Black Rite

by Allen Caraway

  He looked at me and said, ‘You okay, bro? You still look kinda spooked.’

  ‘Yeah, fine, thanks.’

  Don didn’t look convinced and was all set to ask more questions, so I decided to change the subject.

  ‘So how’d you reckon the Sharks will do tonight?’

  ‘I think they’ll win,’ he said. ‘They’re on a roll.’

  ~

  The game was a welcome chance to relax, overeat and get drunk. At the end of the evening I thanked June for their hospitality and then wandered, chilled and happy, over to Tony’s SUV and slid into the passenger seat.

  ‘Enjoy yourself?’ he said as we drove the seven miles from his place to mine, his face gently illuminated by the soft blue glow of the dash lights.

  ‘Yeah, thanks. Just what I needed.’

  ‘Cool. You gonna be all right by yourself, alone in that big house?’

  ‘Yeeaah, I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Well, remember that I’m just minutes away. If that dude comes back, call me before the sheriff ‘cause I’ll get to you quicker.’

  ‘Thanks, bro. Appreciate it.’

  ‘No problemo. Think about training Mick and Keith as guard dogs too.’

  ‘No need. Their intrinsic protective nature makes training a mastiff as a guard or attack dog unnecessary. Their bark and mere presence should scare off burglars.’

  Tony glanced at me, smiling. ‘You read that somewhere?’

  ‘Yup, quoted it word for word. It’ll be true in about six months’ time.’

  ~

  At first, sleep refused to come, which was becoming a frequent occurrence. I lay on my back, hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling, trying to keep my mind blank. It proved impossible. The entity, Lizzy, Gary; I thought about all three of them, my mind stuck in a persistent and unwelcome loop. As soon as I pushed one aside, another took its place. Just when I was beginning to despair that I would never get to sleep, it finally came, arriving swiftly and taking me down into a deep, dreamless, black void.

  ~

  After performing the day’s chores with zero enthusiasm, I sat in the kitchen with a coffee, looking out of the window at the gray sky while trying to persuade myself to get off my ass and cook dinner. It was cold and wet, the thermometer on the porch indicating a temperature of thirty-seven degrees Fahrenheit. My thoughts turned to Lizzy and I decided to wander down to Pioneer Cottage to see if she was still there, although I suspected that we had scared her off. Since the previous evening, my intentions to leave her alone had crumbled completely and now it seemed idiotic to let things continue as they were. I felt a warm tingle of excitement in my chest. The thought of finally meeting Lizzy was exhilarating and I realized she had become a mythical, almost godlike being to me. I had turned into a super fan who was as obsessed as Gary had been. It scared me.

  ‘Jeez, Bruce, get a fuckin’ grip,’ I muttered. ‘She’s just a woman.’

  Who was brought back to life a month ago, an inner voice said. No, she’s not ‘just a woman.’ She’s a scientific miracle, that’s what she is. Just be cool when you finally meet her. Don’t want to scare her away for good.

  I stood up, put on my jacket and hat, checked that the Glock was still on my hip, grabbed my torch and then walked down to the cottage.

  Just beyond the second, smaller barn, the road curved to the right for two hundred yards, then gently to the left for the next mile until it merged with an old logging road. The tall pine trees hid the outbuildings until I was almost upon them so it wasn’t until I was a few yards away from Pioneer Cottage that I noticed a light moving around upstairs. Probably a torch. Lizzy was still living there and being cautious, although not cautious enough.

  Well, well, well, I thought. Now that’s a surprise. Do I barge in, hoping to catch her before she can run away again, or do I behave like a gentleman and knock on the door?

  I knocked on the door. After waiting for over a minute, while imagining Lizzy hiding in a corner, her heartbeat racing, I tried again. No response.

  Fuck it, I thought as I slid my key into the lock, I’ve given her plenty of warning and it is my cottage. As I turned the key, I thought I heard the sound of movement, but when I walked inside and turned on the light, the open plan kitchen-living room was empty. Leaning against the sofa was a large black backpack with a bedroll and a tent strapped to it and on the coffee table was a dog-eared copy of Summer Moonshine by P. G. Wodehouse. Draped over the back of a kitchen chair was a dark green winter jacket.

  She’s been busy. Kitted herself out with some nice looking gear.

  I checked the ground floor bedroom and bathroom, both of which were empty, then went upstairs. Even though I made no effort to be quiet, it still felt as if I was sneaking up on Lizzy as if she was an elusive wild animal. When I reached the landing, I turned on the lights and checked the bathroom on my left, the large walk in closet on my right and then the huge bedroom. All were empty, except for some wet clothes on a drying rack in the bathroom. I stood there for a moment looking at them. Jeans, T-shirts, socks, plaid shirts, bras and panties.

  Elizabeth Dashwood’s underwear, I thought. Staring at these doesn’t make me feel like a perverted stalker. Not a bit.

  In the bedroom I paused again, listening, but all I heard were the usual nocturnal sounds coming from outside.

  She’s hiding from me. Well fuck that. I don’t care what she wants. I’m not prepared to allow her to live rough for the rest of her life when I’m in a position to help out.

  I peered under the bed. No Lizzy. Hm. As I turned to leave, I realized that I hadn’t checked the attic, which - if I was upstairs and wanted to hide – was the best choice. I returned to the closet and looked at the trapdoor in the ceiling, then grabbed the handle and pulled. It was unlocked. As the door opened, it revealed a folding ladder that could be pulled up and secured from inside. I climbed up and turned on the light.

  Three feet away, a figure lay on the plank walkway, staring at me with wide frightened eyes.

  ‘Hello, Lizzy,’ I said.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Persuading her to come down proved to be difficult.

  She was wearing a red and black plaid shirt, thick socks and jeans. Lizzy’s hair was down and needed trimming. Her face clean, tanned and devoid of makeup. Despite squatting in a house with no running water – I had turned the main valve off – she had made an effort to stay clean. I could even smell deodorant, the scent familiar because it was the same brand that I used. She had probably taken it, along with some soap and shampoo, when she had stolen my food.

  Lizzy moved further down the walkway, her eyes locked onto mine.

  I raised both hands, palms out, in what I hoped was a calming, reassuring gesture. ‘Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a friend. Do you understand? Friend.’

  No response, just those remarkable eyes staring into mine.

  ‘Can you understand me?’ I said, slowly enunciating each word. ‘I want to help you. I’m a friend. Friend.’

  Lizzy shot me a look that showed she did understand and thought me insolent for talking to her as if she were a dimwitted five year old. The final proof that she hadn’t come back as a retarded zombie or that something else now resided in her body. I had seen that expression before. In her first movie with Clark Gable, there was a scene in which he had lectured her character for some infraction and Gable had received the same look.

  ‘Will you come down?’

  No reaction. Just staring.

  ‘Please?’

  More staring. It was like trying to converse with a cornered wild animal.

  ‘Can you speak?’

  That look again; the blue eyes studying me, then she nodded.

  ‘Bet you haven’t spoken to anyone in, well, since you’ve been … back.’

  She didn’t answer and I found the situation increasingly frustrating.

  ‘Look, as I said, I’m not going to hurt you. If you’ve been h
iding because you’re worried that the world will go nuts when it finds out that you’re back and you’re wondering if I’ll throw you to a bunch of rabid reporters, then don’t be. I’m not going to tell anyone that I’ve seen you or that I know who you are, so please, come down.’ I jerked my thumb towards the main house. ‘I’ve bought some English tea and some Cadbury’s chocolate, which you obviously don’t know about ‘cause none of it’s gone missing.’

  She blushed and then smiled; beautiful and bewitching, which sent a pleasant tingle down my spine. I smiled back and for a moment the walls were down.

  ‘C’mon,’ I said. ‘I’ll make you Marmite on toast.’

  ‘You’ve got Marmite?’ She looked stunned.

  ‘Yup. Lots. Got that when I bought the tea and chocolate. Had to get it from a British food store in Eureka.’

  ‘They’re still making it?’

  I nodded. ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘How come you have Marmite, tea and Cadbury’s chocolate?’

  ‘I did that foreign exchange thing in high school. A family in Oxford converted my palate into an English one. I’ll never forgive them.’ I took a few steps down, then as an afterthought said, ‘And bring your backpack. If you have any more dirty clothes, you can use my washing machine.’

  Walking back with her was without doubt the most surreal experience of my life. Everything that Gary had wished for had happened and now it was me, not him, who was taking Elizabeth Dashwood home. It was hard to believe that she was actually walking beside me and I kept looking at her. Lizzy kept her distance. Despite my assurances, her wariness was almost palpable.

  Eventually, Lizzy said, ‘What?’ She was smiling.

  ‘I’m just finding it hard to believe that you’re here.’

  ‘Yeah, me too.’ After a few seconds of silence, she said, ‘How do you know who I am? The world thinks I’m dead.’

  Oh God, how to answer that? I thought for a moment, deciding that the best thing to do was to tell Lizzy the truth. Part of it at least. I wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear what Gary had done. Not yet.

  ‘From your movies and from reading about you.’

  ‘No, what I meant was, how did you know I was, well, alive and staying in Pioneer Cottage?’

  ‘I saw you a month ago, remember? Scared the crap out of me.’

  ‘You thought I was a ghost?’

  ‘No, I thought you were a zombie.’

  She laughed. ‘I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to scare you.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. By the following morning, I’d convinced myself I’d imagined it. Then I watched the news. You were the headline story. The authorities think your body was dug up and stolen. I realized then that I hadn’t imagined it, I’d really seen you.’

  ‘But you still thought I was a zombie.’

  ‘Well yeah. Wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I expect I would. Then you saw me at the kitchen window and saw that I wasn’t.’

  ‘I’d suspected that was the case before then, when you started stealing my food. Zombies don’t eat cookies and salad. Well, I assume that’s the case. In the movies they only eat human flesh and brains.’

  ‘And you’ve been thinking ever since, how come someone who died in 1950 is alive again and living in my guesthouse?’

  ‘Yeah, it was hard to accept at first. I knew someone – probably you - was in the cottage because I’d noticed that the key was missing, as was the spare for the back door.’

  Lizzy smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry about that. The food and everything. I was desperate. I was so hungry that all of my morals deserted me. Then when I’d eaten, I felt guilty.’

  ‘It’s okay, I sorta figured that. How did you get in anyway? Before you took the keys?’

  ‘I watched the house until you left and then I sneaked in. When I lived here, no one locked their doors so I just assumed that it would be open.’

  ‘I must have wandered down to the stables to check on Gus.’

  ‘Your horse?’

  ‘Yeah. I obviously forgot to lock it. There’s been a string of burglaries around here, so I normally make sure the house is secure even if I’m just checking on Gus. As too …’ I stopped walking and looked at her. ‘How to say this …’ I did some rapid thinking. ‘How much do you know about your resurrection?’

  ‘Sounds like something from the bible, doesn’t it?’

  We started walking again, slowly this time.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Someone – actually, some thing would be a better description - told me the night I returned. It said I was brought back to be punished, that being alive when I wanted to be dead was just the beginning.’

  ‘Punished?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What did this thing look like?’

  ‘He was once human. Someone that I knew in life.’

  ‘Marty Sabatino?’

  ‘No, it’s not him. It’s someone else. Someone much, much worse.’

  ‘Ah, it’s beginning to make sense now.’

  ‘What do you mean, “it’s beginning to make sense”?’

  ‘Before I first saw you …’ I paused again, still struggling to find the right words. ‘I already knew that someone had tried to bring you back. He was an occultist and he did a resurrection ritual-’

  Lizzy stopped mid step, staring at me. ‘That’s how I was brought back? Someone fooled around with black magic?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Why? What did I do to him? Why did he hate me so much?’

  ‘No, no, hold on. He didn’t. Quite the opposite in fact. He was in love with you.’

  ‘What?!’

  ‘Yeah, I know, sounds crazy. When I saw the news, I realized to my astonishment that he’d succeeded. He kept a journal, which I’ve read. In it, he talks about an entity that appeared after he performed the ritual. It demanded to know where you were. I think the same entity tricked him into bringing you back.’

  ‘Do you know who brought me back?’

  I suddenly felt ashamed as if it was me, not Gary, who had evoked Aritenkhede. When I answered, I could hear the embarrassment in my voice.

  ‘It was my brother.’

  ‘Your brother?!’ Her voice was becoming shrill.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Can he reverse it, send me back?’

  ‘He’s dead.’

  ‘Dead?!’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Oh God. No … No … I need to sit down.’ She took off the backpack, let it fall to the ground and sat on it, covering her face with her hands. ‘Oh God oh God oh God …’

  I squatted beside her and touched her shoulder. ’Lizzy …’

  She dropped her hands and glared at me. ‘Don’t touch me!’

  I backed away, hurt by her rejection. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Your brother fooled around with the occult and brought me back? How could he?’ She started crying. ‘How could he?!’

  ‘He became obsessed with you. Started having these vivid dreams in which you appeared and asked him to bring you back.’

  ‘I did no such thing!’

  ‘I know. I can see now that the entity tricked him into believing that he was talking to you.’

  ‘He comes …’ Lizzy took a deep, quivering breath. ‘… the entity … he comes to me every night. Tells me things. Torments me.’

  ‘Does he hurt you physically?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, he … he can’t. He wants to torture me for the rest of my life, but for some reason - I don’t know why - he can’t. Although …’ She sniffed. ‘… I can’t stop him from coming to me and I’m certain that he will eventually figure out a way to hurt me. But, do you know what’s really odd? I had a dream one night that the entity was talking to some kind of demon. It was a tall black humanoid thing that looked-’

  ‘Like a snake?’

  She stared at me, wide-eyed. ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘I think you saw
Aritenkhede, the Katoremsien god of the underworld. When Gary performed the resurrection ritual, he evoked Aritenkhede and asked him to bring you back.’

  ‘Oh God …’

  ‘What did they talk about in your dream?’

  I waited for Lizzy to answer. She was struggling to process what I had told her and I began to wonder if I had said too much.

  She looked at me. ‘They … He, the snake thing, told the entity that it wasn’t allowed to hurt me physically. He referred to me as a “vessel.” “You mustn’t harm the vessel as she still has much to do, much to learn, and if you harm her, she may be unable to.” I remember that part vividly.’

  ‘That’s weird.’

  Lizzy laughed without humor. ‘You’re damn right.’ There was a pause, then she said, ‘Did you have anything to do with it, the ritual?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You didn’t help in anyway?’

  ‘No. I only learnt about it after his death and I was as shocked and as horrified as you are.’

  ‘You’re telling me the truth?’

  I nodded.

  Her eyes held mine. ‘Yes, I truly think you are. I’m sorry I shouted at you.’

  ‘It’s okay. And I’m so, so sorry for what my brother did. I’ve tried to comprehend what you must be going through and I can’t. It must be horrific.’

  Lizzy gave a short, sardonic laugh and wiped the tears from her eyes with her fingers. ‘That doesn’t even begin to describe it.’ She stood up and put on her backpack. ‘And you don’t need to apologize. It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘He was my brother. I feel responsible.’

  ‘Were you close?’

  ‘I thought we were. Seems I was wrong about that.’

  ‘Did you know he dabbled in the occult?’

  ‘No. I only learnt about that after his death. And he didn’t dabble. He took it very seriously and, judging from his journal, he’d been studying and practicing it for several years.’

  ‘Oh.’

  We resumed walking and after a moment of silence, I said, ‘Do you know how long you’ve been back?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. Feels like years.’