by Fiore, L. A.
Before I could reply, she turned from me. Her bare ass hanging out of the hospital gown she wore. I looked around the room. I never felt like I belonged here, this forgotten place that sat on the edge of humanity.
I could feel what was inside every person in the room. In many of them, I felt nothing, like they were only shells of the people they had been. There were a few, though, where the emotions were buried deep, pain and fear, regret and anger. These people weren’t mad; they were just lost and confused—the ones the world would rather didn’t exist because they weren’t sure if they felt sorry for them or anger with them for simply being. They were left here to wither away far from those who didn’t understand them so, instead, they feared them.
My heart broke watching as Harold slammed his head into the wall, and hard enough to draw blood. Evelyn was trapped in her mind, haunted by her nightmares. I closed my eyes and sought the calm. The room quieted. Harold stopped banging his head, and Evelyn stopped pulling on her hair and talking in gibberish. For just a little while, I could give them peace.
“You need to remember.”
I resisted the urge to shake my head.
“You’re not crazy.”
I wondered how long it would take him to make an appearance. I sensed someone join me on the sofa, though I knew the spot next to me was empty. “Says the voice in my head.”
“You don’t belong in here.”
Tristan was the name of my imaginary friend. In the beginning, I tried to ignore him, but he was persistent, then I tried talking to him but only in my head. He didn’t respond. Now I spoke to him like he was really there. Sure, anyone watching would see a woman talking to herself, but considering where I was, I didn’t stand out.
“For a figment of my imagination, you are a pain in the ass. Where would I go?”
“I’m not a figment of your imagination and I don’t know. Anywhere but here.”
I continued reading the book I’d brought from the library. “Did you know that fairies live in a realm under ours?”
“What?”
“It says it right here. Fairy rings, they pop up from their realm into our realm. Sort of like a worm hole.”
“What are you reading?”
“A book on fantastical creatures. According to this, people used to be able to see the supernatural, but they lost the ability because of cynicism and ignorance.”
“That book is a work of fiction,” Tristan pointed out.
“Is it? Or is fiction based loosely on facts?”
“Has Dr. Ellis been messing around with your meds again?”
“Funny. I like the idea of other creatures living amongst us. Fairies are the ones who grant our wishes. Bet you didn’t know that.”
“No, and I don’t believe it either.”
“Because you’re cynical,” I said.
“Practical,” he countered.
“Whatever.”
Screaming turned our attention to the fire someone had set in one of the trashcans.
“Nice, and where’s that orderly to put it out?”
Tristan’s reference to Bart made me shudder. Bart wasn’t an orderly; he was a monster.
No one stepped forward to handle it, so I did. Strolling over to the can, I grabbed a blanket from the back of one of the sofas. I felt the heat on my hands, but I didn’t pull away from it. The flames and how it looked as if they were dancing mesmerized me. I got too close and knew I’d have burns. Before it grew too out of control, I smothered it. Disappointment swept through me seeing something so beautiful die.
At dinner that night, I studied my hands. The fire hadn’t burned me. There were no marks on my skin at all. Was it possible the drugs affected my nerve endings inhibiting pain, but why were there no marks? Had I smothered the fire? Or had I imagined it? I had been talking to my imaginary friend at the time. Was I once again having trouble separating fantasy from reality? I was curious, maybe more than I should be, but I wanted to conduct a little experiment.
There was a box of matches next to one of the women in the food line. I dropped my tray at the trash then sauntered to the counter. The staff here was like androids. Fill spoon, lift spoon, and drop food on tray. It wasn’t hard palming the matches. Back in my room, I sat on the floor and lit one. I held my hand over it, felt the heat, but looking at my hand there was no redness, no blistering. The match extinguished. I lit another; this time, I held my hand right on top of the flame. It didn’t burn. Looking at my hand, there were no marks. I couldn’t help the shaking, though whether it was fear or excitement that fueled it I couldn’t say. I wasn’t dreaming. This was happening. How was this happening?
“It doesn’t burn me.” I was talking to myself while playing with fire. Dr. Ellis would be upping my meds if he saw me. I lit another match and placed it in my palm. I felt nothing. I watched the flame, how it licked at the air, and felt a stirring deep in my gut. I never took my focus off the match, and as if I willed it, the fire grew bigger.
“Can you summon it?” I lost focus with Tristan’s question, and the flame died. A coincidence?
Try to summon it? That was crazy talk. “Without the match?” But I was intrigued.
“Yes.”
“How?” I asked.
“Will it?”
I held out my hand, focused like I had on the flame. I felt the stirring in my gut again that swept through me right to the tips of my fingers. A flicker, hardly a spark, but a flicker appeared; the air in the room charged then pulsed, and with enough force, my hair blew back from my shoulders. I dropped my hand. “What the hell was that?”
Tristan was oddly silent.
“Did I just do that?” I asked, not sure he’d answer.
“Yeah, you did.” He sounded awed, which I understood because I was feeling awed myself.
My empathic ability I knew was unique, but summoning fire? “How is it possible I can summon fire? That isn’t normal.”
“You’ve been conditioned to believe anything out of the ordinary isn’t normal, but the standard for normal is different across the board.”
“What board?”
He was silent for a moment before he said, “Because the world is made up of more than just what you see.”
He’d caught me off guard with that comment. Took me a minute to respond, not that I was eloquent when I did. “Wait, what?” Was he suggesting what I think he was suggesting? “You said fairies and all that was fiction.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“I wasn’t sure you were ready.”
“For what?”
“What’s coming.”
“What is coming?”
“The beginning of the end.”
“I’m totally hallucinating this conversation. Maybe Dr. Ellis does need to up my meds.”
“You aren’t crazy, Ivy, but much can be gained by making you think you are.”
“What could be gained by making me think I’m crazy?”
“More than you can imagine.”
I was crazy, and still, I couldn’t stop the chill that crept down my spine.
It was so dark along the stretch of road. The rain hadn’t stopped; it was coming down in sheets, the wipers frantically swishing the water from the windshield to no avail. Checking the clock, it was 7:23 pm. I should have waited until morning, but it was Friday, and I was officially on vacation. One week where I planned to spend it on the beach with the sun toasting my skin and the sea air soothing the stress out of me.
The radio played softly, a report of a hold up and some fatalities at a convenience store had me turning up the volume. I’d stopped there to fill up on gas before leaving town. My hands shook hearing the owner, that lovely old man who had helped me, was killed and two customers whose names they were holding until family could be notified. Sorrow and adrenaline coursed through me at the horrible reminder of how finite life really was.
It took a while for me to calm down, but glancing at the clock, it still read 7:23 pm. Shit, I must have a short somewhere. I’d
have to take the car in when I got back. A crackle of lightning lit up the road, and I almost swerved right off of it when I saw the figure. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman with their dark hoodie pulled up over their head. I shouldn’t stop; I’d seen Hitchhiker, read the horror stories, never thought I’d ever stop for one, but it was pouring and it was late and a man I had spoken to tonight had died.
Flipping on my blinker, I pulled over just in front of the person and rolled down the passenger window. My heart moved into my throat when the shadow, cast by the moon behind them, crept over the opening. I almost pulled away, slammed the car into drive and peeled out, but I gripped the steering wheel and called on courage. It was just a person in need, nothing sinister.
The figure appeared then the voice. If angels spoke, it would sound like this…a deep, rhythmic cadence that stirred as well as soothed. “Thank you for stopping.”
My words clogged in my throat, but I managed, “No problem.”
He pulled the door open and folded himself into the passenger seat.
“Where to?”
“Wherever you’re going is fine. We’re heading in the same direction.”
We drove in silence for a while. My focus on the road that stretched on endlessly, looking exactly the same every mile we went. My eyes drifted occasionally to the clock, to the colon that was blinking the seconds but the time remained unchanged.
The man next to me was hidden from view, his black hood covering his face. It was like a switch turning on. I felt the blood drain from my face even as my body shook uncontrollably. 7:23 pm was roughly the time I’d been at the convenience store, the one held up, the one where there were three deaths. I glanced at the hooded figure next to me and knew. He wasn’t a hitchhiker; he was the grim reaper.
My eyes opened to pitch darkness. I could hear my heart beating even as I felt it in every part of my body. The rain tapping softly against the window soothed; my breathing and pulse both slowed. I was sure I was slipping deeper into my illness, what with my foray into summoning fire, and not just summoning it but holding a conversation with myself on validating my crazy. And these dreams, they were systemic of my illness according to Dr. Ellis. I didn’t know when I was in real life and when I had slipped into my mind. He was working with me, trying to find the right combination of drugs and treatments to control my tumble down the rabbit hole as he called it. It wasn’t working. The dreams were growing more intense, and I was having them almost every day. For the last year, I’d had an undeniable feeling that time was running out. I should tell Dr. Ellis. He couldn’t help me if he didn’t know. He’d recited those words more times than I could count, but there was something about these dreams that comforted. I didn’t want them to go away, and I couldn’t deny there was a small voice that was growing louder that didn’t think they were dreams at all.
Sleep wouldn’t return tonight. I left my room. My stocking feet made no sound as I entered the abandoned part of the hospital. The nurses’ station was located by the door and one long, dark hall extended out from it. I brought my flashlight because the electricity wasn’t turned on here. Gurneys were left in the middle of the hall, a wheelchair here and there. Unlike the sterile environment of the ward where I lived, here, the yellow walls were cracking, and the linoleum floors were peeling. Several rooms that I passed caused a chill, the beam of my flashlight illuminating an archaic version of an electric shock chair. One room had an old tub hooked with straps. Horror filled me just imagining what the patient was forced to endure. I thought about Dr. Nelson. Had he worked here?
What was strange about this ward was I felt nothing. Dr. Ellis claimed I was unable to feel empathy and that I wasn’t in touch with my surroundings. The truth was the opposite. I was too in touch with my surroundings. I felt everything, heard a lot too. Knowing what kind of ugly happened in this ward, I felt nothing. Usually the more powerful the emotions, the longer they lingered, but there was nothing. Not a trace of anything. It didn’t make sense, but then, I felt a whole lot of nothing from the people in my ward too. Maybe I wasn’t as in touch with people as I thought.
I walked through here every day because on the other side of this ward was a locked one. And that was where he was. He appeared like he did every night, just shimmered into existence. Dressed in his little blue short set, his black hair falling to his shoulders. In his little hands, he held a toy. He ran down the hall giggling, looking behind him like he was being followed. He disappeared, running right through the locked door. I didn’t try to break in, didn’t try to talk to him. I just sat, feeling the closest to peace that I had known.
My heart hiccupped behind my ribs; the same emotion I felt in my dreams swept through me. It was another reason I came here. Whatever it was, whatever lingered, was strong and beautiful. Whoever left it, whenever they left it, I envied them. Envied the life that even now left its imprint, bringing beauty to this forgotten place. I shut off my flashlight, closed my eyes, and let myself dream that life was mine.
3
Bain
The walls pulsed from the heavy bass beat. The air was heavy with sex, alcohol and sweat, an aphrodisiac of the senses that the patrons couldn’t resist. Bills were tucked tantalizingly into G-stings where fingers lingered; bare asses landed on laps of very happy men more than willing to find their own version of a happily ever after. Dark corners were occupied, women on their knees, heads bobbing as they controlled the ones they serviced with nothing more than finding that perfect combination. Long legs, spiked heels, skirts so short ass cheeks winked out with every shift of the hip, tees that barely covered curves that starred in every adolescent boy’s wet dreams. The woman working the pole moved with a seductive grace; her body at her command, twisting and contorting, making love to that pole while she eye fucked every man in the room. Her moves weren’t just seductive and alluring, they were hypnotizing.
Hedonistic, self-gratification, pleasure seeking was what they knew…that and death. We’d run into pockets like this before, but never one as large as this.
“They’re growing bolder,” Brock said as he dropped down next to me.
“Yeah, but why?” Something was coming. They were celebrating. These wouldn’t live to see whatever it was they honored. I scanned the room, spotted my crew and knew they were ready for the party to get started.
Reaching for my phone, I called Eldris. “Lock it up.”
My focus shifted to Brock, the words not spoken aloud but heard by everyone in my crew. “Nothing gets out alive.”
I stood, rolled my head, and walked to the stage. There was one sure way to get the attention of everything in here. I climbed the steps. She looked at me, her black eyes lifeless, even as a seductive smile curved her red lips. One long, delicate arm reached out to me, her fingers brushing along my jaw, down my chest, to my abs, continuing their exploration, but I grabbed her hand before she found her mark. Too bad for her I knew exactly what lurked under the sexy package.
She realized too late. “You shouldn’t have come here, dog,” she hissed.
I let it out, the beast that lurked within. She was fast; I was faster. I snapped her neck before she even knew I had moved, the lifeless body dropping at my feet. The music shut off, the silence so profound. Like a switch being flipped, all hell broke loose.
It didn’t take us long to wipe them out. We were finishing the sweep when I was almost brought to my knees by the punch of power that rocked the place. I wasn’t the only one to feel it by the accompanying sounds that echoed off the walls from my crew.
“What the fuck was that?” Brock asked.
“I don’t know.” And I didn’t, but we’d just been summoned.
Brock knew it too when he said, “We’re going.”
“Yeah. First thing in the morning.”
“Where…?” Eldris looked around. He was the newest member of the crew and still learning his way. “Where are we going?”
“New Orleans,” I answered then called for Tate.
“Yeah
, boss.”
“You know the area. You and Dante go ahead and find us a place to stay. We’ll catch up with you.”
Mischievousness looked back. “Yeah, we can meet at Leona’s Bar.”
He was up to something. Tate leaned toward the dramatic, it was his thespian background, but I let it drop. I glanced around the club and the tangle of bodies. “Burn this shit down.”
I stood on the balcony of the place we were staying in South Carolina. I liked the heat, preferred it to the cooler climates. We were like gypsies, moving around where we were needed. Never in one place very long, a few weeks before we were moving out again. Most times, we didn’t even rent places to stay. We liked being outside, liked the freedom and the hunt.
My crew was out, letting off steam before we took off for New Orleans. Releasing what was left of the bloodlust through drinking, partying and women. I didn’t join them; I felt a restlessness that made me edgy, like an itch I couldn’t scratch. Whatever summoned us earlier, it had been more than just a powerful signature. It had been familiar, an echo of something I knew. I couldn’t explain it; the draw, though, was strong enough that I was tempted to leave for New Orleans now. Unfortunately, I knew what we were battling, knew it was growing stronger and took great joy in playing people’s needs against them. What I felt could be a lie; a deception meant to break me. It wasn’t a coincidence the call came now when evil was growing stronger. Every generation it gained another foothold. We were fighting more than we ever had. Tonight was no exception, a horde that big. Never before had they dared to be so blatant. They knew it was coming too. We had won the battle tonight, but I was growing more and more concerned we weren’t going to win the war. It was why I believed we were summoned. Forces were gathering; I hope we weren’t the only ones to answer the call.
4
Tortured and terrified, their fears fed him. Perpetual darkness incited the chaos and made him stronger. Anguish and pain weaved through the souls that he feasted on for strength. He sat on a throne of their nightmares, his long clawed hands curling around the arms of gold. He wanted more and had found it; the infancy of creation started in darkness. He had claimed one such place, marked it as his own, but he was denied; his claim stolen from him. That dark, desolate place was lit with light, one so pure and strong he was powerless against it. Rage erupted in him to be denied what he desired. He reached out, his hand hitting the unseen barrier that kept him from that which he sought, but that barrier was growing weaker. Those that had taken what was his were the ones who would set him free. He grinned, his lips curling around razor sharp teeth. The time of darkness was coming once again.
