by Sara Clancy
The house was as she had remembered it, both in her mind and in her nightmares. Jumping down the last few steps, she ran for the front door. The lock held firm within her hand, refusing to open no matter what she did. Her frustration left her in a shrill scream. She beat the door until her hands were bloody but it still refused to open.
“What’s wrong?”
Marigold whirled around and pressed her back against the door. Delilah stood in the threshold to the kitchen. The expanse of the foyer separated them but it wasn’t nearly enough. The door handle dug against her spine but she still pushed back harder, trying to melt through the wall to get away. Her aunt’s golden hair caught the afternoon light as Delilah tilted her head to the side.
“What is it, Marigold?” she asked with concern.
“You’re not real.”
Delilah laughed nervously as she took a step closer, “I’m sorry?”
“You’re dead.”
She took another step, “I don’t understand.”
“Stay away from me!”
Delilah lifted her hands up as if to pacify her but still kept edging closer, “Marigold, I know your trip here was a long one. You’re still tired. Perhaps you should rest.”
“I don’t sleep,” Marigold mumbled. “Not anymore.”
Delilah took another step and Marigold’s voice rose to a scream.
“Stay back!”
“Is this about your parents? I know the weight you’re under. I’m struggling to understand it myself.”
“What?” she laughed bitterly. “You’re just like them. They’re just like everyone in this sick family.”
“Is that what your dad told you? Marigold, no one in our family has ever done something like this before.”
Marigold hesitated. “You’re lying.”
“Why would I?”
“This is a trick. You tried to kill me. You’re dead.”
“Child, you must be under so much stress,” Delilah said. “You’re confused. You only arrived in New Orleans a few hours ago. You went for a nap. You must have had a nightmare.”
The notion flooded her mind and found a welcoming home there. To have everything be just a thought, a passing notion, a broken whisper of the sleep that would dissipate soon enough. It dug into her mind with a thousand claws and refused to move. Marigold wanted to believe her. More than anything, she wanted to believe. Delilah startled her as she placed a hand on Marigold’s shoulder. She had been so consumed with her own thoughts that she hadn’t noticed her taking the last steps that had separated them.
“It’s okay, Maggie. You’re safe. I’m here.”
Marigold’s body felt boiled and frozen in the same moment. The world fell away, losing all meaning and understanding, until all that remained was Delilah’s hand on her shoulder. It was a soft caress, a touch shared between families, a sign of love. Something that she had thought was lost to her forever. It was a tidal force and she bowed under it, drawn closer by Delilah’s beckoning hand. Delilah drew her into a hug and Marigold went, burying her face against the curve of her aunt’s neck.
The grip on her arm tightened and Marigold was thrust back from Delilah. Marigold saw the glint of the knife a second before the cool blade bit into the tender flesh of her neck, tracing the scar her father had left. Pain radiated out from the gash, the skin tearing wider as she tried to scream. Blood gushed free. Adrenaline flooded her system and propelled her into motion. She ran. Delilah followed, herding her back to the staircase. Blood slicked the steps as she hobbled up to the next floor. It was only when she was half way up that she dared to glance back at her aunt. Delilah remained at the base of the stairs, knife in her hand, a pleasant and warm expression on her face.
“Welcome home, Marigold.”
***
Ma tightened her grip on Louis’ arm until it throbbed. She dragged him further down the hall in a search for privacy that wasn’t likely to be fulfilled. Finally, she settled on the quiet end of the hall and shoved Louis against a wall. Crowding into his space made it possible to keep the swarming medical workers from overhearing.
“What the hell were you thinking?” she snarled.
“Maggie called for me, what was I supposed to do?”
Ma’s hand curled into a claw before she forced it flat. It was a habit Louis easily recognized. She was fighting an urge to slap some sense into someone and, unfortunately, that someone was him.
With a forced calm she said, “It wasn’t her.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Maggie’s in there, Ma. You said it yourself–”
“That was for Cordelia and René’s soft hearts,” Ma cut in, her eyes dark with rage. “Marigold won’t be able to break the demon’s hold unless it wants her to.”
“You don’t know Maggie,” Louis said.
With a hand against his sternum, Ma pressed Louis tighter against the wall. The back of his head collided with a solid thud but he ignored the spike of pain. Instead, he kept his eyes solely on his mother, his jaw clenched tight against his mounting frustration. Ma held up her motel key high enough for him to see it before she pushed it into his hand.
“Take a break.”
Louis shook his head, “What? You’re sending me home?”
“You’re too close to this.”
“She needs me. I’m not going to abandon her.”
“It’s playing you,” Ma said. “You’ve looked into its eyes. It knows what buttons to push. Go take a shower. Eat something. Sleep. Then you can come back.”
“No.”
Ma swallowed whatever it was that she had originally wanted to say, and instead spoke with barely contained anger, “I can’t win this fight if you’re feeding the demon.”
She pressed her index finger against Louis’s temple until pain washed out from the point of contact. He winced, but the continued dull throb cut through his swirling emotions and desperation to capture his attention.
Ma made sure she had his attention before she hissed, “Get your house in order.”
Louis took a shaky breath and tightened his fingers around the key. His stomach churned. He couldn’t deny Ma was right. It hadn’t even occurred to him how much damage he could be doing. The demon was sending him visions. He couldn’t trust his senses let alone his judgment. He was infected with the demon’s influence. He needed to be quarantined. Ma was quick to pick up on his sense of defeat and took a step back, giving him enough room to breathe.
“Go now, before anyone starts looking for you.”
Louis cast his eyes back to Marigold’s room. People still streamed in and out, the chaos luring people in like gravity. He could feel its pull and it took everything he had to take the first step away. It felt like he was abandoning her.
“Damn it,” Ma muttered under her breath as Nadia emerged and made a beeline for them.
Louis forced himself to walk away while Ma moved to block the questing reporter.
Chapter 6
Steam filled the small bathroom by the time Louis turned off the shower. For the longest time, he didn’t move. He remained behind the cheap motel’s faded curtain, feeling the water roll over his skin and listening to it trickle down the drain. Only a few blocks separated him from the hospital, but he had been exhausted by the time he finished the journey. With each step, he had wanted to turn back, his insides squirming like a pit of snakes. What if she wakes up again? The thought had haunted him. Had she already? Did she need him? He had promised he would be there.
Without the sound of the shower, the motel room had reverted to its original deathly silence. It had taken longer than he had anticipated to remove the layers of swamp scum off of him. He gave up trying to salvage his clothes but Ma had purchased each of them a change of clothes from the local thrift shop. Cordelia’s and René’s were gone. Louis didn’t know when they had come back but the wet towels were the only sign that they had ever been there.
It had been hard to step into the shower and keep his memories at bay. He couldn�
��t stop thinking about his last shower, the one he had on the boat that had been interrupted by a ghost appearing behind him. It had only been one encounter, but he doubted if he would ever be able to enter a shower without it playing somewhere in the back of his mind. He had a new understanding of how difficult it must be for Marigold to set foot into a bathroom. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to get out of this room.
His skin crawled as he pulled the last dry towel from the rack and quickly wiped off the remaining droplets. He was still wet when he struggled into the jeans and the slightly too tight, yellowed shirt. There was too much steam to bother putting his glasses on and his blurred vision only added to his nerves. He yanked at the door. It didn’t open. His heart stammered as he pulled again. The lock wasn’t even engaged. He had purposefully kept it open. But it still wouldn’t move.
The silence was shattered by a sudden scream. Each muscle in his shoulders turned to stone as fear spiked within him. The cries grew louder, radiated from behind him, sharp and shrill. It was an infant’s cry. Louis didn’t dare turn. He could feel the mist swirl and constrict against him like coils of stone. He pulled at the door with renewed force, not unable to hear the clatter of the door over the baby’s scream. The broken cries turned shrill and desperate. He pulled with all of his might. The plastic arm of his glasses was caught between his hand and the doorknob. It dug painfully into his palm as he tightened his hold. The cries filled his head until he could almost feel his skull fracturing with the strain. Choking on his budding pain, Louis hunched forward, unwilling to let go of the door to protect his ears.
“Leave me alone,” he ground out.
Suddenly, the steam sucked back to one pinpoint of space, taking with it every molecule of oxygen. The air was ripped out of his lungs, his whole body emptied until he felt compressed from the inside out. He pitched forward and heaved as bile rushed up his throat, burning like acid every inch of the way. The remaining spit within his mouth began to boil and he could feel the water that still clung to his skin evaporate.
The slick greyish-blue tinge of death began to pollute his dark skin. It felt like his flesh was being pulled too tight, that at any moment it would begin to rip and release his insides to tumble out onto the vomit-soaked tiles. Behind him, the steam vibrated, unable to be condensed into such a singular point. Louis’ hand slipped from the doorknob as the lack of oxygen began to dull his brain. Lights flashed and danced in front of his vision and he slumped forward.
The steam exploded out, catching Louis in its shock wave and thrusting him into the air before he could hit the ground. The blast reduced the door to splinters, providing a gap that allowed Louis to be hurled into the room. Like a leaf in a hurricane, he thumped and smacked across the ground until the end of the bed brought him to a final, agonizing stop.
Air rushed back to fill his cells. His skin burned at the slightest touch, the wiry carpet felt like a bed of razor blades, but he didn’t have the strength to peel himself from the floor. Lights danced as his blurred vision shivered and vibrated. Louis let his head slump forward and centered his fractured thoughts on the suddenly complicated task of breathing.
“What the hell is going on?”
It took a torturous effort for Louis to lift his head and put his glasses on. The reward wasn’t worth it. Nadia stood in the middle of the room, her look of shock quickly fading to a determination that made his stomach twist again. Louis attempted to stand up, but it took a lot more effort than he had anticipated and, with a monstrous effort, he was only able to tilt himself into a sitting position.
With a low groan, he forced out, “I’ll pay for the door.”
“Do I look like hotel management? Who’s in there?”
“No one.”
Nadia stormed past him, her bravado wavering as she neared the bathroom. Louis watched her carefully as she peeked through the now empty threshold into the bathroom. He sagged with relief when she straightened up with a look of confusion.
“No one’s there.”
Louis let out a long breath, “Like I said.”
Resting his aching back against the end of the bed he took a soothing breath, delighting in the feel of air easily expanding his lungs. His face twisted as a thought hit him.
“How did you get in?” he glanced at the closed motel door to emphasize his point.
She scoffed dismissively, “I knocked. You didn’t answer.”
“So you broke into my hotel room? That’s a crime.”
“Call the cops.”
His fingers twisted into the sheets as he used the bed to push himself up. On shaky legs, he staggered towards the phone on the bedside table. Nadia beat him to it and snatched the phone away.
“Are you serious?” she snapped.
Seeing no way her stubbornness would let her surrender the argument, Louis gave up and gingerly lowered himself to sit on the bed.
“What do you want, Nadia?”
“I want to know what really happened to Marigold.”
“What did she say?”
“Oh no, you go first.”
Louis laughed, bitter and breathless. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
Nadia watched him carefully for a long moment, a strange look crossing her face. It took him a moment to place it. She didn’t know what to make of him. From the first second they met, Nadia had carried herself as if she knew each of his darkest secrets. Her condescending dismissal spoke volumes that she believed that she had met a thousand people just like him and that there wasn’t a single aspect of his personality that she didn’t already understand. But now, she looked at him like an alien species. He wasn’t sure how he had just broken out of the pattern she had determined he would follow. But he evidently had, and she was struggling to redefine him.
“How about you start with what happened on the boat?”
“No.”
She smiled. “I don’t think you understand just how screwed you are. I can help you. Or I can completely mess up your existence.”
Too exhausted to actually laugh, Louis hunched forward and rested his forearms on his knees. “Be my guest. Whatever you have planned, I promise you, it’s an improvement on what I have right now.”
Nadia narrowed her eyes in a way that she obviously thought was intimidating but only drained the last of Louis’ energy. He was tired, sore, and still feeling rather traumatized. All he wanted to do was sleep and perhaps cry, unwanted company or not. But what haunted him was that the hotel room had to be out of range of the demon’s influence. Whatever he had just witnessed, it wasn’t from the demon. It was something else. Something turbulent and pained with enough raw emotion to cause real physical damage. The ghost of an infant.
The first night Marigold had come to him, she had told him about hearing the wails of a child. They had thought it was a trick of the demon. What if it wasn’t? The thought came to him unbidden and swirled around his mind. If it is really a separate being then it could change everything. If it’s an actual ghost child, things would not be improving.
Nadia’s sharp voice brought him out of his thoughts. He was startled to find her crouched before him, determined to meet his gaze even as he stared at the floor. He hadn’t noticed her moving.
“This isn’t a good time. Could you please leave now?”
“Now, there’s the Louis I know.”
He rolled his eyes. They didn’t know the first thing about each other and he was quick to point that out.
“I know you’re a Boy Scout.”
“I was never in the Scouts,” Louis mumbled as he dropped his head into his hands. It hurt too much to try and keep it up. Still, he could feel Nadia staring at him.
“Idiot,” she whispered before saying with more strength. “I mean, I know that you’re a polite mama’s boy.”
“My mama can make the devil flinch just by getting out of bed in the morning. That’s a kind of woman you mind. And you’re so far removed from manners that I’m surprised you know what politeness is.”
<
br /> “Wow, you’re grouchy when you’re tired.”
“You broke into my hotel room,” he said in a sudden burst.
He instantly regretted it. More for the way it sent white hot pokers into his brain than for any offence she might have taken. Suppressing a whimper, he kept his voice to a soft pitch as he continued.
“You have no idea what you’ve stepped into. My advice? Go. Right now.”
“Not without answers,” Nadia said as she crossed her arms over her chest.
Helplessness seeped deep into the marrow of his bones. “Are you sure? There’s a surprising lot to do around here.”
“I’m only interested in the La Roux family right now.”
“What luck,” he said. “I was just telling Maggie that ...”
His voice trailed off as pieces of his memories clicked together. Yesterday. He had told her that yesterday. How was it that his entire life had crumbled so far beyond recognition in just one night? He could barely remember what it had been like to just sit with Marigold at that restaurant on the banks of the bayous. For a few moments, life had been peaceful. Calm. He had been trying to use sightseeing as a distraction, just as he was now. It was important for her to cling onto some shadow of her normal life. But then the rotting corpse of an infant had appeared under their table and gripped her leg.
“Louis!”
He jumped and snapped his head around, sending his brain sloshing around the inside of his skull. Nadia glared at him.
“I’m sorry?” he mumbled.
“Do you have a concussion?”
“No,” Louis said. “I was just thinking.”
“What were you telling Marigold?”
Louis slowly got to his feet, making sure he was steady before he let his hands drop. He glanced around. Is it still here? he wondered. What is it waiting for? Aside from the door, the room stood as perfectly as any low budget hotel could be. Everything was still. Maybe it was time to test a theory.
