In the House of the Wicked: A Remy Chandler Novel

by Thomas E. Sniegoski

  She recalled wandering the short aisles, considering all kinds of purchases, even though she’d just gone in for a drink. And finally she’d just headed to the refrigerator cases at the back of the store. It hadn’t taken her long to make her pick: a cherry-flavored iced tea that she seemed able to buy only around there. She’d shared that information with Remy the last time he’d been up, and he had told her that it probably was because Massachusetts had laws preventing drinks that foul from being sold in the Commonwealth.

  Ashley smiled briefly at the memory of her friend; then the reality of her situation again weighed down upon her.

  Was anybody looking for her? Was Remy looking for her? Did they even know where to start?

  Ashley had paid for her drink and then returned to her car, still trying to figure out what song was playing in the store. It was probably that distraction that had made her less than careful.

  “Don’t Fear the Reaper”…Blue Oyster Cult.

  She had remembered the song just as she’d climbed into her car, and placed her drink in the cup holder. She thought she might have been laughing when she’d inserted the key into the ignition, thinking about how cheery a song about not being afraid of death could sound when run through a Muzak filter.

  The first person she’d thought to call about it was Remy. The two had had some interesting discussions about death over the years, and she thought he might get a kick out of hearing how the classic rock tune was being mangled.

  Never mind the fact that she missed him…missed Beacon Hill, missed Marlowe, and missed her parents. This going-off-to-college-to-learn-to-be-an-adult thing wasn’t nearly as easy as she had thought it would be.

  She’d been reaching for her cell phone when the man had attacked. She knew instantly who it was as his hands came over the front seat from the back to grab her. She saw most of his creepy face reflected in the rearview. She had tried to fight him off, bloodying her nose in the process, but as soon as his hands touched her, her strength had started to fade.

  The creepy man just held her tight, an unusually hard hand pressed over her mouth, the other across her neck, waiting until the fight was gone from her.

  It hadn’t taken long.

  She remembered feeling incredibly tired and wanting so desperately to go to sleep as another part of her brain screamed like crazy for her to wake up and run.

  But that wasn’t going to happen.

  The creepy man’s touch was like a drug, and before she knew it, she was gone.

  Anger quickly replaced the sadness and fear. How pathetic was she to be so easily taken from everyone she loved, to not even put up a fight?

  Maybe she deserved this.

  A flash of bright light crept into the room from a torn window shade, and for a moment she thought it was lightning.

  Ashley waited for the sound of thunder to follow, but it didn’t come.

  She angled her body in such a way as to keep her eyes on the shade, not remembering a time when she’d seen any light come from outside.

  It always seemed to be dark where she was now.

  Even something as simple as that flash of light was enough to bolster her hopes for a moment. Thoughts of a rescue played out in her mind.

  Remy coming to save her.

  She was about to close her eyes again, to try to escape through sleep, when the door into the room swung open. Thoughts of Remy still at the forefront of her mind, she sat up, holding her breath.

  Hoping.

  But her hopes were quickly suffocated as the strange little boy ran into the room, slamming the door closed behind him.

  She had no idea who he was and didn’t know if he could even speak. He seemed more like an animal, grunting and growling.

  He glanced at her briefly as he passed her cage. His eyes were wide, wild, and he appeared to be out of breath. The boy went to a cabinet in the corner of the room, pulling open one of the drawers and reaching inside.

  Ashley wished herself smaller, pushing herself deeper into the corner of the cage, one of the bars now digging painfully into her back as she watched him.

  Praying he would leave her alone.

  But the filthy animal child removed the leather collar and leash from the drawer and slowly approached the cage.

  It was time for her walk.

  Carroll Funeral Home

  September 2008

  He’d asked for some time alone with her.

  Remy stood perfectly still, staring down at the remains of his wife of fifty years lying in the coffin.

  But she wasn’t really there.

  Madeline Chandler had been a loving, vivacious woman who had enjoyed every moment of her life, even as her time on this earth was slowly ticking away, eaten up by cancer.

  It wasn’t her that he saw lying there. Certainly it looked like her in elder years, but what really made her who she was—his wife, his lover, his friend—had left this shell once it had decided to quit working.

  He found this moment alone with her remains similar to looking at a photograph, the image a reminder of what had once been.

  And what had been lost.

  He could remember every moment that they had spent with each other, the important to the mundane. There wasn’t a single minute that he would have traded away.

  Unless it would have given him another minute with her.

  As an angel of the Heavenly host Seraphim, he had prepared himself for this.

  Not this specifically, but for the pain that he was certain would be part of the human life he had chosen to live. As he lived and loved among them as the centuries passed, he thought he had learned what it was all about.

  What it meant to be human.

  It had never been clearer than when he had met her and their lives had inexorably become entwined. What he had thought he’d learned from the human species had merely been a scratch on the surface; Madeline had shown him the reality of it.

  Her love for him—their love for each other—truly showed him what God had seen in these magnificent creations. After believing that he had read the entire book on humanity, being with Madeline made him realize that he’d read only the prologue to the most wondrous tale still to be experienced.

  But now that book was done.

  He thought he had prepared himself for the inevitable end to their story, but now realized that nothing could have prepared him for this.

  The pain was so bad it made him doubt everything he had done since renouncing Heaven and coming to Earth.

  Was it worth it to lose it all?

  Death was a sure thing for them, but they still carried on, living their lives to the fullest extent. Once again he thought he’d understood them, but now he saw how strong they actually were.

  And he had begun to wonder about his own strength. The skin of humanity that he’d proudly worn for more than a millennium had been damaged by the death of his companion. It was a pain that seemed never to diminish, instead growing more pronounced with the passing of each day that she wasn’t there with him.

  Remy laid his hand upon hers, remembering all the times that her lovely fingers had been entwined with his, and would never be again.

  He was close to shucking it all, abandoning the life he had created for himself and returning to the world he had turned his back on. He had thought that what he’d experienced there during the Great War had been the most painful moments of his existence.

  Until now.

  He would have gladly endured that pain twofold rather than deal with what he was going through now.

  It felt as though he were disintegrating, that if he stared at his hands he would see the skin there slowly beginning to blemish and crack, eventually falling away to reveal what lay beneath.

  What he had been before…

  The hairs on the back of his neck reacted to another presence, and he knew that he was no longer alone. He turned to see Ashley standing there, the once-little girl on the verge of blossoming into a mature young woman.

  He forced a smile
as he looked at her.

  “Hey,” Remy said. “Thanks for coming.”

  She looked incredibly uncomfortable, eyes darting everywhere but to the coffin in back of him.

  “Mom said that it went from seven to nine, and I didn’t want you to…y’know, be alone or anything.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ashley looked as though she might jump out of her skin as she stood in the doorway to the viewing room.

  “Have you ever been to a wake before?” Remy asked, pretty sure that he knew the answer.

  She shook her head. “Does it show?”

  Remy shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “I have no idea what I should be doing,” she confessed. “Mom and Dad said that I could wait for them, but then I thought of you here alone, and I knew that I would want somebody here with me if…”

  Remy went to her and put his arm around her shoulder.

  “That means a lot.”

  She leaned her head against his shoulder, the two of them just standing in the viewing room’s doorway.

  “I’m really sorry, Remy,” she said softly.

  “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he replied. “These are just the things that happen.”

  “Doesn’t mean we have to like them.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “How’s Marlowe doing?”

  Remy thought about his canine friend for a moment. The dog actually seemed to be taking Madeline’s death better than he. Maybe it had something to do with an animal’s simplicity, more accepting of the natural order of things, or maybe they were just smarter than everybody else.

  “He’s doing all right.”

  “And you?”

  “Marlowe’s doing all right.” He answered the previous question again, not wanting to face the pain.

  They were quiet for a bit, just standing together. He could tell that she was looking at the casket and its contents, getting used to the image.

  “So, what are we supposed to be doing?”

  “We’re doing it,” Remy said. “We’re saying good-bye.”

  “Over here?” she asked him.

  “If that’s what makes you comfortable.”

  She looked up at him them, and he saw in her eyes the little girl he’d first met on that hot summer’s day. But he also saw a beautiful young woman filled with promise and wisdom. She reminded him more and more of Madeline, and that made him very happy.

  This world needed more like her, now that she was gone.

  “This is no way to say good-bye,” Ashley said, taking his hand.

  She led him to the coffin, where they stood in silence, hand in hand.

  “She looks nice,” Ashley said finally.

  “Yeah,” Remy agreed. “That was her favorite dress. She picked it and the jewelry before…” His voice trailed off.

  The agony was back.

  Remy wanted to shed it all, to return to the simplicity of being one of God’s divine creations. It would be so much easier than this.

  But he was brought back from the brink by his hand being squeezed tightly, and glanced over to see Ashley’s gaze riveted to his deceased wife.

  “Was she a good one?” Ashley asked, eyes unwavering.

  For a moment he wasn’t quite sure he understood the question.

  Ashley turned her head to look at him. “A mom…was she a good mom?”

  “Yeah, she was the best,” he said, nodding, remembering that only the very few who knew what he was knew that Madeline was his wife; everyone else thought she was his mother. Madeline had always been amused by the interpretation of their relationship. Remy Chandler, the Mama’s Boy, she used to tease him.

  He found himself smiling now.

  “I always thought she would be,” Ashley said. “Just watching her with Marlowe, you could tell.”

  It was then that Remy realized if he were to return to Heaven, his pain would fade, but so would the memories of what he had created here—what he had had. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to give those up, despite the agony of his loss.

  He turned his head ever so slightly to look at the young woman who had made it a point to come here tonight and share his sorrow. He thought of how special she was, and how special he felt to have her and other friends like her in his life.

  Did he really want to leave all that behind?

  “Mr. Chandler?” Someone spoke softly behind him.

  He and Ashley turned to see David Carroll standing in the doorway.

  “Visitors have started to arrive,” the fair-haired man said, motioning toward the funeral home door behind him.

  Remy nodded. “Thank you.” He looked back to Ashley, who was watching him with a careful eye. “Here we go,” he said, taking a deep breath.

  “Are you going to be all right?” she asked him.

  “Yeah,” he said, not yet 100 percent convinced, but on the road to finding out.

  “I think I might be.”

  Remy Chandler awakened to the smell of blood.

  Eyes fluttering, he rolled onto his side to see a heavyset man standing over Ashley, his hands stained red. Remy reacted instantly, rising to his knees and reaching across to grab the fat man by the front of his shirt, pulling him down close enough for Remy’s fist to connect savagely with his face.

  The big man howled in pain, nose gushing blood as he was driven away from the bed. Remy gazed down in horror at Ashley’s mangled body. Bloody bandages littered the bed, and his eyes became transfixed by the vision of her gore-stained midriff.

  “What have you done?” he screamed at the man, who sat slumped on the floor, chubby hand clutched to a badly bleeding nose.

  “It’s not what you think,” the man cried. “Let me explain.”

  But Remy heard none of it, his warrior’s mind already activated. He bounded from the bed and hauled the blubbering man to his feet. If he had been able, the fires of the Seraphim would have already been flowing, eating the man’s flesh inch by inch.

  But the fire did not answer his call, so Remy had no choice but to hit the man again and again.

  There came a sudden flash, and Remy found himself flying backward over the bed and into the wall beside the door. He lay there breathing heavily, his heart rapidly beating as if shocked by a defibrillator.

  “I could cook your flesh to the bone,” the fat man snarled, blood running from his nose to drip from his chin. His hand crackled with supernatural energies, and Remy realized that he was dealing with a magick user.

  So be it, he thought, springing to his feet again. He would just have to hit the guy that much harder.

  The man fired another blast of destructive energy, but Remy managed to avoid it, throwing his shoulder into the man’s expansive gut and driving him back toward the closet door. He was atop him in seconds, punching him with both fists, until he heard the sound of a door opening behind him.

  He paused and turned to see Francis entering the room, arms loaded with shopping bags.

  “Why the fuck are you beating the crap out of Angus?” the former Guardian angel asked, setting the bags down on the floor.

  “He didn’t give me a chance to explain,” the big man gurgled.

  Remy pointed to Ashley’s body as he stood on shaky legs.

  “That,” he said, going to the girl who meant so much to him.

  “Calm down. It isn’t her,” Francis told him.

  “What do you mean, it isn’t her?”

  “Look at her,” Francis said. He was helping the fat man to get up.

  Remy was on the verge of panic, but he did as his friend told him.

  “I don’t think Ashley was made out of clay,” Francis continued. He had given the magick user a handkerchief from his pocket for his bloody face. “But, then again, I didn’t know her as well as you did.”

  Remy looked closely at the gaping wound in Ashley’s belly and found himself carefully poking at the damp gray clay.

  “She isn’t real,” he said, looking up.

  “That
’s what I was trying to tell you,” the fat man said.

  “Who are you?” Remy asked, eyes squinting suspiciously.

  “This is Angus Heath,” Francis said. “He’s the guy I talked to about your golem situation…which doesn’t seem to be getting any better, by the way.”

  Remy looked back to the girl on the bed. “Deacon did this,” he said.

  “Deacon?” Angus asked, stepping forward, bloody handkerchief clutched to his face. “You know that for sure?”

  Remy nodded. “He’s over there,” he said, gesturing to the air. “His whole estate in some shadow world.”

  “I knew he wasn’t dead,” Angus said. “He must’ve transported himself there when we tried to kill him.”

  Remy stared at the magick user.

  “It was a long time ago,” Angus said quickly. “Algernon Stearns…”

  “Stearns,” Remy interrupted. “Deacon wants me to kill Stearns. That’s why he took Ashley.”

  Remy stopped short, realization sinking in like a bolt from above.

  “If this isn’t her, that means the real Ashley is still there,” Remy said, looking at Francis and Angus. “I have to go back.” He went to the closet. “There was a door here.”

  “It’s gone now,” Francis said. “It went away when the goblin left.”

  Remy looked at him. “Goblin?” he asked as a hazy memory surfaced of the creature that had saved him from the shadow animal.

  “Yep, little guy, bad skin, pointy ears,” Francis explained. “I know it sounds crazy, but a goblin brought the two of you back. Haven’t a clue as to who he was, but he seemed to think there’s some serious trouble brewing in the world and didn’t want to stick around.”

  It was a thought that Remy shared—he’d felt that way since he and Francis had helped to avert the Apocalypse.

  “It must have something to do with Stearns,” Angus said, looking into his bloody handkerchief as if searching for something he’d lost.

  “What about Stearns?” Remy asked.

  “You mean besides him trying to kill both of us by sucking out all our life energies?” Francis asked.

  That surprised Remy, as well. “Deacon almost did that to me. In fact, it’s left me a bit…depleted.”