The Claiming

by Glenn Williams

  Behind me, streetlights were still going out with cheerful popping! sounds, as though happily doing their parts in ensuring that I met a gruesome end.

  Panting with fear and exertion, I looked around desperately for some sort of weapon. I just needed a light source. Like a lantern or like a—I broke off in mid-thought, relief crashing through me.

  Or like a flashlight.

  I reached for my phone, praying that it still worked.

  Around me, the chittering noises drew closer again. There were only a handful of streetlights that hadn't gone out yet.

  I turned my phone on. The glass was cracked beyond recognition, but the screen lit up. I let out a sigh of relief.

  Thank you thank you thank you —

  All of the streetlights on the road went out at the same time. The sound was similar to the small explosion that a transformer makes when it blows out.

  Apart from the soft illumination of my screen, I was plunged into near-total darkness.

  Around me, the chittering grew closer and closer...

  And then it stopped. But I could still hear faint scraping on concrete. The creatures were here.

  With only moments before they reached me, I pulled down the notification bar on my phone. My hands shook. I hit the wifi button by mistake. A small spinning circle appeared, then an error message barely visible through the cracked glass: no wifi networks found.

  I tried again, hearing those awful scraping noises on the pavement again. Definitely claws, I decided. They were so close that I could practically feel their breath on me.

  My finger found the button I had been searching for.

  The flashlight on my phone clicked on, cutting through the darkness. I held it up, still breathing hard. The light fell in a ring around me, like a protective circle.

  I cried out in relief.

  Something screeched, directly behind me, as the light fell on it. Immediately, I gagged on the smell of burnt flesh. Around me, I heard more of the creatures scattering to get away from the light. Dozens of dark shapes moved back, away from me. They moved so quickly that I wasn't able to see any of them clearly, but I did note that they were much larger than I had initially imagined, at least the size of a Great Dane.

  Plenty large enough to tear me to pieces.

  In the distance, there were more chitters. They sounded plaintive and drawn out, frustrated. To my relief, they also sounded further away. Fifty or sixty feet.

  Still holding my phone above my head, careful to cast the ring of light around my entire body, I turned to face the house.

  Strangely, it was illuminated somehow, though I couldn't see a light source. It was the only splash of color in the darkness and it stood out like a beacon. It was as though the house were bathed in moonlight, though there was no moon overhead, only darkness. The scene didn't quite make visual sense, just like the doors I had encountered. The house exists inside of its own invisible doorway, I realized.

  The last doorway. The last trial. I knew it instinctively.

  The house shouldn't have been imposing.

  It was a simple log cabin with a steeple roof, surrounded by tall evergreen trees with thick midnight green boughs. Rather than turning gray from age, the wooden exterior of the house had deepened in color, becoming a lovely shade of dark brown. From the outside, it looked like the kind of place you might see featured on Pintrest or maybe on the front of a maple syrup bottle, complete with a thin ribbon of white smoke winding out from the chimney. There was even a cord of neatly chopped lumber stacked on the covered wooden porch beside the front door. On the other end of the porch, there were a pair of old fashioned rocking chairs, their wooden handles worn smooth from years of use. A silvered wind chime hung from one of the porch posts. Warm orange light spilled out in the darkness from a large paned glass window, cheerfully beating back the gloom. The fog stopped abruptly about fifty feet away from the house in a near-perfect circle. I could just make out a child's tricycle on the ground. I knew that if I got closer, the red paint would be so weathered it would look pink.

  I hesitated, taking stock of my situation.

  The creatures were still all around me. The dawn was still fast approaching, though it was impossible to say how much time I actually had left, except that it wasn't much. I was alone. And my only weapon was the small ring of light cast by my cell phone.

  You have to do this, I reminded myself. You have no choice.

  There wasn't time for anything else, except accomplishing what I had set out to do.

  A small part of me felt another pang of guilt at the fact that I had left Rory behind, even though a bigger part of me was still hurt and confused. I didn't know if he would be able to escape on his own. Or if he would even try.

  But I did know one thing with absolute certainty. All of us would become trapped here if I didn't act now.

  I had no options, except for one.

  I would face down whatever was inside of that cabin and I would win or I would die trying. I would do what I came here to do. I would rescue my brother.

  But first, I had to get there.

  That meant going into the fog. Where the creatures — whatever they were — lived.

  As though reading my mind, one of the creatures in the distance chittered excitedly, as though unable to contain itself.

  There was no answer from the others. But I knew they were still there.

  My mind was blank with terror, but somehow that made it easier. Trying not to think about what I was about to do, I stepped off of the relative safety of the road, and into the swirling fog.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The fog was colder than I expected. I could feel dampness spreading into my jeans. It was also much deeper, coming up to my knee. It was so thick that I couldn't see my feet.

  Still holding the phone above me, I moved slower than I wanted to, afraid that I might trip over something.

  The night was entirely silent around me.

  I could feel dozens of hungry, alien eyes watching me from beyond my small ring of light.

  Twice, I felt something solid and unyielding against my shoe.

  The first time, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I looked down and couldn't make out anything through the swirling fog. Shaking, I stepped around the obstacle. It's nothing, I promised myself. A fallen log, maybe. It's not one of the creatures. It would have moved away from the light.

  “Kendra,” A voice said in the distance. “Kendra...”

  It was answered by more chittering noises. They sounded excited again.

  I froze, my eyes roving the fog for the source of the voice. Nothing stirred. I wasn't fooled.

  “Well,” I muttered, my voice tight, “That's new.”

  “Kendra...” It was closer. It didn't sound quite human. “Kendra...”

  I continued forward, ignoring the voice. I didn't really have another option. But every muscle in my body was tense. My heart was hammering in my chest. My palms were sweating. I held my phone so tightly that I was afraid I would break it. I was even more afraid that I would drop it.

  When I was about a hundred yards from the house, my leg brushed something again. I instantly realized what I should have known the first time: it was too soft to be a fallen log. There was too much give to it.

  It felt like flesh.

  In the same moment, the light cast by my phone died. It made that same small popping! sound that the streetlights had made. The bulb had burnt out. In the horrifying instant that followed, a strangely detached part of myself wondered if the creatures themselves were somehow causing the lights to go out. Or perhaps Niram was still nearby. Maybe he was doing it.

  I tried to step back, away from the thing in front of me. I was too slow. Much too slow.

  Arms wrapped themselves around my leg in a vise-like grasp.

  More chittering arose from the darkness. It was all around me and close enough to touch. Excited. Triumphant. Hungry.

  I scream
ed, but it broke off in my throat as dozens of arms, rotted and gray, broke through the fog, all reaching for me.

  The chittering noise was deafening.

  Balling my hands into fists, I tried to bat them away, but they kept coming. One of the hands caught my shirt sleeve and I heard fabric tear as I yanked my arm away. I struggled against the arms holding my leg, trying to find enough purchase so that I could shake myself free.

  The grip holding me relaxed slightly, just as I jerked backwards.

  I slipped and lost my balance. My foot slid across the ground and I staggered backwards on my other leg. A hand grasped me from behind, pulling me back, down into the fog. My arms windmilled uselessly. For a split second, I saw dark shapes around me. Dozens of them.

  Another pair of hands grabbed my ankles.

  I was going to fall. And then I was going to die.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I never hit the ground. Instead, I fell into something warm and solid. Living hands pulled me backwards.

  I heard something impossible: a man's voice screaming out a spell in that strange guttural-sounding language.

  Rory.

  The fog parted in a perfect circle around us and the creatures were blown backwards, dark shapes thrown through the fog. One of the creatures managed to hold on somehow, and stood its ground in front of me. It was the thing that had grabbed my leg.

  It chittered at us, enraged.

  More angry chitters, all around us, answered it.

  For an instant, I saw it clearly and knew that I would have nightmares for the rest of my life. It was at least as long and wide as a great dane, but much lower to the ground. It was standing on eight crab-like legs. It looked vaguely like a cross between a spider and a cockroach, but with a shiny black body that was coated in some kind of viscous fluid. It was covered in human body parts. Three human heads, still very much animated, were impaled on spikes around its exoskeleton, gazing at us with hate-filled eyes. Dozens of severed arms seemed to grow out of the sides of its back at all angles. The arms were moving, twisting themselves towards me, gray and rotted hands with cracked and yellowing fingernails, all grasping in my direction. Through a gap in the arms, I saw that the back of the exoskeleton wasn't smooth and flat. There was a massive opening in it, ringed with jagged and yellow teeth.

  More chittering. Closer. Closing in on us.

  Behind me, I heard another spell being uttered and a tiny pinprick of light appeared in front of me.

  In the same moment, the creature in front of us lunged at me.

  “Look away from the light!”

  I didn't have a chance to think about it, to protest about looking away from the — thing — in front of me.

  I obeyed.

  Light filled the darkness, so blinding that I had to shut my eyes against it.

  I heard a screeching noise. It was so long and drawn out that it seemed to last forever. At any moment, I expected the creature to reach me. To feel dead hands on me, crushing the life from my body.

  It never happened.

  At last, the screeching stopped. I heard something heavy drop to the ground.

  Rory cast the spell several more times. Other creatures screeching around us. Then silence.

  The light faded.

  I opened my eyes and blinked as star-bursts of color faded from my eyes.

  I turned, stepping away from the arms that were still holding me firmly.

  “We have to go,” Rory said, grabbing my hand in the darkness.

  Together, we sprinted towards the house, to the edge of the fog. I felt a shift in the atmosphere as though we had passed over some invisible boundary. It felt like a soap bubble breaking, except on every inch of my skin.

  I had been right. We'd passed through another door to get here. Above us, the moon was bright and full, a brilliant white disc of light, illuminating the darkness with a silver glow.

  “They won't be able to follow us here,” Rory said. It sounded like he was trying to reassure both of us.

  “Rory,” I breathed, so relieved I was close to tears. “Rory, how are you here?”

  Rory gave me a sheepish smile, “I followed you.”

  Gratitude flooded through me, but I still felt confused. “Followed me how?”

  “I am a witch,” He reminded me. “I tried re-opening the portal that Emily used, but her magic didn't leave any traces. It wasn't opened with a spell. It was just...opened. I’ve never sensed anything like it.” He added, frowning. “She should have been able to do that — all magic leaves traces. But it gave me an idea.”

  I shook my head, confused. “I don't follow.”

  “Well, you're not really supposed to be here,” Rory said, excitedly. “Neither of us are. We're both intruding on the natural order of things here. So I cast a spell to sense the energy of the underworld. And I was able to sense you. Or well, the ripples you're creating by being here.”

  “And you...what, opened a portal to get here?”

  “It took a few tries,” He admitted. “It's a good thing I did,” He added, gesturing from the direction we had just come from.

  A silence passed between us.

  I wasn't sure what to say. My emotions were jumbled up inside of me and I couldn't make sense of them. Relief, anger, confusion, hurt — all of it crashed through me when I looked at Rory.

  “Is she gone?” Rory asked suddenly. His voice was tight with anger.

  I nodded, feeling stung all over again. Emily had vanished, right when I had needed her the most. Her motives didn't make any sense.

  “Good,” Rory said fiercely. “Listen, Kendra, what you saw wasn't me sacrificing your life. I promised you that I'd get you out of here, and I will. I don't break promises.” He added, “Emily only showed you part of what happened.”

  Before I could speak, he drew his sleeve back and revealed his forearm. It was wrapped in a thick tan-colored bandage. He peeled it back to reveal a symbol carved into his flesh. It looked like three triangles locked together, with a small equal-armed cross in the center-most triangle.

  “What is this?” I asked, appalled by what he had done to himself.

  He didn't flinch at my tone.

  “It's my payment,” He said evenly. “It's my tithe to the underworld. I offered my life to the Queen of Elfame, in exchange for passage.”

  Oh.

  I stared at him, feeling my eyes grow wide. My confusion completely vanished. My anger didn't.

  “You were never planning to come back with us,” I said slowly, swallowing hard. There was a sudden pang in my chest. “You were going to stay here all along.”

  He shrugged, but he looked uncomfortable. No, it was worse than that. He looked scared. He didn't look like a man who was ready to die.

  Somehow that just made me angrier.

  “It was the only way. Gwydion would be safe. I—I didn't care about anything else. He would have done the same thing for me. It was—”

  I stepped forward and slapped him across the face.

  Hard.

  His eyes widened and his hand flew to his cheek.

  “You're just going to stay here? After everything you went through to fix this mess, you're just going to let him go back out into the real world without you? You couldn't have offered her something else? Do you have any idea what that will do to him?” I glared daggers at him.

  “He'll live!” Rory said, raising his voice. “She wouldn't have accepted anything else, except for a life in exchange for a life!” He looked suddenly as upset as I felt. His voice softened. There was a hitch in his breath as he continued. “I'm not a killer, Kendra. If a life has to be paid, it'll be mine. I'm okay with that.”

  “But you're going to — ” My words choked in my throat. I couldn't finish the sentence. I wasn't angry at him anymore. I couldn't be.

  His expression softened immediately. He shrugged, but I could still see the fear in his eyes. “I'm already technically dead. Or, I will be.
At sunrise. And at least I'll still be in one piece here,” He hesitated, “Kendra, there's something you should know. I wasn't completely honest about what would happen to Gwydion's soul if we fail here.”

  “I know,” I said, my voice sounding hollow. “Emily told me.”

  “Of course she did.”

  “We don't have time for this,” I said thickly, turning from him. I couldn't believe that he was going to die. It was wrong. I couldn't put the pieces of it together in my head, that we would be returning and Rory wouldn't.

  Maybe Emily had known all along. She had somehow manifested his memory and made it appear in the darkness. Maybe all witches could do that, but somehow I doubted it. There was something there, but I couldn't make sense of it.

  I'll worry about it later, I decided. I'll worry about all of it later. If there is a later.

  I crossed the distance to the porch, without looking to see if he followed me.

  My anger was gone. My pain lingered, uselessly stabbing at me, over and over. I barely knew Rory, but I didn't want him to die.

  I reached the door to the cabin. I turned the knob. It wasn't locked. The door swung open freely with a creaking noise.

  Every instinct told me not to enter.

  I entered.

  It was exactly how I remembered it. Though from the outside, it had appeared quaint and almost idyllic, once you stepped inside, you were immediately confronted with how wrong that first impression was. Beer cans and empty liquor bottles lined every available surface. Interspersed with them were tiny plastic baggies, trace amounts of white powder still in the corners. On the kitchen table, a red sharps container was on its side. A single syringe was poking out of it. A small canvas bag was lying next to it. Though it was zipped shut, I knew it was filled with more drugs than I could buy with an entire year's salary. A small digital scale was in front of the bag. Empty food containers littered the floor. The air smelled like stale liquor, cigarette smoke, and sweat. There was another odor as well, more unpleasant than the rest, almost like the smell of household cleaner, but burnt and somehow sweet.