“All the answers are there—I know it now,” she whispered to herself, and she gathered a coat, hat and boots from the hall closet; and clutching Tyler’s journal, she made her way into the storm.
Icy wind assaulted Diana as she carefully walked down the front stairs, and then into the yard. She slid a bit as she maneuvered her way to the vehicle. Smoke billowed from the car’s tailpipe, and wipers cut through flakes falling on the windshield. She moved to the passenger’s door, threw it open, and then gasped.
22.
The young driver must have screamed as he died, but the storm’s fury had muffled those cries. Something had slashed his neck so badly that his head had been nearly severed. There were angry bite marks on his face, and something had gnawed off his fingers.
The radio hummed softy, with Tyler’s voice singing, “Honor the Gods of forever, and find yourself in their eternity, walk through the turbulent storm…”
“No, no, no…”
With shaky legs, Diana backed away from the car, and she screamed, loud and shrill, as tree branches broke from towering oaks, and then fell onto white power. Yellow eyes peered at her from spindly boughs; furious growls blended with howling and the sound of the Atlantic beating its fury on the beach.
The wailing intensified, and skeletal twigs parted, revealing a vile creature crouched on a limb. The being had no flesh, and pieces of fur had been stitched haphazardly over its body. Blood dripped from exposed muscles and tendons. Its eyes held no emotion, just darkness. It snarled, and then jumped from the tree.
It cried again, loud and maniacal, and a loud hammering erupted within the tempest. Suddenly there were hundreds of beasts moving through white-iced banks. They swayed like dead marionettes; some with strings of beads dangling from their necks, other held crystals in deformed paws.
“What are you?” Diana screamed; and they bayed in unison, gazes upturned to the hotel on the hill.
Then Diana ran, and one of the misshapen fiends broke from the group, springing toward her—others moved gingerly behind it. Drool dripped from the leader’s maw, its hot breath on her neck.
Ice and wind stung her flesh, her leg muscles ached and her eyes throbbed. The being was stronger than her, faster, but it did not reach out for her. When she approached a tall oak, her body halted in place from exhaustion, fear and an overwhelming feeling of defeat; and she merely pressed one hand against frozen bark, holding the journal in the other; her breath ragged and her heart pounding. The monster merely stood there—waving slightly as though it signaled its followers to stand down. And they watched her, malformed heads tilted to one side and dark eyes taking her in, then they yelped when a single blackbird swooped downward, inches from her.
Its feathers shined with silvery specks, and its eyes were rimmed with red. It let out an angry cry, then pecked at Diana’s cheek, drawing blood, then it flapped its wings, disappearing into the blizzard—and she shuddered when more thunderous footfalls pounded on the earth—when monsters circled her—when she saw death in their wicked eyes.
23.
The world spun, blurring gigantic trees and the gray sky; and a sharp ache tore through Diana’s head as the beings drew closer. She fell to her knees, feeling winter’s chill overtake her as icy powder covered her. And she asked herself, “Will they tear me apart, too?”
She closed her eyes, giving in to the storm and the pain, lying on the icy earth, and she heard Tyler’s voice, singing sweetly, and softly.
“People drove up the hill in a caravan, in old-style vans and beat up Ford wagons, and they came from the beach, wrapped in black wool coats, shivering when snow began to fall, and they were singing praises to an olden God, one with a name I couldn’t understand…and we all knelt, because when she appeared at the top of the LaNeau…she took our breath away…”
Hands reached beneath her, lifted her, someone laid the journal on her chest, and someone else spoke to her, voice dulled by cat cries, nature’s chaos, and the sea. But she felt comfort within those hands. So she settled into strong arms, becoming still, moving beneath trees and on to the beach—the LaNeau in the distance.
She ran a finger over Tyler’s snow-soaked tome—enduring fragments of lost love. And her rescuer moved toward the craggy woods, over frosty paths and up the hill.
And Tyler sang to her again…from a faraway netherworld…
“You’ll know me better when you’ve read my book of blood…”
24.
Dawn approached, but the sky remained dark as the storm raged on.
Diana dreamed of a child, wrapped in a soft blanket, skin marked with leopard spots, eyes slanted like a kitten, tufts of red hair soaked with blood.
She awakened as gray morning light strained through a window. The dream images continued to dance in her head. She rubbed her eye, and noticed Tyler’s journal by her side. She reached for it, gasping when she realized that blood smeared her fingertips.
Tyler stood before her, shadows swirling around him, one hand in his pocket, the other holding an old book, cover stained, binding cracked, and he read to her, his head bowed and his slender fingers slowly turning pages.
A long ago December…
“Now it’s time to remember, time to move inside the conundrum we’ve all made together. You went to the past, my past, and seduced me, with your body, with things your father taught you.
"It snowed that night, and the snow got worse when Nicky and I went to gardens beyond the hotel. We walked through overgrown bushes, under limp trees and by stone statues. I’d never seen them before, but they were buried under years of neglect. They’re stranger and more fantastic than the relics near the LaNeau. Half human, and half cat, Gods and Goddesses evolved from the sea.
“Nicky led me to a tiny chapel, crumbling and forgotten. He said years ago, when the LaNeau thrived, guests came to the sanctuary to light candles, and say prayers.
"And he told me, 'There’s always a price to pay for our decadence.’
"The church was silent when we entered, and the love of my life waited.
"Nicky nodded at her, when we moved close to the altar. A young girl lay there. She screamed when your father removed a knife from his jacket.
"I’m sick about what went down. The girl—she wasn’t like the rest. Nicky seemed to have no feelings—fucking sociopath. He’s proud of what he’s done. He slit the girl’s wrists, and he cut her throat, too.
"My lover watched with fascination. We’d seen it before, but only derelicts and whores from the ghetto had been sacrificed.
"The devil woman—extended one hand from darkness, and she dangled it over the arm of her wheelchair. She held a small wooden box. I saw the dead girl’s ghost spiral from her ruined chest and pour into the box. The bitch slammed the lid shut, and then she disappeared when blood dripped onto the filthy wooden floor.
"My God, what am I involved with? I've seen the girl's photo in the newspaper. Cops are looking for her. I'm afraid they'll find her body, or evidence, that'll eventually lead them to us. But Nicky tells me he's taken care of everything. He always takes care of everything.”
Diana shivered, pressing a palm to her face, wiping away moisture, then she lowered her hand, gazing at her flesh. “It’s just sweat—not blood,” she whispered. Then she shifted her gaze back to shadow, asking. “Tyler, did you come to save me?”
But Tyler and his cryptic book dissipated as the sky lightened more, and streams of light streaked through the window. Tyler's voice also faded with birds chirping, with the roar of a car engine outside.
And she felt as though time unraveled, flowing like a dark love song, showing her pieces of what was—of what would be.
She blinked away disturbing nightmare images, eyes shifting to the open window, and felt comforted that dim light spilled into her room, illuminating dark corners, washing away agony. And the snow was lovely, deeper than she had seen in years, and people kneeled in it, with bowed heads and hands raised to the blue-black sky—at the LaNeau.
Had she been there all night--all day? Was she dreaming now?
Something stirred in the hall where it was pitch black, where the light had no power. A twisted shape teetered on the threshold, grappling for balance and finding none, then moved back into the darkness.
Something she'd heard a long time ago played out in her head. “A deal with a dark deity is hopeless. There’s always a twist—a trick, and time has a way of retracting its best offers.”
That voice, she knew it, knew its evil, but memory escaped her.
The dark image swayed, seemed to melt with shadow.
Diana waved it away. “Too many late night horror flicks—that’s got to be it.”
“I miss you baby,” she whispered, drifting back to sleep, to a place where she collided with the thing that teetered on the threshold of her sanity, and arms that had sheltered her now released her, laying her gently down in the snow.
The wanderers gathered around her, waving bony fingers and their heads rose to the wintertime moon.
A wheelchair burst through falling sleet and sheets of silver. Its occupant let out a shrill cry, wheeled around Diana three times, and then stopped inches from her. She threw off her blanket and shawl, and tentacles spiraled from where her legs should have been, and they curled and rippled as the night wind flurried winter flakes. She bent, placed a small hand-painted box on Diana’s chest, then lifted an ornate dagger from her lap. “The box—your husband made it for me. He was obsessed, you know. Such a brilliant angel, but sentenced to an abyss of lies. He can be saved…we made the deal.”
The woman ran her fingers over her knife hilt. She touched Diana’s eyelid. She spoke softly. “Your eye for Tyler. Fair trade, don’t you think?”
“He’s worth more than me—more than any part of me.” Diana's voice was weak, but she was beyond fear now, and she’d welcome death rather than life without Tyler.
“It doesn’t have to end with your death. You’ve known that all along.” The woman smiled, revealing pointed teeth.
“Take my fucking eye.” Diana begged, forsaking the thought of suffering and pain.
And the nomads circled round and round, their chants quickening, as their voices became screeches and chaotic howls. Smoke thickened from an angry fire they'd lit, swirling around them, altering their appearances. And they were humped over, beastly, with four legs. They leaped into trees, and onto the hotel's rooftop; crouching on hideous gargoyles, preening on crumbling stone angels, growling within the stygian winter landscape.
Tyler’s voice sounded in her head. "You’ve got what she wants, my love. You see the past and the future—just like Felicia, but you’ve denied it all your life…just a single eye…that’s all they ask. You've got to try to change it—please do it one more time."
The woman cocked her head to the side. “The bay is full of strange presences, but they won’t hurt you. It’s the things that creep in from the edge of earth that might...it’s the wrath of time…and you’re its queen.” Then she pointed to the book Diana gripped.
Diana loosened her hold, allowing the journal to tumble onto snow, and it fell face up, and emblazoned on its cover was a single word…
GRIMOIRE
Now Tyler knelt beside her, speaking tenderly. "The sacrifices go on and on—and Nicky cuts into flesh—kills without remorse. Our treks through time go on, too. It’s wonderful and maddening—and the murderous beasts greet us every time, showing us the bones, flesh and blood we’ll take through the years. And every spirit we trap inside the wooden boxes makes us stronger, and we are able to do anything we want.
"Time is an amazing thing. It winds and rewinds, it folds and bends, bringing us back in an instant, and then taking us forward again…and it always has a price so that we can live again…and be what we were meant to be.
“And if you really want me back, my love, then you know what the price is…and you know what you really are...and remember that I paid my price, because an obsessed fan shot me outside our home…because a voice inside his head told him to do it…the voice of the devil himself.”
Diana cried out, “Please end it now.”
“It’s the beginning.” The woman smiled slowly now, quickly raising the knife, and then pressing it to Diana's flesh. She carved like a surgeon, expertly, almost lovingly. Pain exploded. The threads of time unknotted, fell apart and came together in an explosion of blood and agony, nightmares and memories, darkness and blinding light.
And then time began—ended—fell apart and came together once more.
****
The room is dark and pinpricks of moonlight slice through slightly parted curtains. Tyler is singing, but the lyrics are distant—undecipherable—tears spatter onto Diana’s open palm, but she’s not sure if those droplets of pain belong to her or Tyler.
She feels his breath on her cheek, and he whispers, “You’re such a brave girl, my sweet.”
Now all traces of light have vanished, and pain rips through her head…and she knows the truth.
25.
When time shifted…
Diana awoke at dawn, after a disturbing dream. Hurt wracked through her head and the right side of her face, and restlessness took hold of her, so she grabbed her coat and ventured into the hotel yard.
Snow fell steadily, light flakes melted quickly when they touched the ground. The horizon began to turn from inky black to dark purple, and then to cobalt blue; and the ocean below was calm, its waves moving gently back and forth on the beach.
She moved toward the back of the LaNeau, past ancient stone effigies, and through a patch of overgrown brush and bare-branched trees. A crumbling chapel stood under a row of towering pines, and she fell to her knees when eerie laughter erupted from behind its crumbling door.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and then someone clutched her shoulder.
“Diana, what are you doing out here?” Tyler bent, helped her up. His face was sad, his eyes teary. “Come on back inside the hotel.”
Diana felt weak, hardly able to talk. “What’s going on? Where’s Nicky? I’ve been dreaming.”
Diana touched her face. She brushed her fingers against a patch of gauze. “My eye.”
“It’s ok. You're bleeding. We'll take care of you.” Tyler hugged her.
“I think I’m going to die,” she told him.
“It’ll be okay, honey. I promise. Doctors removed the tumor, but you know they couldn’t save your eye”
“I’m not beautiful anymore,” she sobbed.
“You are that and much more, my sweet. Pretty soon you’ll be back to your old self, tougher than nails and the strongest chick I know…my queen. Now come on inside.”
“You’re alive…”
He chuckled softly. “I certainly hope so.”
“Fair trade, don’t you think?” The voice sounded in Diana's head…as if riding on storm winds.
"You’re part of it, aren't you? We’re all trapped in this thing, aren’t we?" Diana asked, allowing Tyler to guide her back to the LaNeau.
“We’re all here to help you to get better, love.” Tyler kissed her on the cheek, and then smiled slowly, his eyes glowed red, and his hands were stained with blood. "Because we're all part of it."
****
Tyler holds Diana’s hand, and his eyes are far away as he tells her, “Time is fascinating. The choices that we make determine our future. A broken promise—an act of love—or hate—so powerful—”
She pulls her hand away from him, and cries out, “Stop the riddles. What have they done to me?”
He smiles mournfully, and says, “They’ve done what they’ve always done before. No matter what path I’ve chosen, time brings me back to this place—to this beginning—and to this end…”
And then she cries out, remembering what they’d done—sacrifices performed for fame—bending time—taking lives. She remembers haughty Gods and Goddesses—deals made with blood—the end and all the beginnings.
26.
Winter Solstice…
T
he mirror didn’t lie. It didn’t sugarcoat the carnage or how the women would be murdered. There’d be more before winter ended. Diana saw them begging for their lives. She heard the screams. It always happened when the wanderers come back.
She wished fate hadn’t brought her to the LaNeau. She’d envisioned her life unfolding differently, living in New York with Tyler, but now she’d accepted her destiny.
She walked slowly across her room, looked out her window, seeing the familiar caravan of ragtag people. The lead van parked closest to the door. Its driver clutched the steering wheel, eyes fastened on the LaNeau. She wondered if he whispered incantations as he waited and watched.
Diana moved from the window and back to the large oval mirror across from her bed.
She touched her hair, adorned with seashell combs; ran a hand over the black lace dress, trimmed with pearl buttons. It fit her well, hugging her slender body, its hem touching her ankles. Then sadness assaulted her, and tears fell freely down her cheek, splattering onto wooden floorboards.
“It’s what we do,” she said softly, and then she stepped away from the looking glass.
She didn’t know true darkness until she aligned with Nicky, and the hotel overlooking Talbot’s Bay. She didn’t crave blood until he showed her what it could do—what she could do. She hated it, but it was necessary. It’s what would keep Tyler close to her—and then tear him away in a never-ending cycle.
She’d followed her father’s instructions carefully, hanging the bodies in the hotel’s basement, stripping skin and removing fluids. Earlier she’d leaned back against the cold stone wall, gazing at women she’d lured to the LaNeau. They dangled on hooks—like bloody marionettes.
City at the Edge of the Earth Page 11
