The Claiming

by Glenn Williams

  I hadn't put much thought into what our uncle's life had been like, but seeing this room as an adult, I couldn't help but ask myself how his life had come to this.

  I knew the facts, of course.Greg had lost his construction job many years ago, after plunging two stories off of a scaffolding and landing on a pile of scrap wood. Apparently, his safety harness had been faulty and couldn't support his weight. Miraculously, Greg had lived, but he broke both of his legs in the fall and tore his sciatic nerve to hell and back. He spent several months in the hospital.

  When he finally recovered, he regained the ability to walk, but was no longer able to subject his body to the hard labor that came along with construction work. Even bending caused him spasms of agony. He was told that he no longer had a job. He was given a severance package in exchange for not getting his company embroiled in a lawsuit that, he was assured, he would not win. It was apparently a lot of money. He also got a monthly disability check from the government. It should have been enough money for him to at least enough to scrape by, if not somewhat comfortably.

  But it wasn't. Somewhere along the way, he'd started drinking more heavily. And all that time in the hospital had gotten him introduced to painkillers. Apparently, two broken legs and nerve damage entitles you to the good stuff, strictly top-shelf. After he got released from the hospital, he graduated to bigger and better highs. Eventually, he wasn't just buying anymore, he was selling.

  Actually, our uncle's drug use had never been the main issue. When high, Greg had been sociable and energetic, gregarious even. He'd also been also quite industrious. He spent most of his nights happily measuring out various controlled substances into small clear baggies using a digital scale. Usually, he left at some point. 'Making the rounds' he'd tell us cheerfully, before vanishing for hours at a time.

  The main issue was what happened when Greg came down off of his benders. That was when he'd drink. In hindsight, it was probably some combination of the depressant effects of alcohol, the leftover stimulants in his bloodstream, and his depleted neurotransmitters, but when he drank, he became angry. And when he was drunk and angry, he was violent. He flew into rages at a moment's notice. He blacked out for hours at a time.

  The evidence of our uncle's shattered life was all around us. It still didn't make any sense to me, how he could have let things spiral so completely out of control. It made no sense to me how he could have been selfish enough to keep us here with him. Maybe he'd been afraid to be alone.

  “Wow,” Rory said, stepping through the door behind me. “You grew up here?”

  “We weren't here that long. A little over a year,” I said tightly. “But yeah.”

  “Gwydion mentioned that your —” he broke off, as though unwilling to remind me that I was related to the monster that had destroyed our lives. “That he—he was a drug addict.”

  “That and the most successful dealer this side of the Puget Sound,” I said grimly.

  I stepped up to my old bedroom door. It was slightly ajar.

  I pushed it open.

  I was ready for anything, except for the sight that greeted me from the other side of the door. Any hope I had of rescuing my brother crashed down around me in an instant.

  The room was completely deserted.

  The wooden floors were coated with a thin layer of undisturbed dust. The bed was hastily made and it looked like no one had slept in it for years. Nothing stirred in the room.

  “Kendra,” Rory stepped in behind me. “Is this—is this where it happened?”

  I nodded, still staring at the vacant bedroom. I didn’t trust myself to speak.

  All hope had crashed down around me. It was replaced by a dull, empty feeling.

  I had expected to find a scene like the one I had rescued Rory from. I had expected to find my brother frozen in place, watching a younger version of himself killing our uncle our uncle on repeat. I had expected to find Niram grinning at us from the corner, enjoying the show.

  I had been ready for that.

  I hadn't expected to find the room empty.

  My thoughts felt wild, disjointed.

  “Shouldn't—” Rory broke off, hesitating. “Shouldn't he be here?”

  I swallowed hard.

  “He should be, yeah. This is where it happened.” Then, almost unwillingly, I added, “And this is where Emily took me. She told me that this is where I needed to be.”

  Betrayal stung my throat all over again. Had Emily lied to me? Had she deliberately taken me off the path to my brother, right when I was running out of time to find him?

  “This doesn't make any sense.”

  “Maybe it's not what it appears to be,” Rory said thoughtfully.

  I gave him a sharp look, “You mean it might be an illusion?”

  “A glamour,” He said, “And yes. I mean, you and I should know better than anyone that a glamour can seem very real.”

  “Okay. So if that’s true, how do we break it?”

  “Well, if it is an illusion,” Rory said, “The only sense it can't fool is the sense of touch. But once you know it's an illusion, it usually just unravels. Unless there's someone there maintaining it.”

  “So touch something in the room,” I said weakly. “Easy enough.”

  “I'll be right behind you,” Rory said.

  I nodded, and, taking a deep breath, I stepped over the threshold.

  Nothing happened.

  I took a step forward. The floorboard creaked under my weight. Keeping one eye on the closet — as a child, I had never trusted it to be entirely empty — I moved further into the room.

  Nothing.

  I turned back around. Rory was standing in the door, watching me. His eyes were wide. He made a small movement, as though attempting to take a step. He frowned in confusion.

  “Kendra,” He said, sounding suddenly alarmed, “I can't step through the door.”

  “What do you mean 'you can't step through the door'?”

  “There's something here,” He muttered. “A spell, maybe?”

  “I stepped through just fine,” I said, despair gripping my heart. “Rory, there's nothing in here.”

  I sat down on the bed, just as Rory threw himself at the open doorway. He hit something, almost like he'd run into a window. A barrier spell. Just like the one he'd used on the coven.

  “Kendra, don't!” He cried.

  It was too late. The illusion shattered around me. And several things happened at once. I realized that I had moved. I was in bed. There were scratchy blankets pulled tightly around me.

  Strong hands grabbed me, ripping me from a deep and motionless sleep.

  Go away, Gwydion, I'm sleeping.

  Oh God, that's not Gwydion, I thought. I was well aware of exactly what was about to happen, but I was frozen in the scene. I wasn't standing on the outside, looking in, the way that I had been with the other memories I had walked into. I was experiencing it all over again.

  And it was every monster under my bed come to life. It was everything I had ever been afraid of for my entire life. I was back here and I was frozen again.

  I was helpless.

  It was like my mind had been split in two. The adult self was horrified and frozen, forced to watch the same events unfolding, knowing what was about to happen, but powerless to stop it. The child self was still realizing that it wasn't Gwydion, but something much worse. That the touch was too rough, too strong.

  I tried to protect her from what was happening, but it was impossible. This was happening to both of us. There was no shielding her from it.

  Our eyes flew open, but all we could see was darkness looming over us.

  Not Gwydion, the younger self agreed. Not Gwydion.

  Our head pounded and our mind felt strange and fuzzy, like it was wrapped in a layer of cotton. Though the pain from the hands that gripped us made our eyes water and we heard ourselves gasp, it somehow seemed like this was happening to someone else. It had to be ha
ppening to someone else. For a brief moment, we wondered if we were having a nightmare.

  Oh God, we're not. We're not. This is real. This is really happening.

  Then there was a sudden weight on top of us, crushing us into the bed. We could hear breathing in our ear, sharp and excited.

  We tried to push the weight off of us, to get away from it. We tried to punch and claw, to pry ourselves out from under it.

  We heard a chuckle and recognized it immediately.

  Our blood ran cold in our veins and we tried again, redoubling our efforts to claw, to squirm, to get away. But he was so heavy and impossibly strong. It was like trying to fight a mountain.

  No no no no no no!

  It was a cry echoed by the adult self and the child self.

  For an instant, my mind was locked up with a cold panic that blotted everything else out. I felt frozen in terror, a child again. But I wasn’t a child, not anymore.

  Look away, I thought desperately to my younger self, praying that she could hear me. You don't need to experience this. Let me do it for both of us.

  I felt her recede from my mind, as though retreating into another room. I could still sense her, but life returned to my limbs and the strange sense of dual mind eased. A small part of me gave a sigh of relief. I couldn't stop this from happening to me, but I could stop her from taking the full-force of it. Even marginally, I could protect her from this.

  And now that I had control. I could move my – our – body.

  I was no longer helpless.

  He grabbed for both of my hands, but they weren't where they had been before. He lost his balance, ever so slightly. I rolled away from him, but my legs were caught in a tangle of blankets.

  He came for me again, breathing hard.

  I slammed my palm into his nose. Though I only had the strength of a child, I was still rewarded with feeling something snap under my blow.

  Blood gushed from his nostrils.

  He grunted and staggered back, momentarily stunned.

  I pushed off of the wall behind me, shoving myself forward, towards the edge of the bed. I grabbed the edge of the mattress in front of me and, using all of my strength, I pulled myself off the bed. The blankets caught on something and for a split second, I hung in midair. Then the floor rushed towards me.

  The blow knocked the breath out of me.

  “Kendra!” Rory screamed from the doorway, “Move!”

  I did. I rolled to my right. My uncle's fist hit the floorboard next to my head. The wood snapped. He swore again.

  I tried to move forward, to get away from him, but he grabbed me roughly from behind. He picked me up and I was momentarily airborne.

  I hit the mattress hard. I let out a scream of fury and then my teeth snapped together. For the second time tonight, I tasted blood in my mouth. Then he was on me.

  I was ready for that.

  I managed to keep one arm free, even as he clawed at my nightgown. Distantly, I heard fabric tearing. Cold air swirled around my legs. Rough fingers caught the edge of my panties and pulled them down. I felt fingernails scrape against my skin. I was getting tired of that sensation.

  I raised my free arm and with all of the strength I had left, I shoved my thumb in his eye.

  It was a technique taught to me in a college self-defense class. It was basically the only move I remembered, but it was an effective one. I couldn't argue with the results.

  He released me and jerked back, staggering away from the bed. His hand shot up to his face. He made a sound like a wounded animal. He hit the wall.

  Blood was pouring from between his fingers. I had destroyed the vision in his eye. Breathing hard, I clawed my way out of the bed again.

  My eyes roved the room, looking for a weapon I could use. There was none. But my eyes landed on something I hadn't noticed before.

  The adult Gwydion — the real Gwydion — was standing in the corner, watching the scene. He was frozen in place, the expression on his face a blank mask of horror. Tears were streaming freely down his face, but he didn't move. For a split second, I wanted to run to him, to shake him awake. But I knew that it would be useless. How many times had he witnessed this?

  Destroy the object of the memory, I thought desperately, ripping my gaze from him. Destroy the object of the—

  I heard approaching footsteps. I whirled in the direction of the sound. The younger version of my brother appeared in the doorway. He was holding our uncle's gun and his eyes were pure black.

  Niram.

  He cocked the trigger.

  I realized suddenly, what the object of the memory was; what was holding the scene together.

  In an instant, I knew exactly how to destroy the memory and free my brother.

  Niram's eyes locked on me, even as he aimed his gun at my Uncle. He grinned, his teeth sharp. A shaft of light bloomed on the wall opposite to the window. I saw it from the corner of my eye, and I immediately knew what it meant.

  Dawn was finally here.

  My time was up. I was about to lose everything that had ever really mattered to me.

  I saw Niram's hand move and, without thinking about it, I launched myself forward. Towards the thing that was wearing my brother's skin.

  Into the path of the bullet.

  For a split second, nothing happened. Strangely, I felt no fear. My mind was crystal clear. Then I heard a gunshot.

  In the same moment, something hit me in the chest. It felt almost exactly like being punched. For an instant, there was no pain.

  “I'll be damned,” Niram said. “I didn't think you'd actually do it.”

  The room vanished around us. We were in a familiar clearing, surrounded by dark trees. It was back where we had started. Except that the fog was gone now.

  How strange.

  Rory and Gwydion, both released, were in the clearing with us. Niram was gone.

  Life was gushing out of me. My knees turned to jelly. A strange pins and needles sensation broke out all over my body. I felt my body sway, but I fought to keep standing.

  “Kendra!” Gwydion and Rory screamed it at the same time.

  Both of them ran towards me as I collapsed to my knees.

  Gwydion reached me first, breaking my fall. He sank to the ground with me, cradling my head in his hands. His touch felt warm against my cheek. His face was still streaked with tears, but his eyes were wild, frantic.

  “No, no, no!” Gwydion shouted, sobbing, “No, please! Don't die. Don't do this.”

  Was I dying? I wondered.

  I had expected pain. But strangely, there was no pain. In fact, I suddenly couldn't feel my body at all.

  Looking up, I realized that I could suddenly see stars far above us. I hadn't noticed stars in the underworld before. My mind was working slower than normal, focusing on strange details. It was busy trying to shelter me from the realization that I was, in fact, going to die.

  And in the underworld. The irony of it wasn't lost on me. I almost laughed.

  “Please,” Gwydion sobbed, his voice breaking. “Please don't leave me.”

  Rory knelt down beside me. His face was grave. He put his hand on my arm. His touch was warm.

  “Can you do anything?” Gwydion asked, turning to Rory. The look in his eyes was frantic, desperate.

  At Gwydion's question, Rory's face crumpled. Slowly, he shook his head.

  Gwydion nodded, but it looked mechanical. Something seemed to leave him and he slumped like a marionette with cut strings, still cradling me. His breaths were ragged and uneven. But he was still here.

  I was dying.

  “You need to go,” I said, looking at Gwydion. Each breath seemed harder and harder to take. “You need to be the one make it back.”

  “No!” Gwydion said, “No, you need to be the one to make it back. It always should’ve been you! Why would you come here?”

  I coughed and something wet and warm gurgled up from my lips. I felt my body spasm. M
y legs jerked and my heels slammed against the frozen ground.

  “I did it because I love—” I broke off. Speaking was too hard.

  I closed my eyes. He knew what I meant. He would always know.

  “I love you,” Gwydion said, “Kendra, I always loved you. I'm so sorry...”

  It was the last thing I heard.

  I felt suddenly far away from everything, even from my brother. I knew that he, at least, would be okay. Maybe the Queen of Elfame would accept my life instead, and Rory would be off the hook. It would be more elegant that way, if only one of us had to die. Maybe the coven would give Gwydion the waters of Lethe after all, and he would forget losing Rory and I. Maybe he would feel peace.

  I was floating on a sea of endless darkness. There was no pain, only warmth. For the first time since I had stepped into the underworld, I finally felt warm. More than that, I felt safe. It would be so easy to just let go...

  Dimly, I wondered what it meant to die in the underworld. Perhaps I wouldn't have an afterlife. Perhaps I would just sleep and there would be peace. After everything, some peace would be nice.

  Inwardly, I sighed.

  There were worse fates.

  “Kendra,” A voice said. It called out to me from the darkness.

  It was a very familiar voice.

  “Emily?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  I clawed my way back up from darkness.

  I forced my eyes open. Warm hands were still cradling me, but there was something very wrong with what I was seeing. I knew it immediately, but it took a moment for me to put my finger on what it was, because it was so impossible.

  Gwydion was frozen in place, bent almost double over me. His mouth was open, as though he were speaking to me. Or perhaps yelling at me. Rory had one hand on my arm and the other on my brother's shoulder. The look on his face was anguished. He was frozen in place as well.

  Strangely, I still felt no pain. I wasn't coughing up any more blood, either.

  Then I became aware of something that hadn't been there before, when I had — wait, had I died?

  Emily was standing in front of me.

  Except that she didn't quite look like Emily anymore. Half of her face was shrouded in shadow. From the dark half of her face, her eye glowed white. The other half of her face was illuminated with a soft glow, as though her skin was lit from within. The eye on that side of her face was pure black, just like Niram's. She was wearing a simple gray dress, but the way that it fell on her hinted at expert design.