The Darkest Lullaby

by Jonathan Janz

  Keeping as far away from the estate as she could, Katherine started down the road toward the light.

  Sitting at Chris’s office desk, Ellie pored over the “Remnant” chapter again. In a way, she almost wanted him to discover her here, wanted him to know she understood, at least in part, what was happening to them.

  The spirit who seeks transference from demonic infancy to demonic maturity, after preparing his table, must exist in two forms during his purgatorial state. One form is non-corporeal, the other corporeal. However, each shall take on characteristics of the other.

  Ellie read the paragraph again and tried to keep her eyes from crossing. When she thought she had the sense of it, she slogged on:

  The non-corporeal shall at times, given the proper mindset and power of will, discover the ability to manifest itself in physical form. Though this body will be a primarily disincorporated entity, it will, when necessary, become tangible. Such times may coincide with certain dates of the calendar, moments of agricultural importance, the moon and sundry other factors. The end result is an ability to effect a change in the human world, sexual or otherwise.

  Ellie’s heartbeat quickened as she remembered Katherine and the red-haired woman.

  Acid boiling in her throat, she continued:

  The corporeal self shall satisfy two requirements only: that the chosen vessel’s life should cover the interim between third death and final birth.

  Final birth, Ellie thought. What a disturbing phrase that was. It was the next sentence, however, that chilled her to the marrow:

  The second requirement involves the symbiotic transfusion of the life-blood. Should either aspect of this transfusion be neglected, the remnant shall be trapped in his purgatorial state eternally.

  She thought of her sister’s words: The woman bit me.

  Did that mean that Kat was Lillith’s vessel? My God, it was all so outlandish. Demons and vampires and dual existence and a dozen other things that flouted what she knew of the world, what she’d scoffed at in movies and books.

  If it’s so outlandish, Ellie, why are you frightened?

  Shutting her mind against it, she forced herself to continue.

  Once infected with The Lust, the vessel must either complete the cycle and midwife the demon into final birth or be destroyed for breaking the covenant. The latter course of action, of course, must be avoided at all costs due to its impact on the waiting spirit.

  Ellie put the book down. The skin of her hands felt greasy and befouled, acrawl with some terrible, unseen rash. The walls seemed to close in on her, animated by the same diabolical impulse controlling the forest. She suddenly wanted to be anywhere but in this office, but a new urge stopped her from fleeing.

  Her eyes slid down the cherry surface of the desk and came to rest on the bottom right drawer.

  Chris’s manuscript.

  When she lifted out the bundle of pages and placed them before her in a neat white pile, she steeled herself against whatever she might find.

  But when she saw what was on the first page, Ellie knew her defenses were useless.

  The house was much larger than Katherine originally thought. A dark color she couldn’t make out, New England saltbox-style architecture. Behind it hulked a huge barn with a name spelled out in the roof shingles. Though the clouds had scattered somewhat, it was still difficult to see, the security light leaning over the road providing most of the illumination. As Katherine crossed the yard toward the house, she screwed up her eyes to make out the name on the barn.

  WOLF, she finally saw.

  Not particularly reassuring.

  She jogged up the steps, reached out, pushed the illuminated doorbell.

  She cringed, hunched her shoulders at the exaggerated ding-dong that reverberated from within. She didn’t know how late it was, but it had to be well past midnight. Whoever answered the door—assuming someone eventually did—wouldn’t be happy.

  That was fine. Anger she could live with. It wasn’t like she was seeking a long-term relationship here. She just needed to borrow their phone for a minute. Hell, she could even wait out here for the cops to pick her up, though she greatly preferred the safety of a house.

  Katherine peered at the woods across the road and shivered.

  She was reaching out to try the doorbell again when heavy footfalls sounded from within. A moment later, the porch light spilled a harsh halogen glow over her, and the inner door creaked open.

  A broad man with a long red beard regarded her with unconcealed suspicion.

  “You break down?” he asked.

  “No,” she said. “I don’t…have a car.”

  “Don’t have a car?” the man repeated. “How’d you get all the way out here?”

  She cast a glance back at the road, turned to regard the man, whose doubtful eyes never wavered. She shook her head to clear it, sought for the words she needed, but the chill of the night air, the stillness of the country conspired to keep her mute.

  “You a friend of the Cranes?” the man ventured.

  Katherine opened her mouth in surprise and nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am. I’m Ellie’s sister.”

  She thought that might thaw the man’s glacial stare, but the hardness in his eyes only intensified. “I’m not sure I want to help you,” he said.

  Katherine stood speechless.

  The man’s eyes flitted higher, his steely gaze taking in the forest across the road, as if he too expected it to attack.

  “It’s my sister. She’s pregnant.”

  “I know,” he said distractedly.

  “She needs help,” Katherine pushed on. “There’s something…wrong with her husband.”

  The man seemed to notice her again. “Like what?”

  “He’s…” She shook her head, bemused. “He’s changing. For the worse, I mean. He’s holding Ellie prisoner out here, he won’t let her leave, won’t let her see a doctor even. He…” Katherine swallowed, a dry clicking sound in her throat.

  The man nodded over his shoulder. “You better come in.” He stepped back to allow her passage, but his body went rigid. He put out his arm, barring her way. In a tight voice, he asked, “Have you been bitten?”

  Katherine thought of Ellie’s wedding, the woman in the bathroom.

  “No,” she lied. “I haven’t been bitten.”

  The man turned. “We better call Bruder.” He spoke in hushed tones as he moved past a staircase and into the kitchen. “He doesn’t work nights, but his deputies are too green to do us much good.”

  She stopped just inside the kitchen, noticing how modern it was. From the man’s appearance she’d assumed the place would be filled with butter churns and wooden washboards.

  He dialed a number, waited, and soon began explaining the situation. He listened, said thanks, and hung up.

  Katherine watched him approach with wide eyes.

  “Bruder’ll be here in a few minutes,” the man said. “I woke up his dogs, so he’ll be in a sour mood.”

  “Thanks, Mister…”

  “Wolf,” the man said. He took her gently by the shoulder and led her over to a chunky wooden table. From somewhere came the soothing smell of cinnamon potpourri.

  “Name’s Aaron,” he said and pulled out a chair for her. “It’s a good thing my wife’s a heavy sleeper,” he said as he sat next to her.

  “I’m sorry for bothering you, Aaron. I didn’t know where else…”

  “It’s fine,” he said, and for the first time he smiled. If not for the long red beard, he would have been very handsome. Even with the chin whiskers, she found him ruggedly attractive. “My Anna wouldn’t wake up for the rapture, but she still insists on running the box fan and a sound machine to make sure nothing disturbs her beauty rest.”

  She returned his smile, told him her name. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your helping me.”

  “Least I could do.”

  She hooked a thumb at the ceiling. “You probably have kids sleeping up there.”

  He
sat forward. “How old do you think I am, Katherine?”

  It was difficult to tell in this light, but she made an honest guess: “Early forties?”

  His smile was pleased. “I’m sixty-two this August.”

  “You’ve taken good care of yourself.”

  Aaron gave a little shrug and dropped his eyes humbly, but a moment later his expression grew troubled. “Has your sister or her husband said anything about a man named Daniel Wolf lately?”

  She shook her head. “You’re related to him?”

  “My kid brother,” he said. “He went missing several days ago. Bruder said he’s spoken to most of the neighbors, but I thought…” He trailed off, frowning. “What about someone named Campbell?”

  Katherine shook her head.

  He opened his mouth as if to ask her something else, but he was interrupted by the doorbell. They stared at each other a moment.

  Katherine asked, “The sheriff?”

  Staring in the direction of the door, Aaron shook his head vaguely. “He wouldn’t have gotten here so fast.”

  He glanced at her, and she saw her fears confirmed in his narrowed eyes.

  “Wait here,” he said.

  Before she could protest, he’d risen and moved through the kitchen. She sat at the table and listened.

  A door opening. A muffled question.

  Chris’s voice.

  Don’t let him in! she thought.

  Aaron’s deep voice, firm.

  Chris’s voice, equally loud. The two of them arguing now.

  She gnawed on a thumbnail, glanced out the window over the sink. If Chris did something to Aaron, could she escape through that?

  She cast about for a better escape route and found it, just a few feet beyond the table and to the left: sliding glass doors. Probably leading to a deck. She peered through the glass and felt her stomach lurch.

  A naked woman stood on the deck watching her.

  The woman from the bathroom. Oh Jesus.

  Katherine stood on legs she couldn’t feel. She tried to look away, but those big, avid eyes transfixed her. The woman’s red ringlets spilled over her pale shoulders, her beauty so profound it made Katherine ache, and now the woman was grinning, and Katherine saw the elongated canines, the ancient hunger in the woman’s expression.

  Katherine barely heard the livid voices echoing down the hall, didn’t care that Chris was dangerous, perhaps had already threatened Aaron Wolf. She had to escape that knowing gaze, that radiant lust. She was appalled to find she was aroused by the sight of the woman, could not prevent her eyes from crawling down the pallid skin, from lingering on the fiery thatch of pubic hair. She gasped as her back struck the doorjamb and felt a sudden flare of anger when the woman’s hungry grin widened.

  Katherine fled down the hall, toward the voices. She saw that Aaron had stepped onto the porch, was arguing with Chris there. She hated going outside, where the woman could move around the house and enfold her in those chalky white arms, but she feared being alone even more. She moved through the doorway in time to see Chris poking Aaron’s chest with an index finger, angrily driving home a point. Aaron’s face was down as though he was trying to control his temper.

  Chris noticed her and seemed to forget Aaron. “There you are,” he said, taking a step forward. “We were scared to death something happened to you.”

  “I’m fine,” she said to Chris, but when he put his arm out to lead her toward his car, she stiffened. “Something frightened me at the house, so I had Mr. Wolf call the sheriff.”

  A look of naked ferocity flitted across Chris’s face, but he replaced it quickly with unconvincing concern. “Why didn’t you tell me about it? I’d have—”

  “You weren’t there,” she interrupted. “You took off after what happened with Ellie.”

  Chris smiled nervously, his eyes darting between her and Wolf. “That was a misunderstanding,” he said, and endeavored again to lead her toward the Camry.

  When she wrenched her shoulder from his grip, Wolf stepped between them. “Let’s just wait for the sheriff.”

  Chris’s easy manner vanished. He moved chest to chest with Wolf. She cast a desperate glance down the road, but so far there was no sign of Bruder.

  Chris stared down at the man’s averted face. “This has nothing to do with you, Aaron. Now get the fuck out of my way.”

  Wolf looked embarrassed, but he didn’t back away. “Surely you don’t mind your sister-in-law talking to the sheriff, do you?”

  Chris pushed past Wolf and seized her arm. “I’ve had enough of this shit,” he said and started dragging her toward the car.

  “Let her go,” she heard Wolf say, and when she turned, she saw the Amish man’s hand on Chris’s shoulder. Before she knew what was happening, Chris wheeled with a balled fist and smashed Wolf in the face. As he followed through, he let go of Katherine. She lost her balance and landed awkwardly on the lawn, one wrist pinned beneath her hip. Gasping, she flopped onto her back and saw Chris swing again. This time Wolf took the blow in the shoulder and swung hard at Chris’s mid-section. She watched in satisfaction as Chris doubled over, a look of comic surprise on his face.

  As she made to rise, she heard Wolf saying, “That’s enough, Mr. Crane. This doesn’t need—”

  But Chris pounced before the man could finish. Then they were brawling, Chris aiming wild blows at Wolf’s face, the older man patiently absorbing them and jabbing at Chris when he could. One of these jabs snapped Chris’s head backward, his jaws clicking together. Then Wolf came out of his defensive posture, swung a looping fist and connected with the side of Chris’s face.

  Chris grunted and went down.

  “Now, that’s enough,” Wolf said, panting. “I don’t like to fight, and you don’t need whipped any worse.”

  Chris rolled onto all fours and launched himself at Wolf, who met his face with a knee. The impact was wet and meaty and made Katherine’s gorge rise. Broken nose, she thought vaguely, but something to her right scattered the thought.

  Headlights.

  She staggered toward the road, for a moment certain it was not the sheriff, but rather some factory worker heading home after third shift. Then she spied the sleek line of lights mounted atop the car and moaned in relief. Behind her she heard the men scuffling, but that wouldn’t matter anymore. The sheriff would have a gun, even if he was off-duty, and Chris wouldn’t be able to argue with that.

  In moments the cruiser was crunching to a halt on the shoulder. The man who emerged was handsome and well built, but Katherine didn’t allow herself time to linger on his looks. “It’s Chris,” she said. “He’s lost his mind.”

  The sheriff was nodding, his eyes kind and composed. He put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get Mr. Crane the help he needs, but for now I need you to have a seat inside the car.”

  She nodded, allowed him to lead her to the passenger’s door, which he opened. She got in and smiled gratefully up at him before he shut the door and strode across the lawn. Chris lay on his back, Wolf standing over him as though the older man had just delivered a knockout blow. The windows were closed, so she couldn’t make out what the sheriff said, but whatever it was brought a weary grin to Wolf’s face. Then Bruder was helping Chris to his feet and leading him toward the cruiser. Thus far, she noted with some misgiving, the sheriff hadn’t used handcuffs to restrain him.

  Mistake, she had time to think before the back door opened.

  The only sound of which Ellie was aware was the distant drone of cicadas. Her saliva tasted like blood; her breathing had slowed to an occasional, quavering sip of air. She stared at the front page of the “novel” her husband had been writing, which she now realized wasn’t just a work of fiction.

  It was a suicide letter.

  Yet it didn’t just chronicle Chris’s death—it encompassed their entire time here. More, it told their story through a perverse revisionist lens that transformed Ellie into a monster. Verbally and emotionally abusing her husband. Murderin
g a dog. Even threatening an abortion if Chris didn’t do her bidding.

  Ellie cast a glance outside the office window. Her legs itched to make a run for it, but she’d learned her lesson. There was no escaping this place. And though she now feared her husband more than ever, she felt for the first time she was truly grasping the enormity of the power these woods possessed.

  Again, Ellie read those terrible opening paragraphs:

  I am sorry for what’s happened. I wish I could have been strong enough to save us, but I wasn’t.

  When we came here I didn’t know what the isolation would do to Ellie. I didn’t understand how important it was for her to remain in contact with the world. Had she maintained healthy social relationships she never would have begun drinking and taking long rambles in the forest. Many nights I’ve wondered why she went out. After talking with Aaron Wolf, however, I understand that my wife, like Gordon Wolf’s deceased wife Sarah, has fallen prey to the allure of the forest.

  I believe Ellie intends to kill me and then herself, and in doing so, murder our child as well.

  She leaned forward, elbows on the desk, and mashed her palms into her eyes, as if by the very act she could destroy the words imprinted in her memory. My God, did Chris even know what he’d written? She suspected not. She thought it far more likely that he really did see a story before him as he typed, perhaps one that was unrelated to the dreadful things contained in this neat stack of pages.

  Her mouth a grim line, Ellie silently cursed this place.

  With a sick, acrid burning in the back of her throat, Ellie turned to the final page of the manuscript.

  Ellie’s sister Katherine has proven to be a boon in all this turmoil. Ellie would have wanted Katherine to have everything, so please consider this our dying wish: that Katherine Chambers should inherit our house, the property, and all our worldly possessions.

  Signed,

  Chris and Ellie Crane

  She read over the signatures again. Chris’s, of course, was authentic since he himself had penned it. But Ellie’s, too, was unmistakably her own despite the fact it couldn’t be. She sat there numbly, both fascinated and appalled by the scope of this place’s power.