Skeptic

by Denise Mathew

  Elise sprinted outside, joining the melee on the lanai. She glanced at Mira, and her face whitened, then she brought her gaze to Atticus. He tried to make his expression impassive, but by the way Elise was eyeing him, he was doing a shitty job of it. Mira broke into blubbering sobs, and the Aswang chittered, and looked like they were ready to take flight, thankfully their wings hadn't pushed through the thin layer of skin on their backs yet. But already their fingernails had reverted to curved, razor sharp talons, and two-inch fangs, poked from beneath their top lips. Even their eyes had turned blood red, and Atticus knew that the full change was inevitable.

  Before his eyes, the Aswang grew a couple of feet taller, and now their long gowns were a foot from the ground, revealing huge clawed feet, like those of an eagle. Every step they took, ripped splinters of wood from the veranda, leaving deep gouges in their wake.

  "Is she still fit to be the carrier?" Kikik hissed.

  "It is too late to replace her," Tyanak snapped.

  "We will kill the one who hurt her," Wakwak screeched.

  "Get her to the swing, so I can properly check her," Nanny Flo said.

  Atticus backed away from the scene. He knew fear was a sign of weakness, yet it was the only emotion he felt right then.

  "Atticus," Mira said, reaching one hand toward him.

  She stumbled forward, Kikik and Tyanak supported her on either side, and Atticus was surprised that their extended talons hadn't cut into Mira's flesh. When all eyes turned to him, he stiffened. His lips moved, but nothing came out, and he knew he looked like a fool, but he couldn't seem to get his shit together.

  "Yes Mira," he finally said.

  His first thought was to try to make a run for it, and get to the bolo knife, but now that everyone was focused on him, that option had expired.

  "No one hurt me," Mira said, above the din. "I tripped, that's all. "

  Her brown eyes locked on Atticus, and he almost groaned with relief. Though he was glad that she had covered for him and had literally saved his life, he knew that nothing with Mira was free, soon enough he would find out what the cost of her silence would be.

  "Silly girl," Nanny Flo said, her tone wrought with irritation. "What if you had really injured yourself..."

  She placed a thin board against the underside of Mira's forearm, and began wrapping an elastic bandage around it. Mira winced, but held still, as Nanny Flo's surprisingly nimble fingers, figure-eighted the bandage expertly.

  "I've got something for the pain, but we'll have to wait to have it casted until after the ceremony. For now, this splint will have to do."

  Nanny Flo secured the end of the bandage with two silver clips, and stood back with her hands firmly on her hips, as she surveyed Mira. She swiveled her head until her eyes met Atticus's, and he knew from the expression on her face that she didn't believe the story Mira had told, yet for some reason she had decided to keep her mouth shut.

  "I don't want even the slightest hint of another accident before tonight," Nanny Flo said, directing her comments at Atticus. He nodded.

  Despite Mira's explanation, the Aswang remained frenzied, and Wakwak was the first to barge through the screen door, practically ripping it from its hinges. Kikik and Tyanak were quick to follow. In mere seconds, they had shredded their white gowns, and stood naked.

  Their skinny frames were pure sinewy muscles with flat, almost nonexistent breasts, and skin so pale that it was almost translucent, black veins, like living spider webs, pulsed beneath it. The walnut sized pair of bony nubs between their shoulders split, and impossibly large ebony wings that must have spanned six feet, with twig-like bones and leathery skin stretched taut, exploded free. With their wings in full form, the Aswang dug their clawed feet into the loose gravel and took to the air. The sound of their beating wings was ear-splitting, and accompanied by piercing squawks, as they formed an inflight circle. A pair of unsuspecting brown mourning doves flew too close to the monsters ruling the air, and were snatched and consumed within seconds, with the only sign that they had ever existed being a few feathers that helicoptered to the ground.

  Mira, Atticus, Elise and even Nanny Flo stood transfixed, watching the creatures, until they dipped into the canopy of the forest and were gone.

  Eyes still focused on the cerulean sky, Atticus felt sharp nails bite into his bicep. He spun to face Nanny Flo, who was glowering at him with unremitting hatred.

  "I don't know what's gotten into you, but you had better fix it by tonight," she said, then released his arm.

  She grabbed Mira's upper arm, and dragged her away and into the house. Mira's expression was pained, and Atticus cut his eyes away. He glanced at the few drops of blood that dotted his skin, where the old woman had broken the flesh, and was thankful that it was the extent of his punishment.

  He knew, and obviously the part called Dakota did too, that the carrier was as valuable as Elise was, and as such wasn't to be harmed. By hurting Mira, the thing inside him had shown him that it had more power over him than even he had known. It had struck a hard blow, and sent a message that Atticus couldn't ignore, and he only hoped that Dakota didn't decide to send any other messages anytime soon, because the next one might just cost him his life.

  24. ELISE

  The acrid stench of smoke and burning grew stronger as the day progressed. A dust and smoke filled haze, clouded the normally clean air, leaving no doubt that a blood moon would indeed rise. Even though the air was growing thicker, with each passing hour, I was determined to keep as far away from everyone inside as I could. Perched on the hanging swing on the porch, I was coated in a thin layer of perspiration, that made my t-shirt and shorts stick to my skin. My body was stiff from sitting, and I was both hungry and thirsty, yet abhor to eat anything my so-called grandmother prepared, and even if I wanted to cook my own food, after seeing the Aswang's terrifying transformations, I wanted to keep as much distance as possible, between me and them.

  As I pumped the swing back and forth, I mulled over what had really happened to Mira's arm. Though the Aswang had believed Mira's story, even I saw through the lie. Atticus had definitely had something to do with what had happened to Mira, and the concept that he had harmed her, both thrilled and shocked me. Mira deserved whatever Atticus dealt her, but the question that loomed in my mind was why he had done it?

  For his part, Atticus had been MIA since the Aswang had taken flight. I had tried to follow him into the forest, but after several attempts, I repeatedly ended up on some part of the perimeter of Nanny Flo's property. I might even have resorted to using a ghost to spy on him, but Nanny Flo and Mira had gone to great lengths to keep the Elder witch ghosts away, and it had the side effect of warding off all spirits and ghosts. Even I had to admit they had definitely crossed every t and dotted every i and left nothing to chance.

  With little to do but wait, I almost wanted the day to pass faster so it would finally be all over. I glanced at my watch, and saw that it was 4:00 pm. Atticus had told me the ritual would start as soon as twilight had passed, which meant I only had a few more hours left. The concept that I was supposed to die in a couple of hours felt too surreal to believe, and I caught myself wondering a few times if it was really happening, or if I was imagining it all.

  Out of nowhere, Atticus, wearing only his standard black leather pants and combat boots, stalked down the driveway. His dark hair was plastered to his skull with sweat, and his newly tanned skin, glistened in the little bit of sunlight that managed to break through the haze. His head was down as he strode toward the house, and as I watched him approach, I noticed that he looked a bit frazzled around the edges, quite unlike the Atticus that had strutted around just hours before. Whatever was eating at him, was big enough that it was hobbling him, and I liked it.

  "Off making final preparations for my murder?" I said, hoping to shake him up a little more.

  His head snapped to attention, showing me that he hadn't noticed me until that very moment, and from the expression on his face, he hadn't ap
preciated the surprise. Mingling with the irritation in his eyes, was a flicker of anxiety, and once again I wondered what had him this freaked out. He broke into a jog, and was up the steps and through the screen door, seconds later.

  "What's wrong with you, anyway?" I asked, irritated that he had let my comment pass without a reply.

  He shrugged, and cut his eyes to the floor, then glanced over his shoulder at the screen door, as if he was scared someone might hear us talking. I decided to pull out the big guns and say something that I knew would elicit a response.

  "What will you do with my body after I'm dead?" I asked, and as the seemingly bizarre statement slipped through my lips, all my fake bravado vanished, sadness washed over me rapidly and tears pricked at my eyes. I shifted my gaze away from Atticus, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing my struggle. I was amazed at how quickly the tables had turned in his favor, and he hadn't even said a word.

  I felt his hand close around mine, and he pushed into the space beside me. His palm was moist with perspiration, and sticky with what smelled like pine sap, and my first instinct was to jerk away, but I didn't, because some part of me needed to be touched, to be reminded that for the time being, I was still alive.

  I turned toward him, our faces a breath apart, and in his eyes I saw Dakota and the future we should have had. A puff of wind blew his scent, a mix of sunshine, fresh air, pine needles and hint of sweat my way, and all I could think was how cruel fate was, that the man I loved was marked to end my life.

  "I'll bury you," he said, so softly that I almost believed he didn't want me to die. "And I'll mark your grave with wildflowers and honeysuckle, because I know those are your favorites."

  I gasped, and my breath caught. I pressed my lips together, and yanked my hand away. I swallowed a few times, desperately trying to get a hold of myself, but it was no use, I wasn't a robot. I couldn't hear the tenderness in his voice, and have him describe my grave, and let it wash over me like it didn't matter, because it did.

  In that moment, I wanted to somehow get away from the cage that held me, because it wasn't right, and I would be damned if I was going to go down without a fight. I leapt up and sprinted away, my offending tears streaming down my face, as I ran into the copse of trees. Emerald leaves slapped at my body, but it didn't matter, because I had to somehow get away. I wanted to sleep, not see death coming for me, or feel my life drain away. I had felt what it was like to have my energy tapped once, and I didn't want to again.

  My heart hammered hard against my ribs, and my breath came in short puffs, and for a fraction of a second, I felt like I was going to make it, that by some miracle the spell that held me was gone, and I could make it to a house and help, and I would be...

  But when I broke through into the clearing I saw the house, a place that had once made me feel completely protected, where nothing bad could happen to me, but was now my prison. Something inside me shattered, and I collapsed on the thick crabgrass, and buried my face in my hands.

  I didn't know when he had come, only that he lifted me into his arms, and I was too broken to struggle. Instead of taking me back to the house, he carried me to a field where yellow and scarlet tipped Indian paintbrush, mauve monkey-flowers, lavender penstemon, and tiny white balls of pearly everlasting, the last blooms of summer, rippled in the wind. For a moment I forgot everything but the beauty of the place, because I knew what Atticus was showing me. And though I hated him for his part in all of it, I was somehow soothed, to see the place he would bury me.

  25. ATTICUS

  Atticus stared through the window. It was just before midnight and the blood moon had already risen. Though he had seen the phenomenon, a combination of atmospheric dust, smoke, and a lunar eclipse, before, he still marveled at the sight of it. Already, he felt the intoxicating power of latent energy flowing through him, because when the blood moon rose, the veil that separated the physical and spiritual realms, thinned so drastically, that it felt like he was plugged directly into the Cauldron of Magick.

  Showered and wearing his ritual gown, a one-piece basic black garment, with just a hole to slip over his head, and two slits for his hands, Atticus was ready to begin. The only thing left to complete his ensemble, was to don his druid master deer skull headdress, that sat atop the shabby oak armoire in Elise's old room. With only minutes before the ceremony, he vaguely remembered how he hadn't bothered to dress for the part the last time he had attempted the ritual, but with all eyes on him now, he needed to be picture perfect, because redemption was close at hand.

  He glanced at the bed, and imagined Elise as she had been the day before, ready and willing to give herself to him, and he felt an unexpected pang of frustration, at not being able to take her up on the offer. In fact after tonight, the possibility of ever making love to Elise would cease to exist. Though he would never admit it to anyone, he had fantasized more times than he could count, about having sex with her.

  The Aswang had taken Elise away a few hours before, to prepare her. She had been given herbal preparations, that were supposed to open her chakras, and then, as the ceremony demanded, she had been bathed in a sea salt bath and dressed in a filmy white gown. Elise's preparation was just one more detail that Atticus had ignored the last time he had tried to perform the ritual.

  With Elise temporarily out of the picture, Atticus actually had a clear mind. Every time he was around her, the Dakota part of him seemed to come alive, and exhibit strength that was unpredictable. Just remembering the volatility of the other part of his soul, and what he had done to Mira, made Atticus pray that everything would go off without a glitch.

  Since the morning, Mira had made herself scarce, and Atticus hoped that didn't mean trouble for him, but with only a few minutes left before the ceremony started, he was certain that even if she did confess the truth to the Aswang, the time to get a substitute for his part had already passed.

  He snatched his headdress off the armoire, positioned it on his head, and stalked down the long corridor, the coarse fabric of his gown brushing deliciously against his naked body. The gown and headdress were the only pieces he needed to wear, and even those two items wouldn't stay on for very long.

  Since everybody, including Elise, was already at the abandoned house, the place was quiet. He pushed out the front door, and made his way to the dirt road toward the house. Even before he reached it, he spotted lights burning within, and knew that hundreds of tapered candles in black and crimson were the cause.

  Knowing that everyone inside was waiting for him was exciting, and he felt aroused by his own importance, not to mention that after tonight he would no longer have anything to fear, because he would hold all the power, and could usher in a new era. The steps groaned as his boots connected with them, and his heart sped in anticipation. The aroma of smoldering herbs, teased his senses, and he drew in a long breath, savoring the scent of his victory. With one glorious sweep of his hand, he threw the door wide, and extended his arms up into the air.

  "Let the ceremony begin," he shouted, stepping into the room just beyond the foyer.

  The living room of the house, that had just hours before been a dusty rats nest, had transformed into a spectacle. Brilliance from the hundreds of candles that filled every possible space, cast flickering shadows on the walls, and illuminated the expectant faces that stared at him in reverence. He didn't see Elise or Mira yet, but knew that they were somewhere behind the line that greeted him.

  The three Aswang were in the center of the group. Dressed in black gowns, with matching raven hair, their fangs were extended, and their talons dripped with fresh blood, and Atticus stayed the shudder that threatened to ruin his grand entrance. Florence, also dressed in a black gown, was positioned next to Tyanak, and seemed to be the only one not awed by his appearance. Her expression of disdain was a bit of a killjoy, but nothing he couldn't ignore.

  The others, men and women of varying ages, from early thirties to ageless, were representatives of the highest-ranking Magickan
s around the world. There was a short and squat Wiccan witch, a Voodoo priestess as thin as a stick, who seemed even older than Florence if that was even possible. Nearby, a grey-haired, bearded Shaman, and an ebony haired Strega witch, who was nothing short of stunning, were having an animated conversation. A Voodun Priest who was the color of rich coffee, with a cap of pure white hair, and his unlikely consort, a lanky Feri witch, with honey colored shoulder length hair, and crystal blue eyes, who must have stood close to seven feet tall, held hands.

  Once again Atticus was reminded of how the last time he had tried to perform the ceremony, he had used common witches, and seeing the power that had come at the Aswang's bidding, he realized with absolute lucidity how reckless he had been before.

  He took a few steps forward, and the crowd parted, allowing him to see Elise. She was positioned on the floor, atop a black pentagram, her wrists and ankles bound by cloth ropes that were secured to the walls. Her hair had been washed and styled, and soft curls framed her face. Her skin was polished white and flawless, and her brilliantly blue eyes glittered in the guttering candlelight. She wore a pure white gown that draped over her body, accentuating her womanly curves, and Atticus felt himself grow hard seeing her, and he almost swore his annoyance at his spontaneous reaction.

  But with Mira balanced naked, but for her wrapped broken wrist, at Elise's side, he expected that his reaction could be blamed on the carrier, not the donor. He shot a perfunctory glance at Mira, but soon found his gaze drifting back to Elise. Realizing that people would notice if his stare lingered too long, he glanced up at the gapping hole the Aswang had ripped through the ceiling and roof. The blood moon, in all its splendor, filtered through the opening.

  "Let us begin the ceremony," Tyanak said, in a voice that sounded more animal than human, and Atticus responded with a nod.

  Kikik stepped forward, with a ruby encrusted silver athame in her clawed grasp, she handed it to Atticus. He took it, bowed his head and thanked her. Ignoring the others in the room, he moved toward Elise. He knew by her glazed expression, that she had been drugged or was under a powerful spell. He guessed that she had put up quite a fight for them to render her to this state.