by Tim Marquitz
I should have known better.
The planchette scratched across the board quickly. It moved so fast that Toshi and I were forced to let go. We watched it point at the letters, and read the message clearly.
Leave before he chooses one of you. The forest must have its due.
I repeated the sentence in my head over and over again, but it still didn’t make sense. Who was going to choose us? What did the forest have to do with anything?
The temperature continued to drop. It became so cold I could feel my throat and lungs drying up whenever I breathed. My fingers were tingling with cold. The candle lights began to flicker rapidly. The smoke from the incense and sage drifted in lazy curls toward us.
But there was still no wind.
I was concentrating on the board when Toshi gasped. I looked at my friend, who was staring at something over my shoulder. His jaw had dropped, and his eyes were wide with horror. I twisted to see what he was looking at.
Two clusters of people stood on the slight hill behind us. There were men, women, teenagers, even a couple children placed all over the forest. They wore suits, dresses, uniforms, formal wear, rags, even ancient armor. Most were wearing modern clothes, but others seemed to have come from another era. They watched us with empty, glazed eyes and no emotion on their faces. Their bodies seemed solid, but their skin was the same, paper white shade, as if they had just stepped out of a black and white film.
Kenshin was not among them.
My first reaction was to run. Seeing so many spirits at one time could only be unnatural and dangerous. I’d heard ghost stories where the spirits injured the living. But perhaps these phantoms meant us no harm. They might even know where to find Kenshin.
“Kaz, we need to go,” Toshi whispered urgently.
I turned my eyes away from the spirits and looked at my friend. He was trembling. It was wrong for me to keep him here.
At the same time, we’d connected with Kenshin’s spirit. I was so close to answering the question that had kept me awake for so many nights. I looked at the spirit board.
“Kenshin,” I said. “Brother, tell me what happened to you.”
The planchette was still. I focused all my thoughts on the question, pleading to Kenshin to answer me. The planchette never moved.
“Kazuhiko,” Toshi begged again. “Please, we’re not going to learn anything else. Let’s leave.”
I raised my head, and saw another spirit over his shoulder. This one had the form of a man five years younger than me. The suit he wore was wrinkled, but undamaged. His thick black hair brushed along his eyebrows. He had an unblemished child-like face and big brown eyes. I hated to see him look so scared, but at the moment, I was just glad he was there.
“Kenshin,” I breathed.
Toshi whirled around, startled when he saw his dead friend. Kenshin’s spirit didn’t seem to notice him at all. He focused on me, raising his hands and beginning flick his fingers wildly. It had been a year since I’d practiced sign language, but I understood him all the same.
Kaz, you and Toshi need to leave. He knows you’re here.
“Toshi, get your things,” I ordered, slowly rising to my feet and focusing on my brother.
What’s going on? What happened to you?
Kenshin hesitated, then said, I made a mistake, brother. I made a terrible mistake. You need to get out of here before he takes you.
Who? Ken, you’re not making any sense.
Toshi was on his feet, apparently not caring about the tools he was leaving behind. He gasped. I looked over my shoulder.
The spirits hadn’t moved from their places, but now a new figure had joined them. One hand was in the front pocket of his black suit, the other resting on the top of his cane. His red tie was the brightest colour in the navy and black forest. He grinned and gave me a nod, emphasizing the ugly scar on his throat. The shadows around the trees seemed to darken as he moved closer.
“You must be Kazuhiko,” the scarred man called down to me. His voice was raspy, as if he’d been breathing smoke all his life. “Kenshin spoke highly of you.”
I tightened my hands at my sides. “Who are you? What did you lure my brother into?”
The scarred man shrugged. “Nothing he didn’t ask for.” He looked at the unblinking spirits on either side of him. “Nothing they all didn’t ask for.”
His eyes shifted back to me, and for the first time I saw that they weren’t just dark. They were two dismal, empty voids of black in his face. They were the kind of eyes that belonged to serial killers. The eyes that belonged to something without a soul.
“My brother did not want to die,” I snapped.
The man raised his eyebrow, not believing me. “Do not be so sure,” he said. “The only people who seek me out are the ones who are the ones who are at the end of their rope.” The man’s smile was malicious and cruel. “I quite literally guide them to that end.”
“Why?” I demanded. The anger burning in my veins was so hot it was keeping my freezing body warm. “Who are you?”
He took another step closer, starting to make his way down the low slope. “Why? Because my lord demands it. He watches over this place, and he demands a sacrifice to all those who make unwelcome entrances at night. As for who I am, you may call me a Shinigami, and I am a servant of the demon lord Mrtyu-mara.”
My eyes went wide. Is that what he told Kenshin when they first met? That he was a death-spirit working for a demon who tempted humans into suicide? I turned and looked at my brother. Toshi had wisely backed away, standing a few feet behind Kenshin’s ghost.
The shade of my dead little brother gave me a mournful look. I read his eyes, and knew he had been deceived. His fingers moved quickly as he gave me the explanation I had been both desiring and dreading.
He told me I would bring pride and honor to our family. All I had to do was give a sacrifice to the forest. His eyes were heavy with sadness. He never told me what that sacrifice would be.
My mind reeled. Oh, Ken, I thought.
I knew he had been lonely, always disregarded as my parents favored me. It had been so hard for him to find friends who could understand him. He was never able to obtain a successful career or marry. In his desperation, he turned to an easy solution. One that would help him in ways that no one else could.
That help had killed him.
“Kenshin has already paid his price,” the Shinigami said. I turned to look at him again. He was still making his way toward me, using the cane though he had no limp. “You and your friend must now pay yours. Fortunately, my lord requires only one death in his kingdom.” He looked between me and Toshi again. His lips curled into an insane smile. “So, which one of you is willing to join our sea of trees?”
I didn’t answer him. There was no way to reason with a man as deranged as this self-appointed Shinigami. I knew how to defend myself, but I was unarmed. It was time I listen to Toshi. I turned on my heel and ran out of the trees.
I raced past my brother while the Shinigami cursed and screamed for the spirits to hunt us. Toshi and I searched for the path, never looking back. My legs were stiff from the cold, making it hard to run as fast as I usually did. My breath fogged out in front of me as I pushed my body forward. Toshi was keeping pace with me, but he wasn’t as athletic as me. My friend would tire soon.
The air was cold at my back, but it wasn’t from the wind. I risked a glance over my shoulder. The spirits drifted over the dead grass and rough shrubs. They didn’t move their legs, just floated toward us. They looked at us with the same, flat expressions. They still didn’t blink. I couldn’t see Kenshin in the crowd.
Toshi suddenly cried out in pain. I whirled my head to see what happened, and was struck in the face by the cane.
The force of the unexpected blow made me stumble. I landed on my back on the hard ground. My head was throbbing and blood was streaming from my nose. I pushed onto my elbows, and saw the Shinigami looming over Toshi. He spun the cane in his hand, pressing the edge of
it into my friend’s chest to keep him pinned. Toshi groaned and clutched his head. The Shinigami used his free hand to reach inside his suit.
“It isn’t wise to disrespect a god,” he said plainly. “Especially when that god masters death.”
He took out a thick rope with a wide loop around the end. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him lasso the noose around Toshi’s throat.
I was on my feet in the next moment, anger and adrenaline burning away all my fear. I roared and charged the Shinigami as he tightened the rope around Toshi’s neck. The Shinigami turned his head and saw me coming, but he had no time to move. I tackled him around the waist and drove us both into the ground.
We rolled along the cracked, rocky soil, punching and kicking at each other without caring what body part we hit. I managed to pin the Shinigami underneath me, hitting him solidly in the jaw. Blood gushed from his mouth onto the earth. I raised my fist to hit him again, and didn’t see his arm swing the cane.
It crashed into my back, sending a huge flare of pain along my ribs. I shouted against it, and was thrown from the Shinigami. He rolled to his feet and kicked me in the stomach. Air left me in a rush, and I was suddenly gasping for breath. The cane struck against my back, filling it with searing pain. It hit me again, and again, and again.
The fight was beaten out of me. My back throbbed in agony, feeling as though a truck had just drove over it. I tried to push myself up, just as a coarse rope was slipped over my head. I grasped at it, but the noose went taut at the back of my neck. It tightened until it bit into my skin. I gasped for breath, feeling it enter my mouth but never any deeper.
My lungs began to burn as I choked, flailing wildly to get the Shinigami away from me. All he did was jerk the noose tighter. My head began to feel light as blood flow was cut off from it. I clawed at the rope, trying to pry it away from my neck to get just one gasp of air.
The Shinigami gave the noose another tug. “If you won’t honor my lord yourself, I’ll have to do it for you,” he snarled. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
I opened my mouth to breathe again, instinct taking over my body. The edges of my vision were beginning to blur. My eyes were starting to close, all of my strength about to leave me—
There was a cry of pain behind me, and suddenly the Shinigami loosened his hold on the rope. I dropped onto my front, getting a mouthful of dirt. Someone came up behind me and pulled on the noose, but they weren’t drawing it tighter. They were giving it slack, releasing me.
I gulped in air as fast as I could, not caring that it was mostly dirt at the moment. I inhaled too quickly, choking on the new air. My lungs expanded gratefully as someone grabbed my arm. I jumped and threw out a sloppy punch.
“Whoa, whoa, it’s just me!” someone familiar croaked.
I blinked, my brain taking a minute to register Toshi standing in front of me. The noose was off his neck, though I could see a red mark from where it had been pulled around him. I probably had a similar mark. I looked over my shoulder to see what happened.
The Shinigami was rolling on the ground and clutching his temple, groaning in pain. A rock smeared with blood and about the size my fist was by his head. The spirits were beginning to edge closer to him. For the first time, they seemed to have an expression.
Rage.
There was a pale glow to my left. I turned my head and saw my brother. The corner of his lips were turned up, the closest he could get to a smile. He motioned to the rock and began speaking in sign to me.
“You told Toshi about the rock,” I clarified. “That was smart, and it saved my life. Thank you, Ken.”
My dead brother’s lips twitched again, his almost-smile growing. Then the grin faded, and he looked serious. His hands and fingers back to move.
You both should leave. You aren’t going to want to see this.
I looked at the Shinigami, who was staggering to his feet. He had a furious scowl on his face, but it quickly faded when he saw the spirits circling him.
What will happen to him? I asked Kenshin.
He stared at me for a moment before speaking again.
He thinks death is a beautiful thing. We’re going to give him a taste of it.
I shuddered at the thought. Part of me wanted to ask how they were going to do it. Then I decided I didn’t want to know. Kenshin’s fingers were still moving.
I’m sorry I wasn’t careful, Kaz. I tried too hard to be like you.
My heart strained, and I replied as quickly as I could.
You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Kenshin. You never dishonored us. You were a good brother, and I want you to promise me you’ll try to find peace after this.
The almost smile came back. For a wonderful moment, he looked the way he had when he was alive. Bright, curious, honest, and kind. I would never be able to bring him back, but I knew he would find his way this time. I wouldn’t need to look for him, and I would be able to let him go.
I’ll miss you, brother, I said.
Me too, he replied. Tell Toshi he needs to get a new hobby.
I laughed, though the sound was caught in my throat. I looked at Kenshin one last time, then started backing away. I glanced at the Shinigami again. He was almost completely obscured by the pale spirits. He snickered.
“Well, at least the forest will have its due.”
He tossed down his cane. Toshi and I turned and walked away. After fifteen steps, we were out of the clearing and onto the main path. We stopped only once to listen to an ear-piercing scream. It was cut off abruptly, and the eerie silence took its place again.
“Kenshin says you need a new hobby,” I told Toshi after we were walking for a few minutes.
My friend stifled a laugh. “He always had more sense than you.”
I didn’t argue with him, managing a weak smile instead. “What are you thinking?”
Toshi was silent for a minute, then shrugged. “No idea. I’ll tell you after you pay for my therapy.”
After what we had gone through tonight, therapy didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
Wounds
Greg Chapman
The agents knocked on Robert Fraser’s door after they found the second victim.
With those three knocks, Robert’s retirement was ended and he was once more became Dante, descending into hell. He’d walked its paths countless times, beheld its signs and wonders, and known its deranged angels. Finding the way back out was what he’d done for 35 years, so when he heard those three knocks and opened the door to the weary agents, it was like greeting an old friend.
The agents were young, but Robert knew from their eyes they had glimpsed the path already. Perhaps not walked it, but peered through the door. They flashed their badges and introduced themselves as Agents Colton and Kent. They wore fresh suits and ties, but the smell of decay permeated their every move. Robert let them and their decay into his home. Not because he felt obliged to, but because it was time. He poured them both a coffee and sat with them, waiting for the vile subject to be brought to the table. After almost a minute of wary glances and many sips of coffee, Robert held out his hand.
“This is the point where you show me the file,” he said, and their eyes widened.
Colton put down his mug and pulled the file from his jacket. Robert took it and felt its weight in his hand. It was half an inch thick and would most certainly contain countless photos from the crime scenes of the two victims. Robert placed it unopened in the center of the table, stared at it, and then stared at the two agents.
Colton cleared his throat, taking the initiative. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I’ve read all your cases, studied your field reports. You’re an inspiration—”
Robert held up his hand. “You didn’t come all this way to stroke my ego. The Bureau sent you here to pick my brain.”
Colton cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. “The Bureau would be most grateful if you could review the case file, offer your advice.”
“They’d be grateful?”
>
“All we’re asking is that you take a look at the file, sir.” Kent added.
Robert smirked. “But you both know it’s not that simple.” He held up the file and let it fall back to the table. “This is just paper. To me, it might as well be blank. I’ve seen enough of these types of files to know that it’s not about the information; that it’s not about what they say, it’s about what they don’t say. Am I right?”
Colton frowned. “I’m sorry sir, but I don’t follow you.”
Robert sighed and stood to retrieve the agents’ coffee mugs. He went to the kitchen and refilled them.
“Tell me you theory, Agent Colton.” Robert said as handed him back the mug. Colton almost dropped it.
“Sir?”
“You’ve seen the crime scenes; you’ve seen the victims, right? I mean I’ve been reading the papers, so I know there’s more than one. The papers keep using the words ‘ritual killings,’ which is why you’re here.”
Colton’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “You…want to know what I think?”
Robert sat opposite him. “I want to know what you’ve seen, Agent. I haven’t been to the crime scenes, haven’t seen the bodies, but you have.”
Agent Kent reached for the file and made to open it, but Robert snatched it away from him.
