Klara made a sound deep in her throat and pressed her hands tighter to her mouth. He hoped it was because she could see this monstrosity and it wasn’t just him having some kind of hallucination.
Jeremy could see that the mass was a thick trunk that tapered down to a fin. He was staring at this thing but still couldn’t believe it - the woman had a fish tail instead of legs!
Jeremy reached for Klara’s hand, but she refused to let go of her mouth. He leaned closer and whispered, “We have to go,” in her ear. She nodded, as best she could, but didn’t move.
The woman, or whatever she was, leaned back, propping herself up on her elbows. She let her head tip back, her wet hair falling in tendrils on the shingle and opened her mouth.
The harp music began again and this time, the woman accompanied it, a wordless melody that was pitch-perfect. She followed the music, chasing it in the quieter sections, slowing it down as it peaked, before having it chase her.
“Go,” ordered Jeremy, pushing Klara to the side. She wasn’t ready and lost her balance. He tried to grab her before she fell but didn’t, as she quickly let go of her mouth and put her arms out to protect herself. She went down into a group of ferns, rolling sideways through them and out onto the verge.
Instantly, the harp music stopped and it took Jeremy a moment or two to realise that almost every other sound had stopped too. All he could hear was both his and Klara’s breathing. The woman with the tail was staring at him. With a quick shake of her head, she pushed herself off the shingle and into the water, where she disappeared with the quietest of splashes.
Jeremy helped Klara to her feet. “Are you okay, did you hurt yourself?”
“No,” she repeated the word a half dozen times, “I don’t think so. What was that?” She didn’t take her eyes off the water, even after Jeremy had stood her up.
“I don’t know,” he said though he wanted to tell her that they’d seen a mermaid, however much that didn’t make sense.
The water began to churn in the centre of the lake, jets spraying upwards in a plume, the moonlight catching drops to make them sparkle like diamonds.
“Get back to the car,” Jeremy shouted, trying to keep his voice as steady as he could make it but aware that he wasn’t succeeding. He had no idea what was happening, no concept of what could be doing this but he had the terrible feeling it wouldn’t end well. He grabbed Klara’s hand and pulled her off the verge.
There was another noise now, to compete with the roar of the water, a whining dirge, not at all like the woman’s wordless singing but something harder, darker and rough, as if unfinished. It became a moan, with a low enough frequency that he could feel it in the pit of his stomach as well as hear it.
Klara stopped, pulling him short. He turned, suddenly angry with her and saw that she was fixated on the water. Her mouth opened, as if she wanted to tell him something but couldn’t find the words. He turned to see what was grabbing her attention.
The commotion in the middle of the lake was now a maelstrom, a huge circular swirl that was dipping in the centre. Jeremy had never seen anything like it.
“Klara, come on.”
She’d frozen, staring at the lake, her breath coming in huge gasps. “There’s something in there,” she said.
“Klara, for fucks sake, come on. We have to get to the car.”
“No, stop, there’s something in the water.”
He looked back at the churning depression and saw that Klara was right, something was coming out of the water. To Jeremy, it appeared to be a smooth dark shape, flanked on either side by two upright bones. The things rose up, the middle shape quickly revealing itself to be a head, with dark matted hair.
The face was long and pinched, the mouth little more than a scar, the nostrils two puncture holes above it. He couldn’t see eyes, just darker impressions further up the face.
Gradually, he saw that the bones were the tips of wings, that unfurled as they cleared the water. It kept coming, revealing a taut, emaciated chest and belly. The wings stretched to their limit and the head rocked backwards on the shoulders. A long, low, wordless howl filled the space, making the hairs on the back of Jeremy’s neck stand on end.
Long thin legs, human legs, cleared the water and the froth died off as the toes appeared. The thing rose further above the water, wings outstretched fully, hands clasped in front of its chest as if in supplication.
The howl came again but Jeremy could now hear something inside it, an almost glottal murmur. “Nickar,” it seemed to say, “Nickar.”
The harp music began again, jolting Klara. The word “Nickar” seemed to time in precisely with the beat, becoming almost a chant.
“Jeremy, what is it?”
“I don’t know,” he said, not wanting to admit that it made him think of old pictures of angels. “But we need to go.”
“Yes,” said Klara, her voice rising to compete with the harp and the chanting.
The thing from the lake leaned forward and the wings twitched. It started to glide towards them, the chant getting louder, its quickening wing flaps bringing it ever, frighteningly closer. Jeremy, walking backwards and dragging Klara alongside him, couldn’t take his eyes off the monstrosity. What was Nickar, was that its name?
Jeremy stumbled as his foot caught the start of the incline and he went down heavily, pulling Klara on top of him. The Nickar moved quickly, dipping down, its wings beating a tattoo, its long bony arms grasping.
“Oh shit,” said Jeremy, “oh shit…”
It was gaining speed, the chants clearer now as it opened its mouth wide. Closer, he could see that it was almost a man, overly tall and skeletally thin, but those wings, those fucking terrible wings that brought the terror closer to him with every heartbeat, they were something he’d only ever seen in nightmares.
“Get up, Klara!” he yelled.
She looked at him, her eyes dazed, as if fear had completely seized her up. He pushed her off, using the momentum to get to his feet and pull her up too. “Klara, don’t fade away on me, I can’t lift you up.”
She pulled hard on his arms and he heard the thing close by - “Nickar, Nickar!” - and then she was moving up and away from him. Suddenly pulling against nothing, he staggered backwards and tried to keep his footing.
Klara screamed.
She was lifted away from him, the bony toes of the monster gripping her shoulders. Her eyes and mouth were wide and she was clawing for him with outstretched fingers. “Jeremy!”
Jeremy reached for her but the Nickar was moving towards the lake, his wings carrying him as steadily and surely as if Klara wasn’t there. She was swinging as best she could, clawing at his toes with her hands, kicking her legs. When the Nickar was a hundred or so yards out, he suddenly flew upwards and Klara punched and hit him harder. Jeremy stopped, staring. How high was that thing now, forty feet up, perhaps more?
The Nickar released his grip on Klara and, with a scream, she dropped like a stone, hitting the water hard, one leg outstretched. She disappeared beneath the surface in a huge splash but re-appeared a moment or two later, gasping for breath. Jeremy ran to the water’s edge, not sure what to do. He picked up a large stone and threw it, as hard as he could, at the Nickar. The stone bounced off the monsters wings as if it was nothing more than a foam pellet.
Klara was splashing about, screaming and trying to keep her head above the water. She held out her arms towards Jeremy but before he had a chance to do anything, the Nickar moved. Turning on itself neatly, it dove down at speed, its hands crashing into Klara and pushing her under the water. They disappeared from sight, the water churning in their wake. A few moments later, the Nickar re-appeared, gliding up a few feet and hovering in place, leaning forward and looking at the water.
Klara re-appeared a moment or two later, her outstretched arms first, coughing and spluttering. She didn’t even have a chance to shout before the Nickar was on her again, pushing her back down.
Jeremy knelt and gathered some bigger stones
, pushing them into a pile at his feet. Going out into the water wouldn’t help Klara at all, there was no way he could fight off that demon. But if he could injure it somehow, push it back and allow Klara to swim free, then he would.
The Nickar appeared in a huge spouting splash, arms outstretched as if in victory. There was a grin on its face. The first rock that Jeremy threw missed the monsters head by the smallest of margins but the second was on target. It caught the Nickar on its left cheek and the beast roared at him, holding the wound with its long-clawed fingers and flying higher, as if trying to get out of reach.
Klara surfaced again but her struggles were diminishing.
“Swim towards me,” he yelled, “swim!”
“Nickar!” howled the creature and it dive-bombed Klara again, the resultant splash spraying Jeremy. He staggered backwards, sat heavily on the stones. The water was in turmoil, as if to indicate a struggle and then, slowly, it calmed. Nothing moved.
The water was so dark that even if Jeremy was in it, he wouldn’t be able to see below the surface. What was that thing? The size of it, apart from the wings, it wouldn’t need much depth to swim undetected to catch him easily in the shallows. Ignoring his fear, he knew he had to help Klara as best he could and took a step into the water. Fear clamoured at him, his pulse raced, his scalp pulled tight and his fingers tingled. He could barely catch a breath, as if something large and immovable was lodged in his throat.
Another step, and another and quickly he was up to his waist. Where was it? Where was Klara?
The Nickar burst out of the water in front of him and flew high, moving in lazy circles above him, like a horrific vulture ready for the kill. Jeremy rushed forward, slapping the water. “Klara!” he screamed, “Klara!”
He heard a smaller splash behind him and warily turned around. A body was in the water, on its front. He recognised the coat and blonde hair immediately.
“No!” He waded back towards it, turning it in the water. Klara was obviously dead, her eyes wide and staring. There was discolouration around her nose and mouth and deep claw marks in his forehead and cheeks.
“Nickar!”
The monster was coming towards him at speed. He dived to the left, pushing Klara’s body away from him. The Nickar hit the water and the force of impact pushed Jeremy forward. He struggled to keep his feet, feeling rocks moving under him, but fell forward. He struck out, trying to front crawl his way to the shore. The Nickar came back up, howling, made a wide loop and dive-bombed him again.
Jeremy felt its claws rake down his arm but otherwise it missed and he struck out harder, trying to cover the distance before the thing re-appeared.
The shingle beach was getting closer but far too slowly. His arms were burning with pain but he kept going. He felt something brush his leg, kicked against and pushed forward again. The beach was so close now it was almost painful to see it - two, perhaps three strokes away.
One big stroke and a loud splash behind him. Another stroke, another splash.
One more stroke and he’d be there.
The claws wrapped around his ankle and pulled him back, water rushing up his nose and down his throat, making him choke. He was rolled under water, losing his bearings and his lungs screamed for air. He tried to kick at the vice-like grip around his ankles and felt something in his leg which sent bolts of white hot pain into his groin.
He managed to surface, coughing and spluttering. The corpse of Klara bobbed a few feet away from him. Jeremy tried to get his bearings, but couldn’t quite seem to work out where he was.
“Nickar!”
He looked up and saw the beast bearing down on him. It did have eyes, he could see that now, dark slashes gouged into the skin, hiding black eyeballs. The Nickar struck his shoulders and Jeremy felt bones snap and then he was underwater, mouth and eyes open, lake water rushing into his lungs.
Author’s Note
Nickar, from the Dictionnaire Infernal, Collin de Plancy, 1863
In Teutonic mythology, Nickar are malignant water monsters who drown people. They are related to female water spirits which are called Undine. These lesser water divinities will sometimes leave the water to attend village dances. They have fish tails and often sit by the water combing each other’s long green or blonde hair, playing the harp, or singing.
Before Christianity was adopted, the Saxons adored a feminine divinity, whose temple lies in Magdebourg or Megdeburch (city of the young lady). She would appear with a basket under her arm, graceful & proper, and at first glance, one could mistake her for the daughter of a good bourgeois. However, a small corner of her apron always remained wet, as a reminder of her aquatic origin.
O Is For Onoskelis
Magen Cubed
The invitation arrived Monday morning on Harvey’s front porch in a sterile white envelope, his name crisply embossed. Everything about the envelope and the letter inside was austere, impersonal but for his name beneath the goat’s head emblem and the request for his presence at the Black Heaven Social Club on 42nd Street and Exchange. Harvey held the letter to the sun, admiring the heavy stock of the paper and the raised edging framing the corners. He brought it to his sister Scarlett, flapping it around in front of her sofa perch. She paid him little mind, waving him off in favor of her two units of homework and last night’s Pad Thai. Defeated, Harvey dropped the invite into his coat pocket and went to the office without another word of it.
Through the morning’s sales projection meeting, to phone-calls with clients and lunch and coffee with Rick from Accounting, Harvey thumbed the edges of the envelope. The club, he knew, was only a few minutes away, on a four-block stretch of bars and clubs, tattoo studios and curio shops. He had never been there but the area was familiar, from drunken college weekends to nights out to celebrate new accounts with the guys from the office. By five o’clock Harvey held his breath in the elevator down to the parking garage, folding and unfolding the envelope to the point of distraction.
Home again by six-thirty for a few beers, dinner with Scarlett and a lo-budget sci-fi movie, Harvey left the invitation on the kitchen counter. From the couch, his sister’s head slumped on his shoulder, he gave it a curious glance. Scarlett never asked and Harvey didn’t bring it up. Instead he nudged her awake again at eleven, brushing the hair from her face and shutting off the movie before she came around enough to notice. She yawned and fussed but got up anyway, giving him a peck on the cheek and wishing him goodnight. Scarlett went to her room and Harvey to his, closing the door behind him.
Harvey didn’t sleep that night, thinking of Black Heaven instead.
***
By Wednesday curiosity got the better of Harvey. On his way home from the office, he thumbed the club’s address into his phone and found directions to the little white building on the corner of 42nd and Exchange. He had to be sure it was where he thought it would be, between an old pub and a sex shop called Nancy’s Gifts and More. It had no sign or windows, just a tall black door. Parked on the curb across the street, Harvey tried the door but found it locked, and with an ear pressed to the cold metal it appeared no one was inside. With a sigh he was back in the car and home forty minutes later than usual, having already missed dinner, the leftovers cooling in the fridge.
Harvey found Scarlett in the bathtub, drinking a beer. He took a seat on the tub’s edge.
“Bad day?” he asked, canting his head. It was hard to ignore the softness of her skin where her knees crested above the water’s surface, already pink.
Scarlett scoffed, scrubbing a hand across her face. She reached for the beer sitting in the soap dish. “Dr. Wallace gave me his sixth round of notes on my dissertation,” she answered flatly. “The man is trying to kill me.”
Harvey nodded agreeably. “Hey, I went to that club earlier.”
“What club?”
“The one from the invitation? I showed it to you the other day?”
“Dude, I’ve been reading five chapters a day and working on two papers.” She took another sip an
d looked at him skeptically. “You’re lucky I remember where I live.”
“So, anyway, this club,” he rolled his eyes, “there’s nothing there. No windows, no sign.”
“Did you go in?”
“Of course not.” He only half-lied. “I mean, who sends invitations to non-existent clubs? It’s probably some kind of scam, right?”
“Yeah, just forget it. The whole thing sounds weird, anyway.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Skimming a hand over Scarlett’s knee, Harvey shrugged. “I just can’t help but wonder why they left the invitation in the first place. That’s a lot of trouble to go through for just a pyramid scheme, you know?”
After a moment Scarlett shifted away from her brother, pulling her legs underwater. She shook her head, chuckling. “Weirdo.”
“What?” Harvey smirked, undeterred, leaning in over the bath water. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”
“You really need to see somebody else naked for a change.” With that she took another sip of her beer, waving him off. “Hey, and get out, would you? I need to get dressed.”
Harvey stood, made his way to the door. “What’s in the fridge?”
“Baked pasta.” Scarlett made motion to stand up, letting the water drain from the tub. “Go. Eat. Be weird elsewhere.”
Waiting for just a moment longer, Harvey left to forage for dinner, distracted from Black Heaven by the softness of his sister’s skin.
***
If asked, and Harvey never was, he couldn’t say why he fell in love with his sister. It wasn’t part of his five-year plan, having little to do with his list of approved extracurriculars or the internship that landed him his first job. Their childhood was uneventful; they spent it in the suburbs with good parents and attending good schools, roaming their expansive backyard together to climb trees and build forts. Back then they were always together, Harvey big and strong for his age, Scarlett short and thin, hanging from her brother’s back with bony little arms. It was simpler then, playing along the creek in the park behind their house, rolling around in the grass. If Harvey kissed his sister, nobody said a word of it, least of all Scarlett.
The Demonologia Biblica Page 20
