Kaitlyn snorts. “Blah, blah.”
They descend the stairs, the camera panning left and right, as though Kaitlyn is seeking a way out. Once at the bottom, they are facing a concrete corridor, much like the pedestrian underpasses of London, which ends abruptly in a black wooden door, the paint chipped and peeling. It looks like the entrance to the backside of an abandoned factory.
The camera pans 180 degrees as Kaitlyn looks back. “I don’t know, Naida… you sure?”
Naida nods.
As the girls approach the door, the camera picks up the faint traces of matte paint on top of the chipped gloss paint on the door, revealing a mostly obscured symbol. Naida raises a hand and pulls the door open, slipping inside. Along with Kaitlyn, we follow.
The corridor behind the door is much like the narrow alleyway upstairs. Naked brick walls, damp tarmac, old streetlamps. But when Kaitlyn glances up, we see a roof clothed with thick burgundy drapes, hanging horizontally as though gravity has shifted her axis.
The camera pans down, and Naida is far ahead, obscured by darkness. Kaitlyn hurries her pace. We reach another set of burgundy curtains, heavy velvet, and Naida takes a deep breath, then faces Kaitlyn.
“Best say nothing.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Okay. Good.” Another breath. “Good.”
“What? You look panicked.”
Naida shakes her head.
“Naida, what aren’t you telling me?”
“This guy, Haji. He’s… unpredictable.”
“He runs an underground Mala nightclub. I got that.”
“What I mean is—well, you remember I told you that a respectable Mala priest is called Holi?”
“Yeah?”
“And that a practitioner who works both sides—the respectable but also the less… savory, the kind of stuff that people who are desperate go for—is called a Shyan?”
“Yes. What is going on, Naida?”
“Well… Haji’s not exactly a Holi… he’s… a Shyan.”
There is a pause during which Naida flinches.
“You said… you said the person doing this to me was a Shyan.”
“Aye, but—”
“You said they’re evil!”
“Nothing’s truly black and white like that. The world’s all… shades of gray and mucky browns. Shyans can choose evil… yes. But they can be a useful tool.”
“We should leave.”
“We need him. He knows about dirty practices. He knows about blood arts. He’s expert in Grúndi.”
“I can’t believe you only told me now! Was that the plan the whole time?”
“I… dunno.”
Kaitlyn lets loose a guttural sound. “Let’s just kick Mike in the bits and make him confess!”
“I doubt very much it’s him.”
“And how do you know this Mala guy will help you? How do you know he won’t curse you or trick you? Could he hurt you?”
Naida steps back. “Are you worried about me?”
Kaitlyn mirrors Naida’s retreating step. “I’m worried that you’re being reckless. And Carly will suffer.”
“He’d never hurt me.”
“How do you know?”
Naida opens her mouth to reply, then turns back to the curtain.
“Jesus, Naida. I have a really bad feeling about this.”
“Me too. Gorro guide me,” she says, as she lifts the fabric aside and disappears into the folds.
“Shit. This is bad. This is so bad.”
Kaitlyn follows.
[END OF TOP HAT CAMERA CLIP #1]
Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson
Sunday, 9 January 2005
The music was loud and boisterous—a pounding rhythm that jumped around the dim walls free of any physical constraints. It was like a wasp trapped inside a plastic tub, uselessly stinging, thumping, moving. The lights flashed like a nightclub, mimicking the rhythm of the beat,
flash!
Flash!
Flash!
Until I was so zoned out I could feel it pumping through my chest. It was so… alluring.
Here and there, people crouched around small fires or candles. Some played with what looked like little bones, some played with other things—things that used to be living. And then, some seemed to be playing with things that were still living. Snakes here, a small bird there.
With the twitch of a wrist, the bird was no longer living. So small a movement. Almost nothing. I just kept thinking, Oh, God, what am I doing here? We’re going to die.
At one point, a commotion broke out in the center of the room, where I had noticed people swaying and humming. A girl, maybe fourteen, roared and raged, convulsing as she ripped at her white clothing. She started to spit and point her fingers, always shrieking, even cursing.
She yelled something unintelligible, spitting into the face of a young woman.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to Naida.
“She’s possessed. They’ve conjured an Olen into her as a vessel. It’s considered a very great honor. But the Olen isn’t happy with their offerings.”
I swallowed my nausea and began to turn away. We’re going to die, we’re going to die.
“Atholl/Atholl Brose!” the girl shrieked. “RUM!”
A man ran to oblige her, and she threw her head back, drinking deeply from the proffered bottle of alcohol, and the liquid ran down her neck and dress, yellow like urine. Then she flung the bottle away and scratched the man’s face. He cried and fell back, shaking, at the same moment the bottle smashed against the wall.
Naida kept walking. I kept walking. And the girl continued to shriek and curse. The tubby lady crying into her hands nearby seemed to be the girl’s mother, and I thought, Some honor.
For a moment I was distracted by an old man huddled to the left, sitting alone. He held a green viper snake to his face and was murmuring to it in an intimate tone that made me shudder. The snake observed him like it might possibly understand. I felt my heart trip up on itself as I recalled the snake in my half dreams.
Reborn.
I’m a girl.
Are you?
I watched the man, and I watched the snake, and I waited for the snake to give me some sign of recognition or understanding, but there was none.
It was just a snake.
And then I thought, Are you with me, Voice? Are you with me, my Aka Manah? I couldn’t feel him then, can’t feel him now, but it doesn’t mean he’s gone. After all, if I heard him shouting when he was far away and whispering when he was near… doesn’t it follow that his silence means he’s… inside me?
Top Hat Camera Clip #2
Naida Camera Footage
Time Index Not Noted
Naida moves around the crowd and Kaitlyn follows. She bypasses the screaming, which has grown in pitch and volume, instead taking a narrow path of darkness to the back of the room. We follow because Kaitlyn does.
It doesn’t take long to realize where she is headed. A man sits languidly in a large chair beside what appears to be an altar. It is decorated with flowers, fruit, seeds, broken mirror shards, bottles of liqueur, candles, baby dolls, and other statuettes.
He wears a vest shirt, revealing built arms covered in small scars in some obviously meaningful pattern. His earlobes are stretched to accommodate two large horn plugs, and he wears several talismans around his neck.
“Naida,” he says in a deep voice. “Sister.”
[END OF CLIP]
Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson
Sunday, 9 January 2005, Continued
Sister!
I stared at Naida, and if she knew I was thinking WHAT THE HELL, NAIDA? she gave no sign. I felt him before I saw him. I’ve never experienced that before. It was like it was is with Carly when we transition, except more vivid real. I could feel this guy, I could smell his power—if power is a scent. I could taste it, if it’s a flavor, feel it like a kiss or a stab.
Haji looked so much like Naida. The same chin, the same nose
, the same pale skin… the same piercing, yet almost colorless eyes that seem to see so much and feel so little. Dead ocean eyes. I could barely look at him, even as he stared at me.
He caught me staring at the little straight scars along his arms.
“I cut power into my skin,” he said, pointing. “One for every sacrifice, and one in a perpendicular direction for every grant.”
There are more sacrifices than grants.
And he does have power. I could feel that too.
Top Hat Camera Clip #3
Naida Camera Footage
Time Index Not Noted
Naida curtsies low. “Haji, Brother, good health on your dwelling. I come seeking your blessing.”
“I told you never to come here, piuthar.” His voice is deep, tinged with a strong Scottish accent.
“I need help.”
He dips his head, but his eyes, penetrating and bright, never leave her face. “Does Seanmhair know you are here?”
“No. And I want to keep it that way. Our grandmother has enough to worry about. Haji, I need a guide for what I’ll be attempting very soon. I need advice.”
“Advice is not free. And guidance”—he laughs—“is really not free.”
“I know that, Brother. I also know that money is worthless.”
“Seanmhair taught you something at least, since I left.” He looks at Kaitlyn once more. “And you? Why are you here?”
Naida steps in front of Kaitlyn, blocking her brother from our view. “You’ll be dealing with me. Respectfully.”
“If you want advice, then my price is honesty.”
Naida hesitates. “You have it.”
“If you want my guidance as well… then the price is honesty from her. Your little dautie.”
Naida stands silent for what seems too long. Eventually she says, “What of… supplies?”
“Cash. Money is not so worthless when supplies are concerned.” He shrugs, gesturing helplessly. “Sannt.”
“You think it greed to request money?”
He raises his hands, as though helpless. “What can be done, eh?”
“Fine.”
Haji nods low. “It is a great shame I did not get to know you very well. I am sorry for that.”
Naida shrugs. “You were gone before I had a chance to remember you.” She hesitates. “I regret that too.”
Haji nods, regarding her, then gets fluidly to his feet. “Follow me.”
He turns and draws open the heavy curtain behind his chair. We follow him into a room a fraction as big as the entrance room, where the people writhe and moan. Here are the wares of his trade—rows of shelves holding jars of all shapes and sizes. The jars are old and murky, and it is difficult to see the contents of many, but numerous frames paused for detail reveal animal parts, root herbs, powders, and liquids of varying color. Here and there hang trickbag talismans and conjure bags.
Kaitlyn takes a superficial look at them before passing on with Naida into the back of the room, where Haji opens a door, this time with a key. He waits for Naida and Kaitlyn to go inside, and then shuts it firmly behind all three of them.
“Sit,” he says, gesturing to a circular carpet in the center of the room. Naida and Kaitlyn comply, while Haji walks around lighting candles that throw a warm, flickering glow over the dim surroundings. The room seems dank.
Naida, as though responding to a glance from Kaitlyn, shakes her head and smiles slightly as if to say everything is okay.
“What is your name?” Haji asks from the darkest part of the room, where he is still lighting his candles.
“Carly,” Naida says.
“My people call me Brother,” Haji says, eyes boring into Kaitlyn. “That is the truth.”
There is a small silence, then Kaitlyn shifts.
“Kaitlyn.” Her voice is soft. “My name is Kaitlyn.”
“She understands my price. You, it seems, do not. I will withhold one piece of information from you.” He looks at Kaitlyn. “And to you, I will give one truth.”
“I’m sorry—I…” Naida stammers. “Carly’s who we’re here about.”
Haji, finished with his candles, sits down, facing the girls so that they are sitting in a circle. His expression is hard, closed, and expectant.
“Tell me what is needed, and I will offer both advice and guidance. Minus one piece of information.”
“And one truth,” Kaitlyn says, and Haji’s eyes seem to sparkle as they turn on her.
Naida is about to speak when he holds up his hand.
“One more thing. After we are done, you must never return to this place. Never seek me out again. I have told Seanmhair to tell you this, and I have told you myself, long ago. Never come here, Naida, dautie. It is not safe.”
Naida hesitates. “I swear it.”
“Fine. Give me that hat, and we will begin.”
Naida glances at Kaitlyn, hesitates, and then nods.
The camera wobbles as Kaitlyn removes her hat and hands it over. We spin around, stare up into Haji’s stern face, and then the screen goes black.
[END OF CLIP]
Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson
Sunday, 9 January 2005, Continued
Haji is an intriguing man, Dee.
He told me not to tell anyone any of the things he shared with us, and so I can’t tell you, Dee. I want to, please believe me, but I fear the price. Naida already lost us one piece of information for her accidental lie about who I was, and so I dare not risk losing anything more. I feel like he can see everything I’m writing as I write it.
But I will tell you this: He was speaking to me. Me, Dee. I knew it just as I knew he realized right away that Naida was wrong about my name being Carly. And at one moment—no more than a fraction of a second—as he stared at Naida, listening to her explain a vague version of what we need… I saw his mind turn to focus on me.
And clear as anything I have ever heard, his mind-voice reached out to me in the darkness.
You know it won’t be enough, it said. You know the end already. This is the truth.
81
Top Hat Camera Clip #4
Naida Camera Footage
Time Index Not Noted
Naida’s face appears, though the audio is distorted. “Ugh, finally.”
Kaitlyn’s voice from nearby. “I had to give it to him.”
“Don’t sweat it, sugar. You did the right thing.”
The camera swivels towards Kaitlyn’s head, then stops, facing Naida. Kaitlyn is wearing the top hat once more.
“Let’s try to go over everything he said,” Naida says, walking down what is now visibly the drive to Elmbridge High.
“Maybe we should wait until we’re inside. Safer.”
“No.” Naida’s voice is firm. “Now. I need to remember it now. I feel it slipping away like sand in an hourglass.”
“Why didn’t you tell me he was your brother?”
Naida shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. We barely know each other. He’s twelve years older than me—”
Naida breaks off as Kaitlyn’s hand shoots out to grab her arm. They turn to see blue lights flashing in the distance.
“Do you see that?”
“Police!”
“Shit—what do we—”
“Get behind the trees,” Naida says, pushing Kaitlyn away just as an officer walks through the side gate to the gardens.
Kaitlyn ducks behind a tree, and the camera goes dark, but the mic picks up the audio.
“Who’s there?” calls a male voice.
“My name’s Naida. What’s going on?”
“Are you a student here?”
“Aye.”
“It’s not even five in the morning. What are you doing skulking around?”
“I’m not skulking. My cousin just dropped me off.”
There is a pause and then footsteps. The voices begin to recede.
“Best to get to your room. The school is being searched, and everyone needs to be in their dorms.”
“O
h. What’s going on?”
“Just get to your room. Now.”
“Yes, Officer.”
Eventually the crunching of leaves and twigs underfoot fades and Kaitlyn exhales.
“Damn it,” she mutters. “Lansing… you bitch.”
She peeks from around the tree, and the road is empty and silent. She glances up the road where blue lights continue to flash, out across the field to the left, which is open and in plain view of the school, and then, finally, into the woodland on the right.
She sighs, then heads into the trees, which will eventually take her to the abandoned chapel. She will be there no less than twenty minutes before Ari Hait arrives. Together they will break into the oldest family crypt on the grounds and make love on the flat surface of the oldest stone tomb.
“I love you,” Kaitlyn will say as the battery on the camera is fading.
“Go to sleep,” will be Ari’s reply.
[END OF CLIP]
82
23 days until the incident
Naida Camera Footage
Monday, 10 January 2005, 8:12 AM
Basement
“Okay,” Scott says, thundering down the steps. “I found out something.”
Kaitlyn, Naida, and Brett sit on the sunken mattress, eating cookies from a white packet.
“What?” Naida asks, sitting straighter. “About the police?”
“Hey, are those cookies?”
Naida rolls her eyes and hands him the bag. “Here.”
“Cheers,” he says as he rummages inside. “Points for simple carbs.”
“What news?” Kaitlyn asks, after watching him scoff down three of them whole. “Scott!”
“Oh, yeah. So, apparently, it’s something to do with Juliet.”
Kaitlyn blinks. “Oh. God, we thought it was me!”
“Oh, it is. Heard two coppers talking in the kitchen this morning. Talking about how that Lansing woman found something in some tapes. Something about Juliet.”
“What?”
“Shh! Didn’t you hear me? The cops are everywhere. Gebus, Mary, and Joseph.”
The Dead House Page 21
