The pillar disappeared, taking the cold stench with it. And my fear.
“Now you make them go away,” Lowther said.
The two men were prowling about my room, inspecting every nook and cranny with their flashlight. The manager reached out to open the bathroom door. Seeds were soaking in a cup on the counter. They might ask questions, or even confiscate them. I had an urge to physically throw the men out of my room.
“Stop!” I yelled.
Both men paused in mid-movement. They stared at me. I heard the manger ask the officer to call a doctor. “A nightmare,” I quickly said, apologizing profusely.
The men continued to look me up and down, watching my every move with expectance.
“Only a nightmare?” the officer asked. His face had softened with what I perceived to be worry, and I noted a nametag. Inspector Dusu.
Dusu was wide-shouldered, tall, and had dark-black skin. He was probably in his fifties; I based my guess on the grey hairs at his temple, the lines around his alert, dark eyes. His officer’s suit was pressed and clean, his shoes shined.
The manager, younger and fatter, bald and stupid-faced, kept pulling at his jacket sleeve.
Lowther put a finger to his drooling mouth and shook his head like a little kid warning his buddy-ole-partner not to tattle.
“Only a nightmare,” I said. “I have vivid dreams. No need for a doctor.”
The hotel manager said, “It would be best if we called someone. We have an in-house doctor who could take a quick look. No charge.”
“No,” I replied, raking my fingers through tousled hair. I didn’t need Lowther to tell me the doctor visit would be documented. “I’m fine.”
The manager and officer whispered among themselves, no doubt about me. I wondered if the incident would be filed. Not much I could do about that, but I was damn sure I wasn’t going to give them anything to add. So I smiled and thanked them for their concern.
The manager stormed out. Dusu nodded slightly, his flashlight back in his pocket. He gave my room one last glance before I shut the door on him and locked it.
30
“Know who that was?” Lowther asked.
I regarded Lowther through wide, unblinking eyes. A large dog was in my hotel room, talking. The water! It’s making me hallucinate.
“That was a police officer from the Unit,” Lowther said. “I can tell you’ve heard of the Unit by the look on your face. The Unit is an investigative force that concerns itself with the supernatural. It’s based here, in South Africa.”
“Shit. Yes, I know about the Unit.”
I plopped down into the chair beside the bed, closed my eyes, and smacked my face, shaking my head violently. I rubbed my palms against my legs. Opening my eyes, Lowther would be gone.
“I’m right here,” Lowther said, tapping his clawed foot.
If I were to touch him, feel his fur, then I might be more convinced I wasn’t hallucinating. But I didn’t really want to touch him.
“I’ve been drinking this water,” I started to explain to myself, to him.
“Keep drinking it,” Lowther said. “It’s good for your cough. By the way, McPhee wants you dead, and he will try to kill you, even though Jeffrey has the book.”
“You know McPhee?” I asked. “And Jeffrey?”
“I do.”
“What about Mr. Granger. You know Granger?”
“Mm-Hmm.”
“He’s what, a demon?”
“I am very much like Mr. Granger.”
“Oh.” This is crazy. This is crazy. I am talking to a dog.
“You’re not crazy, Mason.”
I looked up at him. “How do you know?”
“I am very good at discerning what people are thinking. I’ve been around a long time. I can read faces, I hear nuances in voices that suggest one thing when they say another. And I know crazy. You are not crazy. I’m here to help you.”
“That officer. From the Unit? Was he here for me or you?”
“Dusu was pulled from retirement after another seasoned officer died while on the van Hollinsworth case. Dusu was assigned to watch the house you visited,” Lowther explained. “Her house has been under surveillance for a long time by various officers who have not lived long enough to report their findings. Dusu saw you arrive with Jeffrey, and I’ll bet he’s already done a background check on you.”
“I’m not a citizen here,” I said. “I’ve been undercover.”
“You’re a reporter,” Lowther stated firmly. “Those officers are more efficient than any investigator you will ever meet. Their job is to uncover secrets and lies with nothing more to go on than a whisper. When the manager called for police, your name was given as the vulnerable guest. Dusu overheard your name on his radio and responded. Your little visit opened up a can of snakes.”
“I only went to see the house,” I said.
“Oh, not true,” Lowther said, tilting his head.
My eyes darted from the bathroom to the mini fridge to my pants under the window.
“That officer from the Unit isn’t the only one who recognizes your lies,” Lowther said as he paced the corner, a half smile rising up over his cheek. The smile made the spot at the back of my neck go cold. “This predicament is not your fault.”
I blinked. “What predicament?”
“You are the most watched man in the entire world. Watched by the staff at this hotel, who will report to Inspector Dusu. The cartel is on the watch for you. William McPhee. Jeffrey. The girl, the owner of the house whose seeds you stole. And I’m watching you, protecting you.”
“You’re protecting me?” I asked. Conflicting thoughts went through my head, and all at once. What was real, how long did I have to live, who could I trust.
“Yep. I’m your guardian.”
“A demon as a guardian?” I had to give the notion deep thought. In the meantime, I decided I might be better off without Lowther’s so-called protection.
“I don’t want you here,” I said.
Lowther scowled, backed into his dark corner, and disappeared.
“It has come to my attention, Lowther, that man-maggot fears for his future. How did this fear come about? Such thoughts inevitably lead to contemplations about death, then life after death.
“You were to stifle such fears. Is he afraid of death? Then he should see death as sleep, like we have already convinced so many humans.
“In fact, the man-maggot should not be thinking about death at all, rather, he should be thinking about what life has in store for him today. You have been assigned to quash his fears and to keep him focused on the here and now. Do you comprehend?”
“Yes, master. As you demand, master.”
31—Mason, the Reporter
The second day after Lowther’s appearance, it became cold enough in my room to store the dead. The thermostat didn’t even register the temperature. Windows froze shut. I called someone up to check my room. Before the person arrived, I felt the temperature rise. By the time the knock came, I was warm and dropped the comforter off my shoulders. I removed my sweater.
The hotel porter walked around the room, tested the thermostat. “It seems to be working, sir,” the porter said.
Course it does. “Everything is fine before the storm,” I said.
“Excuse me?” the porter asked.
“Never mind,” I said, closing the door.
I didn’t think the porter had enough time to reach the elevator before the temperature plunged. I put the sweater over my head and picked up the comforter. At least I had thought to open the windows before they froze shut.
I sat in front of the TV and drew my legs to my chest. I had no desire to leave the room, no matter how cold, no matter how much my nose ran or how hard I shivered.
I hadn’t been eating or drinking. Sleep came and went, disrupted by hunger pangs and nightmares. Lowther kept appearing in the corner. He’d look me over, and disappear.
My breath hovered over my face, snot iced in my nose
. I winced at the chill diving in my bones like an ice pick. I coughed, and my throat seized up on me.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Lowther said. “Let me help you.”
“Can you make the cold stop?” I asked.
“I’m proud of you for asking me that,” Lowther said. “It shows your concerns have subsided enough for you to expect a valid response from me.”
I heard a crackle in the air, like a snap of electricity, and my breath warmed, my nose ran freely. I dropped my blanket, removed my sweater.
“Better?” Lowther asked.
“Much.”
“And?”
“And?” I asked in reply.
“Are you appreciative of my favor?” he asked.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“You are welcome.” Lowther raised a finger in the air, gesturing like a versed preacher. “This is how we will build trust. Your likes and dislikes will become my likes and dislikes. Your friends and enemies, secrets and hidden desires, will become mine. We’re here to protect you, because without you, we would have to go back.”
“Who is we?”
“There are more of us, but you are afraid of them, so I sent them somewhere else for now.”
“You’re almost as frightening,” I said. “I don’t like knowing you’re here.”
“If I looked more like you, would you have less trepidation?”
Lowther stood. Fur fell off his body as he grew taller, more muscular. He was more human, except for the hole where his mouth had been, as if it had exploded open. A barbed chain circled his bulging arms and the chain dripped blood. He held a spear, its tip also covered in blood with chunks of flesh still impaled on its pole.
“Are you going to stay that way?” I asked.
“Would you like me to? I find this form to be effective when it comes to intimidating enemies.”
“I don’t think so,” I said quietly while turning away from him.
I thought of torture, and it made me wonder about George. The demon in human form had me confused, worried. A long silence passed between us.
“Are you evil?” I asked after a moment of thought.
Lowther clucked in disgust. “What is this word, evil? It’s silly.”
I sensed his contempt.
“Evil has gone to the wayside,” Lowther said. “People have become educated. Vampires have turned into lustful objects of desire. Ghosts are cool. Witches are sexy. Demons are a joke. None of them are evil anymore. The only evil in modern life is the deterioration of the ozone layer. Bullies and the government are today’s monsters.
Demons are a necessary evil, like fire. Fire hurts when you touch it, right? It burns and can destroy when it gets loose. But it keeps you warm. It protects you from the cold and rids the world of decay.”
“I had a phone call from George.”
“We were trying to tell you we were on our way.”
“Okay,” I said, keeping my focus on the floor, the walls, the ceiling, anything except the horrific beast. “I can’t look at you like that.”
“All right. How ’bout this?”
I glanced at Lowther. He had on construction boots. His wore jeans and a tee shirt. With his wavy, blond hair, he looked exactly like my slain photographer and friend, George. And he still had George’s voice.
“Will you please go away?” I asked, not scared, but unnerved.
“Sure,” he said. “When you need me, I’ll be here.”
“Man-maggot is onto you, Lowther?
“That is a setback. Do not worry. Let him see his misgivings about you as nonsense and false, as an idea he has brought about through his own foolish thinking. If you have established his trust as you should have done from the very beginning, then now is the perfect time for reinforcing his trust and solidifying his dependence on you. Heh, heh, heh.”
32—Mason, the Reporter
Lowther was gone. The corner looked empty. Everything seemed normal, except me. The only thing sustaining me was the seed-water. And when my first batch lost its potency, I made another. There were 243 seeds left, counted and spread in a line. Ten seeds per sink-full. Any less didn’t have the effect I needed. Any more would be a waste.
Bored, antsy, I still couldn’t will myself to leave the room. I wanted to write. I had come to South Africa for a story. Pretty sure I had one about a secret garden, magic seeds, a powerful book, and the mysterious author. And demons.
The story swam in my head, but I couldn’t write it. Everything I wrote wound up crumbled and in the trash. I knew I’d eventually have to go back to the house. More seeds. More info. The thought of going back there made my pulse sky rocket, my stomach gurgle. Anxiety got the best of me, and in a fit of angst, I called out to Lowther.
“Lowther. Where are you?”
“Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not here,” answered Lowther in George’s voice.
“Where do you keep going?” I asked.
“I don’t want to go,” Lowther replied as he stepped out of his shadow in the corner. “I want to stay, but you have to want me here. You do want me here, don’t you?”
Did I? Yes or no; I didn’t have an answer. I placed a hand on my noisy stomach. “My stomach hurts,” I said. “It turns whenever I think about you.”
“It’s the water. It’s changing you, making you better. Strong. Like me.” Lowther flexed his muscles in both arms.
“The water? So I’ll feel better soon?”
“You trust me, right? You trusted George, even though he failed you by getting himself caught and murdered. I won’t let you down.”
Lowther wore the same clothes I last saw George wearing before he disappeared. George had brown eyes, but Lowther’s were green. Lowther’s face was somewhat white and bloated. Lowther said that’s because George’s head was thrown in the water after they sawed it off.
I stared into the darkening corner. Lowther’s boot stepped into the light of the room, then retreated. “If no one else can see you,” I asked, “then why do you hide?”
“When I hide, even you begin to question my existence,” Lowther said. “You think you might be crazy, that the cartel has gotten to you after all and driven you into a state of schizoid paranoia.”
“You’re right,” I said, sulking.
“You wish you were crazy,” Lowther said. “But you’re not. You’re afraid of the truth.”
I found Lowther’s comment offensive. I scowled and retorted, “Afraid? Of the truth? I’m a reporter. That’s what I do—I report truths!”
“How so?” Lowther asked.
“I report what I see, what others won’t because of fear or indifference. If you want me to see the truth, then show me. I’ll tell the world. People won’t deny what’s right in front of their faces.”
“Mason, my dear friend. They’ve been in denial since the dawn of man. He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named walked amongst them, and how did that turn out?”
“You mean Jesus?”
A high-pitch scream resonated out of the corner.
“Lowther?” I stood and tiptoed toward the corner, where it wasn’t black and full, like it had been. It was dark, but I could see where the walls met. “Lowther?” I slowly reached into the dark and touched the wall. It didn’t feel unusually cold or hot. Felt like a wall.
“I see what you’re doing,” I said, backing away toward my desk. I nodded as if I had everything figured out, then at once realized I was shaking my head.
“Lowther?”
I wasn’t glad he was gone, even though I thought I should be relieved. I began to wonder what had happened.
I turned to my laptop, the cursor blinking.
“I don’t know what to do,” I said. I turned to the corner of my room. “Please, come back.”
Hours went by and, still, no Lowther.
“Children learn to grow accustomed to disappointment through trial and failure. By the time they are adults, they can depend on it to affect them one way or another. However, our man-mag
got has been hit hard with disappointment and loss. There is a danger in this: it can make him less emotional and harder to tempt.
“Lowther, you have spent his lifetime with him since conception. Since he was unaware of your “kinship” you have gone unnoticed. He has even denied your existence, until now. Your job is to tempt him with what he really wants. Make it accessible and dangle it like a carrot within a centimeter of his nose. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, master. I will do as you command.”
33—Mason, the Reporter
I sat at my desk and opened my laptop. Fuck Lowther. I was not afraid, not of the truth, and not of him.
I came to this country for a reason, to research a story I had discovered about a woman and her magic book. I pushed my laptop aside and wrote some notes.
Facts on the Lamia, according to Jeffrey
One: She reincarnates.
Two: She has an aversion to sunlight.
Three: She lives in eternity.
“What are you doing?” Lowther asked.
“Shit!” I exclaimed, practically falling out of my chair. “Shit. You scared me.”
“Didn’t mean to. You asked me to come back. Here I am. You’re writing. May I see?”
Taking a deep breath to regain composure, I stepped over to the corner and handed Lowther my notes.
“All factual,” he said. “Good.”
“Really?” I asked, taking my paper back. I looked over what I wrote. “How does one live in eternity,” I asked myself, ready to change the wording when Lowther piped up.
“No,” he said. “You have it correct. She lives in eternity.”
“How?” I asked.
“Eternity is a mysterious concept to humans; you will never understand it until you are in it. Think of eternity as a place, like a zone one can come in and out of. Past and future are static and dynamic. The present, my friend, affects both; both are subject to change.”
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