Septem Daemorum 1 : The ritualA Chapter by M.R Steiner Nicola discovers that sneaking into a nightclub underage has its drawbacks. One of them being the discovery that a cabal of Vampires, Werewolves, Witches and Zombies are secretly running the world. Septem Daemorum
Chapter 1: the ritual The air has a certain charge tonight, each breath seeps into
my chest with the pulse of a mild static shock. Part of me wonders if it’s just
in my head, a symptom of anxiety as I wait in line for what promises to be the
party of a the year. The damp latches to my fingers as I pull my back a sleeve to show my watch, I focus on the time, 11:30, well past curfew, it sends a
jolt of panic up my spine. My parents are probably wondering where I am, after
all it’s a school night. They’d probably go insane just knowing I’m in the
middle of town, let alone outside a private club, at least that’s what it’s
supposed to be? A quick glance to my left shows nothing but the red panel walls
of a warehouse, not the kind of place you’d expect to find such an event. A breath from the girl who got me into this mess warms the
back of my neck. Her exhales seem to fall with my own. I consciously pace to
match them, trying to avoid another panic attack currently stabbing my lungs. “Are you alright Nicola?” asks my friend, Lucy. It’s too late. A wheeze billows out my throat. I hear the
crinkle of turning jackets in front. Quickly, my neck cricks to the left; unsure
where else to look. They can probably see me blush, even in the dark. I keep my head turned. Lucy’s green polished nails catch my
eye, reaching over to dig into my shoulder; the pressure seems invisible to the
tingling panic. Then her hand tenses, scooping my shirt until I can focus on
nothing but the slide of her stinging grip. “Stop it Lucy,” I whisper. The pressure rushes away while she still playfully rolls the
red flannel fabric against my skin. Lucy’s giggle rings in my ear, following her upbeat tone. “Sorry
Nicola, I was just trying to ground you, but hey it worked right, you’re not
wheezing anymore?” It’s classic Lucy, only she would think to stop a panic
attack with pure agony. She literally cut off the symptoms, but the cause is
still standing around us. She doesn’t realise, or doesn’t care about how I
feel. “Lucy, I don’t think
this club is a good idea…” I almost get the nerve to face forward. My neck slowly turns
when I sense the touch of her other hand sliding down my neck. “Nicola, we already talked about this, it’ll be fun okay?” “Six more,” says a voice. Wet footsteps squelch ahead us, compelling me to walk
forward. Before I can lift a single foot, Lucy jabs my back. It’s as if I’ve
forgotten how to walk. The rubber soles of my trainers judder across the
puddled pavement before my legs start to compensate. “C’mon Nicola, they’ll be full up otherwise,” says Lucy. Her long black hair whips a sting to my nose as she steps up
front. The cold gives it a lasting dull ache, one I daren’t rub for fear that
someone may think I’m picking it. The last thing I want is to draw attention. Lucy, on the other hand, seems to live more openly than she
did a few years ago. I only realise how different our clothes are as I look up
to see her strut away, that strapless dress almost catching the light, reflecting
its green material to match those contact lenses of hers. “Look at my clothes Lucy, they’ll take one look and they’ll
know I’m not old enough.” Her sarcastic barb sounds off mid-turn around the corner of
the building. “Farmer-chic is sexy.” I hate that word. She uses it every chance she gets. It
sends me right back to junior year as I pace after her like a friendless
freshmen, my fingers fumbling through the coarse fibre of my brother’s
hand-me-down shirt, complete with hole-ridden jeans puckering both knees. Who am I kidding, it is Farmer-chic. I look
about 12 years old. A glint of a red neon sign pierces my sight the moment I
pass the corner. My eyes scrunch up, adapting against the burning glare as I
nervously slide one foot in front of the other. A lock against my wrist
wrenches me forward, I think it’s must be Lucy, growing impatient as if we
really are still in junior year. It gets a little less blurry as we pass under
the shadows of the people up front. “For once, being short has its benefits,” says Lucy,
hunching down at me to avoid the light. She doesn’t realise everything she’s saying is making me
want to leave more. “Please, Lucy, let’s just go, we probably won’t get in
anyway.” “Nicola, how long has it been?” “2 years?” “That’s right, two long years, and this is my only night in
town, don’t you want to catch up with me?” “I do, but why here?” “Why not here, it’ll be fun okay?” “8 more,” says a voice. The line funnels away. I decide to use Lucy as a shield this
time, sinking my fingers into her shoulders as revenge for earlier. It fills me
with a sweet delight as I listen to her wincing at the lights all the way to
the end of the queue. I peer around her as the neon shrouds behind a big plastic awning
at the entrance. I wish it was still hard to see, it would make avoiding the
knowing gaze of a chubby faced bouncer a whole lot easier. The fat of his arm
holds my attention, almost hypnotically sagging against an open door to send a
nauseous twinge to my throat. He takes notice, eyes fixed on me, shaking his jowls alongside
an angered voice, “What the hell are you doing here?” A jolt of panic has me standing straight; he’s growing with
every step. That’s when I realise that he isn’t looking at me. “Oh, how’s it going Zeus?” says Lucy, craning her neck over
the velvet rope. He blots out what little light remains as he taps the back
of his shaved head. I almost think he’s going to bite our heads off when he cracks
a crooked smile. The kind someone gives when you don’t know whether they’re
serious or joking. They keep staring at one another, both quiet, sporting the
same neutral grin. I know Lucy well enough to guess what happens next. She
jumps, Zeus flinches. They both drown out the alley with laughter. Zeus’s speaks a happier pitch. “We did it girl.” “We did it? Oh no, it was all you Zeus,” says Lucy. “You two know each other?” I ask. Their laughter dulls, I feel ready to blush as they fixate
on me. “So who’s your friend?” Zeus asks her. “Oh, this is the one I told you about. It’s my old buddy
from school, Nicola.” His voice goes low, almost suspicious. “A little wholesome
for this place don’t you think?” “Zeus, be nice, Nicola is nervous enough as it is.” “Okay ladies, I’m sorry.” “Last two,” says a voice. The clink of the unhooking rope resonates with me for a
second. Like a meditation bell, it chimes to another plain. My thoughts are
100% internal. I don’t even want to check my watch; it’s probably quarter to
midnight. I’m going to be in so much trouble. If there’s ever a moment to turn away,
this is it. A grind of metal hinges snaps back my focus to see Zeus
holding the door open while Lucy has vanished. Her voice echoes at me from inside the entrance shouting, “Are
you coming Nicola?” Okay, just relax, I think to myself. Nevertheless, the
nervous jitters start spreading back to every limb. It resonates with the buzz
of pins and needles, holding me down as if my body is trying to warn me. Still,
I press forward, the roll of my joints tickling each step until I stop to peer
through the entrance. Lucy is nowhere to be seen. Only the flicker of an orange
light against a hallway is visible, I don’t even hear music. It builds my case
for leaving. I’ll track her down tomorrow and apologise. Maybe my parents won’t
ground me if I fess up? “You looking a little apprehensive there, am I right girl?”
asks Zeus. I’m so embarrassed, I can’t look up. “I’m sorry, Mr Zeus.” “Please, it’s just Zeus. Hey listen; you want a little advice
about your situation tonight?” A half smile lifts the corner of my lip, dropping the moment
I tilt my head to see Zeus’s scowl pointing back. “Don’t do it,” he says. “Maybe you’re not the right fit for
this place, understand?” It strikes me as a little presumptuous, how could he know me
so well? Then I remember what I’m wearing. “Is it the clothes?” “You could show up wearing a whale bone corset on each arm
and I’d still say the same thing, it’s not your clothes girl, it’s your
attitude in general.” “What do you mean?” “I mean that folks in this club will have a way about them
tonight, know what I’m saying? Wholesome girl like you may not fit in,
especially since you’re about two years short of finishing high school.” How does he know? A nervous stutter wobbles my lips. “What,
high, school?” “Relax; I owe your friend Lucy, big time. Take as long as
you need.” I accept his offer, pondering the advice. I’ve almost had
two panic attacks from waiting to get inside. Will it only get worse the deeper
I go? I make my decision. “No, I think I’ll head home, please tell
Lucy I’m sorry.” “It’s for the best, and don’t worry, I’ll be happy to tell
her.” Zeus cuts past me as my stomach twists from watching the
door slowly fall shut. “Screw it,” I whisper to myself. The sensible voice inside is screaming to turn away while my
legs stagger towards the door, its heavy steel scrapes my chest, but I make it
through. A clang of the lock shoots down the hall while muffled
groans reverb outside. I feel so proud that I almost stroll along the concrete
floor, my legs free from the burden of worry, at least for the time being. Damp air overpowers every other stench inside, lifting from warming
pools of water below. A little fear starts to build as I realise my only path
is a rusted steel ladder, stretching down into the dark. “Guess I’ve come too far to back out now,” I say out loud. My foot presses against the first rung, a thump of a beat
lightly shakes against the metal. It grows with every step; bass is rattling my
fingers as I reach the floor of a narrow dark hallway. All I can see is a blue
light beaming through the rectangular seams of a door at the other end. The
music rolls through me in waves, more defined the closer I get, a kind I’ve
never heard before. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” cries Lucy. A reflex of shock shoots me off the ground; it’s so dark I
can barely see. “Don’t scare me like that.” “Oh I’m sorry, how
should I have scared you?” “You know what I mean…” “I’m just excited that you showed a little backbone for a
change. Who’d have thought that Nicola, of all people, would be sneaking into a
club on a school night?” I laugh, I don’t mean to, but it happens anyway. I’m not
sure if I’m excited or manic. Tears are pooling up my vision while a growing piece
of me wants to see the rest of this night through. “Well, you know, I didn’t
want to let you down.” “Hope you thanked Zeus for being so patient, he must have
taken a shine to you?” His warning still echoes in the back of my mind. “Yeah, he
was very helpful I guess… Lucy, how do you know Zeus?” “Other events, nothing special; I’ll tell you about it after
a drink.” My back stings as both her arms slam into me, petty revenge
for what happened outside. I don’t fight back. I just walk forward, outstretching
my arm to press open the metal handles of the doors. A violent ringing shoots into my eardrums. I start to
stumble against the deepened tune shaking through my shoes, my eyes caught in
the bright dazzle of flood lights, whipping around the room. Lucy tugs my shoulder to stop me. I rub the sleeve of my shirt
to soak the tears away and realise I’m standing on a balcony. A few more steps
and I would have ended up in the dance floor below, another body among the
revellers who writhe in a sea to the music. “Welcome,” shouts Lucy. An unmistakable scent of smoke singes each breath I take
before it cycles out my mouth on its journey to the roof. I follow its wisp to
the arc of a circular sculpture on the ceiling. It looks very strange, 7 silver
orbs around a circle. “What is that?” I ask. “What are you talking about?” says Lucy. “That thing on the roof, what is it?” “This is your first time in a club and all you care about is
the decorating?” “No, just nervous I guess…” “Don’t be. I’ll take care of you.” She takes my wrist, her smooth palm sliding to lead me away,
gentler than before as we navigate the tables and chairs. I spot the
silhouettes of people all around me with voices akin to a veil of whispers. “What do you mean we can’t leave till midnight?” asks a
random voice. “Look at the farmer grunge girl,” says another. It’s as if their eyes are burning into me, picking out the
one who doesn’t belong. Lucy keeps walking regardless, leading me down a set of
stairs towards the dance floor. A wash of pins and needles begins to seep back into my knees,
setting both legs in clay of apprehension as Lucy picks up the pace. I have to
keep walking or I’ll fall over. No punishment in life is worse than that wave
of gravel and ants moving around my skin. I see Lucy slide sideways into the crowd, soon it’s my turn.
My hand is numbing, her grip’s gotten so tight that I can’t run away. A dancer’s
sweat flicks up my elbow as I pass beyond them, surrounding me with a flurry of
arms, twisting and grinding around us. A hard bump rocks my legs to one side.
Lucy’s fingers slip free and floor kisses my face, one smack, and then another. The impact flexes my body shut, nervous and in an almost
foetal position. The forest of legs stamp around as though I’m not there. I
wait for a chance to stand back up when I spy a faint glow against the surface.
It’s almost purple, running in strips across the floor. There isn’t much time
to ponder it when I feel a tug of Lucy’s hand choking my collar. I’m more curious than tense as I prop myself up and shout,
“What’s that paint on the floor?” “Ultraviolet, same as my contacts, c’mon, the bar isn’t
far,” she shouts back. We emerge from the other side of the dance floor where I see
our reflections cast into the infinity of a massive double mirror. They grow
warped the closer we get, twisting out of proportion in dented curls as I
audibly gasp with surprise at all the different bottles stacked beside it. “Hey Beatrix, how about some service?” shouts Lucy. Her words turn the head of a tall slender woman behind the
bar. She stares across the beaten wooden
surface at us with the same contacts as Lucy; even her green dress is similar. “Ah, Sister Lucy, I’m glad your homecoming hasn’t proved
fruitless, and this must be the famous Nicola you’ve been talking so much
about?” she asks. A shrill tone sounds off in my voice. “Sister Lucy?” “It’s just my nickname Nicola, and to answer your question
Beatrix, I never expected tonight to be fruitless, not when I have my best
friend with me.” Beatrix blows an angry huff in our direction, slanting her
brow with a scornful look towards Lucy before she turns it on me. “Tell me
Nicola, friend of Sister Lucy, have you ever been jealous of someone?” I don’t know how to respond. My eyes unconsciously roll from
side to side as I pull up a fake grin in face of the awkwardness. “Maybe, I
mean sure, why not, everyone has, right?” “No, you don’t
understand me child,” says Beatrix, running two fingers atop her forehead with
a look of frustration. “I mean have you ever been so jealous of somebody that
you absolutely needed to be them, or destroy them in the process?” No one has ever asked me such a weird question. Both of them
are staring with not a smile, as if my response has become the only thing that
matters. Time seems to speed up, my pause taking a lifetime as I
frantically think up a reply to satisfy. “I don’t think so…” I say. A slam of Beatrix’s fist shakes the table under my elbows. “What is this trash you’re bringing into our midst Sister
Lucy?” she cries. I stand well back, thinking a fight is about to break out. “Trash, you’re calling my friend trash? You’re the lowest
standard here Beatrix, that’s why you’re serving drinks, speaking of, pour us a
couple, then get back to cleaning up, you old witch.” Beatrix scowls as she begrudgingly clinks two shot glasses
in front of us, followed by a large bottle sloshing with purple drink. It casts
off a stench of liquorice as it splashes down, growing more intense as Lucy
shoves one under my nose. “Cheers,” Lucy calls. The rim of the glass hooks onto my skin as I take it from
her, stuck to the overflow as the smell transforms into a bitter taste at the back
of my throat before I take a sip. Lucy down hers without a second thought before she shudders
and says, “C’mon Nicola, it’s supposed to be that way.” I try not to breath, hopeful it will cover the backwash I
imagine, but something odd happens when it hits my tongue. “What flavour is it?” asks Lucy. It’s sweet, almost watery, my favourite. “Blueberries…” “I knew it,” she says. “Mine tastes like soda, not the fancy
kind mind you, the high syrup stuff from the old dirt mall.” “How is that possible?” “Sister Lucy,” calls Beatrix. “Don’t you two have somewhere
to be?” “Oh yes, you’re right,” she replies, taking the glass out of
my hand. “C’mon Nicola, it’s almost time.” They’re obviously hiding something. The thought takes up my
attention as I follow her down a hallway by the bar. My throat dries up every time
I try to speak. It’s as though a piece of me doesn’t want to know how much
she’s changed. Clearly, Lucy knows these people, but how? I’m lost in my own head when a ray of blue light attracts my
attention. It casts a grid over my face from the shadow of chicken wire split
between layers of smudged glass that separate it from the hall. I nearly jump as a muffled thump shakes the other side. “Get him.” shouts a voice. My eyes strain into double vision from trying to follow the
murky outlines. They’re definitely people in there. Are they’re fighting? Lucy’s footsteps get further away. I turn to see she’s
nearly at the end of the hall, her dress flowing against the lights of two more
rooms. My pace slows up as curiosity takes over. I turn to face the neon red
glow of the next space. The images through the glass are clear, shocking me to
turn away, but I don’t. Instead, a curious need to watch takes over as I see a
dozen different couples in the throes of each other’s embrace. “Hey pervert,” cries Lucy. I feel like a kid caught with a cigarette, not knowing where
to look or what to do. Lucy giggles for a moment. “Relax Nicola; there wouldn’t be
a glass wall if they didn’t want people to watch.” But I didn’t want to watch, not until I saw them. It’s as if
they pulled out a darker half of me, something buried. “Just avoid the buffet in the yellow enclave; they can get a
little… handy. I’ll be in the green room around the corner, don’t be long,” she
says before walking off. The idea of being alone in this place fills me with dread.
It sends a worrisome shake down my body, warning me to pick up the pace as I
turn the corner, caught off guard by the aroma of chicken. Its hangs in the air
from the exposed wooden panels of the yellow room, the herbs are sending my
mouth into a drizzle. I almost want to go in and try some. “Hey,” says Lucy, stealing back my focus with an annoyed
pitch. “Good thing I decided to wait, trust me, you don’t want to go in there,
this spot is more, us.” She’s holding the
door open to a bright green room. The hairs on my neck rise the closer I get. “Lucy, what is this place?” I ask. She almost mumbles, her glare cast anywhere but my face as
she says, “Just take a seat inside and I’ll explain everything.” I don’t believe her. She’s got that same distant stare as
when she left 2 years ago. “Just explain it to me here.” “Nicola, we don’t have time for this…” Her hand ruffles up my sleeve to yank me through the entrance.
I offer only a slight resistance as my body twists against the motion. Soon
enough we’re both inside. The shutting door blows a last billow through my
hair. I can’t hear the music anymore. “Let’s sit down,” says Lucy.
My legs won’t budge. They’re almost taking a life of their
own, bypassing my curiosity to tap a well of fear. “Please Nicola, it’s about my dad, have a seat, or don’t you
want to know why I really left all those years ago?” Her words are enough
to keep me there, but I still have to force myself to sit down. I look over to her, trying to stay motionless as a thousand
niggling body twitches steal my attention. Not a word passes between us at
first. I bob my head, trying and catch her wandering gaze, but she just looks
away. Finally, she lets out a click in her throat before nervously
asking, “Nicola, how much do you know about the day I moved?” The answer has been rolling around my head the moment she
mentioned her dad. “Just what you told me, your old man had a heart attack, so
you were moving down south with your aunt.” Her contacts shine above a brief smile on her face before
falling back into a grimace. “Right, I forgot about that…” The day she left is something I haven’t thought about for ages.
Now it’s the only thing I can focus on. It was all so sudden when she moved. Lucy
showed up outside my house, her face in tears, telling me she needed to go.
Even back then, I could tell something was wrong, now I have chance to find
out. My words sound strained, afraid of the truth as I ask, “What
do you mean, you forgot?” “You remember how my dad was right, he’d knock me around the
house and I’d come stay with you?” “I remember begging my folks to let you live with us, that’s
for sure.” She lets out a frustrated laugh. “Yeah they weren’t too keen
on me, remember when your parents said I couldn’t stay, so we camped on the
garage roof?” “Yes, then the wind
blew the tent over.” A small giggle erupts
between us. For a second it’s almost like the old days. We’re both changing the subject, too nervous to delve into
the facts. It eats away at me until I stop and ask, “Lucy, what did you want to
tell me?” Her face sinks back into a sulk, those contacts shimmering
green as she speaks in a serious tone. “Nicola. I wanted to tell you that my
father didn’t have a heart attack, I killed him.” A lead weight drops in my stomach. “What?” “Don’t freak out, let me explain.” I jump out the seat, barely processing her words. “Explain
what Lucy; you’re a murder on the run?” She’s become a stranger; everything I thought I knew was a
lie. All I can think is that I may be next. I pace closer to the door, my eyes fixed on her as she slowly
stands up. “Where are you going? The exits to the club are locked, no
one can get out,” she says. “Lucy, why did you
bring me down here?” “Because I have to tell you something else, it’s important,
for old times’ sake just hold up a minute because it really needs to be said.” A rational person would run away the minute she confessed.
Instead, I stand there, my senses begging to flee as I give her a chance to speak.
“What is it?” She looks down at the floor, and then rears her head up with
an ecstatic grin as she gleefully says. “I’ve always hated you Nicola.” The shock freezes me on the spot. “Excuse me?” She steps forward, every word growling with anger. “You
heard me. I hate your perfect little life, I hate the fact that I had to depend
on you all those years, and I hate that humble farm girl act. That’s why I
chose you.” I turn to reach out for the door handle. A snapping sound
shoots past both ears. My hand seizes up, something’s wrapped around the skin,
no, my whole body. I can’t move. Another snap hits my ears. The heels of my shoes squeak,
spinning the rest of me around. A green glow beams at my face, coming right out
Lucy’s eyes. She gets closer, her voice deepens. “You think you’re better
than me Nicola? Well tonight it’s my turn.” My necks burns with
the rough trim of an invisible rope, a noose forcing a splutter of breathe
through each gasp. I can’t stop looking at those eyes; they keep shining,
brighter and brighter, growing with her smile, scorching a vision of twin suns
into my skull. I let out one last
wheeze of a word, “Please…” Her voice quakes the floor, “Please!” The lights shut off. My knees knock to the ground, my vision
shrunk to a set of darkened shapes as I struggle to wriggle my legs. Lucy’s voice sounds normal as she laughs, “You know, I don’t
think you’ve ever had to say that word to me before?” A crackle of a speaker floods the room, “Sister Lucy, finish
the Daemorum.” “Shut up Beatrix, I want to enjoy this.” Adrenaline perks up my body, fulfilling that unheeded need
to flee as my fingers fumble for the way out. “Oh you’re going to run?” says Lucy. “That’s fine, I’ll give
you a head start, it’s the least I can do since you let me crash on the floor
all those times. I’ll even get the door.” A whoosh of air follows the sharp thud of the steel
doorframe to my face. The grind of my neck mid-recoil sends me numb. Another
snap shoots past me in a wave, my body slides out to hall under that same
constricting force. “5 minutes, not a second more,” says Lucy. The slam of the door quiets her insane cackle. I finally get
back some control as my eyesight starts to drift in chunks. Blocky outlines are
all I can see. But the beat of the music down the hall is shaking the floor
against my fingers. I claw towards the wall, following the rhythm as I prop myself
up, the smell of chicken stronger than ever. “Food?” sounds a voice beside me. I squint, just about seeing the shape of an arm, waving in
front. I’m desperate. The dull ache is fading into punches of raw
pain all over. Maybe he can help? My throat croaks with each word, “Excuse me sir, can you
help me?” “Food?” it’s his only response. I struggle to take a deep breath before saying, “Please sir,
can you help?” His fingers are wiggling in the air. I reach out to them and
feel something sticky slather to my skin. “Food…” The arm flails at my collar, clenching the scruff as I
struggle. I’m so shook up that my legs buckle, pulling his arm down with me. “Food.” His voice is still in the same place. The fleshy mass is tugging at my clothes regardless. A
copper scent of blood wafts against my hand when I pry it away. I refuse to believe
what actually happened. I have to wipe my eyes and wait for some semblance of
sight to return before I realise the truth. It’s an arm, a blood soaked arm, and it’s moving like it’s
attached to someone. “Food,” says the voice. I turn round to see the owner of the limb, his eyes white,
the severed shoulder swollen pustule black. This can’t be happening? Lucy must have spiked my drink,
that’s it. She got that Beatrix to slip me something? This is just a bad trip,
their idea of a joke. Another glance at the severed arm gives me an almost certain
doubt. I slide away on all fours down the hall, picking myself up before I pass
the pane of the red room. A funnelling of smoke engulfs everything inside, only
my own reflection is clear as I see Lucy’s handiwork. My swollen cheek is the
size of beech ball, pulsing from the impact of the door while the rest aches
with the spectre of a dozen future bruises. Red smothers my reflection in a splatter. I stagger back;
nearly choking down a stomach full of swallowed air, there’s so much blood. It
fills me with urgency to run past the blue room as a snarl rolls into my ear
before the punch of the music takes hold. The people on the dance floor are none the wiser, still
moving as if everything’s normal. The floor sends a shine of purple into my
eyes; it’s rising in strings of smoke, almost to the roof. How are they not seeing it? “You’ve only got to the end of the hall? You really are
disappointing me,” shouts Lucy. Her voice sends me into a desperate frenzy, running into the
crowd, my shoulder bouncing against the dancers. They just keep moving
regardless. The music rumbles louder, they spin impossibly fast, my mind a
flurry in the purple fog as I press forward. My arm tightens to the cold metal of the stairs as the tide
of bodies sways side to side, nearly pulling me back in as I tumble to the
steps. I find the top of balcony deserted, the sparkle of silver chains against
the door refracting the light. There’s no way out. A ray of florescent orange shows a small side door close by
the exit. It’s my last hope. I see it’s a dead end as my shoes splash up a spray of
yellowed water spread across a tiled bathroom floor. Lucy’s voice calls out behind me with joy. “Hurry up
Nicola.” I have no choice but to wade deeper, the liquid chills my
trainers then finally floods into the soles. My only option is to hide in a bathroom
stall. The lock of the door is thinner than my little finger. It won’t hold her
back, nevertheless, I reach out and slide is rusted metal surface shut. A ripple of water bows towards me, footsteps splash closer,
a thump rattles the door. I’m trapped. The stall keeps shaking, I back away, a thousand screams
locked in my chest. A man’s voice calls, “Open up the damn toilet.” Maybe he knows a way out? I flick open the lock as a gruff
guy with long hair rushes past me to dive his face into the toilet. He doesn’t
seem to care that he’s knee deep in piss as I listen to him splatter chunks
into the bowl. I still ask the question, “Hey, do you know a way out of
here?” He speaks with his mouth full, “Go away…” “I just want-” “Go away!” He flicks a rain of wet hair at me, cranking his face
backwards. His eyes are red atop a mouth of razor white teeth. A long awaited scream rings past my throat; it nearly
outstrips the music as I run out to the balcony. I try to look over the railing
when a flash heat fires up in a green flame below. I jump back to the floor, my
hair smelling of burnt strands. I see the people below, all screaming, some running, while others
lie bloodied on the floor. All the while that purple mist is climbing closer to
the symbol on the roof, 7 orbs around a circle. A click then a hiss rushes past me, I take in a final breath
before it hits. That same sensation, as though a snake is swallowing me whole. “I told you there was no way out,” says Lucy. I’m helpless. She spins me round, her hand open palmed
towards me. Her eyes shift to that blinding green light as she shouts,
“Thank you Nicola, it’s been fun catching up.” She raises her arm. The tension pulls me up, the pressure of
my feet slowly reducing off the ground as I climb higher and higher. Lucy snaps
her fingers as everything becomes a rushing blur, stopping with a flash of red,
my body laid out on the dance floor. My nose is throbbing with channels of blood, it’s about the
only part of me I feel, the rest is hazy, almost shivering, my limbs too heavy
to move as I look towards the roof. The purple mist touches the ceiling, the music and lights go
dark, only the glow remains as the symbol ripples the air with a pitched static
rumble. It shakes my ear drum to the core, gaining intensity, until the very
floor is quaking. I lie there watching the spheres and circle gain a bright
white flash of brilliant light. I can’t look away. Then silence. A white void presents itself amid the gaining tone of a whisper;
it flows in a wave behind me, bearing down in my ears. “Bring us home Nicola.”
© 2016 M.R SteinerAuthor's Note
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M.R Steinera terrible city, an even more terrible region, United KingdomAboutlooking for advice and feedback, every critic welcome no matter what, I will thank you :) more..Writing
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