Lisa Hartnett and The Rain WizardA Story by ElectricSkeletor Life is still in the tiny town of Stone Flats, Virginia. Too still for sixteen year old Lisa Hartnett. In a hurry, she was whisked away from Boston, back to the town where her mother had been murdered
The van came to a rough stop in front of the ancient, white mass of a house. It was a beautiful property, one that had been in their family since its creation shortly before the civil war. Sylus had always said that there family had been here since the first settlers to the area, and possibly before, but I was never sure exactly what he meant by that.
I stepped out of the van, my bags in tow, and offered Sylus a bit of an apologetic smile. “I'll just look around the property+ a bit, Grandpa. I haven't been here in forever. It's kind of nice to not here a car every five seconds.”
With that, Sylus smiled and pulled around the circular driveway and back out towards the town in a cloud of dust.
I looked up at the large, white estate in front of me fondly. This big house, this was where I learned what is was to be a kid. I took my time up the steps, running my hand up the crude white paint on the old wooden railing. It was beginning to peel, which made me frown. Sylus had an incredible detail oriented regiment when it came to his house and his career. This was highly unlike my grandfather, I thought to myself. I twisted the old brass knob on the heavy wooden door and slipped into a sense of nostalgia.
The house was exactly as I remembered as a kid; nothing changed here. The smell of cigarette smoke and the overbearing smell of musky cologne hung in the air like a cloud before a thunderstorm. I set the bags down in the front foyer near the coat rack, and made my way into the living room. Not to my surprise, everything was still the same. The tacky bright red sixties era sofa was just under the far window, the matching red shades made the whole room appear pink. The coffee table in the middle of the room was wooden, and , grandpa said, was an original to the house. It was a darker wood, and seemed to have millions of nicks and gouges into the finish and the wood itself, over one hundred years in the household of an accident-prone family would do that to furniture. I fell back with an 'oomph' into the broken down, beige recliner Sylus refused to let go to the dump in exchange for a new one. A spring prodded me in the a*s, which caused me to swear and scoot to the other side, but aside from that, it was just like when I was a small child.
The only thing that was different now, however, was the feeling of some muted sadness when I gazed at the picture on the mantle. It was taken on the sunny day of my fifth birthday, and I was the center of the photograph. I had my tiny, unassuming arms wrapped around the arm of a beautiful, blonde woman. Her eyes seemed to cut through the photograph, and by comparison, everyone and everything else just looked dead. I found that odd, since my mother was the only one in the picture who was dead. To her right my Grandfather stood with an arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of my head. I looked ecstatic just to be there. When I looked to my mother's left, however, my stomach churned.
My father had an arm around her other shoulder, his bright red hair seemed to beat back the sun. He was pale, and was wearing his usual white tee and dog tag combo. He never could get over his experience in the Vietnam war. I still assume, I sighed at the thought, it was those terrible nightmares that took my father away from me. In the picture he was smiling, but that was a rare sight. The memories of him screaming in the middle of the night, glasses being launched at the wall, and the rush of being wrapped up quickly into my mother's arms and whisking away to this old house all came flooding back to me.
It was safe to say I hated that man, my father, with everything I had in me. His twisted mind took my mother away. A fifth of Jim Beam and a buckshot round bought her ticket to the afterlife.
I caught myself standing up out of the broken recliner, standing closer to the picture, my hand crying with the need to grab it. I wanted to tear my father away from my picture, I wanted to use a pair of scissors and surgically remove his paper arm from her paper shoulder. I felt the tears well up in my eyes at the thought of my mother's smile, her forgiveness for everyone around her.
That was when I heard the thunderous footsteps down the hall.
I twisted around quickly, only to see a flash of red and blue leap the last couple steps, then slam the front door back into place as the figure bolted down the driveway.
“HEY!” I shouted, running outside and clearing the steps with a jump. I hit the ground running quicker than I had ever ran before, chasing the tall, broad figure down the gravel driveway. “Why were you in this house? This is private property!” I yelled at what I assumed to be a man, by the shape of his shoulders. He ignored my efforts to probe him completely, and with a quick and sudden lunge, made his way off of the path and into the woods. I followed him, cutting as soon as he dipped into the bushes.
I slipped between the trees at top speed, catching a glimpse of a red sweatshirt or a fleeting look of blue jeans. “I said get back here!” I yelled, pumping my legs quicker,. I noticed after a few moments, however, that I was now running alone in the woods. I started to panic a bit, but decided to keep walking forward. It had to come out somewhere, right?
I picked up a bit of speed when I heard footsteps behind me, which fluidly turned into full on sprinting once again. Only this time I was the one being chased. I bolted up a gentle slope, the trees were taller and seemed greener somehow in this part of the woods. I made it to the top of the hill, but before I could get a good look at the sight below, my foot caught an oddly shaped rock on the ground. I screamed, unable to stop my body slamming forward into the ground. I rolled down the hill onto my head hit something cold and hard.
Everything went black.
When I came to, everything seemed a little different. The first thing I noticed was the temperature. I felt cold, cold and damp. The second thing was a boy about my age shaking me by the shoulders. He had black hair with frosted blonde tips, obviously one of the cooler kids on campus. He pulled me up into a sitting position rather easily, looking for any other injuries, besides the bruise on my forehead. He was wearing a bright orange shirt and a pair of cargo pants that had dirt wiped on them just above the knees. “Hey, you OK?” The boy held up his index and middle finger on his right hand in front of my face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Two. Ugh.” I held my head and stood up slowly, and the boy followed suit.
“You must have taken a nasty fall,” he looked up to the top of the hill, and ran his eyes back down to me. “Let me take you back home, alright? You've got a big bruise on your head.”
“Yeah, I can feel that.” I winced when I touched the bruise, “Who are you? Where am I?” I asked, leaning against the cool hard stone, which I realized was what I had hit my head on. It was a pillar, and there were four in total, all around a large, stone block that had been cut with laser precision. It was an odd thing to find in the middle of the forest.
The boy leaned against the pillar beside of me, running his hand through his hair. “My name is Flynn. Flynn Everett.” He offered me a kind smile, which I felt obligated to return. “When I'm not at school I watch the property for Mayor Hartnett, and he lets me roam around and look for ginseng.” He explained his own reasons for being here, “Now, how did you end up down here?” He asked in an almost accusatory tone.
“I'm Sylus' granddaughter, Lisa Hartnett.” I crossed my arms defensively at the implied trespassing accusation. “Some guy in a red hoody and blue jeans was trespassing in our house!” I remembered suddenly, anger welling within me once again, “I chased him down the driveway and out here into the woods. I lost him and I tripped on some rock up there.” I pointed back up the hill.
Flynn laughed, waving his hand as he did so. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. That's totally awful, but you sound so funny.” His southern tony drug every last vowel out. “Where are you from?”
“Boston. That's not really important right now, there was someone in our house!” I moved from the pillar, rolling my eyes and holding my head. “Did you happen to see him? He was tall, pretty muscular. He could have totally taken me in a fight, but he was running like I was teen feet tall.” I started toward the hill, and Flynn moved in front of me. It was probably a good idea to follow him, since he would be the one to know the way out.
“I can't say I seen him, but I'm sure if he sticks around I will. Sylus will be relieved to see you, he's been home for a couple hours, and I'm sure he's wonderin' where you went to.” he led me through the trees like he was raised among them, taking sharp turns every so often. After a few minutes we had arrived back onto the driveway, only the side opposite that I had delved into the woods previously. I started the long walk up the driveway, and Flynn followed to my right, looking around at the trees. “I'll walk you up to the house. If that guy's hangin' around, he might try to start some s**t.”
I would not complain to Flynn escorting me into the house.
When I turned the decrepit handle, Sylus pulled the door open quickly. He was dressed down into a white button up and a pair of slacks, the bags under his eyes a bit more noticeable. “Lisa.” He motioned for myself and Flynn to come into the living room. The old man grabbed my hand and led me to the sofa, where he sat me down and squatted to my level, his hands holding my head. He stared intently at the wound before smiling in relief. “You should live,” he looked to Flynn, “Where was she?”
“Down by the old ritual site.” Flynn flopped down into the old recliner, standing back up quickly with an “Ow!”
I couldn't help but laugh, my hand moving to cover my mouth.
“Lisa, concentrate..” Sylus grabbed my shoulders, and the gray eyes seemed to burn with something deathly important behind them. “What happened? Do you remember?”
“Yeah,” I leaned back into the sofa as Sylus stood up, sitting on the coffee table in front of me. “ I was in here looking around the place, and some big guy in a red hoody and blue jeans ran down the stairs and outside. He was trespassing, grandpa, so I followed him down the driveway and into the woods. He lost me, and I tripped on a rock.” I explained with a shrug. “I think we should call the cops.”
“Hey, say 'cops' again.” Flynn butted in, but Sylus looked to him with a glance that shut him up immediately.
“Red hoody and blue jeans?” He thought hard for a second, then smiled and patted my shoulder as if I had seen a mouse instead of a human intruder. “I'll inform the sheriff personally, they will step up security around here. We've had a problem recently with addicts. The break into homes looking for prescription medications. Boy, did he come to the wrong house.” Sylus chuckled and crossed his left leg over his right. “Go home, Flynn. Thank you very much for bringing Lisa back here. Would you like a ride home? Some money?” Sylus offered as he stood up, pulling his coat on.
Flynn nodded with a smile. “Ride home sounds great, mayor Hartnett. Money ain't necessary though, I would've brought her back for free.” Flynn and Sylus moved toward the front door, and Sylus looked back to me. “Would you like to come with us, Lisa? We can stop and get some hamburgers or something.”
“Thanks grandpa, but I've got to get my room set up.” I declined with a polite smile. I stood up and started climbing the stairs as they left. However, when the door was shut, I scrambled down the stairs and locked it behind them. I was not going to chance another intruder.
I made my way back upstairs, bags in each hand, and opened the old wooden door to the bedroom on the far side of the house, across the hall from the master bedroom. I pushed the door with my knee, and to my surprise, I found the room was nearly done.
The bed was made in my favorite colors, blue and brown. There was a black bodied television perched on top of the chest, and the dresser had two pictures on it: one of my younger self and my mother, and the other of the same age, but of my father and I. I smiled at the posters on the wall. Green Day, Nirvana, all the bands I listened to regularly. Sylus must have put a lot of work into readying the room for me.
I sat my bags down on the bulky, wooden dresser and picked up a tiny piece of paper, clean white and folded once, that was sitting in between two pillows near the head of the bed.
“Lisa,
I'm aware that this move is probably the last thing you want to do. I know you had a lot of opportunity in Boston. However, you will find that Stone Flats will hold a bright future for the rest of your high school career, at the very least. I can't make you enjoy staying here, but I can make it as comfortable as possible. There is a little bit of spending money underneath of the television. I won't be around as much as I would like, but if you need anything, just come down to city hall. Even if it just for a chat!
I love you little Lisa, and I want to personally see to the best life I can give you. It is what your mother would have wanted. There are some things we do in the Hartnett family, some you already know, some I hope I never have to explain to you. The time will come, albeit too soon for this old man. Keep one thing in your mind in your time here at Stone Flats: Life is what you make it.
With dearest love, Sylus Hartnett
P.S., I sampled some of this music I was instructed via Perry to buy posters of. I should teach you a thing or two about good music!”
Sometime during reading the letter, I had set down on the bed. A wide smile had warmed its way onto my face, and I felt the tears edging up on my eyes. Stupid emotions. I laughed a bit to myself and folded the note neatly, pushing it into the picture frame of my mother and I. I unearthed my stereo from my bags first, plugging it up and sitting it on the dresser. I then dug for my CD’s, which I found under every possible thing. I put in Nirvana's last album, In Utero, and dug into folding and putting away my things.
Once the last tee shirt was put properly in the dresser, I shoved the bags under the bed and fell back onto the sheets, taking my glasses off and putting them on the nightstand. I crossed my arms behind my head, looking up at the rotating ceiling fan and sighing in an odd sense of content.
Between the crickets and the country air, I felt like I really was back home.
Chapter Two: Moonlighting(Sylus)
On the Northernmost side of Stone Flats, Sylus was creeping the van along at the speed limit, the windshield wipers trudging side by side against an unexpected summer storm. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and came to a stop at the appropriate sign. He looked to Flynn, who was leaned back in the seat looking out of the passenger window.
“Lisa doesn't have any friends around here.” Sylus pulled out into the intersection and kept going straight ahead, into a newer subdivision of townhouses.
“She's a nice enough girl. She'll make friends at school pretty easy,” Flynn yawned and looked over to the older man, the hinting tone of Sylus not weighing down on him.
“I was hoping maybe you would take her in to your little group, at least until she finds her own circles.” Sylus smiled and turned up the wipers a bit, the old Volkswagen marching up a curved hill and over into the back row of the townhouses. The streetlights were burning bright that night, casting eery shadows onto all that lay beneath them.
“Yeah, that shouldn't be a problem,” Flynn nodded and sat up, undoing his seat belt, “As long as she can handle Marcus and Vee.” he laughed and opened up the door just as Sylus came to a stop in front of a particularly well-kept brick house. It was behind the newer townhouses, and was easily the oldest, and most heavily manicured house on the block.
Sylus smiled and put the Volkswagen into park, fumbling in his breast pocket for a crooked cigarette and a relic of a zippo. “Your sister's a sweetheart, Flynn.” he said through lips clenched around the cigarette. He looked down for a moment to light it, then back up to Flynn. “Marcus he..” with a sigh from Sylus and a laugh from Flynn, Sylus slammed the gear shifter back into first gear and offered Flynn one more weary smile for the day.
“Seriously Flynn. Look out for Lisa for me come school time, will you? She's very important to me.”
Flynn snapped his fingers, ending them in the shape of a gun pointed at Sylus. “You got it, Mayor Hartnett. She will be my 'personal charge.'” He left Sylus there with a wave, shutting the front door securely behind him.
Sylus pulled around and started back out of the residential area, the streetlights pushing waves of light along the exposed surfaces of the old van. He gave a tired and troubled sigh, flicking the cigarette ashes out of the window and onto the pavement. He knew Lisa could hold her own in an academic environment, but it was the social setting he was worried over.
Lisa was not from Stone Flats. Even though she was born in the town, Perry had raised the girl with a Boston mindset. She probably knew all about public transportation, but could she spot poison ivy if she had to? Sylus knew these things would alienate her at the worst, and softly displace her from some conversations at the best. He had other worries as well, but nothing he felt he should alert the girl of until absolutely necessary.
He had almost made it out of the subdivision when the streetlights went out, one by one, until one was shining brightly three lights ahead of him.
Sylus thought nothing of it, though he did slow down a bit and look around. The houses were still lit up where people were still awake, so an outage was not the issue. He looked back to the front windshield just in time to slam on his brakes, the back heavy van sliding a bit to the right as he stood on the brake to avoid hitting a figure standing underneath the lone light.
The man underneath the light was Cletus Evert.
He had stringy, greasy brown hair and blue eyes that were usually bloodshot. He was wearing a worse for wear leather jacket and a stained white tee shirt, along with faded denim jeans ruined by motor oil. Cletus was the town drunk, so he was usually not a standout figure. However, this was a bit extreme for even Cletus, to be staggering out in the middle of a street in a private community!
Sylus turned the car off and got out, wrapping his coat around him a bit tighter as he approached the jobless drunk. “Cletus, son, where do you think you're going this late?” He tried to peer into the man's eyes, but his head was hanging down, staring down to the pavement.
“Going to free him. Going to free him.” Cletus mumbled. He was unusually stiff for a person of his status. He must have lost his usual stagger somewhere in the night.
“Free him? Free who, Cletus? Is someone trapped? Shall we call the police?” Sylus felt concerned for the man. Hopefully some little part of the alcoholic was still sane, but from the looks of it, the chances were grim.
Cletus' head snapped up with speed unlike the man Sylus knew. His eyes were focused on Sylus but, he noticed something:
They were not the eyes of the man named Cletus Evert.
These eyes were pitch black, with a small circle of white around the pupil. The man smiled wide, a frightening smile that seemed to correspond with the flickering of the light above their heads.
“The Rain Wizard, old fool.” Cletus laughed, cracking his neck and stepping a bit closer to Sylus. “You grow weaker, and he grows stronger. Your magic is getting dim with your age, old man. He is immortal. Age is not a measurement for out Master. He will raze this tiny town.” Cletus sneered up to the taller, older man.
Sylus glared down to Cletus, though he could feel his aging body limbering up for a fight. “Over the pile of bodies of the Hartnett family standing in your way.” he stood up a little straighter, the years seeming to peel off of his expressions.
“Ooh, all two of you?” Cletus laughed again, the streetlight above them beginning to burn far brighter than normal. “We are stronger than you know, old man.” He spat in Sylus' face. “We have infiltrated your office. Your school. Your police. Your workers. When our Master is free!” Cletus held a fist up in the air, a low, animal grown bubbling up from his throat.
“We will stri-!” Cletus was unable to finish his sentence, as an unseen force had thrown him into the light pole, the sound of bone hitting metal filling the air. Sylus, hand in the air, backed up a bit toward his van. “You misconstrue the situation, minion.” With a smirk, Sylus threw his hand to the side, and the possessed drunk followed like a puppet,skidding across the pavement into another light pole. “I have kept that tomb sealed for many years, and ended many the existence of evil stronger than you ever dreamt of, you useless puppet.” Sylus frowned.
Cletus stood up with some effort, the sound of broken bones grinding and cracking echoing down the quiet street. Cletus held his fist up once more, the arm was clearly broken. “No matter, I'll kill you here.” Cletus took a deep breath and tilted his head up.
“ATTACK!”
In a rush of movement, Cletus seemed to disappear as a few doors opened on both sides of the street. People Sylus had known for years began to walk out, popping knuckles and baring teeth. All black eyed. All glaring him into the pavement.
Sylus held his hand up once more, picking up the portly new recruit police officer and using him to bowl over the few that had joined in the middle of the street. He knew he could not hold his ground here. This was a show of power, this was the Rain Wizard flexing his muscles from beyond the grave. He would not die here. He could not. He had to get to Lisa.
In exertion of his own, Sylus roared. He thrust both his hands out, and the muscles in his arms tensed up. A wall of fire exploded down the street on both sides. It was a flash, meant not to kill the attackers, but to stun them. Sylus hurriedly closed the driver door behind him and started it up quickly. He peeled out of the subdivision, ignoring every stop sign and red light through the tiny town he ran the best he could.
He ignored the fact that it was raining fiercely now, and that he was driving down the dead middle of the street. Things were getting worse, he thought as he drove hurriedly toward his home. Just a few months ago, the first signs of resurgence had appeared. People were waking up in the forest with no idea how they got there. The police had blamed it on drugs, as usual, but Sylus had had a funny feeling. Now there was a force growing within the town. His town. This force only had one mission: To break the seal of the tomb in the woods behind his home.
The tomb of the Rain Wizard.
Although it was widely regarded as a local legend, the story was disturbingly true for Sylus and the members of his family. The earliest settler accounts of the area recall a story told by the native Americans about a man they referred to as the Rain Man. He lived in the area ten generations or so before the settlers came to the area. The story claims that the man was imbued with magical powers, and that he would make rain fall from the sky to nourish the land for them, for the price of one villager every year.
After the elders had realized that he was draining the spirits from the villagers he requested, a great battle supposedly took place between the holy men and the Rain wizard. He was sealed in a tomb, and with his last breath vowed to resurrect himself, and wreak havoc upon any who stood in front of him.
The real story, however, was a bit more interesting.
Sylus' family had come into the area with the settlers, and they had stayed here since the days of discovering the area that would come to be Stone Flats. For as long as Sylus had looked back into his family history, the members of his family had been able to use rituals older than any written explanation to invoke certain powers within them. It was their weapon of choice. His family had came to the new world to stand eternal watch over the tomb of the Rain Wizard, and to make sure such a force of malcontent never rose again into society.
The bright flashing of red and blue illuminated every mirror on the old van, and Sylus swore. Was he really getting pulled over at a time like this? He drove across the bridge that ran the gap over the river just outside of town and swerved into a gravel pit that the teenagers used mainly as a park and ride.
The cruiser followed closely to him and parked within a few feet of the Volkswagen. One of the Sheriff’s deputies got out of the car and shut the door casually, fixing his shirt and walking slowly over to Sylus' driver side window. Sylus smiled wide, the man was Leo Greene, and Leo had grown up with his daughter. He had known the boy practically from birth, and made small talk with him every other day or so. So, when the officer made it to the window, Sylus rolled it down and offered him a smile full of relief.
“Hey there, Leo.” Sylus laughed a bit, patting the side of the door. “Was I speeding, son? I apologize! It's raining something fierce, and I'm afraid my eyesight isn't what it used to be.” Sylus tried to use his age to get out of the ticket. If that did not work, it was going to be his position. He hated doing that, but now was not a time to sit like a duck in the water while Lisa was unprotected and alone in the middle of such a show of force.
Leo put one hand on top of the van and leaned down a bit to speak with Sylus. His wide-brimmed hat obscured his face, but the monotone voice told Sylus all he needed to know.
“You were running away, old man.” The whisper of what used to be Leo was barely audible over the pouring rain. The officer looked up to Sylus with a small smile, black eyes nearly invisible in the dark of the night.
“I've gotta put you down, sir.” Leo pulled his standard issue from its holster, wrenching the slide on the gun and pointing it into the van, the cool metal digging into Sylus' head. “I know I know, you don't wanna die and all. But Master's got a plan for us all. When the world is run by those with magic, we're all gonna be truly free and happy. Don't you see that, Sylus?” What once was Leo implored of him, “don't you see?”
Sylus could only offer a shaky sigh. He knew that any unannounced movement would earn him a bullet through his brain, and no special hand motion could help with that. “Don't 'sir' me, boy. Cut the s**t.” Sylus frowned, holding his hands up slowly. “Let an old man smoke one more cigarette, Leo. That's all I ask.”
The officer pressed the gun into his head a bit harder for a moment, then relented. He stepped back, keeping the gun loosely aimed at the window. “Go ahead. Once you're done, I've gotta get this over with, Sylus. I've got a schedule to keep.”
Sylus dug around in his pants pockets for a crumpled soft pack of cigarettes. He pulled out the only one of five in the pack that was face up and put the end between his lips. He lit it with a well practiced motion. The tobacco sparked a bit more than regular tobacco, and a distinct crackling sound broke the static of the rain.
Leo frowned, firming his grip on the gun. “Is that some sort of magic, Sylus? I ain't gonna let you teleport or something.”
Sylus laughed, “No magic, Leo. No magic, swear. It's just a cheap cigarette.” Sylus offered the man a calming smile, flicking the ashes out of the window. “So, Leo. Do you still go by Leo? Is Leo in there, can he hear me?” Sylus tried to make conversation, taking another long drag and blowing the smoke out of the window.
“Leo is no longer in control of this man.” The officer gave him a quizzical look. “I suppose he is still conscious. I can't say. I've never been in his shoes, you see.”
“Good point, officer.” Sylus nodded as if the information was incredibly informative. He took another long drag and blew the smoke out of the window a bit farther, frustration was creeping onto his face. “I'll try to remember that.”
“You won't have the opportunity.” The officer replied flatly, sighing and crossing his arms. “I'm going to kill you when you finish. Please hurry, Sylus.”
“Right right. Forgive me, you're on an itinerary.” Sylus took another drag and smiled, the smoke curling out of his nose as he spoke. “Like I was saying, Leo. I'll remember that when I'm fortifying the spells around your decrepit Master.”
The body of Leo looked enraged, but he was unable to act. The smoke Sylus had been blowing had all gathered above the officer's head, just out of sight. At his command, the smoke wrapped around the man, constricting him into a stiff standing position.
“You miserable old Wi-”
“The term 'Wizard' is archaic and a bit politically incorrect, Leo. We prefer 'Magically Inclined.'” Sylus laughed and started his car once more. With a coy wave, he peeled out of the pit and back onto the road, wiping the sweat of a tense situation off his forehead as the open window blew the cold air of relief all over him.
The rest of his drive was uneventful. It had stopped raining, and Sylus quickly parked in front of his home and walked inside. He locked the door, and grabbed the tiny, unassuming piggy bank on top of the nearby window sill. He opened the bottom and poured a line of salt across the doorway before bounding up the stairs, rolling up his sleeves and preparing himself for the worst.
He walked down the hallway as quickly as he could while still looking casual. Worry had oozed into his every though. What was he going to find? Was he going to find Lisa dead, curled up on the bed with the black-eyed minions crowding her room? Or was he going to find her waiting for him, black eyes full of malice.
He slowly twisted the old doorknob to her room and pushed it open slowly. The light was still on, and Lisa was laying on her bed, arms behind her head. She was breathing softly in her sleep, chest rising and falling in the regular intervals.
Sylus breathed a sigh of relief. He walked over and kissed the top of her head, tugging one of the blankets over her and shutting her door quietly after turning off the light. He walked with a bit more spring in his step across the hall to his own room. Inside, it looked like every other old man's room. It was drab, the furniture was a century old, and it was the highest order of clean. He sat down on the blue sheets over his bed and moved a hand to the old wooden nightstand. He picked up the receiver of his bedside phone and quickly dialed a number from memory.
“Old friend.” Sylus smiled a bit to himself, running a hand through the silver hair on his head.
“Yes. It's getting worse. I need you to enact the secondary line of defense. Yes. I'm going to get to work on the countermeasure. Me too. Sleep well, Velvel.”
Chapter Three: Buy One, Get One
Velvel.
The name stuck out in my head for days after I heard it. Mostly because I was not meant to hear it. I had woken up the second Sylus had left my room that stormy night, fear was evident about him. I wanted to know why.
I had crept along the ancient hardwood floor over to the master bedroom which, of course, was locked.
Yes. I'm going to get to work on the countermeasure. Me too. Sleep well, Velvel.”
Who was Velvel? Was that even a person? It could have been a greeting, but it sounded more like a person to me.
I had thought about it on and off as the middle of summer slipped away from me. I let the disturbing memory of the man in the red hoody slowly escape my mind. I had seen nothing of him since, and I liked it that way. However, I still locked up the house when Sylus was gone.
Most of the day I would spend listening to music, planning outfits for the coming school year, or playing my Gameboy, a present from Perry. When it would cool down, however, I would break out of the living room and into the forest around Sylus' home.
I loved the woods. It was one of the few things I had truly missed about my life in Stone Flats. I had missed the sound of the birds singing in the morning through the heavy dew and sunshine. I missed the gentle, cooling breeze that would rush down the mountains and over the nearby river. I even missed the sticky, summer heat that left me covered in sweat at the end of the day. What I missed the most about the woods, however, was the faint smell of honeysuckles throughout the bushes. I spent most of my time away from the home walking around the bushes, just enjoying the scent and, occasionally, picking one off of the bush and pulling the middle out to lick. The nectar was a special, natural kind of sweet that tasted better than any artificial sugar.
The sound of a loud, angry horn blew the concentration out of my head. I jumped, pressing my back against a tree and looking around,wide-eyed.
Before I could look for the source of the noise, an old, beat up 1986 Ford F150 in Flat Rust color stopped in the middle of my grandfather's driveway. The driver was a man I had never met before. He was a tall, certainly broad and could make a plant shrivel up and die with his deadpan pools of dark brown. I could not find a neon color on the man. His clothes were black; a Marilyn Manson tee that showed off practiced muscles, along with a pair of bondage jeans I could barely see, also black with silver buckles and zippers. He had black dreadlocks that fell down to the bottom of his shoulders, and tightly stretched skin that was just about the color that Sylus took his coffee; two creamers and a bit of sugar.
“Hey, hey, Boston!” The familiar face of Flynn leaned up from the passenger seat, waving. “We're all going to Jack's Port to go school shopping at the mall. Wanna come?”
“Well,” I started to decline, but what else would I do with the day? Eat honeysuckles and try my hand at Tetris for the hundredth time?
“Yeah, cool,” I smiled and moved out of the woods. The taller stranger pushed the truck into park and opened his door, standing to his intimidating height to let me into the middle. I climbed in quickly, trying not to think too heavily on the situation, and sat between them.
“By the way, this is Marcus.” Flynn pointed to the driver as he got back into his seat and whipped the truck around in the driveway. Marcus shot a glance over to me and smiled, the piercing digging into his lip a bit tighter. “What's up?”
“Hey, I'm Lisa.” I smiled politely, holding my hand out. He took my hand for a moment, then quickly perched a cigarette between his lips, lighting it with one hand as he sped down the gravel driveway and back out onto the road.
“Flynn told me a lot about you. Say 'car'.”
Flynn erupted into laughter, and I rolled my eyes, a smile snuck up on my mouth. “Car.” I made sure to really dig into the Boston accent I had attained living with Perry, leading to the final outcome sounding a lot like 'cah.'
Marcus laughed as he pulled out onto Main street, heading down the long road lined with mom and pop shops towards the tallest building in Stone Flats: Stone Flats High School. “That's nice. You sound like those annoying city girls on TV.”
“Thanks. I think.” I nestled back into the seat, “you know, you guys sound funny to me, too.”
“I'm sure we do,” Marcus offered me a smirk as he pulled through the parking lot and up to the walking track behind the school, where a few more people we sitting against the brick wall of the school. “But we're the majority here.”
The one closest to me was a plain looking kid. I laughed a bit to myself when I first saw him. Internally, of course. It was odd to even think of the boy with brown, wavy hair and brown eyes magnified by glasses associating with Flynn and Marcus. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans, like Flynn, but had a red button-up shirt neatly tucked into his pants.
There were two women beside of him, and they both snapped out of a private conversation to look up at us when we pulled up to them. Once had black hair like Flynn, with big, blue eyes, pale skin, and a twisted smile. She was wearing a flannel skirt and a black shirt so tight I would have had a panic attack wearing that in public. The other had long, black hair, olive skin, and brown eyes that dug into me when she first saw me. She stood up, wearing a pair of blue jean shorts and a purple tee shirt covered up by a multicolored windbreaker.
Flynn, ever the attempted gentlemen, stepped out of the truck and waved his hand in a far too formal fashion. “Lisa, this is Richard Schmidt, we call him Ricky.” Ricky smiled and waved to me, which I returned politely.
“This,” He pointed to the girl in the skirt, “is Victoria Constance, my fraternal twin.”
“We're actually identical twins.” the woman sneered and ruffled up Flynn's hair. “His face looks just like my a*s.” We all laughed at Flynn's expense, but even he joined in. “Call her Vee.” He told me with a smile, then motioned to the remaining girl. “This is Serena Nguyen. We-”
“They just call me Serena.” She smiled and slid next to me into the truck. “C'mon guys. We've got a half-hour drive!” Ricky and Vee climbed in, then Flynn squeezed closest to the door,shutting it with some effort.
“Mush, Marcus, mush!” Vee drummed her hands on the dash and Marcus pulled out of the parking lot. Before he hit the main road, he shifted to neutral and stomped on the gas, letting the truck roar before tugging it back into gear and letting it jump a bit along the road.
I dug my fingers into the cracked leather interior as Marcus tore down the road. Before long, we were back up onto the interstate and holding a steady pace South, the trees and soft, sloping hills cutting off just before the guards of the highway.
“So, Boston.” Marcus drummed his fingers on the steering wheel idly as he swerved to pass a tractor trailer that had just merged onto the highway, “Why come all of the way from Boston down to this part of the world?”
“Sylus, My grandpa, wanted me to,” I answered as honestly as I could, shrugging a bit. I leaned back into the seat and put my feet on the dash, my sneakers next to Vee's. “When my mom was killed, I moved up to Boston to stay with me aunt Perry. My grandpa told me it was what my mom wanted so I had to come back here.”
“What happened to your mom?” Vee blurted out. I glanced over to see the look of hesitation on Kyle's face. Of course he would know, he probably spoke to Sylus more than I did.
“She was murdered.” I looked up toward the road, very careful not to let any sort of emotion slip onto my face. I was not going to cry, but I did not want to make them think I was all down about it. It was a thing that happened when I was a kid. I was be stupid to still be crying about it.
Right?
“I used to live here with my parents, but my dad shot her to death one night while I was asleep. So, grandpa sent me to live with Perry.” The memories were hazy to me; I could never tell what was real, what had happened, and what I had imagined as a scared little kid.
“Y'know, I think I remember that.” Marcus had moved back over into the right hand lane, and was slowing down to turn off toward the large green sign that read 'EXIT 53 " JACKS PORT'. “So, are we eating before or after the mall?” Marcus was quick to change the subject. He offered me a smile, and I felt relieved. The topic was getting terribly awkward.
“I think we should eat after. The food court sucks.” Flynn yawned and pulled his hands up over his head after his suggestion, and no one seemed to contest it. Marcus drove up the road off of the exit and, after a right past a garage and another right past a bank, he pulled into the parking lot of the Jack's Port mall.
It was nice, for the area. It was a large, two story shopping complex with the usual mall staples and, apparently, a food court that could stand some improvements.
Maybe Boston spoiled me a little on the retail end.
We all made our way to the front entrance, and the automatic doors squeaked open with a groan. As a group, we glided down the old fashioned tile floor and peered into the various shops, before Vee and Serena collectively stopped the group in front of an Abercrombie and Fitch outlet. Marcus raised his eyebrows and shook his head with a small smile. “Gender split. Boys?” He waved a hand forward, Flynn and Ricky followed him towards the escalator.
“Well.” I shrugged and followed the two other girls into the outlet, the heavy scent of overly tested perfumes and colognes made me cough. “What's with them?”
“Marcus can't buy anything without a double purpose for a dominatrix outfit, Ricky is allergic to artificial scents, and Flynn is a tool.” Vee rolled her eyes, but smiled.
“Besides, when was the last time you got to hang out with only other girls?” Serena looked me up and down, as if I was wearing the answer in number form somewhere on my body.
“I don't know,” I shrugged again, “Like, early may?”
“Yeah, too long.” Vee slung her arm around my shoulders, leading me over to the accessories. “Besides, we'll meet back up with 'em soon. “ 'Sides, we'll meet back up with them after a couple shops. I won't keep you away too long, those come-hither looks you're giving Mark might fizzle out.”
“I was not.” I raised my eyebrows in surprise when she insinuated I had been traded any kind of looks with the tall, broad goth boy I had just met. He had been nothing but nice to me, but I still would hold firm that I had not been flirting with him.
“Yes, you were.” Serena wrinkled her nose and sneered at me, picking a long, black necklace off of the rack and holding it up to my chest, the silver leaf centerpiece was certainly cute, but I was not a huge fan of necklaces, so I declined with a small shake of my head.
“I totally was not,” I frowned, “That conversation was entirely too awkward, and he switched it up for me.”
“Yeah yeah,” Vee stuck her tongue out and turned around to Serena and I, wearing a rather over the top leather jacket. We all laughed and Vee hung it back up.
I felt of proud of myself trying on a few outfits and putting them all back. At least I tried. Serena and Vee, however, marched off to the dressing rooms with arms full of clothes. There was no way they could be trying them all on. I leaned against the wall toward the front of the outlet and decided to start passing the time by watching the people walking back and forth from view of the outlet entrance.
When Vee hooked her arm into mine and lead me out of the store with herself and Serena, I had been standing there for a good twenty minutes, and was more than ready to move on to another store. Serena wanted to go to Victoria's Secret, and Vee was adamant about the group making a quick stop by a local outlet first that sold edgier clothing, makeup, and all types of memorabilia and paraphernalia.
Vee won out, promising to by fairly quick. The way that Serena groaned, however, told me that this was a common misconception. We filed into the dimly lit store that absolutely reeked of nag champa and cigarette smoke. From what I could make out, the store was mostly for people with a flair for cult movies, punk rock attire, and the casual stoner. I thumbed through some interesting earrings on a rack before I felt eyes digging into the back of my neck. I straightened up a bit, but before I could turn around, I heard the newly familiar voice of Marcus.
“Vee drag you in here?” He asked with a smirk. I really did not fit into this kind of outlet, at least that is what he apparently thought. “No, no, I said I wanted to come in here, too. I needed some, needed some,” I picked up the nearest pair of earrings to my fingers and held them up between us. “Pot leaf earrings. Yeah, my other pot leaf earrings...broke.”
Why did I feel the need to lie?
Marcus nodded with a small smile, biting the inside of his lip and making the hoop piercing turn a bit. “Right on. I never pegged you for a pothead, Boston. Maybe sometime you can come smoke with me and Flynn?” His offer was sincere, and that put me into a bit of a panic.
“Yeah, sure, totally,” I nodded and put the earrings back. There I went again. I had no reason to lie, I was perfectly interesting as my own person. At least, I thought that, anyway.
Marcus moved his hand over to the rack, and pushed it over my own, holding the earrings into my palm. “Hey,” he looked around, then leaned down closer to me a bit excitedly.
“Steal it.”
“What?” I was shocked, jerking my hand out from under his and holding it behind me. “No way.”
“C'mon, just take it,” he whispered, his smile falling into a smirk. “No one will know but you and me. Do it.”
“I don't think that's a very good idea,” I bit my lip, the idea of getting a shoplifting charge and ruining my college resumes was a cold and hard one, but still, the look he was giving me was weighing on my shoulder devil.
“Live a little, Boston. Take 'em.” he pushed me once more, and I had to relent. “Fine, fine, I'll do it.” I shushed him and looked around. The clerk was on the phone, facing away from us and plucking the cord to the store phone with his fingers as he spoke quietly. Vee and Serena were on the far end of the store holding up some incredibly racy lingerie to each other and snorting with laughter. Two other customers were flipping intently through the posters. I slung my hand out quickly and ripped the earrings off of the rack. I took them out of the packaging and shoved the packaging into my back pocket, then put the earrings into my front right pocket.
I took them.
My stomach and head were buzzing with the rush of the situation. I made a stiff attempt at a casual walk from the outlet and sat on the outside bench. Marcus towered behind me, and sat down beside me on the old, wooden bench. He had a wide, almost goofy smile plastered onto his face. “Alright!” He nodded and clapped his hand onto my shoulder. “You're alright for new blood, Boston. You're alright.”
“Thanks, I like to think I'm alright.” I smiled a bit in relief and ran one hand through my hair. I took another glance to the clerk, just in case, but he had not moved. “And my name's Lisa. I'm not a city.” I smiled and looked up to him. “I don't call you Stone Flats.”
“Alright,alright. Lisa.” He corrected himself and we both laughed.
Alright, maybe I was a little soft on him. Even if he did make me steal things.
“Well, well, well.”
My smile fell when I heard the condescending tone that had fallen out of Serena's mouth. Vee was standing beside of her in front of the store's entrance, her hand on her hip and a knowing smirk pulled back onto her face.
“What?” Marcus looked generally confused, poor guy. He looked to Vee for an explanation, but I wasn't going to give her the pleasure. I stood up and moved between them, shaking my head. “She hit her head back in Abercrombie. She's been saying random stuff.”
“I have NOT!” Serena gasped, and Marcus laughed, standing up as well. “I probably don't even wanna know.” He waved his hands in surrender, and Serena sneered to me again.
“Know what?” Ricky piped up from the end of the escalator, walking forward to complete the group with Flynn, the two of them carrying bags from the local sporting goods outlet.
“Nothing!” I turned my head and snapped to the two of them. The surprise was evident on Ricky a bit more than Flynn. Flynn just offered me a reassuring smile, and Ricky held his hands up. “Woah. Ten-four, Bo-”
“-Lisa.” Marcus corrected him, “Her name's Lisa.”
“Lisa.” Ricky corrected himself and smiled to me.
With a whine, Vee started walking back to the escalator, “Geez guys, I'm starving. Let's leave.” We all made our way downstairs and out of the front door. I was surprised to find that night had crept up on us while we were inside of the mall, and the streetlights were buzzing, offering us a guiding light toward the beat up truck that Marcus drove.
Ricky was trying to coax Vee into starting an early morning jogging ritual with himself and Flynn whenever he stumbled, catching himself with one hand on a newer Lexus. We all looked to where he tripped, and a man was leaning against one of the broken streetlights. He certainly looked haggard, with dirty jeans and a dirtier white shirt. An old leather jacket was zipped up halfway, and the smell of whiskey was potent off of him.
“Hey!” The drunk stood up, leaning against the light pole. He looked to all of us, his blue eyes were bloodshot. “Any of you kids got some change? I gotta...gotta make a phone call.” He hiccuped when he pointed to the payphones, as if we had been had been the ones asking for them.
“Yeah,” Marcus stepped in front of the group, fishing two dollar's worth of old quarters out of his pocket and laying them in the man's outstretched hand, a bit of tobacco dust and lint came with them, but the man did not seem to mind much.
“Far out, man.” The man smiled and nodded gratefully to him. “You guys wouldn't give a guy a ride home wouldya?” he hiccuped again, and this time Marcus frowned at him. “I ain't gotta ride.”
“Can't do.” Marcus shook his head and backed up a bit, turning around and walking back toward the truck with the keys in his hand. I looked back to the old drunk one more time before turning back to the group.
“Creep.” Serena shivered, wrapping her arms around herself and quickening her pace.
A flash of bright light filled my vision, just before a loud crack filled the air. I heard Vee scream, and I covered my eyes, looking around in a panic. A light bulb had busted in the streetlight above us, and it had startled all of us.
I looked back and noticed the drunk was up and walking toward us now, a sureness in his step. “I'm gonna need that ride now, boy!”
“Go!” Flynn shouted and we all took of running. My sneakers were pounding the old, gray pavement as we all darted across the parking lot. Halfway to the truck, I felt my foot plant into a pothole. With a yell of surprise, my face rushed down to meet the pavement. I covered my head with my hands, and rolled a bit. I groaned and sat up, trying to blink the stars from my vision.
What I saw took the color right out of my face.
The drunk was walking calmly toward me. He must have rubbed something into his eyes, because they looked black. Like motor oil had been poured over his eyes. It was the single scariest thing I had ever seen in my life, and it was coming straight for me.
“Get up, Lisa.” The man smiled wide, baring yellow and black teeth that had not seen a toothbrush in years. “Get up and fight. Show me what you're made of, little girl!” With a laugh, the man held his hands up triumphantly.
I was paralyzed in fear. I could not look around, scream for help, or even move. How did he know my name? Why did he want to fight me? I just sat there on the pavement, the blood from a skinned elbow running down my arm without much of a fight.
“Pick on someone your own size, you drunk piece of s**t.” Marcus was standing over me now, holding a nasty looking switchblade that he must have had on him the whole time. His taunt had torn the man's attention from me, and he glared at Marcus with his jet black eyes. “I'm a little more than you can handle, boy..” he stepped closer, and that was when I heard the roaring of a motorcycle.
“Marcus!” I grabbed his arm, yanking him to the pavement with everything I had just before the old Harley sped between two cars and came to a swerving stop in front of us. I looked up to the man who was saving us from this odd encounter, and, to my surprise, I was actually more afraid.
It was the guy in the red hoody. The man that had broken into my home. He had the hood drawn tight over his face, but I knew it was him. It was not much to go by, but the outfit and the shoulder size were identical. I knew it was him. But why was he here?
He kicked down the stand with one foot and stepped off of the bike, standing equal height to Marcus in between the two of us and the drunk. “Get out of here.” The man barked to us in a low growl. I frowned, despite our exit out of this tense situation. I had wanted to hear his voice. I wanted to know something about this man. Why was he following me around everywhere?
I stood up with Marcus and tried to move closer to the man, but he stuck a hand out behind him, motioning for us to keep our distance. “Go.”
“Who are you?” I demanded, “You were in my house! I chased you out into the woods, did you follow me here? Have you been following me this whole time?”
Whatever was going on, it seemed to be highly pleasing to the drunk. He laughed, one hand on his side. “Oh, boy. You have got to be kidding me. All this for a ride?” He shook his head, “F**k all y'all. Just wanted a ride, Jesus.” he turned around and started to make a brisk walk back towards the street.
“C'mon, we have to go.” Marcus said very seriously, grabbing my arm and dragging me with him back to the truck. My eyes never left the man in the parking lot. He looked tense, like he had been staring down a dragon or something. Why? It was just an old drunk with some optical problems. But even if the guy was a murderer or something, why was he following me around? To save me? How would he have even known I was moving back in?
I took my seat between Marcus and Ricky without protest, looking out the window one last time to see if I could glimpse the man's face, or a better look at the drunk, to tell Marcus to take the opposite direction.
Somehow, I knew they would both be gone.
We had silently decided not to eat. Marcus took the highway at the quickest exit and made the half-hour trip back to Stone Flats in twenty. When he pulled back up into the school parking lot, the tension in the air had calmed down. We all unpacked ourselves from the truck and stood outside. Marcus and Vee were splitting a cigarette. We all looked cold despite the seventy-five degree temperature.
“Well, I really should be going.” Serena looked down to her watch and waved to everyone. Ricky stepped up quickly, looking over his shoulder. He was still a bit jumpy. “I'll walk you home. We live pretty close to each other, anyhow.” Serena smiled at his offer, “We're neighbors, Ricky.”
“I know, like I said, really close.” he laughed and waved back at the remainder of the group. As they got a head start up the road, Vee handed the rest of the cigarette to Marcus and tilted her head up, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. “We'd better get going too, Flynn. We need to be up pretty early for school tomorrow.”
Flynn nodded in agreement and kicked off of the brick wall of the school, waving to Marcus and I as he accompanied his sister the short walk to their neighborhood.
I stood there silently for a few moments before Marcus broke the silence with his keys. He started the old truck with one crank. “Get in, I'll take you home.”
“Thanks.” I closed the passenger door behind me and, for the first time in his truck, was not jammed in and could buckle the seat belt. Marcus took a back road I had no prior knowledge of from the school and up around the hill, which put us out across from the hardware store. He stopped at the sign and went straight on to the road that would end at my grandpa's house.
He was silent, and so was I. I had no idea what to say. I wanted to thank him for sticking up for me, but he also made me steal a pair of earrings. I stuck with silence. When he pulled up to the wrap around porch, he pushed the truck into park and turned to face me, hands still on the wheel.
“We'll see you at school tomorrow, Lisa.” He held up a hand and offered me a casual wave. I responded with a wave of my own, climbing out of the truck and closing the door. “Yeah, that's cool. See you tomorrow.” I smiled and turned around, closing the front door behind me. The lights were out, the television was on old westerns, and the smoke smell in the air was at its peak. That told my Sylus was already home and in bed. I marched up the stairs and closed the door to my room. I debated on taking a shower, but put it off for the morning, along with everything else. It gave me an excuse to start the day earlier.
I was excited to go back to school, even if it was in Stone Flats. I curled up in the sheets and turned to watch the trees sway in the wind out of the window to my bedroom.
I fell asleep before I noticed it, and that night, I dreamt of Harleys and dragons.
Chapter Four: Stand Still
It was oddly cold for August.
There was an unnerving chill in the early morning air, but I was the only one who seemed to notice it. Grandpa had paid no attention to it. He had left early and came back with breakfast for the both of us from a local diner; two Sausage, egg, and cheese biscuits with coffee. We sat at the dining room table and, for the most part, ate in silence. Sylus had became jumpy the past couple weeks. He probed around everything I told him, like he was looking for keywords. He came home merely to sleep, and everything seemed to make him do a double-take.
It really concerned me, but what would I say to bring it up?
“Are you excited for your first day at school in Stone Flats, Lisa?” Sylus beat me to the conversation, leaning back a bit in his seat as his hand fumbled around in his breast pocket instinctively for his cigarettes.
“Yeah,” I was entirely honest about my opinion on the matter, for once. “I really like hanging out with Flynn and everybody, so I think school will be pretty rad, actually.”
Sylus offered me a wide smile at my expression of positivity towards the change. “Excellent. I'm glad to hear it,” he pushed a cigarette between his lips and lit it in one fluid motion. “Flynn's a rather strapping young man, isn't he?”
“Grandpa!” My mouth hit the table. Was he really insinuating I should go out with Flynn? I laughed a bit and took another bite of the biscuit in my hand. “He's alright. Little bit too much of a mouth for me.”
We both agreed in laughter.
“Oh, be nice to the poor kid. You probably don't remember, but you used to play with Flynn and Victoria all the time. Your father and their father were childhood friends.”
“Oh, yeah, I didn't remember.” the smile fell from my face, and I knew he noticed.
“Listen, Grandpa,” I finished chewing and took a small drink of the coffee, “Something really weird happened at the mall yesterday.”
Sylus looked at me for a moment before waving his hand, “Well don't sit on it, Lisa. What happened? Talk to me.” He sounded anxious. I really did not like this change in his behavior.
“Well, we left the mall and in the parking lot there was this old drunk,” I noticed Sylus' nostrils flared and he stopped blinking, but he gave me a reassuring smile, “He asked us for change and Marcus gave him what he had. Then, I swear Grandpa, the bulb in the streetlight exploded. He started asking me to fight him, but Marcus stood up for me. I think he was about to fight Marcus, but that red hoody guy came out of nowhere on some old Harley! He's following me, grandpa! How would that old drunk know my name?” I'm sure I seemed perplexed to the point at frustration.
Sylus looked pensive. He took a long, thoughtful drink of the coffee in his hand before glancing back up towards me. The gray of his eyes looked tired; they were quickly losing their luster.
“A lot of people know you, Lisa. They know you're my granddaughter. I assume it isn't hard to put two and two together. I have a picture of you and your mother in my office, so I can only imagine the man had probably been there before. I speak with plenty of people in the day.”
I sighed in frustration. There was something weird about it. Weird about everything, actually. Very little had been making sense from the moment I returned to Stone Flats. Sylus looked tired and jumpy as compared to his usual energetic self, strange men were breaking into his home and stalking me and he seemed less than worried, and now random people were challenging me to fights in parking lots.
For the first time in my life, I could absolutely not wait to get back to school.
“I should probably get going, it's about a thirty minute walk to the school.” I stood up and downed the rest of the coffee, tossing the Styrofoam cup into the trash can in the corner of the dining room. “Oh, you're not walking,” Sylus wiped his mouth off with a napkin and stood up, straightening his button up shirt.
“Oh, thanks for the ride, grandpa.” I smiled.
“Oh,” he gave me a confused smile, “I won't be able to give you a ride today, dear. However, I did ask Flynn about coming to pick you up. I have some very pressing engagements that needs some serious attention at the office.” he tugged his jacket on with a practiced fluid movement and in a couple long strides was out the door without so much as a goodbye.
I was not sure what to say, so I did the same. I pulled my own jacket on and set to cleaning up the table, throwing everything away from breakfast before I heard the old horn on Marcus' truck outside. I locked the door behind me, and made sure to do so. No more break ins, not if I could help it.
“Lookin' good!” Flynn beat the side of the truck and howled like a wolf. I laughed and opened the door, sliding in beside of him and sitting my bag down in my lap. “Shut up,” I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, “Am I overdressed?” I asked cautiously. I had put forth the special effort to curl my hair that morning, along with finding what I believed to be a halfway decent outfit; a pair of jeans with one of the knees lovingly faded and threaded bare by hand with a razor blade, a Soundgarden shirt and a plaid jacket, a bit oversized.
“Yeah, you look great,” Marcus blurted out as he started down the drive from my house. He lit a cigarette with one hand and, luckily, was steering with the other. Compared to Flynn's button down shirt and jeans, Marcus looked edgy. His dreads were gathered up behind his head in a ponytail, and he was wearing the same regular bell-bottomed chain jeans, only a camouflage pair this time. The Static-X shirt was stretched tightly across his bolstered frame.
I decided to keep looking ahead of me, out the window, before that got weird.
None of us said anything as we made it to the large, brick school. When Marcus whipped his beat up truck into the parking lot and cut it off, he lit another cigarette and slammed the door behind him. This really was a bit different from Boston.
Flynn followed me out and shut the door behind him, and by the time we got out Ricky and Vee were standing at the back of the truck. With an impressive leap, Marcus put himself to sit on the side of the bed, adjusting his shirt.
“Got some spare energy there, Marcus?” Vee asked him as she moved to sit beside of him, taking the cigarette from his lips and taking a long, almost needy looking drag. “Not really,” he smirked and took it back from her, “You could say I'm excited to get Senior year over with.”
“You and me both, Mark.” Ricky leaned against the truck and pushed his glasses more onto the bridge of his nose, “All advanced courses this year. Oh! That reminds me, My grandpa's got some of you for his Media Appreciation class. It's pretty easy stuff, so you guys shouldn't have to worry about it.”
“Yeah, I'm in that s**t.” Vee snorted and took the cigarette from Marcus, finishing it and flicking it across the parking lot. “Anyone else?”
“Right here,” Marcus raised his hand. Flynn did the same, and I raised mine to bring up the rear.
“Far out,” Vee smirked and hopped off of the truck. She swept her long, black hair behind her. “Well, let's try not to be late the first class!”
I followed her inside, and the transition would prove to be one of the more awkward moments of my life. The first three classes were all the same. I had to stand in front of the class like a show monkey, cranking an old music box for small amount of money. I told them all my name and where I'm from (most of them inquired on my accent before I got to say anything more than my name, however.) Once that was over, I got the joy of trying to act like I did not notice every other student staring me down while I casually took notes. Had I not known better, I would have thought they were taking shifts staring at me.
After those uncomfortable periods, I was relieved to walk into my fourth class of the day, Media Appreciation, and see some of my new friends. They sat in a near complete square, with the remaining seat empty. It had obviously been reserved for me, and that made me smile. I slung my bag around the seat and sat down beside of Marcus, in front of Flynn, and diagonally from Vee. I shot Vee a snickering smile when I sat down, and was about to inquire about her day before the door closed rather loudly behind us, startling me.
When I looked forward, a very well-aged man stood in front of the blackboard. When did he get there? Was he there the whole time? No one else seemed thrown off, so I shrugged it off. The man had neatly trimmed hair, light brown with a few grays here and there, and a goatee of equal color and texture. He was wearing a tweed blazer and a light blue button up shirt, with matching khaki pants. He almost looked like one of the private school teachers I had been used to in Boston.
“Good afternoon, Class. I'm Mister Schmidt. You can call me Mr. V, if it makes it easier.” he smiled a warm smile, but I gripped my pencil a bit tighter.
V.
Was V for Velvel? The man my grandfather had been discussing some sort of emergency tactic with? I doubted it, but I had yet to hear of anyone else with a name beginning in V. Except for Vee, of course, but that was statistically unlikely. This man, however, he looked like someone who had some secrets.
“Miss Hartnett. I'll save you the terrible awkward introduction. Class, just know that Miss Hartnett is a new student here from Boston, and she's the only grandchild of our mayor, Mister Hartnett.” He gave me an airy wave and jerked down the white panel for the projector. I offered a relieved smile as I opened my notebook, heading a paper for notes for the day as the projector began to whirr to life. Pictures of different artists, composers, musicians, writers, playwrights, all filled the screen. I quickly set to writing down the information that Mister V began to drag out about each individual and their contribution to their form of art.
As I started to write down the information about who was apparently an important figure skater and the implications for dance, a tiny, folded note was lobbed from Flynn's desk and landed ever so softly on my own. I looked around before opening it quickly, reading it under a blank page in my notebook.
“We're all skipping school after lunch. All we have is gym then we're out, and they don't even take roll! Besides, I've got some pretty rad s**t back at the house, figured we could all get baked.”
I stared at the letter for a few moments, then sighed and put my pencil down. I had never even actually seen marijuana before, little along smoked, as Flynn so eloquently put it, 'rad s**t.' However, I really would like to spend more time away from Sylus. He was being so distant, I thought maybe giving him a little space would be a good thing.
“I'm down.”
I refolded the paper and shoved it back to Flynn. He patted me on the shoulder and Marcus shot me a wink. I never should have stolen those earrings, now they think I'm some sort of New England drug aficionado.
I finished writing Mister V's last sentence as the bell rang. He waved his hand toward the door and smiled, “We'll finish later. Go eat!” He sat down in his desk chair and crossed his leg over his knee. I wasted no time getting up and collecting my things. I followed the other three out the door like every other student, only we would not be going to the cafeteria. I looked back to Mister V, and what I saw made my blood run cold. His eyes looked serious, they looked like they were observing me, taking in details even I knew nothing about. To that date, no one had given me such an in depth look over in my life.
I felt a little violated, but more afraid than anything.
We all made our way out of an old fire exit that, I was told, Ricky has disabled the alarm to. Without much time to talk, we met up with the rest of the group in the parking lot and all crammed into Marcus' truck. He brought the ancient thing to life and spun gravel out of the parking lot and onto the main road.
“F**k. Yes.” Vee sighed and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her bag. She rolled her eyes and lit one for herself, Marcus, and, to my surprise, Ricky. I declined and crossed my legs in the seat to offer a bit more room. “That bad, Vee?” I asked her with surprise.
“Yeah, it was. The only class I wasn't about to beat my brains out in was Mister V's.” Ricky smiled a bit and Vee smiled back, taking a drag of the cigarette. “Set a course for home,” Flynn told Marcus in an overly-dramatic impersonation of William Shatner, and Marcus smirked a bit and stepped on the gas,speeding toward the community with the brick house at the edge of the forest.
-Meanwhile-
Velvel Schmidt was still sitting still in his chair, one hand rubbing his temples as he looked to the floor. Sylus had warned him about the residual energy that leaked from his granddaughter, but he really hadn't believed him. The young woman was like a volcano, spewing energy anywhere she went. She would learn to control that with time, he thought, but the effects were interesting. The three sitting around her, they were releasing their own unusual amount of energy, though it seemed to amplify when Lisa came into the room. She was a catalyst for them, strengthening them. None of them even knew it, he thought with a small smile, sitting up more in his chair.
He was excited with the prospect of her power. With a little training, her abilities would quickly come to rival that of her grandfather. It was a wonderful notion, but it was a bit frightening. He looked to the clock on the wall and noted the time, one thirty, and sighed. Lunch would be over soon, and he would have to go back to teaching each class the same material.
A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts, and he waved for the person to come in. Probably a student who needed some help with his class, or another class. He was well known for having an open door policy, and had no qualms helping the student body with any problem he could.
The person who entered, however, was certainly not a student.
The man was well-known for being the town drunk, only his movements seemed clear and deliberate. He sauntered into the room and took a seat on a desk close to Velvel's. He smiled a wide smile to him. His eyes were jet black.
“Hello, Velvel.”
“Cletus?” Velvel narrowed his eyes once he looked to the man, one hand moving to stroke his goatee. “No, you're not Cletus. Maybe outwardly, but not so inwardly. What's your real name?” he asked the man.
When he posed the question, Cletus laughed. The clock on the wall stopped, the second hand hanging permanently in the position between second forty-five and forty-six. This made Velvel very uncomfortable. Who was this man, that he had the ability, no, the capacity, to stop time for such a large space?
“In the realm where I exist in physical form, they call me Sahr Nuhl.” He informed him, and held one hand up. A tiny, black ball began to form in his hand, and he held it out quickly. With honed reflexes, Velvel held out his own hand, and a burst of blue energy met the black essence in between the two men. Velvel stood up, as did Cletus, and the two pressed into their attacks, the blue and black fighting in a tug of war between them.
“You've weakened with age, old man.” Nuhl sneered and pressed forward. Velvel met his pace. Before long, the two were standing next to each other, blue and black energy sparking around the room as their hands were nearly against one another. “I'm strong enough to put you down,” Velvel glared at him, “Why are you here in this school?”
“I was here looking for the Hartnett girl.” Nuhl answered him simply. He pressed forward with his free hand, but Velvel pivoted. In a flash of black, Velvel was gone. A black whisp flew around the room and landed on top of a desk on the other side of the room, where Velvel appeared once more, his hand out in front of him. “You're going to have to get through me to get to her, Nuhl. The girl is not to be harmed.”
“Well then, I guess I'll just go through you!” Cletus lunged over a desk and ran for him, the burst of black energy shooting towards Velvel. He turned into a whisp of black smoke once more, returning the side of the room in front of his desk and shot his own blue energy towards Cletus' back. It was sure to be a direct hit.
But it stopped.
It suspended in mid air inches from his back as Cletus turned around, cupping the energy with his hands and smacking his hands together, causing it to vanish. “No good, Velvel.” he shook his head and laughed. “But, I've done what I needed to do here. I've bought my best man enough time to slaughter those pathetic kids.”
Velvel's eyes widened in surprise, and with a laugh from Cletus he was gone, the clock had started up again, ending the longest half second of Velvel's life.
He walked hurriedly out of the school and, once he hit the parking lot, made a run for his car. He climbed inside and started the current year's BMW M3 with a quiet cry of life in the engine. He peeled out of the parking lot much quicker than Marcus had. He made it to the Stone Flats town hall in just under a minute. He normally did not use his powers in public, but today was an emergency. The black whisp once again appeared, and shot into the sky. It made it to the fourth floor of the town hall, and through the window of Sylus' office, where Velvel materialized in front of his friend's desk.
“Velvel, what's happening?” He asked with a hint of concern, standing up quickly. Sylus waved a hand and the door to his office shut and locked.
“It's his minions. One confronted me in the school. They are possessing the townspeople, and he informed me that he has sent one of them to kill Lisa and her friends.” Sylus quickly opened the window and, at the same time, the two appeared at the bottom of the ground, though Sylus had no shadowy transition.
They both sat down in Velvel's car quickly, and he started off toward Flynn's neighborhood. “I heard them talking about skipping school to go to Flynn's house. I believe they are there. Well, I heard their thoughts. I admit I was being nosy.” He shifted gears with a smile, the engine roaring.
“Then we should head there quickly,” Sylus fastened his seat belt and relaxed into the seat, “I only hope we arrive on time.”
Chapter Five: Impasse
The ride to Flynn's house was uneventful, at best. Marcus and Flynn made idle conversation about what they had accumulated to smoke. That was one thing I never really cared for about potheads, they seemed to find what they had more important than any other thing they could talk about. When the old truck parked beside of Flynn's brick home, we all piled out and Flynn led the way, stomping up into the woods behind his house. Though it was summer, I was chilly. I must have been noticeably so, because as I was walking a thin over-shirt, plaid with the light scent of a woodsy cologne, was draped over my shoulders. I smiled back to Ricky, who was straightening the white tee back into his pants. “You looked a little cold. I'm actually burning up!” He laughed a bit and I nodded thoughtfully. “Thanks, say, Ricky,” I stopped him as the rest of the group started to move ahead of us into the woods, “Why are you going? Do you..?”
“Oh, no, I don't.” He shook his head and adjusted his glasses. “I just like to hang out with everyone. Flynn's super gullible when he's high, and Marcus isn't such a downer. Do you?”
“No, I don't,” I looked back toward the group, but could hear the confusion on Ricky's face through his voice.
“But, you stole those pot leaf earrings, right?”
“Yeah, I did,” I rubbed the back of my neck, turning around to face his question, a coy smile plastered on my mouth, “I really just did it because I was looking at them and Marcus dared me to. I didn't want to seem like a total square on my first time hanging out with everyone, right?” I smiled nervously, and, to my surprise, Ricky seemed understanding.
“I would have done the same thing. Marcus is intimidating, but that's why we all like him, he's like a big, scary guy on the outside, but if you get to know him he's this big, scary, goofy guy.”
I laughed a bit and started in the direction of the others. “You know, usually you can hear Flynn saying something stupid like, 'Oh s**t! Oh s**t!' when they start. Must be something good enough to shut him up,” Ricky offered me the commentary as we walked, but I did not know the group that intimately. I had no idea what happens at these situations.
One thing for sure was I should not be this cold in summer.
I tugged Ricky's shirt around me tighter and continued past the treeline, where Ricky stepped in front of me to lead the way. He moved up and over a small hill, then around a particularly thick grouping of trees where I could see a couple of old, flat rocks that were being used as makeshift benches. Ricky stopped dead in his tracks, staring just past the thicket.
“Ricky, what's wrong?” I moved beside of him, looking past it myself. At first glance, I noticed the group on one of the rocks. Marcus was leaning against it, Vee and Flynn were sitting on top of it, and Serena was sitting by the side of the rock on the ground. They were all quiet, and the color had drained from Vee's face. What was going on? I stepped around to look in the direction they were staring.
And I went numb.
In front of them all was one of the town deputies. He was wearing the usual brown slacks and brown uniform shirt, but it looked a little unkempt somehow. He had buzzed black hair mostly hidden by his hat, and his eyes were black as ink, just like the drunken man in the parking lot. He was holding his pistol out with an extended arm, the barrel was pointed surely into Vee's chest. No one moved, but Vee looked over at me slowly, as if the slow movements would keep him from firing.
“Run!” She shouted, and the man pulled his arm back at the elbow, with a loud crack, he snapped the cold metal of the gun across the side of Vee's head. A pained grunt left her mouth and she fell off of the rock like dead meat, dropping to the ground face down.
“You son of a b***h!” Flynn bolted from the rock, and came down with a hard fist into the man's jaw. The hit was solid, but the officer stood still as a statue. Flynn hit his knees in front of the man, holding his fist close to his chest, “What the hell are you?” Flynn asked in a shuddered breath. He had hit him hard, but the man took the hit like the side of a mountain.
“I'm more than you can try to punch and kick into submission, little boy,” The man stepped forward quickly and launched his knee into Flynn's stomach. Serena screamed as the blow lifted Flynn off of the ground, and he landed face-down near his sister. The officer, who appeared a bit frustrated, held up the gun and looked to the rest of us.
Crack!
I'm pretty sure we all screamed as a hole erupted in Flynn's black, blood spraying onto the rock and Marcus' shirt.
“Stop it!” I screamed. My legs were carrying me without any signals from my brain. They were acting on pure instinct. What was I going to do to stop this man? Flynn was unable to make him budge, and Flynn was an avid weightlifter. “I'm not going to let you keep hurting my friends!” I started to stare the man down, and I had stopped ten paces from him. The wind was picking up through the trees, rushing in to blow the scarce amount of dead leaves around amongst the green.
The man turned to me and started to laugh. It was a cold, hard laugh. It sounded like it came out of a metal can somewhere in his gut, it was certainly not a human sound. “What are you going to do about it, Lisa?” The man held the gun up, and I froze. I could feel the hot metal digging into my forehead, just above my eyebrows. I wanted to cry, to scream and run away, but I knew there was no dodging a bullet. “Are you going to stop me?” the man was patronizing me, that much I could tell. From his position he could say anything he wanted. As long as he did not pull the trigger, I would take some verbal abuse.
“Too bad,” The man angled his neck sharply to the right and a sick crack filled the air. He shook his head and another canned, metallic laugh escaped his lips. “I was really hoping to play around with you kids before I started killing you.”
The man's mouth opened to say something else, but a blur of a tall figure speared him into a thicket of bushes to my right. I turned, still reeling from the adrenaline, to see Marcus on top of the man. The switchblade he kept on his person was secure within his fist, and he was driving the tip down into the man's chest, blood was covering the officer's shirt as well as Marcus.
That time I know I screamed.
Marcus stood up from the officer's body, rubbing the blood off of his switchblade against the bushes. He turned to the rest of us with that same deadpan gaze fixed in his eyes. “We need to dig a huge hole and bury this guy. I ain't goin' to jail.” He put the blade back into his pocket, and I started to shiver. I was freezing cold. Why was I so cold so suddenly? I was cold before, but I felt like I had just walked into an industrial freezer. I thought I might even be able to see my breath, but a quick test, despite the tense situation, disproved that theory.
The odd cold was accompanied very quickly by a sense of dread, and once again I felt my instincts take over. “Marcus get away!” I yelled, and he turned around to see what exactly it was he should get away from. The officer had, somehow, stood back up. He was quick, tackling Marcus to the ground and biting his oddly sharp teeth down into the side of his hand. Marcus yelled in pain, I could hear the crunch from where I stood. I was unsure how to help him. Serena was paralyzed in fear and Ricky was the same.
Were we just going to let everyone die here?
At first I thought I had tripped when I found myself falling toward the ground behind me. I could not have tripped standing still, I'm not that clumsy. Looking up, all I saw was a red sweatshirt, with the hood down to show bright red hair.
“What the hell?” I started to berate the man for tugging me back onto the ground, but when he turned around and looked down to me, my mouth went still as stone.
Of all the situations I thought I would be forced to see my father, John Hartnett, again, this was not one of them. Not by a long shot.
“Shut up and sit down. That goes for you too,” He pointed to Marcus, then he pointed to Serena and Ricky, “Take care of your friends,” He shrugged the sweatshirt off to reveal a black tee shirt underneath of a shoulder harness. With his right hand, he pulled out a very familiar shotgun. It was a Mossberg five-hundred, walnut finish on black metal. That was a technical way to put it, but I knew it as the gun that killed my mother.
“Alright!” The officer tore his mouth from Marcus' hand and grabbed him by the shoulder, tossing him onto the ground beside of me. He was pale and looked like he was going to hyperventilate, gripping his hand with his eyes closed tightly, what was happening to him? I wanted to help him, but my eyes would not stay off the scene in front of me for very long. My father, a convicted murderer, was out of prison, and he was about to save our lives.
“What do I owe the pleasure, Johnny?” The man bent over to grab his pistol, and a thunderous report filled the air. The man stumbled black, crying in pain. He was not bleeding, but from his forearm down was splotched with burn marks. What the hell was in that shotgun?
“You cowardly little b*****d.” John held the gun up and pumped it hard, a black shell falling onto the ground near my feet. He slipped another from his pocket and into the shotgun, pointing it down once again and pulling the trigger. The officer was blown up against the wall, clutching his chest. I thought my eyes were playing at tricks on me at this point, because a blue flame was clinging to the skin on his chest. He pushed off the wall, running at him with speed that should have been impossible for a man with his wounds.
“Dad! Look out!” I found myself crying out despite myself, but he seemed ahead of me. The shotgun flipped around in his hand, and the butt rammed up into the officer's stomach. He stepped back and fell onto his knees, jerking ragged breath after ragged breath into his lungs as he stared with wide eyes up at my father.
“Don't just stand there, Johnny. Kill me. Kill me!” The man grabbed the barrel and lined it up with his forehead. “I said kill me!” The man shouted as spit flew from his mouth. “That's what you're good at, right?! Kill me! KILL ME!”
John lowered the barrel, but shoved it into his throat hard. The officer fell onto his side, clutching his throat and struggling to breathe. “Don't make me kill you in Leo's body, spirit.” He uttered, voice shaking with anger. He pumped the shotgun and loaded another shell, digging it into the back of the man's neck. “Fight me in your real body. Leave this man alone, he's a good man. I grew up with Leo, and I'm not going to let you destroy this body!” he kicked the man in the side hard, and the officer rolled over onto his back. He was smiling up at us, eyes wide and blood spilling from his mouth.
“Alright, alright. If you're that persistent about your own death, I will oblige you, John Hartnett. I'll kill all of your daughter's little friends, I kill your daughter. No, I'll possess her, and tear her apart from the inside. Then, I think I'll kill you slowly, I'll use her bones as knives.” The man laughed, but I was numb. What was this guy? What could anyone here have possibly done to him to make him so angry? Also, what did he mean 'possess' me?
My answer came quickly as the man appeared to vomit. A black, viscous fluid covered a spot on the ground in front of him, and it began to bubble rapidly. “Lisa,” My father barked at me, and it still set a paralyzing fear into me. “Get that boy and move a bit up the hill. I need some space between us and y'all.”
Not wanting to get in the way of anything that was going on, I pulled the shivering, sweating Marcus up by his arm and put his arm over my shoulder. He was zero help in getting a bit further away, but once we were at a better position up the hill I leaned him up against a tree and sat down beside of him to watch the strange events unfold.
Maybe I was still in shock, but I was not too surprised when the black puddle started to grow in height. Quickly a vague, human form solidified out of the blackness, and then it ran like water off of a person, no, a thing I had never, ever seen before.
It was easily seven feet tall, and was wearing some sort of sarong made of midnight blue fabric around its lower half. The upper half was bare, revealing humanoid musculature and gray, ashen skin. It had a wide smile with several jagged teeth, and pitch black eyes obscured by messy, snow white hair. The most noticeable feature, however, was that horrible voice. It was that metallic, high pitched ring of a laugh I had heard earlier, and every word it said made my blood run even colder.
“You're an idiot,” The being laughed at my father as he held up his hand. The feeling of walking into a freezer overcame me one again, and I watched as a tiny, black ball began to swirl out of nothing into it's hand. “You won't even be able to get near me.”
Everything looked bad. Marcus was having some sort of strange, feverish reaction to the man's bite, Serena was trying to wake Vee up, and Ricky was trying to restart Flynn's heart with compressions. On top of that, my father was standing feet away from some sort of hellish demon, beast, monster something, and I had never felt more powerless in my life.
“He doesn't have to.” A voice carried on the wind around us. It was familiar to be, but only vaguely. However, I knew I had heard the voice before. Black smoke whirled up through the trees in a single wisp, and it hovered near John before materializing into that teacher that was staring at me so hard earlier, Mr. V.
“Running a little late, Velvel?” John asked with a small smile as he readied his shotgun. I thought I was going to pass out. The man Sylus had been talking to, that was Velvel. Mr. V was Velvel? My head started to spin as a bit of the pieces began to work themselves out. That's why my dad was sneaking around, trying not to be seen. That's why Sylus was talking to Velvel. One piece still would not come together, and that was the one that was most important to me. What did my grandpa have to do with this?
As if on cue, the mayor of Stone Flats walked up from where we had entered and over to John's other side. He was wearing his usual old, crinkly button up shirt and dress pants combo, but there was a large, wooden staff in his right hand. It was gnarled at the top, the gnarled branches enclosed tightly around an empty space that was perfectly spherical in shape. Where did that come from? I had never seen that before. “Velvel, go heal Flynn and Victoria's wounds.” Sylus sounded cold and tactical. Sometimes he sounded like this playing chess, but it was always quickly followed by a smile.
He was not smiling today.
“John, go and look Marcus over, and start giving Lisa the rundown. I'm going to handle this one.”
Velvel turned into smoke again, which was finally the thing that made me woozy with confusion, and appeared near the others. John moved up the hill and knelt down beside of Marcus, holding his head up with one hand under his chin and looking him over.
“Don't you touch him.” I snapped at him before I realized what I was saying. I scooted away from him, gripping a branch under my hand. He looked at me not with anger or fury or some evil laugh, nothing I had pictured.
It was this small little smile, and it caught me completely off guard.
“I know everything is really confusing right now, but I need you to trust in me. If you can't trust in me, trust in grandpa. After all of this is done, we're all going back to your grandpa's place and we're gonna have a big ol' pow-wow.”
I laughed. I could not help it, I laughed at the idea of some sort of after-murder party. Maybe I was going crazy, I was unsure. All I know is that when Sylus held up his staff, I became colder than I ever had in my life, and the last thing I remember was my father grabbing my shoulders as I fainted.
Chapter Six: Make The Time
I felt like I was freezing for a very long time.
The temperature rose slowly back into my body, and when I opened my eyes I was warm and tucked into my bed. I could hear the crickets chirping into the late summer night outside. The twilight left a dim light through my window, and illuminated my room just enough to make it out.
Was it even the same day?
I sat up quickly, looking down to my hands. I still had dirt under my nails from dragging Marcus up the hill. Everything that had happened seemed so far away after I woke up, like it had happened a lifetime ago in some polar position on Earth. I knew that to be false, since it had very clearly taken place not fifteen minutes from the bed I was sitting on, and it was probably only a couple of hours earlier.
Once my eyes adjusted I noted the clock on my wall to read eight thirty two pm., At the most, I had been asleep pushing thirty hours. At the least about five or six. It was so hard to tell the day in my quiet, unassuming bedroom. It could have been a week earlier or a week later, and I liked that. It was comfortable knowing that there was still one place where time could hold a certain image for me, one I could come back to when I needed rest.
Two soft raps at the wooden door alerted me to the door being pushed open softly. Standing in the doorway was Velvel, who looked very much like he had just stepped out of class. I did notice some irregularities to his teaching clothes, though. He had ditched his button up shirt in favor of a plain olive Henley, and I spotted a metal hilt sticking out near his hip. The sight of the weapon made my stomach flip. What was going on here? Why was I, of all people, suddenly thrown into the middle of some super-normal showdown? I could think of plenty of other people back in Boston who would have handled things better. Jack, for one, would have been a lot stronger both physically and emotionally. I silently promised myself to call him and see who he ended up picking for prom instead of myself as Velvel moved to kneel down across from me. He rested his elbow on his knee and looked up at me like I was some sort of ancient tapestry. It was the look he had given me in class, like I was a relic that finally stitched together a piece of human history.
“How are you feeling, Lisa?” He put one hand on the bed, and I scooted back from him. He frowned and moved his hand onto the hardwood floor.
“Alright. I guess,” I lied, shrugging it off and starting the process of cleaning the dirt underneath my nails. “How is everyone else? Flynn and Marcus?” I looked back up to him, and Velvel squinted a bit, standing back up to his full height. “Flynn is fine. I removed the bullet and healed his wound. He's a bit shaken, but who wouldn't be. Marcus is,” he looked to the clock, then back to me, “putting up a good fight.”
“A good fight?” I'm sure I sounded a bit more annoyed than confused, but I was sincerely confused, “What's wrong with him? I mean, it just bit him, right?” Velvel nodded slowly and crossed his arms, “If by 'it' you mean the Underling, yes, it bit him,” he bore his harsh eyes down into me. Not in a mean way, but there was a cold steel in the teacher that had really caught me off guard. “What Underlings are they...their mere existence is toxic to human beings,” he paced over to my window, tugging the cord to open the blinds and peering out onto the grounds of Sylus' property. “You can look at it like a virus, if it eases your mind. The energy of the Underling is trying to overthrow the energy that comprises Marcus as a human being. Few survive, those who do are usually vegetables for the remainder of their short life.” He glanced over his shoulder to me, and I threw the sheets off of me, pulling my hair back into a ponytail as my feet hit the hardwood.
“Lisa, I can't recommend you disturb him.” Velvel intercepted me with two quick steps, his hand grabbed my arm, and my instinct to push him away was quelled by the surprising strength that the older man possessed. “I am not disturbing him,” I snapped a bit quicker than I had meant, the look of sincerity was loud on Velvel's face, but I had to own my reactions. “He saved my life. That thing, that Underling. He had a gun to my head,” I used my free hand to pantomime a pistol to the side of my head, though it had really been point blank between my heads. I had decided that would have looked stupid. “I owe him my gratitude, so I would like to go reinforce that sentiment. Now, let go of me, Mister V.” I jerked my arm from his grasp and left my door open on the way out.
Velvel did not try to stop me as I tapped my feet quickly down the steps, my hand sliding across the ancient wooden rail. In the living room there was an impromptu downtime session, with Serena, Ricky, and Vee all sitting on the sofa and my father sitting in the recliner, the smell of beer and cigarette smoke clouding my senses from the bottom step.
“Hey, look who's up!” Vee smiled wide and waved to me and Ricky followed suit. Serena tossed me a smile, which I returned to the group, along with a wave of my own. I moved to sit on the loveseat near the recliner, but I opted for sitting cross-legged on the floor near the sofa, across the room from my father, who seemed more into the international news coverage on the television than anything the group had been discussing. When I sat down, however, he turned to me with a small smile. Maybe I had just been in shock back in the woods, but my dad looked older than I had remembered. His hair was not the vibrant red it once was, and was a lighter orange overall. His eyes looked tired, more so in the kind smile he was giving me.
I did not return that smile. “How are you feeling, Vee?” I turned my attention to my friend who had been pistol whipped earlier. She did not even have a bruise, and it had looked like that was going to leave a nasty bruise. “Uh, I feel awesome,” Vee gave an airy wave of her shoulders, “Velvel fixed my mugshot with some hocus pocus stuff.”
“It's not 'hocus pocus stuff,' it's a very specific art form of healing magic that entails reversing the damage, literally turning the afflicted area back in time.” Ricky made several shifting motions with his hands as he explained the ability to Vee, who seemed less than interested in the 'how.'
“So, like, you knew your grandpa was some badass wizard guy and you never told us?” Serena interrupted him and raised one eyebrow, “That's a dick move, Ricky.”
“Well, it's not like I could just go around telling people about it!” Ricky turned to her to defend himself. “It's a family thing! I'm sure Lisa can do this kind of stuff, too, since Mayor Hartnett is a wizard too, right Lisa?”
I shrugged, “I mean, that's what it's looking like.” I admitted with a bit of uncertainty. Throughout my life I had known oddities to happen around Grandpa Sylus, like the fact I had never seen him fuel up that old Volkswagen, and that he seemed to move like a man in his twenties, despite his age nearing a century.
“Sylus is the protector of the Tomb of the Rain Wizard,” Ricky leaned back into his seat a bit, and we all looked to him with confusion.
“Jesus, Ricky, how long have you known all this s**t?” Vee frowned with her question, but Ricky was not thrown. He shrugged the question off, sitting back up and resting his chin on top of his fist, “I'm sure Sylus and Velvel will give everyone some sort of grandiose explanation later, but long story short is Sylus and his ancestors have protected that old native American ritual site on the property for centuries. Legend has it,” he scooted up a bit more, and us girls leaned in to listen intently, I even noticed my dad leaning forward a bit, “There was a magical white man that visited the natives in this area centuries ago, and he claimed to be from across the ocean,” he looked between us all, and continued, “He made a deal with the spearhead of the local tribe, and explained to him that if he was given one youth a year to train into his apprentice and send back across the ocean, he would ensure that the crops would flourish and that plenty of game would litter the forests for hunting. It, apparently, went on for many years. However,” Ricky paused to cough, my father's cigarette disturbing him a bit, but John did not seem to mind that. “However, after some time, we believe it to be around two or three hundred years, the natives learned that the youths were never being trained, but were being used to ensure the wizard's youth,” he lowered his voice and leaned forward a tad more, “He was straight up eating their souls.”
“Woah,” Vee nodded with eyes like half dollars, and Serena had put her arm around the back of Ricky's seat, looking very much the same. I'm sure I wasn't any different. “Yeah, whoa,” Ricky nodded in agreement, “After a few failed attempts at trying to stop the Rain Wizard, as they called him, f**k if I know the Cherokee for it, they enlisted the help of some of the local colonists who had just settled into the area. Those were your ancestors, Lisa,” Ricky gave a nod to me, and I nodded back, entranced in this crucial part of my family history I had yet to hear.
“Lisa's family confronted the Rain Wizard with the help of the shamans, and through a very gruesome process he was magically sealed into the ritual tomb on this property.” He leaned back into the chair, putting his arms behind his head, “Members of your family are given a choice to protect the tomb, or have your memory wiped of any knowledge of so at age eighteen. That's about all Velvel has told me about it, just that Sylus is the last of those who have chosen to protect the tomb, and that he's wicked-strong.”
“Lisa. That is so f*****g rad,” Vee looked at me with her mouth slightly open, to which I laughed nervously, holding my hands up, “It's my first time hearing it, too! I had no clue about this stuff.” I started to ask Ricky about his own family, why he knew more about my family than I did, and most importantly how Velvel was able to turn into smoke when my grandfather opened the door to the study attached to the living room. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, his sleeves rolled up into tight cuffs just above his elbows. “Lisa, come here for a second, honey.”
“Yeah?” I immediately sat up, walking over to him with a predetermined acceptance for whatever my grandpa would want from me. He smiled at me before pushing the door behind him open with his foot, nodding his head to the door, “Marcus wants to see you. Well, he wants to talk to you, but talking is a bit of a strain on the young man at this juncture.” He gave me a weak laugh as he tried to make light of the situation, but I could hear the exhaustion behind his voice. Whatever he was doing, and however he was doing it, he was giving it his all for Marcus.
I slowly slipped into the study, where an air mattress had been blown up in the study floor and then covered with a few sheets. On the makeshift bed was Marcus, and he looked like hell. His breathing was a bit ragged, but for the most part was calm. He was shirtless, and cold sweat glistened on his skin. I conjured my best smile as I moved into the room, taking a seat in the chair beside of his bed. He smiled back at me, his eyes looked glossy and bloodshot. What was that thing doing to him?
“Hey, trooper,” I tried to keep my optimism high for Marcus' sake, he looked like he needed it. He nodded and sat up a bit, pulling the sheets up on his right arm a bit higher. Before he did, though, I had seen it. Well, part of it. The bite on his hand had turned a deep midnight blue, and the veins up his arm were being outlined in the same color. He opened his mouth to speak, but he shut it quickly, pointing with his good arm to the side of the bed. I looked down, and I noticed a bottle of Seven-Up, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. “This stuff's going to be the death of you,” I mumbled as I lit a cigarette for him, coughing and spurting the smoke out of my mouth and handing it over to his shaky hand. He laughed a weak laugh as he put the cigarette between his lips.
We just sat like that for a while, and it was nice. Marcus smoking half-heartedly and looking up at me, and I sat with my hands on my knees, smiling at him and making a few comments about the situation. After a few minutes, however, I decided to get to the meat of my visit while Marcus put the cigarette out into an ash tray near the bed. “Hey, Marcus,” I found my hand rubbing the back of my neck, I was trying to find some words that I was not particularly sure of the location. “You saved me back there. If you hadn't stopped that thing back there, he might have shot us both before my dad got there.” I looked down to the hardwood floor. Where the chair sat was faded from the constant scooting of the chair over a period of decades. “So, like,” I cursed myself for spending so much time with Vee and subconsciously adopting the trademark valley girl interjection, “If you need me to do anything, just let me know, alright? I'll help you out any way I can. I owe you. Big time.” I reached down to move the ash tray and seven up a bit farther from the bed. When I did, Marcus grabbed my elbow, tugging me out of the chair and into the hardwood floor with one quick grab. He pulled his arms around my shoulders and, not wanting to disturb him, I hugged him back, resting my head against his chest.
“I'm probably gonna die.” Marcus whispered as he squeezed me. I was not sure what to say, what to do. All I could do was nod and hold to him a little tighter. Marcus had been a dear friend to me in my short time here. He gave me rides when Sylus could not, and we got along really well. Maybe it was the fact that had I been stronger, had Sylus taught me all about this magical bullshit when I first got back into town, maybe I would have been able to him. Maybe that was why I felt my eyes start to brim with tears, nodding and closing my eyes tightly.
“Not on my watch, dude,” I sat up and smiled at him, wiping my eyes. “We're gonna fix you, alright? Sylus is working as hard as he can, and I will do everything I can.” I swore to him that I would see him get better. He was not going to die because I was too weak to save him. Whether or not he believed me I could not tell, as he just nodded and put his head back onto the pillow, closing his eyes. I stood up and walked out of the study, shutting the door quietly behind me. I looked to Serena, Vee, and Ricky and quickly crossed the room to sit down beside of Vee. I could tell she had prepared some tease of a flirtatious nature, but she quickly dropped it when she saw my eyes.
“How's he looking?” Ricky's voice quiet as he reached over and put one hand on my knee, Vee's arm moving around my shoulder. “Like f*****g hell,” I was honest, sighing and looking toward the TV, once again careful not to show any emotion in my eyes, “He would be looking a lot better if I had been stronger.”
Sylus, who had taken the recliner previously occupied by John, looked to me and stood up, kneeling down in front of the couch and scooping my hand up between his. Sylus had a way of calming a person though touch, or just being around them in gentle. I always thought it was just part of his personality, but now I questioned if it might have had some magical elements, as well.
“This is not your fault, Lisa. Not by a long shot,” he looked down to me sternly, then smiled, “Marcus is already doing better than anyone I have ever seen. His will to live is something we all could admire. That young man will be just fine.” He let go of my hand, and I could already feel some of the weight in my heart had drifted away. He moved to stand in front of the four of us, looking down to us. “Is it usual protocol for us to wipe all of your memories, except for Lisa and Ricky,” as he spoke, I glanced over to Vee and Serena, who looked afraid of the notion. “But, I'm not going to do that.” he held his finger up with a smile. “Your little group is tightly knit, this is something I have noticed. You spent time as a group almost the entire summer, and, as it looked to me, confronting the Underling I banished in the woods was something of a group effort before I arrived.” He moved to sit back into his recliner, picking a glass of water off of the old coffee table and taking a small drink, “I'm not going to take that from you. Besides, I'm an old, old man.” he laughed a bit at the notion, taking another drink. “When I was young like yourselves, this house had a person in every room, and we took care of this situation as a group.”
Vee jumped the gun, sitting up straight and clapping, “Oh my God, no way! You're going to give us superpowers?! This is so fuc-freaking rad!” She looked enthralled, but Sylus shook his head, taking another drink and setting the glass down. “What am I, a super power vending machine?” He laughed and reclined the chair, crossing his legs as they were pushed out. “What Velvel and I are able to accomplish are not 'super powers.' What we are able to achieve is a product of hard work and determination through a very specific lifestyle and regimented instruction.” He looked serious again as he stared at each of us in turn. “What I am going to offer to each of you is to include you in these instructions. In our way of life. Your personal ability will be determined by your own hard work and devotion, as well as natural ability. Now, I don't want you to answer me right now. What I want you to do, Victoria, Serena, Ricky, is to go home and think long and hard about it. Understand that I am not giving you a gift, but I am cursing you with a higher sense of responsibility. Come back tomorrow with your answers.” he waved to the door, which opened up all the way slowly, the screen door following suit, not wanting to be left behind.
The three stood up and walked out with a wave from each of them. I returned the waves goodbye with one of my own. As soon as they were on the porch, the doors closed quickly and locked on their own. I looked to Sylus, almost intimidated by his slight display of ability. I also noticed John leaning against the wall connecting the stairs to the hallway into the foyer, arms crossed and looking at me. Had he been there the entire time?
“So what about me, grandpa?” I shifted in my seat, crossing my left leg over my right and putting my arms behind my head, “Do I get to think about it, too?”
“Not really, no,” Sylus smiled to me with an almost apologetic look, “Their participation is strictly optional. Yours, Lisa, is entirely mandatory.”
“Oh.” I looked down to my feet and sighed. Did I really want to learn to fight the Underlings? Did I want to learn how to turn into smoke and reappear somewhere else? And heal wounds? More importantly, did I want to live in Stone Flats for the rest of my life? I knew those were all important things to consider, but the one that I thought about the most was the boy laying in my grandpa's study, fighting for his life because he had been forced to protect me.
I was not going to let Marcus' bravery go to waste, I decided as I straightened up a bit in the seat, looking back up to Sylus. “Good, because I was totally going to agree.” I nodded and looked toward the study. “Marcus had to protect me because I couldn't protect myself. That is never, ever going to happen again. I'm going to do everything you and Mister V tell me to do, and I'm going to get strong. As strong as I possibly can. Then, I'm going to protect all of my friends. I'm going to protect this town. I'm going to protect Marcus.”
Sylus looked at me with a smile at first, but it faded as I explained my reasoning. “You sound like you have made up your mind. Not that you had a choice, I remind you.” He smiled and lit one of the cigarettes out of his crumpled pack. “Velvel will be giving the kids a ride home, Flynn is already at home, and all of this will surely be explained to him by his sister. I am going to run into town, I have a lot of work to get done at the hall.” 'The hall' was what Sylus used to refer to the Stone Flats town hall, where he worked as Mayor. “Tend to Marcus while we are gone, and John will be hanging around the property. I've instructed him to remain vigilant in times where Velvel or myself are absent.” He moved to the front door and opened it with his hand for the first time today, I assumed. “Try to relax, Lisa. Remember all of this we have spoken about will take time. You still have school. You still have off days and holidays. And don't forget to call your aunt Perry.” With a smile, Sylus left me alone in the house with Marcus.
I sat in the living room alone for what felt like eternity, but I knew it was around fifteen minutes. He was right, I shrugged for myself, I needed to call Perry. I made a mental note to give Perry a call and let her know the details of my stay so far. Perry had become my mother in the absence of my real mother. I really did, I felt, owe her a phone call. Right now I had more things I needed to take care of. Immediate things. I had to keep tabs on Marcus. I stood up and stretched my arms out, yawning despite the tingle of adrenaline in my system left over. I crossed the living room and shut the door to the study behind me.
To my surprise, Marcus was sitting up on the air mattress, smoking another cigarette and looking out the window. The dimming sunset leaked in through the old windowpanes, splattering him in the shadows of the shutters. The seemingly ever-present cold sweat on his body caught the light, refracting his figure in a way that made him more of the room than I ever could be. I walked over to the old chair I had sat in not long ago and took a seat once more, crossing my left leg over my knee and silently watching him. Maybe it was a little weird, I really did not care. He did not mind, so why should I care?
Marcus only noticed my presence when he was done, putting the cigarette out in the tiny ceramic ash tray and throwing the cover off of him, his hand rubbing the affected arm and hand gently as he looked up to me. “F*****g hurts.” His voice was a pained croak, but it was a voice. I moved from the chair and put my knees into the mattress, holding his arm up, very carefully, and I looked over the damage that was starting to course through his body.
The Underling had bit him in between his thumb and index finger, which was a very sensitive area as it was. That entire side of his hand was midnight blue, and the scab marks of the entry wounds were such a light blue that I would have believed he had been bitten by a highlighter. From his hand, up the veins and the artery in his wrist and up his forearm, and, recently, into the veins in his shoulder the midnight blue color was quickly coursing toward the rest of his body. I had no idea what the toxic substance was doing to him, but I had already been told that the fact he was able to sit up was somewhat of a medical miracle. “That looks like it really bites.” I wanted to smack myself in the face when I made such a terrible pun unintentionally, but Marcus gave a weak wheeze of a laugh.
“F**k you,” he smiled.
“Yeah, yeah,” I smiled and let him have his arm back, which he quickly opened his closed his fist a few times, looking at the damage for himself.
“I'm bored as s**t.” Marcus more or less grunted in my direction. I nodded in understanding, moving to sit back up in the chair. “Well, uh, I have a Gameboy, a deck of cards, I think I've got Monopoly somewhere?” I stood up and shrugged, pushing in the chair. “Just sit there, I'll get some stuff to help pass the time, alright?”
“Not like I'm going anywhere, Lisa,” Marcus muttered as I gently shut the door to the study behind me. I tromped up the stairs quickly and dug through one of my duffel bags under my bed, grabbing my Gameboy and a few game cartridges, as well as a deck of cards and a notepad and a few pens from on top of my dresser. Entertainment tools in tow, I made a quick stride back down the old, wooden stairs and flew back into the study, whirling around to the mattress and laying the objects out beside of it.
Marcus picked up the deck of cards almost immediately, which surprised me. I thought for sure he would grab the Gameboy. He took the cards out of the flimsy paper box and shuffled them with a practiced flick of his wrist. When he did so, a hunk of folded notebook paper flew from the middle of the deck and landed on the cover.
“What's this?” Marcus picked it up and started to unfold it. I swore and jumped up from the chair, about to rip it out of his hands, but I paused. I did not want to hurt him.
“Ooh, looks like we've got a love letter,” Marcus grinned and held the paper up, looking toward the bottom, “From one 'Jack?'”
“Marcus Holt, put that down right now.” I felt the blood rush to my face as I stood poised to tear the paper from his grip. Marcus smiled even wider than before, folding the paper carefully along the existing creases and tucking it under his pillow. “I'll read it later, gives me something to do later, y'know? I wanna know what kinda guy Miss Boston was going steady with back in her homeland.”
“Well, Jack was not the kind of guy that talks someone into stealing pot leaf earrings from a head shop.” I glowered at him, but a smile broke through against my wishes. I found at this time, and in times before, that I had a really hard time frowning around Marcus Holt.
“Sounds like a square then. You could use a real man, you know, not some beefhead football player.”
“How did you know he played football?” I looked a bit less curious than I was, and Marcus gave another wheezy laugh. “Lucky guess.”
“Besides,” I crossed my arms, “Jack was a great guy. Really nice and courteous. See, Marcus, 'nice' is when you don't go through people's s**t or coerce them into committing misdemeanors.”
“Let it go, Lisa. You got away fine. It's all good, right?” He smiled and started shuffling the cards once more.
“You sure do talk a lot for someone on their death bed.” I snapped at him quietly, moving to sit on the side of the mattress. Marcus cut and shuffled the old playing cards one more time before dealing both of us one face down card, and one face up.
“Blackjack?” I picked up my cards and Marcus nodded silently, scooping up his own. I had a slightly bent ten of clubs and a Jack of spades. Smiling, I leaned back against the chair behind me and put my cards on the mattress. “I'll stay.”
“Me, too.” Marcus flipped his cards over on the mattress and I swore, looking down to a King of hearts and the ace of clubs. Marcus laughed and took the cards, shuffling the deck once more.
“So, are you going to tell me about Jack of Boston?” Marcus asked quietly as he started to shuffle the deck again, going through and rapidly straightening the cards as he did so.
“Jack was on the varsity team at my school in Boston. He was a pretty nice guy. Took me out a lot shopping and stuff.” I accepted my two cards from Marcus when he dealt again: a five of hearts and a two of diamonds. “Hit me.” A three of clubs. “Overall he was a good friend and a good listener. I liked spending time with him.”
Marcus put another face up card with his own, a five of spades and a jack of hearts showing. “Far out. But what did he look like?” Marcus looked up to me from the cards, and I squinted at him.
“Is that important?” I picked my cards up.
“No, but I'm curious. I'll stay.”
I sighed and kept my cards hidden. “Hit me.” He flipped a ten of spades my way. I had to have him this time, with a total of twenty. “He was about six feet tall? Shaggy brown hair, frosted tips. You know, the preppy type.” I ran my hand through my hair, “Really clean cut.”
“Sounds boring.” Marcus turned his cards over and I made a sound somewhere between a groan and a huff, tossing my cards at him as he laughed, gathering them up into the deck once more, along with his six of clubs.
“What do you mean boring?” I asked, laying back onto the mattress and putting my hands behind my head, staring up at the ceiling and watching the shadows bounce off of it.
“You know, just a total square.” Marcus mimicked my actions, though he only put his good hand under his head, his wounded arm rested by his side. “I read an article in Cosmo one time that women generally relate the feeling of their first experience with a guy to their general feelings about him.” He coughed, and I turned over to look at him.
“You read Cosmo? Currently?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow.
“F**k no, I was sitting in the doctor's office and it was the only f*****g book on the little nightstand end table thing.” Marcus coughed again and shifted on the mattress. “He probably did something really nice on your first date or the first time you hung out with him, right? Like giving you something or some sort of compliment regiment?” Marcus looked over to me, and I nodded, “Well, yeah, but I don't see-”
“I like to do something edgy and exciting when I meet someone new. Particularly females.” Marcus gave me this little half smile that made my mind run circles. Was he talking about me specifically or in general just anyone?
“That's why I wanted you to steal those earrings. I knew you would always find me edgy and exciting. That, and I wanted to make sure you were down to hang out with us.”
F**k, I can't believe that worked.
“Oh? So I'm down? I meet the requirements, huh?” I asked with a smirk, and Marcus rolled his eyes, staring up at the ceiling.
I think he started talking about what everyone else had done when they had first started hanging out with Marcus and Flynn, I was not sure. I know I heard something about Ricky setting off a couple cherry bombs in the arcade, and I laughed in the midst of a yawn. He kept talking about each individual sort of initiation, and maybe it was the soft, cool air of the Autumn air sneaking in through the cracked window or the sound of ceiling fan, which creaked at exact intervals, but at some point I pulled the sheet up over myself and fell asleep.
Chapter Seven: Warming Up
When you fall into a really deep sleep, sometimes you have trouble getting your bearings back on your surroundings when you wake up. You may not remember where or when exactly you are. How you got where you are and what your current situation is exactly can sometimes elude you. It all comes back after a few moments, but those moments are terrifying and beautiful in their own special way. You may be confused, feel lost, and maybe even a little scared. However, the serendipity of an ignorant bliss in the process of trying to get hold of your normal working thought pattern is something special in a right of itself.
My sleep was a black, dreamless one. Night fell over my body like the curtain on a Broadway play. Probably Cats, I love that one. When I woke up, I had a hard time putting words to where exactly I was. The sun broke through the ancient windows and dusted both the sheets and my body with a golden glow, I had become a painting, laying on an air mattress in the middle of the floor and I felt the moment fitting for a Renaissance artist. I tried to pull the cover off of me, but found a large lump in the cover preventing it from being tossed away. With little effort, I moved the limp arm off of me. I sat up, running my hand through my hair and rubbing the sleep from my eyes before getting a good look at the arm. The radiant glow of the blue wound had diminished to a pale blue tint, and the spread of the bluish magical toxin had stopped and receded from Marcus' shoulder down into the veins on his bicep.
I was no expert, by far, but he was definitely healing.
“Making sure he doesn't run away, Lees?”
“Jesus f*****g Christ,” my skin jumped off of my body when the loud, intentionally projected voice of my father filled the cozy little den. I sat up a bit farther from Marcus, I was unaware of it before but I had had my hand on his arm as I looked over his wound. “Hey, never know. He's a lone wolf type when he has a problem. Reminds me of someone.” I whipped my head to look at John. Whatever chiding remark he had prepared he threw it out and chose to lean against the doorway with that damn shotgun still strapped over his shoulder. “You're gonna miss your ride if you don't go and get ready. That boy's coming to get you.”
The way John was looking at me lit an old fire in my stomach that I had nearly forgotten about. He gave me that wide-eyed look my father was famous for; 'nothing is my fault and you know nothing.' Over the years I had fostered a little baby resentment towards my father into a fully adult hatred, but occasionally the hatred bubbled up in my mind. It made my hands shake and my lungs tremble with the need for a good scream. I wanted to belittle him. I wanted to kick him when he was down, I wanted to rip that shotgun off of his back and turn him into a weak spot in the floor. Instead I kept my mouth shut as he closed the door.
I remained where I was until I heard the front door slam shut, then I sat up like something had pinched me. I regretted slamming the door on my way out, I did not want to wake Marcus. I stomped up the stairs and grabbed the first outfit from my room before pushing my angry aura into the upstairs bathroom. Sylus had very kindly reserved the upstairs bathroom for my personal use, leaving his overpowering aftershaves and straight razor in the downstairs bathroom to make room for the small army of beauty products that I hoarded like terracotta soldiers. It was a problem of mine. I carefully adjusted the water and shed my clothing before stepping inside, staring with a teeming hatred at the old tile wall underneath the shower head. I know rationally that I needed a shower for the coming day, but the water constantly hitting against my skin only served to bring out the boiling frustration. Someone screamed in that shower, and it was probably me. I punched the tile wall hard, leaning into the punch. I proceeded to ram my fist onto the water beaded tile a until blood trickled from my knuckles into the water on the wall.
Once I let my anger out on the shower wall, I took a quick but thorough shower and got ready for the day. I left my hair damp, I could have cared less at that point. I pounced through the hall and into my room, grabbing my bag and looking out my window to see the grungy red Ford Aerostar pulling up to the front of my house and Ricky giving the horn two short, polite honks.
Jumping the last three steps on the stairs and closing the front door behind me, I gave Ricky and Serena a wave of apology as the back door slid open. I climbed into the van and squeezed in between Flynn, who was playing Tetris on his Gameboy and Vee, who was smoking. “Sorry. I had to take a shower.”
“You're fine,” Ricky shrugged and pulled around and back onto the long driveway. “I thought it was going to rain or something, but I think it will pass.” I made a note of Ricky's observation as I looked out the window of the minivan. The sky had clouded up quickly; it had been clear and sunny this morning.
“Yeah, we heard some wicked lightning and thought we were going to get pissed on, but it must have been heat lightning or something.” Vee accentuated the end of her sentence by blowing smoke in my face. I coughed and waved the smoke away, “ I doubt it was heat lightning, Who knows? The weather's weird around here.” We all nodded in agreement and Ricky turned onto the same back road behind the hardware store Marcus had taken before which would put us out near the school and circle around what little traffic Stone Flats had.
“So, what are we going to tell everyone about Marcus not coming to school?” I wondered aloud as Ricky whipped into the parking spot closest to the building. “Don't worry about it,” Ricky put the minivan in park and turned the key off, “Grandpa's telling everyone that he's having some very sensitive family issues and we'll all take turns turning in his assignments.”
“Wow,” I nodded in an astonished kind of understanding. We were all going to make sure this affliction had the smallest possible impact on Marcus' life. That kind of friendship had been a mythical creature in Boston, that was certain.
We all marched into the school as the tardy bell tolled for those unfortunate students who either through lack of charisma or lack of stealth would be considered late. I split from the group inside of the door, walking quickly up the stairs and slipping through the door into my history class. I was prepared to offer an excuse and find a quick seat, but the teacher was missing from the room, the students carrying on several overly loud conversations. I slumped into a back row desk and brandished my notebook, Mrs. Waltz had a bad habit of rambling quickly through her lecture as soon as she entered the room and never once wrote anything down. The Louisiana purchase was riveting and all, but I was relieved when the bell finally rang to switch classes. I gathered my materials and shoved them back into my bag. The classroom was an easy fifteen degrees warmer than the hallway and I welcomed that little bit of relief in between classes. It was clockwork for me to move down the stairs and to the first floor to my locker, 138.
138 was a banged up, standard-issue blue floor-length locker with a masterlock through the handle. I had to switch out my history book for my medieval tome of an algebra book in between classes, well, I did not have to, but my shoulder would get sore by the end of the day if I carried everything everywhere. I pulled my keys out of my bag, popping open the lock and pulling my locker door open. When I did, the algebra book shifted in anger of being disturbed and slid out, the spine of the book body-slamming my foot.
“F**k,” I muttered, kicking the book up against the locker door with a loud metallic 'bow.' I swooped the book up after shoving my history book on top of my flimsy excuse for a nutrition textbook and stood back up, looking at blue eyes so close to my own I probably could have blinked for them. I jumped back with a startled squeak, and Vee laughed, shutting my locker with an airy wave, “What's up, Lisa?”
“Jesus, don't sneak up on people like that,” I reattached my lock and leaned my back against the locker, pressing my right foot flat against the metal surface. “Well I wouldn't have to if you would have came to my locker. But, I met you here, so I did,” she shrugged and adjusted the bag over her shoulder. Vee was always, well, loud. Her hear-me attitude, her 'Drop beats not bombs' tee shirt, or the myriad of pins illustrating everything from election campaigns to bands to commercial products, she found a way to stand out around anyone.
Vee took advantage of my silence and cleared her throat, “So, that girl from your history class?” She pointed to a rather plain-looking blonde girl with rounded glasses and an antisocial attitude, “She's dating Allen in my geo class, and they both go to the bathroom at, like, nine am sharp every day. Why old man Burkes never says anything to him I have no idea,” I nodded thoughtfully as Vee set up the story for me. Come to think of it, that girl did go to the bathroom once a day in history.
“I was talking to Samantha and when Allen got back he was talking to Quinn and Steven and Steven told Samantha that they go down to the locker room and f*****g do it. Every. Day.” Vee made full circles of her eyes to accentuate the seriousness of the situation and I did the same, nodding slowly as if grateful for the trusted secret. “Wow. That sounds like it would get boring after a while.”
Vee laughed and nodded in agreement, “I know, right? I mean, you can at least fake some sort of special romantic occasion in Stone Flats. Everyone does.” She sighed and took a step into the water, testing the water of the student current before she pushed herself in. “Hey, on lunch Flynn is gonna run Marcus something to eat and his assignments, you wanna go out with Ricky and I to get something to eat?” She left me no time to respond as she dropped into the breathing, hormonal river that was the first floor hallway and started up the stairs.
Why did she even need my response? She knew I was going.
Algebra flew by, which was a real stroke of good luck for me. I could hold my own in math but disliked the subject. I looked at math like some foreign language that I had a hard time tuning into, but to be fair it probably thought I was strange, too. After algebra I went to nutrition, and I loved that class. I found my usual seat in the back row and put my feet up on the desk, pulling my Gameboy from my bag and turning it on. We did nothing in nutrition, since the coach was one of the assistant Football coaches and he only flew in to take attendance, told us not to break anything and left.
My first day of school I looked at this reprieve with welcome, but today it gave me time to think about all of the problems smacking into every corner of my mind without my consent. The first thing into my head was what we were going to do from now on. It was an official, confirmed fact that some assortment of evil forces were trying to get into the grave that Sylus had been tending mostly alone for years. I made a mental note to ask him about my mother's role in all of this whenever I saw him later. I worried about Sylus in general; my poor grandpa was looking older by the day, the bags under his eyes grew heavy and the white hair he usually carefully managed took on a dull glaze and was usually fretted from his hands running through it, something he did whenever he was frustrated or concentrating. That seemed to be a constant state for him lately.
My mind shifted to John, my father. Most kids had a boogie-man when they were growing up. Some mythical beast that would come and carry them away into their nightmare world if they misbehaved. Some evil without explanation or resistance. My father was my boogie-man. If I thought in detail about the number of times that he punched, kicked, threw, and shot his negativity and rage into the house I would have sat motionless until nutrition class the next day. I never officially ran the numbers, but I was pretty positive that as a child I spent more time hiding in the pantry with my mother than having a peaceful meal in the dining room or just watching TV as a family.
Children have the extraordinary gift of rationalization. A child, who is already so overwhelmed and accepting of the world around them, can rationalize anything into a normality. I had done just that. I had learned to shut down my mind and body during those long hours in the pantry closet or the bathroom or wherever we were fortified from John and look deep inside of myself. After a while of searching deep enough into your own subconscious, you are undoubtedly going to find a reserve of inner strength, and that is what helped me rationalize John. Such a power came at a good time, just before his intervention. A lot of adults were there, most I don't remember. But I remembered waiting with Perry at her house for hours, and Sylus and my mother coming to get me. I had no idea where John was for two or three weeks, but I was told he was off helping one of his friends fix a house.
I now know from Perry that they had forced him into rehab, which I feel was the best course of action still. I only wished it would have worked entirely. When John got out, he was someone I would have really called my dad for at least a little while. I could remember the barbeques at Sylus' house, the play-wrestling fights we had, and even the times were we just sat around watching TV and doing nothing at all but enjoying the silence. I really had thought he was going to be a new person, and I think that was what really made the murder so surprising.
Though I said I remembered next to nothing about that night, what memories I hung onto I examined with a mental microscope whenever I had the time. I remember my mother picking me up. Not in her usual gentle swoop, but in a rigid jerking motion. I could recall being rushed down the stairs like a football, too afraid to scream. What happened in between I have tried everything to remember from mental cues to hypnotherapy, which was a load of crap. My next working memory is always sitting numb and confused in the living room. Everything was broken, the room was a mess. The front door was busted open, the windows smashed, and the table broken. I could remember sitting on one of the cushions from the sofa in the floor and looking directly ahead at John, who was sitting, like me, in the floor. He had blood on his hands and his shirt. The shotgun was laying by his side, and I distinctly remember him smoking a cigarette and crying like a baby, probably louder than I was, until the police came.
My brain, in an attempt to call me down, pushed the train of thought off of the rails and made room for my new friends. I had friends in Boston, but the oddball group I had been aligned with in Virginia were by far more entertaining and certainly closer than anyone I had known in Boston, save for Perry and I. Ricky and Vee had thought to invite me to lunch, well one of them had, and I was genuinely excited. Vee was mouthy, but she was always friendly to everyone and a general joy to be around. Ricky was very much the same kind of joy, always courteous and mindful in old-fashioned ways I could only imagine he picked up from Velvel.
The bell kicked me out of my thoughts as the other students shifted around me and started gearing up for their next class. I was a pretty fast mover in the desk-to-door marathon, but some people were already closing their lockers. What did those people do? Run out five minutes before to beat the traffic? It was a good idea. I made a withdrawal of my media appreciation book from good old 138 and made my way to Velvel's class.
I decided to use Marcus' empty seat as a place for my bag, opening it up and pulling out my notebook associated with Velvel's class. Most of my experiences so far with this crazy world breathing in ragged breath just underneath normal small town life had seemed like a crazy fever-dream until I got a good look at Marcus' empty desk. He was not skipping class to smoke with Flynn or out doing who-knows-what, he was laying in my grandfather's den, trying to find the strength to stand up.
Marcus had been the most selfless of my friends here in Virginia so far. He had confronted a crazy man for me and stabbed a police officer to protect me. He did also make me steal those gaudy pot leaf earrings I vowed to lose some day, but the good outweighed the bad. I was still consumed with guilt about the entire situation. John pulled us out of the proverbial fire moments after Marcus had been bitten. If I had a little more courage, a little more tenacity, I would have been the one laying in that den. That would have suited me just fine. Marcus was well connected here; this was his home town and his whole life. I was an outsider. The new girl from Boston who almost got him killed.
“Miss your boyfriend?” Flynn sneered at me and I methodically hit him with my notebook over his head. “He's not my boyfriend,” I sunk down into my seat with an audible sigh, propping my feet up on the metal bar under the desk, “ I just feel really guilty. He would be okay if I wasn't a gigantic vagina and just froze up in the face of danger.”
“Geez, Lisa, he had a gun,” Flynn made sure to say 'gun' quietly, looking around. “We all did what we could, it was better one of us get wounded than all of us die. Don't get me wrong, I hate seeing Marcus down like that but,” Flynn huffed in frustration and ran a hand through his frosted hair, “what I'm trying to say is we'll all be more prepared next time. Vee, tell Lisa what Sylus said,”
“Oh, yeah!” Vee straightened her position in her chair, drumming her fingers against the desktop and moving her head back and forth to some beat in her imagination, “After Mark is good we're all going to go through some sort of ritual.” She leaned in and pumped her eyebrows at me like she was trying to sell me a used car, “They're going to teach us to fight with mother-f*****g-magic. Is that not the coolest thing you have ever heard?” Vee looked ecstatic, and Flynn looked much the same, but I was more apprehensive.
“I'll believe it when I see it. Grandpa likes to do everything himself,” I sat up in my seat as Velvel entered the room, shutting the door behind him. He had the sleeves of his blue button-down rolled up to his forearms and his hair was pushed to the side. He looked like he had just ran a few laps and forgot to dress down into his non-teaching outfit. I had my suspicions that his physical activity was not running, but taking his shift on trying to heal Marcus. I could only assume, because a loaded classroom was not the place to inquire about your friend's demon-wound.
“I'm going to make class short and sweet today, guys and girls. Frankly, I'm tired,” Velvel nearly fell backward into his chair, rolling over to his desk and picking up a stack of papers which he held out with one hand, “Brett, pass these around for me? Everybody gets one. Write a three page paper during class time only on the topic of your choosing and have it ready Friday for peer review.”
The tall, persistently boot-clad Brett picked up the stack and walked between each aisle, laying a sheet on every desk, even the empty ones. He was a bright one, I thought to myself. I looked over the topics with little interest; most of them were to pick your favorite person in insert medium of art and explain their relevance. I stuffed the paper into the front of my notebook and Flynn grabbed the one for Marcus before I could, lodging it in a stack of papers inside his backpack that I assumed consisted of his make-up work.
“Is it just me or does Velvel look tired as s**t?” Flynn turned to Vee and I, both of us were already looking at Flynn before he opened his mouth, since it was obvious we would talk about it. “He does. I wonder if he was trying to heal Marcus-”
“-Or if he was out kicking Underling a*s?” Vee seemed excited at the idea of Velvel taking out more of the possessed townspeople hiding amongst us. It made me wonder if she would be good in a fight. She had guts, but I was not confident after out first encounter with the mysterious enemy. Vee had been dropped with a pistol-whip to the head, but I really did not do any better. At least Flynn punched the man, and hell, Marcus stabbed him.
“To answer your question, Flynn,” Velvel was standing behind Flynn, when did he get there? “I was putting some finishing touches on securing a stable condition for Marcus. I was giving the old man a break,” the old man being my Grandpa, I gathered from the frown on Velvel's face, “He's been walking around and even working out a little this morning. But listen to me very carefully, you three,” he hunkered down and squatted between us, holding up one of the papers as if he was explaining one of the topics, “The affliction will leave him with withdrawals from the specific energy, and he will have an explosive temper. Overlook any negative comments and try to be understanding of his condition. I've already explained this to Ricky.”
“So, in other words, Mark's back to being...Mark?” Vee laughed, and we joined her. Even Velvel cracked a little grin, “Seriously guys, make sure you don't upset him. He's not emotionally sensible right now. Go ahead Flynn, I've excused you from your classes to go help Marcus with his makeup work.” He waved at the door and Flynn needed no other chance to leave school for the day, giving us a wave and hitting the door before we could tell him goodbye.
Vee and I casually discussed everything from what Vee hoped magic abilities would be to how apparently I was that much less of a person for not really liking The Cranberries. After class we packed our things up and marched off to the parking lot where Ricky was already waiting for us, leaning against the door to his Aerostar.
“Alright, Rick!” Vee slid across the hood and opened the passenger side door, closing it behind her and lighting a cigarette, “Fire up the Shag Wagon and let's go show Ms. Boston here some fine southern' cuisine!” I laughed and shut myself up in the back of the minivan as Ricky started it up, pulling out onto the main road. He turned left at the fork behind the school and started down the main street of Stone Flats, Virginia. I was tasked with finding a place I wanted to try. I could remember some of the old cornerstone places that always stayed in business from when I was a little girl, but a few of them were new.
“Let's try that place?” my finger lined up with an old-fashioned brick building that looked like it had been one hundred stores before it finally became Uncle Ryan's Darn-Good B-B-Q. Vee and Ricky looked to each other and nodded, “You know,” Ricky adjusted his glasses on his nose before pulling into the parking space closest to the door. “It's actually really good.”
We all filed out of Ricky's Aerostar and Ricky, ever the gentleman, held the door for us as we entered Uncle Ryan's.
I was equal parts unimpressed and comfortable with the interior of the restaurant. Some booths, a couple tables, a counter separating the kitchen from the dining room area, and a menu looming over the head of the cashier made it pretty commonplace. We were not alone in the restaurant, it was surprisingly packed for one-thirty in the afternoon. Vee went ahead of me in line, leaning toward the clean-shaven middle aged man who I presumed to be Uncle Ryan, because his nametag said 'Uncle Ryan.'
“I will have a...” She bit her thumb as her eyes scanned the menu above her, “Let me have a rack of ribs, some fries, and a drink.”
“A full rack or half rack?” The man assumed a half rack, but Vee held her hands out about two feet apart, “Full. Grande. All of them.” He nodded and rang up her order as he looked Vee over, trying to discover where she was going to put it all. Ricky let me go in front of him and I spent a moment looking over their menu. “Can I just get a pulled pork sandwich and a drink?” I asked and he nodded, “Same ticket?”
“Yeah,” Ricky moved in beside of me and asked the cashier for an order of bone-in wings and a drink. Ricky paid for the food and Vee distributed the cups evenly amongst us. After filling my Styrofoam cup with sweet tea on Vee's recommendation, I followed the clearly starving Vee to a booth and slid in beside of her, taking a sip of the tea. I coughed, having to take another drink to get the tea down and blinking hard at the taste, “This stuff is candy. There has to be like, a ton of sugar in this.”
“I know!” Vee nodded and took a long drink of her own tea. Ricky was not far behind us with two trays in his hands; one of them was my sandwich and Ricky's wings, the other was Vee's rack of ribs and fries. When he sat them down, Vee sneered at the plate and tore into the ribs, three deep before I could manage to look away.
“She really likes barbeque,” I nodded to Ricky's confirmation and Vee waved a greasy, barbeque stained set of fingers at me. “Try it! The sauce is awesome,” She waved upward again, a signal for me to eat. I shrugged and picked up the sandwich, taking a tentative bite and my eyes widened. It really was a phenomenal sandwich. Very tender and smokey, with a little sweetness to the sauce and a spicy flavor that came after, “Wow, that is good,” I looked to both Ricky and Vee, who nodded in agreement.
We ate in silence for a few minutes and I secretly observed their eating habits. Ricky used a fork to eat wings and was very thorough in making sure he remained clean. Vee, on the other hand, was not unlike a hungry dog. I may have been mistaken, but I was sure a noticed a little bit of sauce on her forehead, just above her hairline. “So, guys,” I swallowed another bite of the curiously delicious sandwich and took a drink of the candy tea, “Was there something you wanted to talk about?”
Ricky looked up with a blank stare and Vee scoffed at me, ripping the meat and trimming of fat off of one of the ribs with one well-practiced pull of her teeth, “Pssh, no. We just wanted us to have lunch as a group.”
“Oh, alright,” that made me smile. I thought maybe they had questions for me about this whole situation, but the truth was they just wanted to eat lunch together. “If we're eating as a group, did no one invite Serena?”
Ricky nodded and forked another piece of wing into his mouth, “Yeah but, she usually is super busy except for breaks and weekends. She trying to do all kinds of community service and extra-curricular things to get into the best college the farthest from Stone Flats.”
“Well, good for her,” I took another bite of the pulled pork sandwich and looked over to Vee's plate, horrified at the bareness of it. “You're already done?” I managed through a bite of pulled pork. Vee nodded and leaned back in the seat, putting her arms behind her head and closing her eyes, “Not my record time but I think I didn't do too bad at all,” she patted her belly audibly as Ricky and I laughed.
Ricky was a comedian at heart, and he entertained us with some funny classroom stories while we we finished eating. We were finishing up by the time he explained the time when Marcus and Flynn got detention,'for hell and ever' as Vee put it, for sneaking a cigarette break in front of the band room, where they could be seen plainly by the teacher's meeting going on in the room. Thinking of Marcus, I stood up and walked over to the counter, asking Uncle Ryan for some wings and another pulled pork sandwich. I paid Uncle Ryan for his exceptional barbeque with some of the money Sylus had given me to get by while I was in school. I took the bag from Uncle Ryan and walked outside to meet Vee and Ricky outside of the car. Ricky was cleaning his glasses on his shirt and Vee was smoking another cigarette.
“Get something for your boyfriend?” Vee sneered and I tossed the bag at her quickly, hitting her in the chest with it. She caught it, to my relief, and I opened the passenger door, “Seriously Vee, no. But I got that for Marcus.” They both got in the car and Ricky brought the Shag Wagon to life, turning right out of the parking lot and turning onto the long road that lead back to my Grandpa's house after a few minutes.
“Really guys, thanks for taking me out for lunch.” I closed the door behind me and straightened my shirt, reaching through Vee's window and grabbing the bag. “Not so fast, we're coming in, too. We wanna see Mark.” Vee climbed out of the passenger side window for no real reason, how she did so after eating a full rack of ribs I have no idea, and bounded for the door.
“Woah! C'mon, bring the heat! Alright!” At first I thought Ricky was cheering Vee on for the acrobatic stunt, but I realized that was Flynn's voice coming from inside the house, followed by quick, paired footsteps. I walked inside behind Ricky and watched as Vee opened the door without knocking, only to shut it quickly as two figures blew past the door, one of them smacking into the wall in the foyer.
“Woah, woah, break it up!” Vee shouted and moved to get in between the two people, but one of them put a gloved hand out to stop her. Marcus was wearing boxing gloves and a plain white shirt that I could almost guarantee was my father's with a pair of blue jeans. He put his hands over his head and ducked back toward the other gloved figure, my father.
Marcus was quick, faking and jabbing at him with the speed of a decent boxer, but John was weaving around him and occasionally smacking his hand down like a child's. Marcus looked not enraged, but determined. He looked like he was having fun and, strangely, so did my father.
“Who's winning?” I sat the bag down on the old telephone table near the doorway into the living room as the two were jabbing and dodging around each other, John backing Marcus up slowly, steadily toward the living room. Marcus turned to look at me and opened his mouth. I think he was about to tell me he was winning, but that would have been a short-sighted answer. The second he took his eyes off of my father, John planted his glove square in Marcus' jaw. He stumbled back, and it was over. John landed an uppercut in the stomach and Marcus cried out in surprise, stumbling back once more before one above-average hay-maker sent him falling onto the sofa.
John slipped the gloves off of his hands and handed them to Flynn, cracking his knuckles and smiling down to Marcus. “Next time, try not to let the girls distract you.” He laughed and held a hand out to him. Marcus grinned sheepishly and took his hand, pulling himself up and walking over to the telephone table, picking up the bag from Uncle Ryan's and motioning to me. “This for me?”
“Yeah,” I smiled and watched as Marcus pulled the sandwich out of the bag, taking a bit and smiling, “I love Uncle Ryan's. Who are the wings for?” He dug through the bag and pulled out the wings. At first, I was going to tell Marcus they were his as well, but I noticed John eying them with a wanting look. I had never been inclined to feel bad in any way towards my father, but after watching him smiling and having fun with Marcus, the part of me that wanted him to be a good father overrode my rational mind. “Those are for my dad,” I took the wings from Marcus and handed the box to John, who smiled in surprised and opened up the box, “Thanks, sweetheart. I was starving.”
“Yeah, thanks!” Marcus smiled and took another bite. I felt happier this way, giving half of the food to my father. He looked genuinely surprised that I had done anything for him. Since I had came back to Stone Flats he had been sneaking around watching over me because he had been afraid I would hate him, and he was right. I did hate him, but maybe I hated him a little less. If Marcus could get along with him, I would really try to get along with John Hartnett.
“No problem, how are you feeling?” I sat down on the sofa and looked between Marcus and John, who were both eating quickly. It almost looked like they were racing one another, but I'm sure I was wrong in that. “I feel a lot better. I'm very jumpy but, I'm good.” Marcus took another bite and sat down beside of me. I turned to him, but gave up on saying anything else about it as Sylus closed the front door behind him, hanging up his coat on the wooden coat rack near the door. “Good. Tonight we will indoctrinate you kids into the path of knowledge that Velvel and I have studied,” Sylus did not seem thrilled at the prospect, sitting down in the seat next to John and quickly lighting a cigarette, only he snapped his fingers instead of using a lighter.
“Hell yeah!” Vee shot her fist into the air in triumph, but the mood was quickly dampened by a sobering look from Sylus.
“Don't celebrate yet, Victoria. I can't guarantee you will survive the process.”
Chapter Seven 1/2: Calling Out
“You wait until the Master hears about your inadequate actions,” the body of Cletus the town drunk snapped at the audience of the Riverdance Bar and Grille. In the daytime, the modest mom and pop sports bar operated as it had since the sixties, Cletus should know. He had been shuffling between Riverdance and Stone Lanes bowling alley for most of his adult life in a drunken stupor. When Cletus' mind and body had been overtaken by Sahr Nuhl, Nuhl had found Riverdance to be a very comfortable place to park this raggedy body. Nulh jumped off of the wooden bar and stomped over to the wooden doors. The front doors were slightly newer than the rest of the bar; a story Cletus would remember. He had been thrown through them for putting hands on a pretty lady who ended up being arm candy for part of a biker gang riding through.
Nuhl shut them and pressed his palm to the smooth, polished wood. He slid his hand down a few inches as the familiar tingle of energy building up in his body hummed within him. As Nuhl had done with centuries of practice, he concentrated the energy into his hand and, as intended, the door became magically locked. Only Nuhl could open it, and he had no intentions of giving the others an exit until he was done relinquishing his frustrations.
“Let's start with William,” Nuhl sighed in frustration and turned to a balding man in his forties. He was slightly overweight and was wearing a pair of khakis, a white t-shirt far too small for his belly, and a Wal-Mart employee vest complete with name-tag that read 'My name is STEVEN'. “William, you had a chance to take out the old man Hartnett, did you not?”
“Well, when I was in the officer's body I pulled him over, yes,” Steven-turned-William shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his black eyes shifting around the floor. Nuhl did not give him time to look any more nervous, closing the distance between them and bending down to push his face next to his. “You had a gun to his head, William. I can see it in your mind. That old fool eluded you with a simple magical bind! Then what, William? Tell me your next big mistake.”
William laughed a bit in his nervousness,running a hand over his balding head, “Well I,” he cleared his throat, “I was supposed to use the kids as bait to kill the old man.”
“Yes, you were supposed to kill the old man. I held the attention of the older Warlock Velvel long enough for you to complete your duties and then what? The big one with the dreadlocks took you down long enough for the adults to arrive.” Nuhl stood up and, with a cry of anger, back-handed William. He was knocked out of his seat and into the floor, getting up quickly to sit down again, holding his cheek.
“You're useless, William. It was everything I could do to please the Master into reclaiming your spirit from the Ethereal. You have rushed their awareness of our presence and cut a lot of time off of our table, you idiot.” Nuhl sighed and jumped back up to sit on the bar. He leaned back, pulling a bottle of cheap whiskey from behind the bar and twisting the top off, taking a long drink and wiping his mouth. He looked around to the group: Three police officers, a math teacher at the high school, two seniors on the varsity football team, a well-known drug dealer, and William, who worked at Wal-Mart.
“As infuriated as I am with William, and don't get me wrong, I'm fuming,” Nuhl took another long swig of the whiskey and kicked his feet idly against the bar he sat on, “He managed to do something none of you have done. He has managed to get a little familiar energy into someone with a close proximity to Lisa. Even I failed in this attempt, her father showed up before I could get close to her.” Nuhl nodded and sat the bottle down, fumbling for and lighting a cigarette, “Master has explained to me that this trace amount of familiar energy is a paramount success. Master has shown me how to locate this energy like a homing beacon, so we have a location on at least a portion of the group at all times, if not all.” Nuhl leaned back and closed his eyes, taking a drag and rolling the smoke out of Cletus' nose.
“Nuhl,” the oldest-looking police officer raised his hand. His uniform was clean-pressed and fit his body well, which was in great shape for his showing age. The silver plate above his breast pocket read 'Stilwell.' “It was explained to all of us that Master's increase in energy has led from momentary possession of many people to allowing our souls from the Ethereal to create permanent ownership of these bodies, correct?”
Nuhl rolled his head to face the possessed officer, nodding and blowing smoke toward him, “What's your point, Abner?”
The officer sat up straighter, looking confidently toward Nuhl, “We are here with our full powers from our previous lives, and a mass of extra power granted to us by the Master. Why do we not just attack them directly?” Nuhl in turn sat up properly, then immediately hunched back over with his fist on his knee, “Because our job is not to slaughter them, Abner. Frankly, that would be too easy. It would also mean that the amount of residual energy in the town would not reach the amount needed to unseal the tomb of our Master. In order for us to be successful, we have to allow the children to learn to use their own energy. We have to hit them and run, we have to let them get confident in their ability to handle us.” Nuhl smiled a truly wicked sneer, taking another long drink whiskey glistening in his mustache, “When the energy levels are pleasing to Master, we can start putting them in a corner. We will hurt their friends, we will kill their families. We will torture them for no reason but to inflict pain. Eventually we will force them into desperation. Once we achieve that, leading them to the tomb will be simple. They will practically release the Master themselves.”
The odd group of returned souls all nodded thoughtfully at Nuhl's instruction. Several of them had doubted his position as leader of operations because of his supreme age and background. Sahr had led a fringe cult nearly a thousand year before their current time in a place far away that Nuhl only ever described as 'a huge desert full of idiots.' He had proven, however, to be an effective leader. He had power unlike the rest of them; all of them had been experts in darker magical studies in their lives. However, Nuhl exhibited a control over the unpredictable forces associated with dark magic that most were unsettled by.
Nuhl snapped his fingers, Abner and William standing up immediately and walking into the kitchen of the bar. They came back out carrying a large stone bowl between them. They cleared one of the picnic style tables in the dining area and let the heavy bowl thud onto the table. Nuhl hopped down from the bar once more and sauntered towards the bowl like an old friend, smiling to the men and women who comprised his group.
“We will be making our report to the Master tonight and request further specific instruction.” Nuhl clamped the cigarette between his lips and pulled an old Buck knife from his pocket and unfolded the blade. He slid the blade across his forearm and instantly the red blood of Cletus began to pour into the bowl. Once the bowl was a quarter full he closed the knife, exhaling and closing his eyes as the wound closed itself, leaving no trace of having ever been opened. The blood began to swirl and turn in the bowl as if being stirred up by an invisible spoon. Nuhl stepped back and put his arms behind him, the rest of the group standing up and following his example. The blood in the bowl started to turn wildly, rocking the bowl and the table before stopping still, leaving a perfectly clean center in the bowl, the blood stuck to the sides.
“Sahr Nuhl, come forth and report to me,” a loud, commanding voice came from the bowl. The voice belonged to the one they called Master, the ancient wizard who had been imprisoned in the tomb in Stone Flats centuries ago. His voice gave life to the stories of his power, and usually turned the rest of the group pale with fear at the sound of him. Nuhl stepped forward slowly, his knees hitting the old hardwood floor when he approached the bowl.
“You are aware of William's resurgence, my Master. Since that event we have garnered two more bodies for the awaiting spirits to inhabit, another police officer and the body that William is being confined to, Master.” Nuhl lowered his head a bit, quick to redeem his lack of news, “I have punished William and reaffirmed your plan into the group. We await further instruction.”
A long silence fell upon Riverdance. No one was stupid enough to disturb the silence that always proceeded the answer from their Master. Nuhl had once explained to them that the silence was not really a silence but a delay, and because of the delay if a proper silence was not given, the Master would hear them during his own relay and be very annoyed. After a few minutes of pen-dropping quiet, the voice filled the bowl once more.
“Now, Nuhl, you are given idle time.” The voice bounced around the homey little bar. “You need to keep eyes on the children. If you catch them alone or in a compromising situation, feel free to scare them. However, I do not want them harmed beyond repair. We need their morale at the highest possible level. We need to rush them into their powers, but we also need to make them think they are winning in this battle that we will be setting up for them.”
Nuhl smirked at the news, the seemingly all-knowing Master thought of everything, it seemed. “And what if anyone from the Sodality decided to show themselves? The Sodality could move in and offer assistance to the children. The old man is one of the forming members of their inner Order, you know.”
“Do not concern yourself with the Sodality.” The Master's voice cut him off quicker than Nuhl had thought he could communicate, “I have several of my followers among them. They will be discouraged from the idea of giving any sort of aid to Sylus or his band of children. In the unlikely event they come to aid them, the residual energy here will grow exponentially, and I will be free well ahead of schedule.”
“Of course, Master. I have never doubted your complete control of this situation.” Nuhl bowed his head once more and stood up. “Now go forth,” The voice began to drop in volume, “keep them all in scrutinizing eyes, give them the forward enemy they need to develop.”
“Yes, Master.” Nuhl sighed as the blood dropped back into the center of the bowl, wiping his brow with the back of his sleeve. “You have heard your instructions. One of us must be in direct observation of them at all times. When it is impossible to be direct with our surveillance, I will scry into the energy William has implanted into the kid named Marcus. Everyone out,” Nuhl waved toward the doors, which flew open and banged against the outside wall. The rest of the possessed filed out of the door into their cruisers, minivans, and two doors. Nuhl closed the doors to the bar behind him and vanished into a whisp of smoke. The smoke pushed into the air towards the dark woods surrounding the bar, and he knew his end location well, the woods just outside of Sylus' property. He needed to make his way there quickly, he wanted to observe the ritual that would be going on tonight. He wanted to be there to witness the birth of the powers that would unleash the Master. Chapter Eight: In The Moonlight.
The air was getting cooler than it normally did in the summertime. Ever since I had moved back to Stone Flats, it had been unusually cold. I was not worried, but it was certainly odd. The chilly air did not disrupt the atmosphere gathering in the woody backyard at Grandpa's home, however.
Tiki torches that looked older than Sylus had been set up to assume a perimeter, and we were all gathered on the deck while Velvel lit the torches (with his hand, might I add.) I felt comfortable in this back yard. I had played year for years in my youth and came to know every blade of grass. The rest of my friends, however, looked uneasy by the chilly night.
Vee and Serena both were sitting on the railing of the old, rickety porch having a hushed conversation that I assumed was littered with anxiety. Flynn and Ricky were sitting next to them, Flynn smoking a cigarette and Ricky looking curiously to his grandfather. I can relate to Ricky's confusion, that's for sure. I always thought my Grandfather was magical, but not really a wizard. He was always there to cheer me up and always knew just what I wanted or needed, but to actually see him break the laws of commonly understood physiology, that was a different thing entirely.
“Where's Marcus?” Flynn raised up a bit and looked to me, smoke creeping out of his nostrils as he stared at me in waiting for an answer. “How am I supposed to know? I don't have a homing beacon shoved up his a*s,” I crossed my arms, leaning against the bannister and looking out toward the woods.
“Marcus went with John for the first part of the ritual,” Sylus broke his silence and I saw Vee and Serena jump. I smiled a bit, then turned to my grandfather, “So, he's doing his part solo?”
“No, Velvel and I will be guiding you five through it one at a time. John and Marcus are on lookout.”
“Lookout? What do you mean 'Lookout?” Ricky was the one that jumped this time, adjusted his glasses a bit excessively.
“This kind of ritual takes on a very large, very noticeable aura. There are far more bad people out there than the one that cornered you kids in the woods, and to a trained eye, this ritual is a homing beacon for an ambush.”
“So what the hell are two completely normal human beings supposed to do against those..those things?!” I waved my hand toward the forest, my voice picking up in pitch with my question.
“I think 'normal' is a stretch.” Vee muttered, resulting in a solid punch in the arm from her brother.
“Don't worry, Marcus is in preferred hands.” Sylus gave his white beard a couple wise strokes downward, “You forget your old man is ex-military and hardened by prison. Aside from that, Velvel and I have secured him special ammunition and magical trinkets to empower him. I must say, the changes to his power are quite...rad.” Sylus gave a hearty laugh, and the rest of us could not help but laugh along.
“The perimeter is live.” Velvel's voice came first, but he faded out of smoke beside of Sylus directly after. I could not get used to that.
“Excellent.” Sylus nodded to him and turned to us, sizing each of us up with his ancient, gray eyes. “Change of plans. Serena, Vee, come to the middle of the circle.”
“Uh, what circle, Mister Hartnett?” Serena asked quizzically, staring at the large back yard. The torches certainly outlined a pentagonal shape, but no circle was evident. With a snap of his wrinkled fingers, a large circle of the grass turned black, the edge igniting into a bright orange flame, save for a three foot wide spot which I gathered was both entrance and exit.
“Oh.” Vee nodded and they both stood up, making a slow walk inside of the circle. Once they were standing inside, the circle of fire completed itself. “Mr. Hartnett! This is so not cool!” Vee started to panic, looking around at the fire with wide eyes.
“Don't panic now! This is the easy part.” Sylus stepped forward, holding his hands above him, palms pointing toward the ground in the most grandiose wizard-esque stance I had ever seen. “I need you both to lie down and close your eyes.”
“Oh, man..” Vee whined about it, but the two moved onto their backs, eyes closing. When they did. Sylus brought his hands together, his steely eyes never leaving them as the fire enveloped inward quickly, an impregnable dome of flame covering my two friends.
“Grandpa!” I shouted, standing up quickly, “They'll burn!”
“No! No.” Sylus closed his eyes and pulled his hands apart, pointing them to the bubble of fire. “They are protected, submerged into the collective mind of the Universe. The challenge they face will be alone, and completely different based on the individual. I know not what their hurdles will be. But I assure you kids they are to be conquered. We have all spent our time in the fire.”
Although he assured us of their safety, we all watched with few blinks between us. Flynn looked the most uneasy, smoking another cigarette. I never had any siblings, but I could only imagine what it would be like to see your sister disappear in flame. I made me way over to Flynn quietly, slipping my hand into his.
He took it tightly, glancing down to me and taking a long drag, “Do you think they'll be alright?” He whispered to me. I thought about it for a moment, but nodded to Flynn, “Gr-Sylus loves all of us, he has a thing for kids, you know. He would never do anything to hurt any of us. But, I imagine you have to prove your worth somehow for your powers.” Flynn did not like my answer, but it did calm him a bit. He released my hand, thankfully. I rubbed my most surely bruised hand as we awaited their return.
I'm not exactly sure how long we were waiting. It could have been twenty minutes, it could have been all night. All I know is after the most nerve-wracking time of my life, the fire surrounding my two friends disappeared. They both were laying in the grass, looking very uneasy in their sleep. Flynn was the first to rush in, followed by Ricky and myself. Flynn put his sister's head in his lap, and Rickey did the same for Serena, the two shaking them and trying to get any kind of response. As if they were synchronized with one another, the two girls opened their eyes, pushing away from Ricky and Flynn to stand up. They looked to each other, and a small smile started to creep onto Vee's face. “Hey, Serena. Do you feel that?”
“Yeah, I feel it,” Serena smiled back at her.
“Accuracy check,” Velvel snapped his finger and pointed to them, a slightly higher wall of flame separating them from our group. “What you are feeling, utilize it. Reach into yourself and pull it out. Use it to pass through the fire.”
“Reach into myself. Gotcha.” Vee closed her eyes. He hand moved up, holding her hand toward the fire. She opened her eyes and cried out in a mix of concentration and surprise when the fire parted like curtains to a play. She walked through quickly, sitting down on the porch and stealing a cigarette from Flynn. Serena was quick to do the same, sitting back down beside Vee and relaxing against the railing.
Sylus was quick to get back to the task, the circle of fire resurfacing and maintaining a gaze to it. “Flynn, Ricky.”
Flynn stepped on his cigarette and Ricky took his glasses off, leaving them on the railing. The two made a quicker walk into the circle, laying down and nodding to each other before the flame enclosed them.
“Holy s**t, that is scary.” Vee muttered as she watched the two vanish in flames.
We were all less nervous about the ordeal now that we had seen it or experienced it. In a more rational state of mind, I could tell it had only been about half an hour that the boys were under, and when the fire disappeared, Ricky was the first up. He extended and arm to Flynn and helped him up. Velvel apparently did not feel an accuracy check was needed for them, since the first one went to well (I take it.)
When they returned to their spots on the porch, Velvel vanished into smoke again and came back a few moments later. When he reappeared, however, he had one arm around Marcus and one around my father. At first my heart leaped with alarm, had they been hurt? But when I realized they were unharmed, I gathered that Velvel must have to have some sort of physical contact to transport other people in his odd method.
“Sylus, get Marcus and Lisa and let's wrap this up.” Velvel shot my grandfather a look that I knew meant trouble. It was a very negative look. Sylus nodded and motioned for us to enter the renewed circle.
“Just go in and lay down.” I answered Marcus' confused look on my way in. On the bright side it was a little warmer surrounded by fire, I thought as I laid back in the grass. I looked over to Marcus, who was laying next to me, his arms behind his head. Sometimes, I really hated Marcus. When everyone else was scared witless, he looked right at home. I wondered exactly how much of that comfort was a front for bravery, and how much of it was sincere. He looked to me and winked, “Good luck, I guess.”
I smiled,” You too.”
I can not remember the fire rushing over us, or when exactly I blacked out. No, this was a lot more than going to sleep. Even when you're in a heavy sleep, you are sometimes aware that you are asleep.
I was most certainly awake, and my surroundings made me nauseous with fear.
I was standing at the foot of a twin-sized bed. The tan walls looked pale blue from the moonlight in the curtains, and in the bed, tossing and turning in her sleep, was a little me. Little, innocent, six year old me. The feeling was strange, at best. Terrifying at worst. I backed up a bit, wondering to myself why the fire would place me into my past.
That was when I heard the giggle.
It was a rattling, inhuman sound coming out of a human throat. My head whipped to the right, eyes gazing down the hallway. I wish I would have looked left. Hope Hartnett, my mother, was standing in the doorway,only her skin was a paler shade than I could ever recall, her eyes were pitch black, and she was making her way to the two of me. “Hush little baby, don't say a word.” her metallic voice made an attempt at singing, launching onto the bed and landing on all fours over me, “Master's gonna give you a brand new soul.”
“NO!” Despite my stomach-lurching fear, I threw myself onto my mother's body, taking her to the ground. The being inside of her gave her way more strength than I could muster, and she overpowered me quickly, pinning me to the ground. She roared in my face, her jaws unhinging, opening to a sickening angle. Her saliva mixed with hot tears on my cheeks as she looked down at me, unfiltered fury embedded in her black eyes and tightly stretched skin.
“You cannot save her, spirit! Master will have the White Witch!” She laughed and sprung from me to the bed,tearing back the cover and reaching for my younger self. I heard the heavy, thudding footsteps, but when my father ran into the room, I was surprised to see him grab my mother by the hair, yanking her off of the bed and slinging her down the hall. He shut the door, leaning up against it. The door was banging and creaking from my mother's body launching into it, the inhuman screeches filling the house. He looked at me with a hostile glare. “Who are you?!” He demanded of me, and I felt compelled to lie.
“I am...a friendly...entity,” I looked around for a second before nodding to my father. “I come from...another land, and I am here to make sure no one harms Lisa.” I tried to keep it as close to the truth as possible, but it seemed good enough for John. “Get Lisa and Run!” He pivoted to face the door and it flew open, my mother's body latching onto him and the two rolling and slamming up against the wall. “Hope! Hope snap out of it!” He yelled, his hands shaking as he tried to keep her hands from his face, “You're sick! You need help! This isn't right!” I felt like I was going to faint, but I knew I had a job to do. When she looked the most distracted, I scooped my six year old self up and bolted down the hallway. My legs were numb, I'm sure I was still crying, but nowhere near as hard as my younger self. “Let go of me!” Little me cried, her arms extended past my shoulders, “Daddy!”
“Shut up!” I yelled at little me, and she just started crying again. I banked hard right and hopped onto the rail, sliding sideways down the stair rail and hit the bottom running. A loud crash rattled the house, and I turned to see the drywall next to the stairway had been ruptured, my father's arm hanging out of the huge hole in the wall. “F**k, f**k, f**k!” I turned to run, but I was shoved back into the kitchen, my head smacking off of the counter-top on the island. I saw stars and I could feel blood in the back of my hair, but I stood up despite it, my hands hugging the smaller me against my chest, looking up at the figure of my mother sauntering calmly toward him, “Hush little baby, don't say a word..”
I turned around quickly, opening the drawers under the island and prying the little me from my body, stacking her into the opening with the pots and pans. “Stay very quiet, okay?” I smiled for both of our sake. Little me nodded, fear in her eyes, and I shut the doors, turning back around and looking to my mother's form. “You want a fight? I'll fight.” I noticed the knife rack behind me and plucked a carving knife from the set, holding it behind my back like a well-kept secret. “Let's go!” I steeled myself, lowering my shoulders and tackling my mother back into the living room. As I expected, she was stronger than me, kicking me away and making a run for the kitchen.
When she tried to run, I ran the carving knife over the back of her ankle. She screeched in pain, blood oozing from the wound as she hit her knees. I got onto my knees and shoved myself onto her one more time,fighting with her just long enough to sever the remaining tendon. It was safe to say she was pretty pissed. She grabbed the wrist of my knife-wielding hand and twisted it. I screamed,dropping the knife and she picked it up, throwing it into the kitchen and jamming it into the cupboard.
“I was going to kill you quickly, spirit. But now, you deserve a slow, agonizing death.” she cackled and picked me up, throwing me towards the patio door. I felt the glass shatter around me, my body busting it as I rolled off of the wooden porch and onto the soft grass, slightly wet from morning dew.
I am a pretty accident-prone individual. I have had my share of slips and falls, trips and stumbles. One thing I know for sure is I had never felt more beat up than I did laying in the grass in a twisted perversion of my own memories. I put my hands down to stand up, and cried out in a mix of pain and surprise when the broken glass around me dug into my hands. “F**k!” I scolded myself, making a very un-herolike roll off of the grass and standing up, pushing my dirty, bloodied hair from my face.
“I can't do this.” Something about hearing my own voice cement my failure made my stomach sink in despair. I firmly stood against crying, so stared down into the grass, waiting for whatever poisonous spirit that inhabited my mother to come and take me down.
“Sure you can.” A voice behind me tried to lift my confidence, and I looked behind me to face whatever spectator this calamity had garnered.
I was not expecting my mother to be standing behind me. Not the one inside, no. This was really her. She looked young, probably only a few years older than myself. Her blonde hair fell in sot curls at her shoulders, her gray eyes, not unlike Sylus', dug into me. A green cloak was wrapped around her body, giving her a very flowing appearance.
“Mom?” I croaked, my throat irritated and dry. I think I also tasted a little blood in there. “Don't you mom me, Lisa.” She smiled and glided over to me, her index finger securing my chin to a higher angle. “You've got a lot of work to do, honey. You can't give up at the start!”
In my quivering, adrenaline-soaked panic I could feel a tingle of warmth in my body, fighting the cold of my panic. I was confused, sure, but I was comfortable. Now I really did want to cry. “Mom, I can't fight that thing. I can't.” I looked back toward the house, the distorted creature of my mother's body watching us from the broken doorway, walking despite the blood dripping from her ankles.
“You can, you don't have a choice. I know this might sound a little silly but, a different power rests inside of you, Lisa. Bigger than me, bigger than Grandpa, bigger than anyone you've ever known.” She took my wrist and held my hand up, pointing it toward the house. “Listen to me Lisa. Listen very carefully, okay? I want you to close your eyes and think about the people you love. Think about protecting them. Once you feel that strength, I want you to tell me.”
I closed my eyes, thinking about my friends and family. Aunt Perry sitting all alone in Boston, my father back in the real world, scouring the woods to keep us safe. I thought about Sylus and his age slowing him down. I thought about our encounter in the woods. I thought about Marcus wrestling with the corrupted cop. All at once, a burning began to eat away at my stomach. My knees wavered at the feeling, I felt like I was burning from the inside out. I wondered briefly is this was what spontaneous human combustion felt like. As the feeling became stronger, I heard the screech of the monstrous figure flailing toward us.
“Mom! I feel it! I've got it!” I shouted, gritting my teeth and digging my feet into the ground, readying myself for the inevitable take-down from my mother's body. “Good job Lisa, now pull that feeling out, and push it forward.” She moved her hands to grip my shoulders and I steadily concentrated on the burning feeling. I noticed, with thought, I could manipulate it, but not easily. I concentrated what I could, feeling it making the slow trek through my body to my hand.
How close was I from death at this point? Ten feet? One hundred? I had no way of knowing, my eyes were closed, but the monster was still coming at us, I could hear her getting her. When I felt the heat hit my hands I forced my eyes open and pushed my hands out. She had been nearly on top of me, the smell of blood strong and saliva hitting my face. “Take this!” I yelled, and the heat left my hands.
I was not prepared for the jet of fire that appeared before my hand. The fire quickly engulfed the howling figure of my possessed mother, which began flailing and trying to put out the fire. “Bring it home, Lisa,” My mother whispered to me, and I nodded in complete agreement. With more speed a bit more heat, the next stream of fire hit with a minor explosion, knocking the body back into the house and through the sofa, landing up against the wall near the television.
“Holy s**t!” I giggled and laughed and generally looked like an idiot in my old front lawn in the middle of the night as I celebrated my tiny victory. “Mom, did you see that?” I turned around to seek approval but, almost knowingly, it was like she was never there.
© 2015 ElectricSkeletorAuthor's Note
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ElectricSkeletorLexington, KYAboutWriting is not my career, but I enjoy it and entertaining people the best I can with it. more.. |
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