkness echoed the cackle of damnation.
    4
     
    In the Ontario woods, Tom Hatcher examined the woman’s body half-submerged in the ice. Sakari Kennicot’s butchering was different than the cannibal murders he’d seen in Montréal. Those women had been carved with a knife. Judging by the slashes and torn muscles, Sakari appeared to have been mauled by an animal. She lay face down, her   black hair fanned out over white ice. There was enough current flowing beneath to bob her up and down, but the top layer of ice