Dead Twin Sister

by Jack Wallen

  The sun was starting to kiss the horizon. If there was one thing I could get used to in this realm, it was that particular sight. There was an infinite comfort in darkness, but the foreign glory of light made promises I would love to further explore.

  Before any such thing could be dreamed, a singular nightmare had to be fulfilled.

  I closed my eyes to offer up the pretense of sleep. Drew would soon knock on my door and persuade me from slumber with the gift of tea and some form of breakfast.

  Full English, he called it.

  Purest gluttony.

  The living certainly knew how to sin.

  NINE

  Polygonal beings stacked up on life’s shelves

  and all their demons unknown even to themselves

  “Grog,” Drew’s voice shouted from beyond the door. “Get your arse up, luv, we’re late.”

  With a quick flourish of the arm, the bed clothes ballooned into the air and drifted down with the slightest hint of visual poetry. I stood, fully clothed and ready to make my exit. Beyond the bedroom, Drew hopped past, doing his best to pull on his trousers while devouring some form of pastry. The second he spied me, he tumbled to the floor, smashing his breakfast between his face and the tile.

  “Fuck,” Drew groaned as he reached up to me so that I might lend a helping hand. I capitulated and pulled the man to his feet.

  Drew wiped at his face. “Morning, muffin. It seems my alarm didn’t go off.”

  “And yet, here we are … all ready to fly out of the building and race toward the studio. In the end, everything always works out.”

  Drew winced. “I wouldn’t say everything.”

  I could feel ire and bile rising, begging me to rip off the man’s head and shit down his throat. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Received a message from Tony. For some reason, you’re going to have to re-record everything you’ve done to this point. He said something about a stowaway noise, found on the tracks, that’s wreaking havoc on the final product. He said you knew something about it?”

  I shrugged, not giving Drew anything further.

  “Why in the fuck-all would you not tell me about such issues, Grog?”

  “Because they don’t pertain to you, Drew,” I snapped a bit harder than intended.

  “If it’s about the band and this recording, like hell it doesn’t pertain to me.” Drew cocked his head. “Grog, this is an absolute team effort, you know that. We wouldn’t be where we are today had it not been for every member of this band.”

  “Including Al.” I couldn’t help but pound the nail deep into the flesh of Drew’s wrists.

  “Don’t do this now, Grog. I’m in no mood to be fucked with.”

  I raised my arms in surrender—knowing I wasn’t capable of backing down.

  After a curt nod, Drew turned and called out, “Come on, Tweedles Dee and Dum. We have to get going.”

  Dizzy sat up from the couch, rubbed his neck, and moaned loudly enough to wake the sleeping beauty at his side. Once fully awake, Bella shot into a seated position and ground the palms of her hands into her eyes. “What the fuck. Can’t a girl get a bit of nightmare-fueled sleep around here? I don’t ask for much. Tell ya what … you go do your thing, and I’ll … go back to sleep.”

  That was my cue to teasingly drag the woman from her horizontal throne, with a nod to a false pacifism. Bella had to know, at all times, I was on her side and ready to take down the big bad. Without that understanding, this relationship—and any other—would be forfeit. What she wouldn’t know was that, so long as I was near, death awaited around every corner.

  Dizzy stood, blinked against the beaming sunlight, and turned to Drew. “Don’t let me forget, there’s something I need to show you.”

  Fully dressed, Drew filled his thermos and indicated it was well past time to depart. “You got it, mate. But first, we have to haul ass. No time for shower, shit, or shave, kids. Grab whatever you can shove into your gullet, slip your shoes on, snatch up your gear, and let’s go!”

  ***

  We arrived at the studio to be greeted by a moderately pissed off Tony. “It’s about fucking time. Please don’t tell me your egos are getting in the way of you making it to work with any semblance of punctuality.”

  Drew shook his head as he passed Tony. “Sorry, Tone … won’t happen again.”

  “Damn straight it won’t. You’re not the only act recording in this studio at the moment.”

  It was my turn to confront the engineer. My approach was slow, controlled. The power was mine to unleash; little did the man know how dangerously close he was to his demise. However, this was not the time to let slip my rage. Instead, I blessed his lips with a kiss that had the immediate effect of stunning Tony into complete silence.

  “We’ll be good boys and girls from this point on.” I winked and continued on, toward the live room.

  Drew was already setting up as I entered. He offered a quick smile. “Sorry about snapping earlier, Groggy. I don’t know what got into me.”

  I should have ignored his apology and continued pushing buttons. Placing a rift between the guitarist and the singer was certainly my plan, but it had to happen over time and peak at just the right moment. So instead of going full-on Mantis and biting off Drew’s head, I gave his cheek a pat. “No apology necessary, my love.”

  “You are my Queen, Grog.”

  Little did he know.

  Drew began wiping down the strings and neck of his guitar. “I need to record a bit more on the first song for today. I gave it a listen yesterday and don’t think it’ll do you any favors on vocals. I have some killer fucking ideas, so if you don’t mind…”

  “Not at all. I’ll give it a listen in the control room. I’m sure Tony wouldn’t mind having little ol’ me at his side.”

  “You’re damn straight I wouldn’t.” Tony’s voice boomed over the studio monitors.

  “I suppose that’d be my cue.” My attention fell to Dizzy and Bella. “You two going to film Drew or you want to hang with me in the other room?”

  The crew exchanged glances and immediately arrived at a singular conclusion—they’d remain with Drew. There was a curious layer of fear in their response, one that piqued my interest. Unfortunately, there wasn’t time to shake them down. Instead, I’d have to rely on instinct to guide me through whatever it was they had up their sleeves.

  Either that, or I was overly paranoid. That particular state of being came with the job description of Dark Queen. Let the entitled shits have their fun with whatever secrets were to be had on the camera. In the end, they’ll all die like cattle for carrion.

  The control room was significantly hotter than the live room. That may have had to do with the blistering testosterone and the racks of equipment. There was also Tony’s raging libido—which spiked the second I entered.

  “Hey, hey, kitten. I have a lap with your name all over it.”

  My eyes rolled of their own volition. “And I have a phone with a direct line to Gordon. One word from me and we’ll be recording elsewhere.”

  Tony shook his head. “I swear to God, this PC shit is eating away at the fabric of masculinity.”

  I braved the moment and sat on Tony’s lap. “When I first met you, I didn’t take you for a narcissistic creep. I assumed you were a harmless, aging fat ass whose prime had long since passed.”

  Tony gave me a slight push to send me from his lap. “Fine, fine. I get it. No more come ons and assumptions.”

  Men were such easy targets. Snap their ego and their world was your oyster.

  Drew’s voice offered up a quick change of subject. “I’m ready whenever you are, Tony.”

  “Gotcha. Going to roll in three, two…”

  Instead of voicing the one, Tony nodded and tapped a key on the console. I couldn’t hear the music but noticed Drew bobbing his head to an unheard tempo—one I recognized as that of ‘Uncomplicated.’ Instead of an apology, Tony offered me a pair of headphones, so I could hear Drew’s
work.

  The tone of the metal strings rang against the inside of my head. I wanted desperately to enjoy the sound but couldn’t find it in me. Even so, I had to give the illusion of rocking out to the music dancing from Drew’s fingers. The best I had was respect for one who loved their craft—that was something I could immediately relate to.

  Mine, being the craft of destruction.

  Even with the grating sound rattling my faculties, it was pretty obvious I was listening to someone who fully grasped the importance of artistry. Drew could have easily phoned this in; instead he offered up a masterclass on expression and emotion, by way of an electric guitar.

  Drew was right; there was so much more depth to have been mined from the track. With what I was hearing, I could most certainly record everything I needed to make my daunting task significantly easier. Within that track would be the very key to open my kingdom.

  When Drew finished, he asked for playback. The sound of rock filled both the console and the live room. Instead of partaking in the joy in the control room, I made my way to Drew, offered up a quick devil’s horn salute, and banged my head in time with his.

  I shifted my dance from the metal default to my hips with a bit of sway and thrust. “Now that is sexy as fuck.” My eyes closed, so the world temporarily vanished to leave me alone in my secret celebration. There was no way to deny the sound had some fundamental and unexpected effect over me—I wanted to violate and desecrate the nearest vessel willing to pledge their sexual fealty.

  As I ground my hips in time with the beat, a shrill static assaulted my ears. The sonic transgression was accompanied by a wall of scarlet light that peeled back my eyelids to reveal yet another tear in the veil. An all-too-familiar voice rumbled against the rising tide of static—Grog, bellowing for Drew’s attention. What the woman didn’t know was that only I could hear her cries. To Drew, Dizzy, and Bella, the sound was a mosquito buzzing in the ear or the slightest bit of droning tinnitus.

  The brilliant flood of light grew to sun-bright proportions as an arm snaked its way from the crack. Before I could react, the hand grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled me toward the quantum fissure. As I neared the tear, the hum and thrum of The Shallow vibrated against my flesh and bones. I couldn’t return to that trans-dimensional cage, that purgatory penitentiary, trapped between life, death, and everything in between. I’d already endured my fair share of nothing and would fight, tooth and bone, to avoid that permanent existential crisis another second.

  My arm vibrated against the strain. I could feel the tendons in my shoulder stretch to near snapping. Grog must have discovered some untapped power within The Shallow; either that or she had help. I could only think of one creature willing to do such a thing. Said creature was busy serving as lapdog to the Engineer of Hell.

  Grog pulled my hand from The Planar Mortalis; the second it passed through the void, The Shallow did the remainder of the work and sucked me in, kicking and screaming. I could feel my body stretch between realms, as though I were nothing more than flesh taffy to be pulled and kneaded. Before I was torn apart at the midsection, my lower half joined me in The Shallow. The red light fell dim, to be replaced by the dismal and dreary landscape of that prison I’d only just escaped.

  ACT III

  kamma

  TEN

  Don’t leave me standing on the outside

  where two plus two equals five

  My light faded the second I broke contact with it; it being she—she being the lich that imprisoned me in … whatever this place was. My heart slammed against its bony cage of ribs until my arms trembled from exhaustion.

  “That was a good trick, bitch.”

  I spread my legs wide and formed the Abhaya Hridaya mudra, its warm red glow giving me some semblance of hope I could stand against my doppelgänger. “What is this place? More importantly, why am I trapped in here?”

  The other Grog stood on shaky legs, unsteady in my favorite platform boots. “This isn’t some Hollywood horror film, my dear. I’m not about to go into a spiel to spill my beans so you can escape, rally your troops, and seal up the doorway between The Shallow and your lovely dimension. Which, by the way, I’ve grown terribly fond of and will do absolutely anything to return to!” As the faux-Grog shouted the last bit of her threats, spittle launched from her mouth to pepper my face. She approached me, arms outstretched, ready to grab me up and unleash whatever flavor of hatred that fanned the burning flames of hell within her heart. “Come to your big sister.” A liar’s smile spread across her lips; as it did, the flesh of her cheeks cracked and flaked to ash. Bit by bit, chunk by chunk, the skin sack covering the thing fell away to reveal a rail-thin, blood-slick beast with burning crimson eyes and a tutu of roiling gray sulfur hovering just below her waist.

  I pressed the protective spell hard, forcing the barrier outward with as much effort as I could call forth. The shimmering red dome met the lich, launching her backward and to the ground. When she stood, the glow in her eyes spilled down her cheeks, over her torso and legs, to the ground, and then lashed out at the energy preventing her from reaching me. With a cry of havoc, I sent every ounce of strength I had into the mudra, leaning backward as though I were on stage with my bass and the sound of Die So Fluid fueling my pose. The energy raced across the protective dome and crashed into the lich. With a whump of an explosion, my dead twin sister was sent flying into The Shallow. I had her; now was my chance to finally end this.

  Without hesitation, I raced off in the direction the lich was tossed. The tiniest fragment of consciousness, tucked deep within the wells of my mind, begged me to turn tail and escape this vacuous expanse of nothing, but I knew better. Should I run, I would be followed, which would have the added effect of placing Drew, Bella, and Dizzy in danger.

  “Not on my watch, bitch.”

  I felt like a slightly less badass Ellen Ripley.

  At least the lich wasn’t going to burst from my chest any time soon.

  “Never say never, Grog,” I mumbled as my legs pumped hard against the hot ground of The Shallow. No matter how fast and far I ran, the scenery remained the same. Darkened shadows that promised a wealth of very bad things that could attack at any moment. At least I wouldn’t be helpless against any such attack. The hand magic was proving to be a powerful ally in this battle. I had to give Thessia credit; the woman knew what she was doing by teaching me the mudras. At the time, I’d assumed they’d only serve as a means to an enlightened end. Little did I know they’d quite possibly save my life. My hands trembled each time they drew near enough to one another, their strength growing by leaps and bounds—or so I hoped. In that moment, I realized I had no choice but to fight this woman to the end.

  “Where are you, Sister?” The final two syllables lurched from my mouth, wrapped in purest mockery.

  A black bolt of electricity shot from above, shorting out my protective spell and knocking me onto my ass. I bounced to a stop just in time to see her floating down before me; the stench of rotten eggs befouled my sense of smell. My boots had burned to ash from her legs—as if I didn’t already have enough incentive to kill this hideous whore. Fuck with a woman’s shoes and retribution would be hard core.

  Another shock of energy flashed from the lich’s eyes to send my body into grand mal convulsions. My heart tumbled in its cage, threatening to be unmade from the power coursing through me. I had just enough coherence to do the one thing my inner peace begged against—form the Rudra mudra. The tips of my thumb, ring, and index fingers came together while, at the same time, all other fingers extended. My hands rested in this position, an inch from one another. When I pulled my hands further apart, a glowing ball of red energy hovered between my palms. With every ounce of force I had remaining, I shot the ball at the lich. The energy enveloped my foe and began to contract against her body. Slowly the confinement shrank until the monster would surely snap from the pressure.

  Before it was time for a victory dance, she vanished with a thunderous crack. I wasted n
o time in sending every ounce of concentration I had into forming another tear in the boundary between The Shallow and the living world.

  The veil fought me—harder this time. The previous mudra must have depleted a significant amount of energy because the tear wasn’t coming.

  “Fuck!” I shouted into the heart of The Shallow’s wall. With my scream raging, the rip in the fabric of time and space spread just enough for me to squeeze my hand through—which, in turn, birthed me back into the living realm.

  ***

  “Well?” Drew stared at me, his adorable eyes twinkling in the light of the studio. “What do you think?” He had no idea what had transpired before him; that I’d switched places with a monster who, to everyone but me and my shadow, was an exact clone.

  I skirted words and embraced the man in the tightest hug I could possibly manage.

  “That good, eh?”

  “You have no idea.” Once out of the embrace, it dawned on me how much danger everyone was in.

  “Grog? What’s going on? I know that look. Nothing good ever follows it.”

  Without hesitation, I grabbed Drew’s hand and pulled him out of the studio, through the exit, and onto the sidewalk.

  “What gives, girl? Why all the mystery?”

  “Do you trust me, Drew?”

  “With my bloody life. Why?”

  “Have you noticed me behaving … odd?”

  “More so than usual?”

  When I didn’t slug him, Drew knew something was up. As his shoulders slumped, he released a concerned sigh. “Groggy, why all the vaguebooking? This is me you’re talking to.”

  “Someone—or, rather, something—pulled me from this realm and took my place. She’s a powerful lich … or witch. Honestly, I have no fucking idea what she is. What I do know is that she wants something from me. And before you ask, I have no idea what. So, if there was anything you saw me doing out of the ordinary, I need to know.”