"I know it’s a bit sooner than we planned but she was accosted by one of them, did you know?” Mona mumbled something then and Michael responded, “If you’re sure, that’s fine. I’m happy to just go home myself. If you need me you know how to reach me?"
"Yeah, do that,” Mona’s voice was fading away, and Sophie lost herself in the darkness, “I can take care of this on my own."
Chapter 5
Sophie woke in a panic. She had to get away from him, run, go. She made a swift movement, but was immediately stopped by pain searing across her back. The sensation shot through her shoulder blades to her chest, forcing her back down onto the bed. The moment her body touched the sheets she screamed and rolled onto her side. It were as if thousands of needles were stabbing at her flesh from the inside and even the slightest bit of pressure increased the pain tenfold. There had to be something there, something that had been plunged into her, and she reached back in spite of the pain to feel, but she found only the material of her shirt, drenched with sweat. Then Sophie brought her hand back to her face, soaked, and could see, even in the dark, that it was covered in blood.
Her bedroom door swung open then and Mona entered from the shadowed hallway. She rushed to the bedside, grabbing Sophie’s bloodied hand and looking her over with knitted brow. She didn’t seem alarmed, but was clearly on edge. Sophie felt her place a finger near her spine and could not stifle the shriek that escaped her lips.
"Sorry," Mona pulled her hand back and stepped away from the bed. She began to pace and ran her clean hand through her hair.
"What’s going on?" Sophie choked out between heavy breaths, "What’s happening to me?"
"Shh," her cousin chastised gently, "Just let me think."
The answer wasn’t good enough, and Sophie decided if she wasn’t going to get any help from her, she’d have to help herself. She nudged a leg to the edge of the bed and tried to follow with the second one, but Mona saw and dropped down onto her knees at the bedside, “Please, be still.”
Sophie looked at her, "It really hurts."
"I know, it’s just—" Mona stopped as a buzzing sounded. She fished her phone from her pocket and, noting the caller, sighed and looked back to Sophie, clearly pained, "I’m sorry in advance for this."
Mona slapped her hand over Sophie’s mouth. The force with which she held her down was far beyond that of a petite, fifteen year old girl, and despite struggling, Sophie could not get away.
Mona, meanwhile, absently turned away from Sophie, leaving her hand against her mouth, and spoke into the phone, "No...no, nothing yet...yes, I’m aware, but it doesn’t look like it’s taking...of course I’ll keep checking...no, he left...I don’t know, impulse maybe...I just don’t think...fine." She released Sophie as she hung up.
"Was that Naomi?" Sophie shouted, taking a full breath, "Why didn’t you tell her?" She could feel tears brimming over and sliding down the side of her face.
Mona stared down at her phone, then moved to put it in her pocket, but stopped. She gripped it tightly then tossed it onto the nightstand, turning her attention to Sophie completely, "Can you get up?"
Sophie stared up at her, the girl’s dark eyes determined, yet soft. The anger that had been brewing in her dissipated, "I...I’m not sure." She pulled her other leg over the edge and braced an arm against the bed. The needles stabbed at her furiously, and Mona quickly moved in and helped her to sit up. When she glanced back at the bed she could see the sheets, previously white, were stained red in the outline of her body and had begun to spread to the edges. She felt her stomach churn and panic again took her.
"No," Mona put her hands against either side of Sophie’s face and turned her away, "Don’t think about it. Here," she reached around Sophie and pulled her shirt off of her then threw it, heavy with blood, onto the bed. It landed with an awful, wet sound. Quickly, Mona retrieved a different shirt and dressed her.
Sophie felt much like a doll, limp and unresponsive, and found she couldn’t object, even if she had wanted. She attempted to help Mona by lifting her legs, but in hushed, calm tones Mona only told her to relax. Sophie muffled her anguished cries and found that after a moment she could stand on her own.
"Come on," Mona slipped herself under Sophie’s arm and began to lead her to the hall.
"Where are we going?" she shuffled along beside her cousin, each step driving pain up through her back.
"No time to explain now," Mona guided her down the hall a little quicker than Sophie’s legs could manage, "We just need to go.”
Sophie tripped, but before she could fall, Mona caught her with little effort. She decided to focus on making it safely out the door, but when they got to the lobby, she stopped. "Mona, what is all this? Don’t you think we should go to the hospital?"
Her cousin shook her head, "Listen, we don’t have much time. You’re just going to have to trust me, okay?"
She stared back at her, the young girl looking desperate and anxious, and simply nodded. There was little she could do on her own, and at least Mona was doing something, whatever that was.
They continued out onto the street and rushed to a bus stop where passengers were already disembarking. Mona helped push her up the stairs and they stood pressed in amongst the others as the vehicle made its crawl across the city. Sophie held onto the rail with a tight fist, squeezing her eyes shut. The pain was lessening, but still there.
When they disembarked, they were in an area Sophie did not recognize. It was dingier than the streets around the apartment and Lamia, but what was more distressing was the lack of people; it seemed to be completely vacant. But as Mona led Sophie across the street from where the bus had dropped them, and only them, off, she seemed unaffected. They came up to a small, darkened shop between two much taller, and even darker, buildings.
Mona hesitated at the door then pushed at it. When it swung open, she looked a bit alarmed, but quickly regained herself. Inside, the tiny space was crowded with tables and shelves, each filled with layers of mismatched items. "Sybil?" she called out, but no answer came. There was little room to maneuver between the array of ill-assorted surfaces, and Mona guided Sophie to a chair and sat her down.
"What is this place?" Sophie couldn’t focus on one single thing as she looked about, but there seemed to be no real congruence between its content. Only the dim street lights helped to illuminate the place, but Sophie could see bundles of dried flowers hanging from the ceiling, jars, many too filmy to see what was contained, lining each shelf with scribbled pictures and symbols for labels, and containers of all sizes, tied with colored twine, in a range of little piles all over, looking as if they’d topple with the slightest touch.
Mona carefully made her way across the room, examining the tables closely, searching for something, "It’s a...a shop."
"I can see that," Sophie was intrigued particularly by one large jar on the table opposite her. Within, there seemed to be some sort of organic matter suspended in a yellowed liquid. Beside it, a large, half melted candle and convenient box of matches sat. The pain in her back had become more of a constant ache, still severe, but manageable, and she was able to reach out and light the candle.
Unfortunately, she did not hear when Mona turned at the sound of her striking the match and yelled for her to stop. She threw herself backward as the smoke from the candle suddenly welled up and loomed above her. The gray wisps slithered around one another, growing up to the ceiling, until they formed an angry, monstrous, fanged face. The apparition flew at Sophie, enveloping her in a hazy cloud and she cried out, but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.
Mona stood in front of her, holding the candle, having just snuffed it out, "It’s a very special shop."
Sophie flinched as she lifted herself off the back of the chair, "What in the world was that?
"Flame of fears," Mona said simply, setting the object in question in its original spot, "You light it, it shows you something frightening."
"That was like," Sophie searched for th
e word, "Like magic."
Mona stared her down for a long moment, then turned, "Don’t touch anything else."
She watched her cousin root through the piles again and silently deliberated what she had said, or rather not said. There was something strange about this place, even otherworldly, and Mona knew more than she seemed.
"Aha!" Mona lifted a box from the ground and unlatched it. When she saw its contents, however, her face fell. Shrugging, she removed a small vial from inside and threw the empty box back onto the ground. "Just one more thing."
She took a deep breath and ventured deeper into the shop to the counter then through a door behind it. "No!" Mona's shriek bellowed through the small shop.
Sophie jumped up, and, against the pain searing through her, hobbled to the back. Sprawled on the floor, a woman's body lay in a pool of her own blood. Her face was contorted with pain and a faint stench hung in the air amidst the smell of spices and dried flowers. Mona was at her side, inspecting the long gash running down the woman’s neck, "They've been here."
"Who?" Sophie gripped the door frame for balance, going weak from the effort as well as the sight.
"But they must not have seen," Mona ignored her question as she picked up a small knife lying near the woman’s hand. She surveyed its elaborate handle and touched her fingertip to its point then looked up to Sophie, "We have less time than I thought. I hate to do this to you, but we have to leave now."
Sophie nodded vigorously, the corpse urging her more than Mona ever could, but when her cousin stood she did not go for the door. Instead, she grabbed a pen and scrap of paper from the back room’s desk and began to draw. She pressed the pen to the paper and paused, shutting her eyes and screwing up her face. She made a circle and then a smaller one inside it as well as a few crisscrossing lines. Below that she created another circle in which she placed a few dots but with much difficulty. She grunted loudly then scratched out the whole thing, flipping the paper over and starting again.
The symbols looked vaguely familiar, and then Sophie remembered. She dug into her pocket and pulled out the scrap she had found inside the book at the library and thoughtlessly squirreled away. "Is this what you’re trying to do?"
Mona took the paper from her and her jaw dropped, "Where did you get this?"
"Found it at the library," she blurted out.
Mona looked from it to her and then back, "It’s not what I’m going for, but it could work. I’ve never heard of this place, but we can’t really afford to wait." She groaned a little in the back of her throat, "We can figure it out when we get there, I guess." Mona stepped around the woman on the floor and came up to Sophie, "This is going to be strange, okay?"
“You mean it gets stranger?”
Mona shrugged and, instead of leading her out of the shop, Mona stood beside Sophie and planted her feet. She held the strip of paper at arm’s length in front of them with her left hand, and in the other she held the knife. With great concentration, she brought the knife up level with the paper and, in a quick motion, stabbed at the center of the symbols, releasing the paper and using both hands to control the dagger. Light burst forth from the tear she had created and she struggled holding onto the blade as she cut into the suspended scrap, tearing through it entirely and continuing on into the air itself.
The gash lengthened, spilling forth more light from which Sophie had to shield her eyes. It filled up the darkened little room they stood in, its source an impossible crack in space. Mona pulled on the dagger until she had almost reached the ground, then jerked it back and tucked it into her belt. She heaved a sigh and glanced at Sophie who was wide-eyed and speechless. "That’s about what I expected."
Sophie forgot about the pain pulsing through her body in that moment and reached for the break. Her fingers slipped into the path of the light, scattering it, and she quickly pulled her hand back, though she felt nothing, "What in the world?"
"Funny you should say," Mona then reached into the crack and grasped its side, pulling away at it and revealing only brighter illumination, "since it’s not." She ducked down and stuck her leg through the hole she had made. It was swallowed up in the light.
Sophie hurried around to the back of where the tear had been made, but found nothing there, Mona’s form completely hidden. The light was even gone. "What the hell?"
"Not exactly," Mona snorted then gestured to her, "Come on, it will only be open a few minutes, tops.” When Sophie didn’t move, Mona grabbed her wrist and pulled her with the same abnormal strength she’d shown before, and Sophie found herself falling headlong into the light.
For a moment, she was blind, stumbling indiscriminately forward with only Mona’s firm grip around her wrist. She blinked and rubbed at her eyes as they adjusted, but could not understand why they would not focus. The light about her slowly dimmed from its brilliant white and settled into a sort of dull gray, like that of unpolished silver or an old stone, and her vision clouded, making the sky and ground indistinguishable.
Mona popped up before her then, her face a sharp contrast against the mottled color of the world around them. "So, where have you brought us?"
"Me?" Sophie focused on the girl and realized her sight was not to blame, but it indeed was this place they’d entered that seemed to made entirely of mist.
Mona pointed off to their right and Sophie followed her finger to see a building in the distance. It looked to be hovering there in the wispiness, its brick facade bold and bright against the muted grays of this world. The little place was perfectly symmetrical with two windows on either side, flanked themselves with wooden shutters and matching flower boxes with tiny pink blooms, though there was no sign of flora elsewhere. It had a high-peaked roof with dark shingles and she knew, somehow, it would have a chimney poking out from its very center. It was so familiar but so ill-placed. "Where is the mailbox?" she asked herself quietly, "And the big tree and tire swing?"
As she stepped toward it, the door, an inviting forest green, swung open and she stopped, Mona at her heel.
"Someone’s here?" Trepidation rose in Mona’s voice, though she tried to suppress it, and she placed a protective hand on Sophie’s shoulder.
He stood in the doorway, gripping the knob so tightly Sophie could see the veins protruding from his arm even at this distance. He stood rigidly, as if on edge, but below his ruddy hair his face was the same, soft, comforting, with knitted brow and crooked nose. Sophie could feel a lump form in her throat.
"Careful," Mona cautioned as Sophie started forward.
"No," Sophie shook her head, "It’s okay."
"You know him?" her cousin was confused, walking briskly at her side.
The man was smiling at her, an anxious sort of grin. Sophie smiled back, "I’m not sure."
Chapter 6
"We've searched everywhere, sir, she just hasn't shown—"
"That's not good enough!" The vacant hall quaked with his voice as he slammed a fist down onto the arm of the stone throne. Torch lights reflected in his eyes, red and angry, and he trembled with his own rage, but he reigned in his voice, dropping it into a solemn whisper, "That's just not good enough."
A small but rotund creature with leathery black skin and a long, serpentine tail stood at the foot of the stairs leading to the throne, staring up at the royal with bulbous, watery eyes. "If I may suggest, we could possibly name a new handmaiden, or, perhaps, we may leave that position vacant seeing as your sister—"
"Go." Troian stood, fists balled at his sides. He could feel the fury pulsating within him, darkness swelling around him, pushing against his every fiber. The creature hesitated a moment, but, with a glimpse of Trojan’s fiery eyes, bolted from the hall.
Troian swung around and released his rage, igniting the banners that hung behind the throne. Flames climbed up the material ravenously and licked at the ceiling, illuminating the room. When the report came in that Verrine had gone missing, he was sure she would return within a day: it was too foolish for her to go alone, and she woul
d surely turn back before she reached the second realm. As time passed, however, his assurance turned to worry, from worry to fear, and fear to anger. Losing his sister to that place was bad enough, and his parents descending deeper into the realms left him feeling trapped and useless, but now with Verrine gone, he faced being truly alone.
As the heat in the chamber grew, sweat beaded at his forehead, and he strode down the few steps to a raised basin of water. He doused his face then gripped the sides of the bowl. His life had never taken him beyond the walls of the castle, his parents saw to that for both him and his twin sister, and he, at least, had obeyed. Was it finally time for him to venture into the unknown? At a loss for what to do, he stared into the basin for an answer, but was shocked to see it was not his own face that stared back.
"Oh, Troian, how has it come to this?"
He glanced behind himself as well as above but found no other body within the chamber. Reflected in the basin in place of his own visage was that of someone markedly older with a short beard and cropped hair. He was not of this realm, of that Troian was sure. "Who are you, old man?"
The face chuckled, creasing about his eyes and mouth, "Why, I am the one who’s been watching over you all these years. And, oh, how you've always made me laugh, Troi."
Troian noted from the reflection’s neckline that he wore white robes and a golden stole. Those were signs that were unmistakable. "You’re an archangel, aren’t you?"
"And what makes you think that?"
"Those clothes," Troian narrowed his eyes, "And who else would be powerful enough to project themselves into the throne room in the third circle?"
"Who else indeed?" the face smiled back, "I did bring out the good robes, I suppose, but I only thought it appropriate visiting a demon royal and an heir to the throne at that. Don’t you agree?"
Though archangels were more powerful than any being truly knew and meddled infrequently in the affairs of Heaven or Hell, Troian still felt uneasy at this man’s knowledge. Few even in his own realm knew of his existence. "I wasn’t aware the choirs had started recognizing us as anything other than vermin, let alone had taken to making social calls. What do you want?"
The Nephilim: Book One Page 6
