by Sara Clancy
“Louis.”
He took a steadying breath and ventured, “I was telling her that the old La Roux plantation isn’t too far from here.”
Nadia glanced around, mimicking Louis movements. The hotel room remained silent. It wasn’t much of a connection, Louis thought with a creeping sense of defeat. Nadia threw her hands out.
“What are you looking for?” she screamed.
She hadn’t finished the sentence before the crying started. He met Nadia’s eyes. She’d heard it too, he was sure of it, but before she could question him her eyes widened and focused on something behind him. He quickly whirled around to see the very center of the bed began to rise. The lump grew larger in sudden lurches. A cry broke out of Nadia’s throat as the infant’s screams became louder, the mound swelling with the sound. The blanket shifted as something squirmed underneath.
“What is that?” Nadia gasped.
With one hand, she blindly reached out and latched onto his forearm. He didn’t know if she was seeking reassurance or if she just wanted to make sure that she had someone to throw in the way. She didn’t try to hold him back as he edged closer to the bed. The scent of Spanish moss and decay drifted into his nose as his fingers hovered over the still writhing floral top sheet. Gently, he tapped one finger against the bulge.
Like a rushing tide, the mound flattened. The squirming masses streamed towards the edges of the bed and toppled in thick rivers over the curve of the mattress. The ends of the blanket fluttered as thousands of spiders flooded out onto the carpet. There was so many of them that they resembled a stream of shiny, black ink. Nadia leapt back, her hand squeezing Louis’ forearm until her nails broke his skin. They swarmed over their feet. He could feel their spindly legs creeping under the cuffs of his jeans and climbing his legs.
The sensation made his brain stammer out one slice of information; southern black widows. Without thought, he twisted around and grabbed Nadia around her waist. Her weight smacked down against his shoulder as he bolted to the door. The spiders clustered over his legs and crunched under his bare feet. Nadia squirmed and almost toppled from his shoulder as he wrenched the door open and hurled them both outside. The second he set her down, she whirled around to help smack the remaining arachnoids from his legs but nothing was there. In unison, they looked back to the open motel door. To the once again empty room beyond.
“There was a swarm of black widows!” Nadia screamed.
Louis could only stare, “Yes.”
“Poisonous black widows!”
“I saw them, too.”
“I felt them,” Nadia said.
He took a timid step towards the room. Nadia instantly reached for him but couldn’t bring herself to get any closer.
Watching the door carefully he asked aloud, “You want me to go to the plantation?”
“I didn’t–”
Louis lifted a hand to try and shush her. The air remained silent. Placid. Nadia began to pace over the gravel parking lot but didn’t try to speak again. Louis tried to push it aside and tried to fix his focus solely on the spirit so desperate for his attention. There was no way to know if it wanted his help or to lure him to his death, but its desperation didn’t give him the option to simply ignore it.
“Do you want me to go to the La Roux plantation?”
Silence.
The gravel crunched under Nadia’s heeled boots as she stormed to his side, “What are you doing?”
Again, he lifted his hand to ask for a minute more. He knew the dismissal would cost him later, that Nadia wouldn’t take kindly to being so easily dismissed, so he made a passing attempt to placate her.
“I will tell you everything if you remain quiet right now.”
“Quiet while you do what? Ask an empty room about travel plans?”
Louis locked his eyes on the room, “If you don’t give me a sign, I’m not doing anything.”
They both leapt back as the door slammed shut. The wood cracked on impact, creating a deep fissure that spread out in cobwebs along the varnished surface. For a moment, he could do little more than stare as he studied the cracks. Nadia instantly lifted her phone and snapped a photo.
“Do you have a car?” Louis asked without looking away from the door. “I need a lift to Monroe.”
Chapter 7
Marigold wavered on her feet as she reached the landing. The dark narrow staircase still stood before her if she were to get back to her room, although there was no promise of safety when she got there. Blood drizzled down her forearm and made her fingers slip against the wound. Her attempts to stem the flow did little good and blood rushed between her fingertips in a raging torrent. Every footstep left a smeared trail across the redwood floor. It isn’t real, she tried to convince herself. No one could have this much blood in them.
But it was hard to convince herself of that when she heard Delilah slowly ascending the stairs behind her. The world tilted as she lurched forward. It was growing hard to lift her feet. She staggered and lurched, her hands groping the wall to find the hidden door. Delilah had reached the landing by the time Marigold wrapped her fingers around the door edge and yanked it free. She threw herself into the dark space beyond the door. Releasing her neck for a moment, she reached back to grab the door with both hands. Delilah was right there, slashing her knife into the gap with a ferocious snarl. The door slammed shut but there was no lock. She didn’t dare let go.
In the pitch darkness, she could feel the blood pump out of her throat. Delilah slid the tip of her knife across the door, a constant scrape that made Marigold’s eyes burn with unshed tears. Within moments, she stood in a pool of her own blood. She could feel it, thick and warm, slushing over her feet and quickly rising.
It’s not real, she told herself as she fought against Delilah to keep the door closed. None of this is real.
But rational thought couldn’t compete with the constant bombardment of sensation. Each breath whistled as it worked through the gaping hole in her throat. The liquid quickly claimed her knees, growing steadily higher until it lapped against her hips.
“Let me in,” Delilah sang as she scraped the blade against the wood.
Marigold’s grip was slipping as she struggled to keep her head above the blood. It was a losing battle. Standing on her tiptoes, she tilted her head back to keep her face above the rising tide. As her face was lost under the hot liquid she heard the words repeating in her head.
“Let me in!”
***
In light of recent events, Ma no longer had any doubts that René would be a fine addition to their family. He and Cordelia worked together with an efficient ease, neither needing much in the way of conversation to achieve the tasks Ma gave them. Right now, they were surprisingly effective at keeping the hallway to Marigold’s room clear. Of course, they could only ever keep it clear for short bursts of time. Any large distractions would only serve to draw more attention onto them. But it was enough to allow the Voodoo Queen to slip into Marigold’s room unnoticed. She could only hope that she would have enough time to put up the signals.
A few substitutions had to be made but she had every faith that they would work well enough. With the supplies tucked safely within her pockets, she made her way to the wide hospital door. The chaos had died down. Now, only a few of the staff moved through the halls, each one quickly going about their tasks with little care of her. Ma stared straight ahead, barely sparing them a glance as she neared Marigold’s room. She slowed and gave every indication of being interested in her watch until the last of the hall cleared. Her heart sank as she stole a glance through the doorway. They hadn’t moved Marigold’s roommate. Sealing the room with an innocent soul still inside made her gut twist, but there wasn’t much she could do now. The demon had to be contained. They would find a way to help the other patient later.
Ma took a deep, sobering breath. She knew the symbols by heart. She would only need a few moments to put them up. René had been right. The demon had to be contained. Damn Louis’ sen
timentality, Ma thought with a rough edge of frustration. This demon needs to be contained. Using Marigold’s body as a cell only made sense. But Louis wouldn’t permit it. So locking the demon within the room would have to do until Louis would come to his senses.
The seal she had selected would hold so long as it remained intact. The difficult part was finding a way to put a symbol on a white wall without people noticing and instantly removing them. Once again, René had proved his ingenuity. Set the impossible task, he had returned with a kids coloring-in kit. She had thought he was a borderline idiot until he had produced the small white crayon from the set. The wax should hold relatively well and the color was almost identical to the paint of the walls.
Guarding her thoughts in case the demon might overhear, she slipped across the open threshold. The angle of the door blocked her sight of Marigold, allowing Ma to glimpse the tips of bandaged feet. With little time to spare, Ma pulled the crayon out of her pocket and quickly began to trace out the intricate pattern of circles and lines. There was no chance to stop once she started. It had to be perfect. One flaw and the powerful binding spell would be as effective as a kid’s finger-painting. It unnerved her to do it blind. It would need her full concentration. And if the demon had become strong to such a state that it could read her mind she would practically be screaming her intention.
She worked as fast as she dared, her hand moving with well-practiced strokes. The second it was completed, she checked the hall with a fleeting glance. The hallway was still clear enough that she could pull out the tiny travel sized can of hairspray. The artificial floral scent of the spray wafted around her head as she put a protective seal over the symbol. There had to be two completed seals, one on either side of the doorway if this particular gate to hell was going to remain locked. She wasn’t about to let general cleaning ruin everything. Once the hairspray dried, the seal would be safe, at least for a while.
With one completed, she turned her attention to the other side of the doorway. She glanced around the hall and quickly into the room. Nurses moved across the end of the hallway, both too engrossed in their tasks to pay Ma any mind. Still, she didn’t move again until she made sure that Marigold was still in place. She slipped across the threshold and quickly began to work on the second seal, crayon in one hand, hairspray in the other.
She had barley completed the symbol when she heard the sounds of people approaching. Quickly stashing the crayon in her pocket, she hid the can behind her back and once again tried to look like she was fascinated with the time. Her heart pounded achingly against her ribs. Remaining as still and silent as possible, she waited for the group to pass. She didn’t dare breathe until the voice of the group carried on past her.
The first second she could, Ma turned, hairspray at the ready. A startled gasp pulled from her throat and the can slipped from her fingers. Marigold’s once unassuming figure now consumed the threshold. Dark energy poured from her like boiling tar and pooled against the active seal. The can rolled between Marigold’s bandaged legs, disappearing unnoticed into the recesses of the room. The silence was polluted with the fine cracking of broken bones grinding against themselves. The demon gave no sign of pain. It fixed Marigold’s now sunken eyes upon Ma with an unblinking gaze.
“Little girl with little tricks.”
Marigold’s voice carried an impossible echo. It vibrated against Ma’s skin and tried to burrow inside her pores. Ma didn’t dare close her eyes as she pushed out an energy of her own. The air began to crackle with the heightened charge. The overhead lights began to stutter and the room became too humid and chilled within the same moment.
“Tricks can be little as long as they work.”
It was as if the skin of Marigold’s face was incapable of forming the sneer the demon gave. The result was something akin to an oversized mask, pulled tight in the wrong places and drooping over bones.
“Come get your can.”
“No need,” Ma said.
The pooling energy had gathered enough to be visible. It swirled like rotted, festering black diamonds. It tilted Marigold’s head and pulled her dripping skin into a smile.
“As soon as they wash the walls, I’ll be free.”
“Unless I get another can. They’re $4.95 at the gift shop,” Ma said. Your concern will be what happens when they come and get you for surgery.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Didn’t they tell you? Those legs you’re borrowing are shattered. Standing on them can’t be doing them much good either. They’re going to need surgery. The kind they put you under for.”
The demon twitched Marigold’s lips, trying to conceal its rage. But Ma was certain that she detected the quickest flicker of fear within all of the disgust. Demon’s rarely cared for the damage inflicted on the host. Squatting inside like a burrowing spider, they could survive while the host suffered. But they were linked. Sedation worked on them just as effectively as a human. The second they put her back under, that ticking clock to perform an exorcism unhindered would be reset.
“It’s elective surgery. I’ll elect not to.”
“And won’t that raise questions,” Ma said.
The demon lunged forward but the seal held. It burnt the demon’s borrowed skin on contact. The stench of burning flesh filled Ma’s nose as she watched the demon stagger back. Patches of skin glowed and bubbled like it had been hit with a branding iron but it refused to scream.
“You have no idea what I am,” the demon growled.
“I know your kind doesn’t do well in the light. You’re parasites. When people notice you, it’s only a matter of time before they rip you out.”
“After I kill you, I will destroy everything you’ve ever loved. Starting with that strapping young boy of yours.”
Ma took a step closer to the demon and met its eyes as she corrected, “If.”
It was becoming harder to breath as the dwelling powers flooded every molecule of air. Still, Ma didn’t look away. She could feel it clawing at the corners of her mind, desperate to find a way in. That heightened need brought with it a tantalizing realization.
“You don’t have her yet.”
“Soon,” the creature promised. “That’s why you won’t let them put me under.”
“Won’t I?”
“She’ll be trapped in here. With me.”
Ma took a step closer. The boundary crackled, vibrating with an electric hum. It prickled across their skin, probing each cell, sizzling along each strand of hair. A trace of Marigold still lingered within the light eyes. Still, there wasn’t a trace of hesitation or question within Ma’s words as she spoke.
“I will burn this whole world to ash before I let you go.” Ice crossed her skin as she edged closer still. “Understand this. You should be scared of me.”
Chapter 8
The breeze from the opened window filled the car with an icy chill but Louis refused to wind it backup. He needed it to stay awake. The little sleep he had managed to grab didn’t do much to stave off his growing fatigue. Emotionally and mentally drained, his vision began to blur as he stared at the small screen of Nadia’s phone. It was a two hour trip to Monroe and, while he hadn’t intended to spend the ride studying the photograph of the motel room door, he couldn’t tear his eyes from the screen. It was a message, it had to be, but he couldn’t figure out what it was trying to tell them.
Slumped in his seat, he leaned against the door and finally put the phone down. The gravel road that they were on carved a narrow path through the encroaching bayous. Yellowing sunlight slipped through the thickly hanging Spanish moss to create shifting shadows over the swampland that pressed in on either side. There would be a few hours of daylight left when they arrived at the old La Roux plantation. He must have studied that stupid broacher a dozen times. Originally, he had thought it would be a nice day trip for Marigold. Something to get her off of the boat, out among people, to distract her for a while. But now, he couldn’t seem to even remember the opening hours. He vaguely reme
mbered that they performed guided tours. How easy will it be to slip away? The thought rolled over his exhausted mind but he couldn’t seem to find an answer for it. And his every attempt to think up ways they could free themselves from the group just seemed laughable. If all else failed, he was sure that the infant would give them an opportunity. He just hoped that it wouldn’t be through violent means.
They curved around another bend. The sunlight blinded them for a moment before the lush colors of the bayou came back into view. Louis bolted upright in his seat and lifted the phone level with his eyes. Nadia flinched with his sudden burst of activity.
“What?” she asked.
“It’s the bayou.”
“What is?” Irritation flooded her voice as she divided her attention between him and the road.
“The cracks on the door, the ones the ghost left.”
“The dead baby left us a picture of the bayous? Why?”
“Could we not call it ‘the dead baby’?” Louis asked.
“What did you want to call it?”
“How about just ‘the baby’?” he snapped.
Nadia didn’t seem bothered by the edge in his voice and gave a lazy shrug.
“We could call it a unicorn but it’s not going to change the fact that it’s the ghost of a dead baby.”
Louis slapped her phone shut and tossed it onto the dashboard. “I just think it’s been through enough.”
“And how would you know that?”
He glared at her, “Most lives don’t stop that short without something going horribly wrong.”
“I don’t know why you’re so surprised. It isn’t like the La Roux clan are above killing infants.”
“Were,” he corrected. “Marigold is the last one left and she would never hurt a child. Or anyone.”
“Yeah, her old boyfriend said she was all about motherhood. Had been since she was four, or so he says. Apparently, she had practically raised her little sister and took a real liking to it. She had talked to him about having eight kids. Who the hell has eight these days?”
