Un-fur-tunate Murders

by Harper Lin

  When it finally emerged, it rose from its twisted and hunched position and towered over Otto Clare, who barely showed any sign of fear, if you didn’t notice the trickle of sweat down the side of his forehead.

  Leland, on the other hand, visibly shook yet stood still and stared at the Rotmirage, which was heaving and puffing as it stared at him.

  It had to be Aunt Astrid’s spell that had me veiled from this thing. It wouldn’t have missed me had I not had the universe working to conceal me from this evil.

  The Rotmirage growled. The singsongy, innocent, and childlike voice had contorted into a gravelly, animalistic snarl completely devoid of compassion. Long, black, needlelike nails grew from its twisted and knotty fingers. As I looked at them, they wavered like heat rising off the pavement in the summertime. Were they real? As real in this world as the Rotmirage was, I suppose.

  The right hand snapped to Leland’s head, and the left went to his side. I blinked, and those horrific hands were positioned on the young man’s person. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t cry out or scream. But I watched as his eyes reddened and filled with tears. If this was what it did to this strong young man, what chance did an animal in a cage or stall have? My own eyes stung with tears.

  The Rotmirage arched its back, and its mouth stretched open and shut in a grotesque manner, like someone no longer in charge of their faculties trying to express that they need help. Its black tongue rolled out sloppily.

  Leland’s body began to shake. He was becoming smaller. His muscular shoulders deflated, and his chest caved in. Within seconds, it was a full-on seizure.

  “You stop that now!” Otto Clare shouted with his lips pulled back from his teeth in an intolerant sneer. “You take your licks! You brought this on yourself!”

  But Leland didn’t hear him. He had slipped away to a place that was pitch darkness, and I think he preferred that. It was like sleep, except when he woke up, there was a good chance he might not remember everything that happened. He might have the worst of it wiped from his memory. He’d forget how long it lasted. He might also forget what he saw as it happened. But the one thing he wouldn’t forget was that his father allowed it.

  “It’s what needs to be done! You’re not the first—you just remember that!” Otto Clare yelled at his son then turned and walked in his silent manner out of the room.

  I did hope Leland was in that dark place. Had my mother walked out of my bedroom instead of standing her ground and telling the beast “NO! You won’t hurt my daughter!” I would have died in more ways than one. Leland was dying just a little bit at a time.

  I couldn’t watch anymore. I bowed my head and squeezed my eyes shut, but then I felt it. As if my nerves were not taxed already, along the back of my neck, I felt it. Eight furry legs that quickly touched down on the exposed skin of my nape and flitted around the circumference of my neck toward my exposed ear.

  Now, I know what people might be thinking. Here I am, in the midst of a paranormal torture session, completely unseen and safe for all intents and purposes. But irrational fears have this way of making me act irrational.

  Suddenly, I knew the intentions of this eight-legged beast. It had been sizing me up in its cluster of eight eyes, and it thought this was the opportunity of a lifetime. Drop down on a silent web under cover of darkness, make way to inner ear canal, and have babies.

  Everything became a blur as I waved my arms in the air then slapped my face, shaking my head and trying to get the thing off my skin without having to actually touch it. I don’t remember screaming, but I don’t think I was completely silent.

  When I held still to see if I felt anything still moving on my face, I just happened to look at the hole in the floor. Except it was no longer a hole. It was the pasty, contemptuous face of the Rotmirage protruding through the attic floor.

  This time, I screamed.

  Without thinking, I pushed myself back onto the carpet of fiberglass insulation. The wooden framework was not nearly as sturdy as the crossbeam down the middle. I felt the plaster starting to give way beneath me. I was backward, with my feet in front of me and my hands behind me, as I stared at the Rotmirage pulling itself up into the attic.

  “You’re not going anywhere, girl,” came the voice of Otto Clare to my right. I looked and saw his head peeking up from the stairs I had climbed up a few hours earlier. Just as I said I didn’t want to see.

  I didn’t know where I thought I could go, but I pushed myself back even further into the darkness. Just as my back was about to hit the wall, I heard another sound. It was like the voice of an angel. A police siren.

  Even though Otto Clare’s face was in darkness, I could see he no longer felt as confident as he had a second ago. He slithered back down the hole he’d crawled up from and down the steps.

  The Rotmirage, on the other hand, wasn’t shaken in the least. It licked its lips, a continual hiss coming from its mouth. I turned to try and go down the rotten steps, but my weight was too much for the rotten beams. Before I knew what was happening to me, I landed with a thud on the floor in the room with all the money. Of course, I couldn’t have landed on all those soft bags of cash. I had to just miss them and use my right shoulder and knee to soften my fall.

  Falling pieces of wood and shredded insulation cascaded down around me. I was sure the head of the Rotmirage would follow soon since I could hear it still hissing and gurgling at my disappearing act. But I wasn’t going to wait around for it to start looking for me. Neither was I going to wait for Otto Clare to come get me and have this whole thing develop into some kind of hostage crisis.

  Standing up made my entire right side light up with pain. My shoulder felt as if it had been jammed underneath my neck, and my knee had swollen up underneath my pants. The window was covered with aluminum foil to keep out most of the light. But a slight ribbon of dusk came through. When I ripped the flimsy material away, I was face to face with Bea.

  We both screamed.

  Some Creatures Have No Decency

  Laughing through my terror, I unlocked the rickety window and pushed it up just as thunderous steps were pounding up behind me.

  “Otto and Leland Clare! This is the Wonder Falls Police Department!”

  I recognized that voice.

  “We’ve got you surrounded! Come out with your hands up!”

  Without looking behind me, I heard those big clodhoppers stop in their tracks. Busted shoulder and bum knee or not, I launched myself through that open window with the grace of a gazelle leaping over a smooth pool of water left from the rainy season. Okay, maybe it was more like a turtle sliding off a rock. Either way, I was out of there. Thankfully, Bea broke my fall this time.

  “Are you all right?” She squeezed me tightly.

  “I’m a little beat up but okay. The kittens?”

  “They are safe at Mom’s with Marshmallow, Peanut Butter, and Treacle.”

  “Girls.” Aunt Astrid’s voice was loud and firm. “We’ve got some work to do.”

  What I found out later was that the Rotmirage had once been human, a regular person who found a way to slip in and out of dimensions. What my aunt later explained was that since the Clares came from a long line of black witches, the chances were pretty good this Rotmirage was one of their ancestors. Maybe even the wife of Otto and mother of Leland.

  But I didn’t know any of this when I stood on my stronger left leg and leaned on Bea for support.

  “What do we need to do?” I asked.

  “We need to give this creature a proper burial,” my aunt said as she stepped up to the window.

  “She’s not going in there, is she?” I gripped Bea’s hand tightly in mine.

  “She doesn’t have to,” Bea said defiantly. “She’s going to bring it out here.”

  It was an extraction spell. Aunt Astrid had used it on me more than once when I was a kid and had a splinter from climbing trees, or the time as an adult when I swallowed a plastic toothpick holding together a turkey sandwich I was having for lunch.


  As she began to recite the words, Bea and I joined in for the refrain. The words were old and sounded like crunching hard candy. But it didn’t take long before the Rotmirage was reluctantly being pulled from the house.

  Once again, not a single fiber of wood or plaster was disturbed. But I heard a tear, like a rag being ripped, as Aunt Astrid reached out her hands to the space in front of her. She was a mime heaving an invisible rope. It didn’t take long for a hoof of the Rotmirage to appear from inside the house. Then the second hoof came through.

  The red and blue lights of more than one squad car on the other end of the house distracted me. I could hear the voice through the megaphone as the police were trying to get the Clares out of the house. I didn’t see any guns when I was in their domicile, but what drug dealer doesn’t have guns handy? I’ve seen enough episodes of COPS to know the answer is none.

  Aunt Astrid was struggling. Bea stepped closer to her, but I was distracted. My shoulder and knee were throbbing. But that was secondary. There was a man on the other side of this house trying to coax a couple of lunatics outside so they could be arrested. No one ever goes peacefully. These were people who had a relationship with a malevolent entity. If Otto Clare was willing to feed his own son to the Rotmirage, he would have no problem hurting anyone else. Like Archie Jones. Like heaven knows who else.

  It wasn’t until the whole grotesque Rotmirage poured through its dimension into this one that I realized I was needed right here. It lurched forward and swiped at my aunt, who merely leaned back to avoid its swing.

  As I studied her face, I didn’t know how she maintained her cool. She looked like someone who had done this a million times before. But before I could warn her, those needlelike nails emerged from its hands, and my aunt didn’t escape their scratch.

  Three deep slashes appeared across Aunt Astrid’s right shoulder, and she shrieked in pain.

  “Mom!” Bea yelled and let go of my hand in order to support her mother. That was exactly what the Rotmirage wanted. The chain was broken. Our power lessened. It quickly got the upper hand. Before Bea even saw it coming, the creature stretched its twisted arm out like the thick branch of a tree and knocked her almost ten feet back.

  My aunt continued to chant, her words rising over the sound of the other approaching sirens and that of the police shouting as something else was happening on the other side of the house and out of view. I took off to help Bea.

  “Hey, girl.” I slipped my arm underneath her head, and as much as I hate to admit it, I sort of slapped her cheeks. I had to. I needed her to snap out of it and shake the cobwebs from her head so we could get back in the fight. “You’ve gotten the eight count. Now back on your feet.”

  “What are you talking about?” She squinted and shook her head.

  “That!” I pointed to the Rotmirage.

  “For a second, I was hoping it was a dream.” She got back to her feet. We had to look like a very imposing pair as I limped with my shoulder slung back and Bea rubbed her jaw and the back of her head. But as we reached Aunt Astrid, the game suddenly changed.

  “What’s it doing?” Bea asked her mother.

  The Rotmirage stepped back on its hooves, partially concealed beneath the white gown it was wearing. At first I thought it was crying, but that wasn’t it. It was laughing. The thing was nearly hysterical, and it wasn’t a pleasant laugh like the giggle of a baby or when your best friend laughs at a story you tell. It was madness. It poured from the open maw in waves.

  The wind picked up and tore through the trees around us. Clouds rolled across the purple-and-blue sky. Aunt Astrid began shouting at the top of her lungs. Bea and I rejoined her, doing our part, determined to bind this thing and send it back to where it came from.

  But it wasn’t going.

  Its white eyes focused on us, it spat at us. Literally. Gross, I know.

  “We must be getting to it,” I yelled to Bea. Even though she was right next to me, the wind was taking away the sounds. It was strange with all the commotion how clearly I could hear everything. That was when I felt the pit of my stomach collapse. It wasn’t just going to leave and go back to its dimension. It was going to take us with it. Somehow, it had us trapped with it in this alternative dimensional bubble, and if it went, we went with it.

  “Stop!” I cried. “Aunt Astrid, stop the chant!”

  “No, Cath!” Bea stared at me. “We can’t stop now!”

  “But don’t you see? It’s going to take us with it! We’ll be its prisoners!”

  “That is always a chance when you do what we do,” Aunt Astrid said calmly. “The three of us are just not enough strength to destroy it. But we can send it back. And we are willing to accept the cost.”

  Aunt Astrid resumed her incantation as if she had done nothing more than tell me the time. Then I thought about my mother. She had done the same thing. She had sacrificed her life for me. She didn’t even think twice—she just did it.

  I’d really like to be able to say that I squared my shoulders, dug in my heels, and joined my aunt and cousin willingly in this ultimate sacrifice. It would be great to say I faced death and smiled. But I’d be lying through my teeth.

  “What?” I screamed. “You guys didn’t send me that memo!” I did dig in my heels, and I started to shout the refrain to my aunt’s spell. I pulled every bit of energy I could muster from everything around me. But I could feel myself slipping. The ground was getting softer. The air was getting heavier. Wherever we were headed, I had a distinct feeling it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

  Then, suddenly, a charge of energy coursed up my leg from an unlikely source.

  “You!” I looked down and nearly cried. “You must be Enzo!”

  The orange-and-white cat looked up at me.

  “I’ve been waiting for my chance,” the little animal said telepathically. With ease and grace, he jumped up onto my shoulder and perched himself there.

  Cats are like lightning rods for energy. As soon as he joined us, he more than provided the necessary power we needed.

  The hideous contortion on the Rotmirage’s face quickly changed from glee to horror. Although neither Bea nor I could see exactly what happened, Aunt Astrid and Enzo could.

  “It’s got it!” Enzo shouted. “Its got the thing tied up in its vines!”

  I was glad I couldn’t see exactly what was happening. But I did watch as the Rotmirage bucked and swatted and screamed as if a swarm of bees had descended on it.

  Something grabbed it around the middle and, folding the Rotmirage in two, pulled it into a hole no bigger than a frying pan. Its shriveled and knotty body creased unnaturally as it was slowly sucked in, and within the blink of an eye, it was gone.

  Sound had returned to the clearing. But before we could celebrate, Enzo fell from my shoulder.

  “Wait!” I scooped him in my arms. “Good kitty. We’ll get you some help.” My eyes teared as I looked into his. “This is Bea. She’s my best friend in the whole world. She can help you. I promise.”

  “The bad thing is gone now. It won’t hurt anyone else. It won’t be summoned back.”

  “No. I promise.” I handed him off to Bea, who began to use her magic on him instantly. I scratched his head for a moment to catch my breath and comfort the feline. But then I heard shots fired on the other side of the house.

  “Oh no.” I looked to my aunt.

  “Cath, don’t go out there. Just stay here and let the police do what they do. They don’t need our help.”

  “But he’s out there,” I said, fretting.

  “And he knows we’re here. Don’t be a distraction. Come on. We need to get away from this place until it is settled with the Clares once and for all.”

  So the three of us Greenstones headed for shelter under the cover of the dark trees. There was a shift in the air, and as scary as the verdure was when Bea and I had snuck up here earlier today, it was serene and almost inviting now.

  Bea stroked Enzo’s fur, and I could see how she was wo
rking her magic on his aura and life force. If he could just hold on, we could take him to Old Murray Willis, who ran the animal shelter in Wonder Falls.

  I studied Bea’s face to see if there was any indication as to how good or bad Enzo’s condition really was.

  “How did you know we were here?” I asked the cat, who had begun to purr and close his eyes.

  “I went to visit Treacle. He said he was going to join the other familiars to add their strength to your quest to rid the world of that bad thing. I thought if you were here, there was a chance to get rid of it.”

  “If it weren’t for you we might have failed.”

  Enzo meowed weakly.

  “You rest now,” I continued. “Bea will take care of you.”

  Bea’s expression had not changed. She was still seeing into Enzo’s aura. Her hands waved back and forth as though she were conducting a symphony. She saw everything. All I saw was Enzo finally relaxed. I had no idea the amount of damage that had been done.

  “Aunt Astrid, are you okay?” I limped to my aunt’s side. She had taken a seat on a log and was catching her breath.

  “Yes, honey. I’m fine. That was a rough one.” She tenderly poked at her shoulder where the Rotmirage had ripped her blouse. “This was one of my favorite shirts, too. Some creatures have no decency.”

  I rubbed my shoulder and eased down on the ground. But my insides were not calm. They were jittery, like live electrical wires that have been severed during a storm.

  “I can’t stand this. I’ve got to go see what’s happening,” I said.

  “Cath, you’re busted up. You can’t run. You can’t swing your arm to even try and defend yourself. Do you want to get him or one of his men killed because you just wanted to see what was happening?”