by Vered Ehsani
“The rosebush needs watering,” I suggested, referring to Mrs. Steward’s struggling plant near the front door, close to the demolished carnation bed. Nelly hadn’t yet devoured it yet.
Bobby made a face. “Mama said I should never pee in the outdoors like Jonas does. It’s not what English gentlemen do.”
“And so you shouldn’t,” I said sternly. “I’m so glad you always listen to your mother.”
The boy’s expression altered from defiance to enlightenment. With nary a backward glance, he hurried to the front door and eased it open gently. I could hear a thin stream of water hitting the ground, followed by a stifled giggle.
“Good night, Bobby,” I said as he returned to his room. I waited a few breaths. A bed creaked. A contented sigh. Silence.
When I was reasonably certain he wouldn’t remember my odd night attire and want to question me further, I hurried out to the barn and woke my horse.
“Nelly, settle down,” I ordered as I tugged on the saddle.
The horse’s eyes glowed, casting skeletal shadows about us. I squinted at her. No serpent spirit revealed itself; there was only a high-powered equestrian energy.
I led Nelly out of the barn and paused. Into the silence tiptoed a rustle of leaves as something small scurried past. Crickets and cicadas sang shrill songs. Further away, a bigger beast coughed – a lion.
I swung up, settled myself and my walking stick, wishing that my only concern was a mere lion. Now I had to contend with a psychopathic, possessive poltergeist while riding a paranormally enhanced, belching nag.
With a quiver of trepidation, I directed a prayer at the powers that be to protect me from the humiliation of falling out of the saddle.
“Alright, Nelly, try not to unseat me,” I said, turned her in the right direction, imagining the cave’s entrance, and leaned forward.
That was all the urging she needed. With a final bodily eruption, she leaped forward and the world melted into a dark blur. It was all I could do to hold on while still breathing. Any other task and I would surely have failed at one of the first two.
Just as I wondered how I would halt the beast, she slowed to a leisurely canter. Somehow she’d discerned our destination, for we were inside the forest, forging the small river and approaching the ground-level cave. A flickering glow lit the edges of the cave entrance. There was no indication my approach had been detected.
Nelly snorted, swivelled her neck and peered back the way we’d come. She nickered at whatever was galloping toward us. Mr. Timmons appeared shortly thereafter.
“Thank you for coming,” I said when he pulled his horse to a halt beside Nelly.
He grinned, far too enthusiastically for my liking, given the circumstances. “There’s nothing like being awakened by a damsel’s dead husband to invigorate the senses. I must say he enjoyed the task far too much.”
“I’ll have a word with Gideon about that,” I assured him, hiding my smile.
We dismounted and made our way across the soft, damp ground. As we neared the cave, I heard loud arguing, the words indistinguishable but all in the same voice: Lilly’s.
“Seems the girl is putting up a fight,” Mr. Timmons murmured, his tone surprised and impressed.
“My thoughts exactly,” and I was equally amazed. “Perhaps permanent possession is a more challenging undertaking than the temporary kind.”
This led to an idea of sorts, not a particularly brilliant one and certainly an unsavoury one, but an idea nonetheless. I cleared my throat and laid a hand on Mr. Timmons’ arm. He stopped, his eyebrows raised, his expression unreadable.
“There is no way to ask this delicately,” I began, “so please forgive my impertinence.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. Perhaps he had already surmised the direction my thoughts had led me.
“When you latch onto someone’s energy, can you see whose energy you are absorbing?” I asked. “Say, in a crowd of people, can you ensure you only take energy from your target and not the bystanders?”
Now there was no mistaking his expression, for his eyes had narrowed into fierce slits, and his voice was dangerously restrained. “If you mean can I separate Miss Steward’s energy from Mrs. Cricket and only drain one while sparing the other…”
He hesitated, some of his anger leaving him. “There would be the danger of taking both while they are so closely entwined.” He massaged his temples as if to loosen his thoughts. “Perhaps once Mrs. Cricket has full possession and Miss Steward is deeply submerged under her and thus difficult to reach, it could possibly work.”
I shook my head. “I can’t allow it to get that far. Lilly would be terribly traumatised.”
“And you haven’t asked me if I would want to absorb something as foul as Mrs. Cricket,” he pointed out.
I frowned. “More to the point, I’m not sure I’d want you to have her power, for I have no doubt you wouldn’t hesitate to acquire it if you could.”
“Your dismal view of my morality wounds me gravely,” Mr. Timmons said in mock outrage, hand over heart.
I ignored his false claim, for I was certain he’d have no compunction against acquiring and using the power of possession. “Either way, we may have no other option,” I said, still vacillating over my idea which contained various possible ways to end up terribly wrong.
Then Lilly screamed.
It was a horrific sound of terror and pain. It propelled us forward toward the cave and confirmed my decision for me. For despite her vanity and flightiness, Lilly was the closest thing to a sibling, and I surprised myself with the realisation that I didn’t want to lose her.
With that awareness came the wolf; I could sense its’ energy form by my side and I sent it away before Mr. Timmons noticed it. I couldn’t risk loosing control and having it hurt Lilly.
As we approached the cave’s entrance, the gargle of sound solidified into words: “You… will… submit…” Lilly said, but it was more a snarl, with a harsh edge completely foreign to her.
“Please, no,” she whimpered in a voice faded and weak.
I started to rush into the cave, my heart strangely constricted by the terror in Lilly’s strangled words. Mr. Timmons restrained me with both hands on my shoulders. I nearly smacked him with my stick.
“We don’t know what else she may be able to do,” he warned.
“How marvellous for you,” I snapped. His eyebrows rose at that, and I softened my tone even as I pulled away. “Surely you must enjoy adding to your collection of capabilities.”
He frowned and his grip tightened. “I wasn’t referring to that. What defence do you have against her?”
I clenched my walking stick. I’d always prided myself on my poker face; apparently Mr. Timmons either was more astute than even I’d given him credit for, or he knew me better than most people did. Both were equally disturbing possibilities.
Whichever the case, his eyes widened and he pulled me to himself. “You weren’t talking about Lilly’s energy, were you?” When I failed to respond, he said, “Beatrice… Mrs. Knight, that’s reckless, dangerous and…”
Lilly shrieked.
“And our only option,” I said as I spun out of his grip and ran into the cave.
A small fire crackled, glowering and spitting like a one-eyed alley cat. The cave walls were awash with a watery orange that teased the shadows creeping down from the ceiling. One of the shadows leaped toward the flames, following a human form that contorted and spun about.
“Lilly?” I called out.
The figure’s head flopped up. Lilly’s eyes rolled about, white replacing colour, and her jaw hung slack, her tongue lolling out. Foam and drool slathered around her mouth and she growled. Her hands tugged at a nightgown that was tattered and mud stained.
“Oh dear,” I said, firmly supressing the quiver in my voice. “I hope you don’t remember any of this. You would be appalled.”
Lilly hissed and snarled. “She won’t be here to remember.”
The voice altered sli
ghtly and she whined, “No, please stop.” Her eyes rolled forward to reveal contracted pupils and terror.
“Lilly, it’s me,” I said, approaching her. “It’s Bee. Fight her.”
Lilly shook her head from side to side, tangled curls whipping about her.
“She can’t hear you now,” Mr. Timmons said softly. He stood immediately behind me. “Are you sure about this?”
“No,” I admitted, “but it’s her only chance.” I watched Lilly carry out a fair impersonation of a rabid dog. “Wait until she is fully in me, so she can’t escape.”
Mr. Timmons sighed and I could feel his displeasure where our energy fields touched. But he didn’t attempt to dissuade me, for which I was more or less grateful.
“Mrs. Cricket,” I said in a sharp, clear tone. “Mrs. Cricket, you are losing energy, battling with that body.”
Lilly peered at me through knotted, sweaty strands of hair, her face contorting from one expression to another: fear, hate, determination.
“Let her go, and you can have this body instead,” and I gestured to myself with a wave of my hand. “I won’t fight you. Just leave the girl alone.”
Lilly’s head snapped back and forth with such ferocity that I was certain she’d suffer neck problems or a nasty headache at least.
“Why?” Lilly demanded in a garbled voice.
“Because she’s far too young and I…” I pondered my words. “I’m older and have lived enough and am willing to go.”
Crazed eyes studied me.
“Swear an oath,” the creature growled.
I cleared my throat, ignoring Mr. Timmons’ sharp intake of breath. “I do so solemnly swear on all things holy to allow you to take over my form with no resistance offered on my part.”
A ghastly smile twisted Lilly’s lips and I hoped the smile wouldn’t split her face in two. Then Lilly collapsed and a breath later, a freezing sensation oozed around me, clutching and tearing at my energy, sucking at it hungrily.
I sensed Mr. Timmons moving to face me and I forced the words out: “Not… yet…”
Submit.
The word shrieked explosively through my head and I clutched at my ears, tore at my hair.
Your oath.
I gripped my jacket to me as the intense cold closed in around me and then into me. I let it enter, supressing all my instincts to fight back, to resist it.
A lullaby played in my head, soothing, distracting, hypnotic. Somehow I knew that was how she’d controlled her victims, except this time, she wasn’t seeking to control but to take over. And a little tune wasn’t enough to sufficiently distract a mind during the awful process.
You promised. Relent.
I focused on the lullaby, letting it soothe me as best it could even as the frigid, liquid-like sensation consumed my limbs. I vaguely noted that I had sunk to my knees but couldn’t feel the rock beneath me. I couldn’t feel or see anything now. I was only aware of the soothing song that pulled me deeper and away from myself.
“Mr. Timmons,” I said, but I couldn’t tell if my lips moved as they were no longer mine to command.
No. They are mine now, Mrs. Cricket whispered.
And then I vanished.
Chapter 29
Floating. I… Who am I?
This is an important question. At least, I think so. Or maybe not.
I am floating in darkness. There is a small bit of light, a tiny hole within the darkness. I peer through it, down a long tunnel, and see in the distance a fire. Two hands are hovering over the flames.
My hands.
NO.
The word pummels at the darkness, making it shake.
The hands are not mine.
Near the fire, a body lies on the ground. It strikes me that perhaps I should know who that body belongs to.
Or not.
“It worked,” someone says out there, and the words echo along the tunnel and around me. “Finally, it worked.”
“Mrs. Knight? Beatrice?”
The tunnel shifts and I see a man far away. He too seems familiar, but there are no names in the darkness, so I simply observe, noting how his eyebrows bunch together over stormy grey eyes.
“She’s not here,” the first voice says. “Only me.”
“Mrs. Cricket?” the man asks.
Those names are familiar. I can almost feel that I know them, but they don’t belong here in this dark space.
Someone is laughing.
“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” the man says and I think he is angry. “I’m coming, Beatrice. Wait for me. Don’t leave me.”
Who is he talking to? I wonder. And why would this Beatrice person ever think of leaving him?
His eyes shift and I know he’d doing something, something very important and possibly dangerous. I don’t know how I know and I can’t see or hear anything, but I feel it. The darkness quivers and I hear a wail.
“No,” the first voice shouts, although by the time it reaches me, the sound is muted. “You can’t. I won’t go.”
“I’m afraid I shall have to insist upon it,” the man snarls.
The darkness is shaking all around me now and cracks are appearing. The man has closed his eyes, his hands are fisted and I can see he is straining, as if pulling a heavy weight.
“Beatrice, come back,” he orders.
Again I wonder why Beatrice would leave in the first place. Although I don’t know this man, I’m quite certain I wouldn’t have left someone who cares as much as he appears to care for her.
A shard of blackness dissolves with the sound of a glass shattering. Light stabs into the darkness, making it bleed some of its blackness away.
More wails. Is that my voice?
No. I have no voice. I have nothing.
But it sounds so familiar.
More blackness breaks away and the pain of it all grips me, causing me to shrink from the tunnel that is now full of screams and anger.
I hear the man – Mr. Timmons – shouting for Beatrice.
Shouting for me.
The darkness dissolves into light and I howl in grief, pain, relief.
And then I collapse.
Chapter 30
“Beatrice, wake up. For God’s sake, come back.”
Someone shook my shoulders.
My shoulders.
I have shoulders?
Of course you do, and the inner voice that reprimanded me was snarky, sarcastic, unsympathetic and mine, blissfully and utterly mine.
“Was it successful?” I asked, although it sounded more like, “Vat shoeful?”
My throat felt as if I’d swallowed sand for dinner. I was quite certain that as horrible as Jonas’ roast had been, there hadn’t been any sand in it.
“Sh, don’t move yet,” Mr. Timmons gently ordered.
“I’m not moving,” I protested in my gargled, sandy voice.
“I beg to differ,” he said. “You just smacked me across the face.”
“Then you most probably deserved it,” I said and marvelled at my lack of awareness in regards to the motion of my arms.
“Here, eat this,” he said.
I wasn’t aware of opening or closing my mouth, but a sweet sensation filled me. Chocolate. It ranks second only to cinnamon in its power to save and restore. How very thoughtful and resourceful of the man to carry around this elixir.
Warmth eased up my left side, the side closest to the fire. My fingers were attacked by little pins; I jerked my hand away from the heat and felt the impact on Mr. Timmons’ face.
“Try not to enjoy this,” he said.
“Then move your head out of the way,” I retorted without much energy. I willed my aching eyes to open but it took a bit longer for them to focus.
“Why, Mr. Timmons, you look positively dreadful,” I remarked.
He snorted but without his usual vigour. “You try absorbing the energy of a malevolent spirit and let’s see how you fare.”
“Oh,” I said, having momentarily forgotten how I came to be lyin
g collapsed on the cold, rocky floor of a cave.
With his assistance, I eased myself to an upright position and leaned against him, his arm around my shoulders. I peered at him, squinting my eyes once to verify his true identity. Mrs. Cricket, I was relieved to note, was nowhere to be seen, but his energy had developed a new streak of colour through it and I was sure it was due to his newly acquired power.
I shuddered at the thought.
“I have no intention of attempting to possess anyone,” Mr. Timmons said in a subdued tone, having correctly discerned my concern.
I studied his countenance: serious; weary; and pained.
“Well, I should hope not,” I replied but without any bite to my words. “I believe I’m able to sit upright on my own now.”
Mr. Timmons said nothing, nor did he remove his arm and I didn’t have the energy to push him away. My eyes drifted from his worn face to a form lying on the other side of the fire.
“Lilly,” I said and then louder as I struggled in vain to stand.
Something slid off me – Mr. Timmons’ coat. I picked it up, crawled over to Lilly’s side, and lay the coat over her. I patted her cheeks. They were cold and white. I felt for a pulse; it was there, faint but steady.
I glanced over to Mr. Timmons who remained slumped on his knees. For the first time, I wondered what the night’s events had cost him. I’d assumed the absorption of a powerful entity would have thrilled him. But instead he seemed defeated, deflated.
“Thank you, Mr. Timmons,” I said as I rubbed at Lilly’s hands.
His head turned toward me and he smiled but without his usual sly glimmer. “No trouble at all,” he said and coughed heavily. “Pity you finished off all my chocolate though.”
“Bee?” Lilly whispered.
“Yes, I’m right here,” I cooed in a maternal way or at least I tried to, but cooing and maternal sounds aren’t really part of my repertoire. However, it did seem as if my attempts at reassuring her were having effect.
That is, until the giant bat flew into the cave.
Chapter 31
