by Mary Ramsey
Not according to Raven? What did that even mean? My head was spinning. “Ok, fine. Let’s say I believe you. What now?”
Annie got out, throwing open the door. “Now, we’re going to find your sister.”
The morning sky was bright as I exited the trailer with Lola in my arms. Annie sat on the dirt, looking up at the sky, comparing it to the map from the parking lot. “I think I got this.”
“Are you trying to locate constellations in the daylight?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I have my ways.” Annie motioned for me to take a seat. “Like I said, I’m the technical one. I’ve lived a thousand lives, learned from masters all over the world.” She placed her hands on mine. “Ok, Bobby, I need you to clear your mind. Just pretend like you’re about to fall asleep.” She took a deep, meditative breath. “We definitely got this.”
“Got what?” All I could see was darkness, speckled with the light of my own inner eyes; the purple and neon yellow dancing to the rhythm of the bright sun.
“A starting point,” she explained with her eyes closed. “What’s your earliest memory?”
“I grew up in Canadian foster care, on the wild, deadly streets of Montreal, Quebec,” I said with a laugh. What did my past have to do with finding Raven?
Annie took a breath, directing the flow of air across my fingers. “What else?”
Suddenly there was a memory. It was a moment out of time and space, that had no place existing. “I-I see something.”
Annie continued her rhythmic breathing. “What do you see?”
I closed my eyes, shaking my head. What I saw was beyond comprehension. “Je ne sais pas.” I don’t know. “I don’t know what I’m seeing.”
“Just describe it the best you can.”
I nodded, gripping her hands. As long as I could feel her, I would still be rooted in reality. “I’m being carried. My body is small, too small.” The perspective was visually awkward.
“Are you an infant?”
That made a lot of sense. “Yes, I think so. But everything is so clear.” Even I knew that infants could not see and humans could not create memories before the age of two or three.
“Who’s carrying you?”
Someone was carrying me? That explained the memory: it wasn’t mine. Somehow, I was just a minor character in someone else’s story; there was a man, thin and frail, with dark blonde hair. His hands were covered in blood, but he had my infant body wrapped in a towel. “I think I can see his face.”
“Try to focus.” Annie’s voice was clear and compassionate. “This man, he is someone important to you and to Raven.”
The man forced labored breaths from his nostrils, alternating between terrified sobbing and genuine prayer. As he held my body close, I could feel his heart beating. “The man, he’s breathing hard, I think he’s been running.”
“Was he fleeing the scene of a crime?”
Annie’s question prompted me to get a better look at the man’s expression.
I could see him frantically looking around until his face found a source of light. Once he looked up at the moonlight, the brightness shimmering off the tears on his cheeks, I could see the full extent of his condition. His cheeks were bruised, with gash marks carved from his eyes, down to the shiny metal cord that sewed his lips shut. His mouth was caked with dried blood, leading me to believe the sutures had been in just long enough for the bleeding to stop.
“You’ll always be a part of me,” the man’s voice seemed to be communicating telepathically. His voice was deep, strong, emotional. “My boy, my son.” His eyes sparkled a light green, the color of summer leaves. Those were my eyes. There was no doubt in my mind, this man was my father. He stood up and ran again, making it to a paved road before falling to his knees.
“I hear a shriek, like a bird, or—” The sound was more like nails on a chalkboard, but louder and coming from a distinct direction.
“Jedidiah,” the female voice crackled on the wind. “Thou shall not steal.”
My father started to run. “Please, God, please, help me.” Rocking my tiny body against his chest, he ran along the main road. “The child is an innocent. He did not ask to be born into this hell.”
“I can feel his breath, his heart,” I said, my voice trembling with the emotion of a terrified toddler. My father ran until the air started to feel refreshingly cool.
“Where are you now?” Annie asked.
“W-we’re on a bridge.” I could no longer see my father’s face.
But he was stopped, his heart racing. “Take me to the river. Drop me in the water. We sparkle, we shine, in this world and the next.”
I felt a jolt followed by a rush of cold.
“You won’t do it, Jed,” said a ghostly female voice. A pair of ghostly pale arms embraced my father’s shirtless, bruised torso. “Let’s go home, baby,” she moaned, her long black hair falling over her face. “We can forget any of this ever happened.”
My body felt even colder as the piece of cloth that covered my infant body blew off, flying into the distance. The rag had enough weight to make a ‘splash’-like sound. This led me to the conclusion it was a low bridge.
“Jedidiah.” The voice rolled the word, with a very human accent. “Just give me back the child. And I will grant you your freedom.” She moved closer, allowing me a good look at her face. The woman was actually quite beautiful. “You can go back to missionary work, move to Africa, and help hundreds of children; all the good, innocent souls.”
My father frantically shook his head.
“Do you truly love this creature, this vile abomination of my womb? It can’t even speak. But, then again, neither can you.” The nail of her middle finger grew, forming a silver blade, decorated with an intricate lace-like design.
I watched as she proceeded to carefully cut his mouth open, one stitch at a time. Some of the wires came out with a clean snap while others took off chunks of flesh from his mouth and lips. Only when she was finished did he dare to take a breath.
“So, what say you, my love?”
“Please, Julia. If you can find it in your heart to spare this innocent soul, I will stay with you of my own free will.”
My mother laughed. “Really, now?” She flirtatiously walked her slender fingers down his ribcage. “You’ll submit to me?”
“Let the child go. I will give you another; a proper heir. A daughter, as you always wanted, someone to mold in your image.”
“My darling son could also give me a proper heir.”
Her words sent shivers down my spine. She was completely serious. My body was a source of power, a disposable battery, like all males. I had no doubt she would have kept me around as a sex slave.
My father swallowed a lump in his throat. He needed to choose his next words carefully. “You chose me for a reason.”
My mother smiled a wide, toothy smile. “That I did.”
“Any child born of incest would have less than a fraction of my power. Male or female, their souls would be corrupted beyond salvation. And you know that.” His arms trembled, barely holding my tiny body.
“As usual, Jed, you speak the truth. There is no darkness without light.” She started to tenderly massage his shoulders. “You nourish me, feel me, with those bright eyes and sweet smile. And your big, thick—” She whispered the last word directly in his ear.
Much to my surprise, my father’s body reacted the way one would assume a man would; despite how creepy she was, they apparently had a consensual BDSM relationship.
“I will agree to your terms, to keep you around as my breeding stock.” She gripped his neck, sinking her nail into his skin. “But only if you tell me you love me.”
The world went black as I jerked forward, both in my infant flashback and real life.
Annie caught me in her arms. “I got you, Bobby. You’re safe, you’re ok.”
I felt a rush of pain, followed by intense sadness. I forced myself to cough, but no air was in my lungs.
“Calm down,” Annie said, cupping my face in her hands. “What’s past is the past. You’re here, in this moment.”
I slowly nodded. She was right.
“So, what did you see?”
“I-I think my father threw me off a bridge.” I looked at my chest; there were bruises all along my collarbone, along with a massive scar that had not been there a day ago. I wanted to cry, scream, but no air would enter my lungs. “I-I need to find him.”
“Your father?” Annie asked, concerned. “Raven’s father is dead.”
“No, he…” My thoughts trailed off.
“He lives in you?” Annie asked. “Or Raven?”
That would have been the logical answer. “I am Raven! I know my father is dead. I know my mother’s coven ate him and forced me to drink his blood. I had years to mourn him!” So why does it hurt so bad? Why was my heart still breaking? Because I had the memories of both Bobby and Raven. I knew everything that happened next.
Jed miller got a job, running a church, preaching the gospel to bring people hope. He raised a daughter, Raven, as a single father while his ‘wife’ traveled the country. He told people she was an artist, a model, and an actress; she was gone so often because she was looking for opportunities to make her dreams come true. In truth, she was looking for better-quality breeding stock. That was why he wasn’t allowed to run. If he broke his promise to my mother, she would have found Bobby and hurt him.
I clenched my stomach, unable to hold back the wave of nausea. My father lived a life of suffering, pain, and self-mutilation. He was mentally and physically sick as he was primed for slaughter. “Did Jed Miller castrate himself?” I regretted not cupping my hands over Lola’s ears, but the thought came so quickly my mouth seemed to vomit out the words.
Annie awkwardly shrugged. “All I know is what Raven told me. And you already have her memories, so…”
“Then give me your version of events.”
“From what I know, Jed Miller started cutting himself when Raven was like six or so.”
Six?! “That explains why my brain is not letting me fill in the blanks.”
“She was really little when she caught him. At the time he played it off as an accident or something, but after his death, the truth came out. By traumatizing his body, he could continue to serve Julia when she came home for a ‘booty call,’ keeping up his end of the bargain.” Annie pursed her lips. “He wanted only one child because he could mold and protect one child.”
I nodded in agreement. It all made sense; if he fathered another boy, Julia would have sexually abused the innocent child, but if he fathered a girl, Julia might have succeeded in creating the perfect heir. “We need to find Raven.”
“Any idea where to start?”
One word came to mind: “Water.” I stood up, looking around for a body of water; a lake, a river, anything that would take me to her. But we were in the middle of a field.
“Why water?” Annie asked, a little too calmly.
“I think my father left a trail of breadcrumbs, in the form of something… I just know he wants me to find Raven.”
Lola poked my leg. “There.” She was pointing towards a dark mass of trees that seemed to lead to a different area of the field.
I was certain the dense, sizable trees had not been there a few seconds ago. “What’s over there, sweetheart?”
It was only then Annie released my hand, patting my shoulder. “Only one way to find out, right?” It was clear she was pushing me forward.
“Am I to go alone?” I felt stupid asking, but there was a knot in the pit of my stomach.
“You can take Lola with you,” she offered.
The idea seemed crazy, but it also made sense. I lifted Lola, carrying her in my arms. “Lead the way, little one.”
Lola pointed into the darkness with a sense of wonder. If I hadn’t been carrying her, I would not have been surprised if she’d run ahead.
I took one step, then another. I felt mud, followed by knee-deep water. But it was too dark to actually see. For all I knew, I could have been walking in blood. The sky was oddly dark, and I could see the glow of the moon reflecting on the surface. Except there was no moon.
When I actually looked up, I could see the darkness was only inside the water. The actual sky was perfectly blue. Was I meant to be scared? Astonished? Entranced? Knowing nothing of magic, I looked to Lola for a reaction.
The little girl was reaching for the water. “Want! I want!” Clearly, she already saw something that I could not.
This wasn’t scary. I could do this. I reached into the water, stroking the reflection. It was me, just darker, as if I was standing in a poorly lit room. So, I stretched deeper. The further my hand went in, the more the water felt like strawberry jam. Whatever I was standing in was thicker than water, lumpy, yet clear. The more I lowered my hand, the clearer it became. It was like moving my hand through milk that was in the process of becoming cheese.
The image started to shift. I could still see my dark hair, my tan skin. But instead of my face, I saw her. I saw my sister. Raven?
“Mama!” Lola said with a happy squeal.
I felt both our minds seeing from two sets of eyes. “Where are you?” she asked in her voice. My head was hurting, so I blinked. It was a long, deep blink.
When I opened my eyes, I was back in my sister’s body. My body. “No!” I immediately regretted saying that out loud. My voice was Raven’s voice, not Bobby’s voice. And I could hear my kidnappers getting out of their truck to look for me. Do I run? Where even was I? I looked at my hands. I held my father’s rosary. “Dad, please help me.” What do I do?
The answer came from a foreign voice, shouting in the back of my mind. “Dive, now!”
“Sure.” I pursed my lips, fighting back tears. “Why not?” Knowing I had nothing to lose, I held my breath and disappeared under the water. I didn’t even think to close my eyes. The crucifix glowed like a lantern, allowing me to see in all directions. Looking up, I could see a man’s face. “I was always meant to find you.”
“J’ai toujours voulu te trouver.”
Our voices echoed across time and space. Bobby and I were one and the same. I reached my hand up towards him when suddenly the water swelled into a massive wave.
I put my arms around Lola, protecting her face as we were forcibly washed backward.
I landed at Annie’s feet, soaking wet. Looking at my dirt-covered arms, I could see I was back in Bobby’s tall, muscular frame. I didn’t know if I should be relived or terrified.
Little Lola was sobbing. “I want Mama!”
Annie picked her up, holding the soaking-wet, trembling toddler in her arms. “You saw Mama Raven?”
Lola nodded. “S-saw Mama!”
I stood up on my own, brushing off my jeans. My hair was soaking wet and my hands were caked with mud. However, the most noticeable sensation was a sharp pain in my hand, like a splinter or a pebble.
My first instinct was to wipe it off, letting it fall to the ground, but something told me not to do that. I opened my palm. I held a single bead. Was this part of my father’s rosary? Did I make contact with Raven? “I think I know where we need to go.”
“Really?” Annie seemed more concerned with getting Lola dried off.
“The place where two halves make a whole.” I rolled the bead in my hand. There was a distinctive crack along the surface. “Niagara Falls.”
“Niagara Falls?” Annie repeated.
“Does that fit with the map?”
Annie nodded. “Yeah, we’re all good on that front.”
“You’re worried about Raven, aren’t you?
Annie rolled her eyes. “Well, yes. I mean, from my end I saw you get forced backward by a tidal wave that does not seem to exist.”
“What?” I ran back to the tree line. Annie was right; there was no water, no lake, no Raven. It was as if someone had cleaned up after an elaborate performance. “Raven!” I shouted. “Are you out there? Can you hear me?”
I could hear shrieks and screams. I fell to my knees as the bead exploded in my hand.
My eyes were forced shut. I could feel pressure; the sensation of foreign hands all over my body. My sister was screaming. The men were pinning her down.
No, it was just one of the men; the blond soldier with the crew-cut. He leaned in close, whispering into my ear: Raven’s ear. “I know your brother can hear me.” His Southern accent was soft and creepy. “My partner and I, we have our orders.” His hands slipped down to his hips; he was taking his belt off as he pinned her to the ground.
“I-I understand.” There was no point in screaming. The soldier pinned Raven’s arms above her head—my head. I could feel the pressure of his grip as he prepared to bind me. That was when I got a good look at his face. His eyes, his hair, his mouth. He had scars on his lips in the exact place my father had, all those years ago.
The blond man flared his nostrils as he took an intense breath. “What the fuck are you staring at, witch?”
“Adam.” My assailant looked just like my father. “Y-your name is Adam, right?” I felt my lower lip tremble. The very idea caused me to burst into tears. “Don’t do this.” My father was a good man. His memory was precious to me. “Please. I’m not a bad person. Everything I did was an act of love.”
“Love?” Adam smirked as he placed the weight of his body on my chest, moving his hand down my leg. “Why don’t you tell me about Nate?”
“How do you know about Nate?” I could feel tears in my eyes as emotion choked in my throat. The way he talked about Nate was downright offensive. I could tell he thought I was a whore, that I collected love the way certain video game characters collected coins or rings.
“It’s all in your file, little witch,” Adam said, leaning in for a kiss. “Your permanent record, as they say. Now talk.”
“No, I refuse!” I spit in his face, hoping that would drive him away.
Adam only smiled, a sick, villainous smile. “You don’t have much of a choice. I have ways of making you talk.” The way he was pressed against me, I knew he was serious.
