Rat Song

Chapter 32

For a long moment, William couldn't hear anything but his own heart hammering. No squeaking. No lingering notes of the Hymn. No reassuring words from Burdock, who had vanished  alongside his brethren. Nothing but his own thunderous pulse shaking his entire body as he slung his guitar over his shoulder.

Still miraculously shielded from his audience by the curtain Pastor Abrams had set up, William knelt beside what was left of the Piper. There was no trace of the man himself, nor was there a single sign of the Whole. All that remained was a bloodied scrap of fabric from the man's cloak, a lone piece of crimson cloth that had once belonged to the seamlessly interwoven patchwork.

William murmured a breathless prayer and tucked the fabric into his pocket. He could only hope that Samuel had found peace now that his soul was no longer bound to the Whole's.

There was only one way to find out if any of the Whole's other victims had been freed. William pushed aside the curtain that had separated him from his audience with trembling fingers.

The people of Aerzen and Hamelin lay sprawled across the pews as if they'd been tossed about by the hands of the Lord. Dr. Hughes groaned, swearing as his crackling joints protested his attempt to ease himself into a more comfortable position. Little Peter Farnsworth sat up with a cry as if he'd awoken from a nightmare. Thomas blinked in confusion as he glanced about the unfamiliar church, his eyes widening as his parents stirred to life beside him.

Throughout the building, families reunited for the second time. Not all had awoken yet, but those that had wore nothing more troubling than tiredness and confusion on their faces. There were no too-wide smiles, no eyes darting in search of any lingering rodents.

But just because many of the festivalgoers seemingly fared well didn't mean everyone had been spared from remembering the horrors William had witnessed.

William made his way to his family's pew as if he were tiptoeing through a field of broken glass. Father slumped forward in his seat, a low, steady snoring rumbling past his lips. Even in her sleep, Mother held Emma close to her side, shielding her from her husband. All the while, Emma curled in on herself, clinging to her mother's arm. Would they still be themselves now that the Whole had been defeated, or had the rats stolen some crucial part of who they were, leaving their souls with unfillable holes?

Mother was the first to stir. She blinked her eyes open with a soft gasp, only to smile as she caught sight of William. "I just had the strangest dream." Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. "What are we doing here, sweetheart? Shouldn't we be helping Mr. Farnsworth with the harvest?"

"I'm not sure," William said. "One moment we were all enjoying the Harvest Festival, and then the next thing I knew, we were all in church."

The truth of what had happened would never pass his lips. If by some miracle anyone believed him, no one deserved to know the horrors he had witnessed these past few weeks. This was his burden to bear, and it would forever be his alone.

"Perhaps we all had a little too much excitement today," Mother said, muffling a yawn with her hand. "This wouldn't be the first time everyone got carried away at the festival."

Beside her, Father groaned. His muscles twitched and trembled with such force that he slammed against the back of the pew, the thunderous crack echoing through the church. When at last his limbs stilled, he opened his eyes with a grimace and a sound that was half-sigh and half-snarl.

Mother pulled the still-sleeping Emma closer to her, shielding her with her own body. William tensed and reached for his guitar, fully prepared to prevent Father from harming the rest of his family. No one would react well if he resorted to using the Hymn, but if that was what he needed to do to keep Mother and Emma safe, so be it.