Black Eyed Children 02 Devil's Rise

by Sara Clancy

  She spared him a glance but continued to rummage through the cupboards.

  “Did you hear anything I just said?” he pressed.

  “No.”

  “Well, that’s just great,” he said on a huffed breath. “I was saying that taking out the gondola doesn’t really trap us here. We can walk down the mountainside. There are dozens of paths that will get us there.”

  “You mean the ones that the skiers and search party are using?” she asked.

  He rolled his eyes but bit back his response.

  “And in this weather?” she continued before his desire to leave might make him do something stupid. “How far do you think we’ll get? We’re stuck here and we need to prepare for what’s coming next. They’re going to take out the lights. So, please, help me find some candles.”

  After a moment of hesitation, he crossed the kitchen. The few lights that were on bounced off the sterile white walls, making everything near painfully bright. Mounted on the wall, the first-aid kit was a huge metal box. She had always assumed it held only the basics, Band-Aids, and burn cream. But, when he pulled the door open, she found it was neatly stocked with so much more. From its bottom shelf, he pulled out a heavy industrial flashlight. The kind with a solid body that was kind of shaped like a bottle of orange juice.

  “Is that the only one?” she asked.

  “Of course not. Workplace health and safety dictates that every work station must be equipped with one,” he said with a flash of teeth. “So there’s one in the gift shop and another in the gondola station.”

  “Well, that’s just great,” she muttered to herself.

  “I think we have tea lights left over from Valentine’s Day.”

  “Tea lights?” she asked with confusion.

  His shoulders jumped. “They had this idea that we could be a romantic restaurant. It actually wasn’t that bad of a night. Without the fog, it’s a pretty decent nighttime view.”

  “Fair enough,” she said. “Where are they?”

  He drifted to a row of shelves filled with identical ice-cream tubs that had been reused for storage. Their indusial size was big enough to fit an adult’s head, and none of them were labeled. Still, Tristan didn’t have any confusion over which one he was after. Pulling one out, he dumped the tub on the prep table, scattering a few tiny candles over the rim. They rolled over the table as she edged closer and looked inside. The tub was filled to the brim.

  “How long do they burn?” she asked.

  Tristan shrugged. “Around four hours a piece.”

  She nodded, not sure if she was happy or disappointed. “We’ll have to ration them out, but they’ll last the night.”

  “We’re not staying here the whole night,” he said. “Nina will be getting back to us any second now.”

  “Sure. Of course.”

  One side of his lips curled up a little. “I’m trying to comfort you, Ruby.”

  “That’s funny,” she smiled. “I was doing the same for you.”

  He flashed his teeth at her, his eyes a little brighter with the motion.

  “You suck at it.”

  Then, with a rickety groan, like the building itself was sighing, everything went dark. Ruby’s hand instantly snapped up to her pocket, pressing against the concealed weapon. Her other hand clenched and rose, like it intended to hold up her mobile for light. It was only as she gripped the empty air that she recalled leaving the phone on the bar counter when she started her search.

  Tristan had his and quickly turned the flashlight back on. The beam sliced through the pitch black, gouging a strip of reality out of the nothingness that had consumed them. Instead of searching the room, he steadily swept the beam up and trained it onto the overhead light, as if he could tell the problem just by sight. Ruby crossed to the tub of candles and snatched out a few handfuls.

  “Where’s a lighter?” she asked in a whisper.

  His attention didn’t leave the light fixture as he pointed to a shelf beside the stove. Leaving the candles behind, Ruby dropped to her knees and reached into the shadows that had gathered there, pulling out everything she touched. Pots and pans clattered over the floor before she found the barbeque lighter. By this time, Tristan had lost interest in the light fixture and was slowly drifting his light back and forth along the walls. It gave her all the help of a lighthouse as she tried to light some of the candles.

  “So, they cut off the power?” he asked, his voice sounding muffled as he barely moved his lips.

  “In a sense.”

  “I don’t understand. That kid sounded around Ralph’s age. Maybe a little bit older. How would they know how to do this?”

  “They look young,” she nodded. “But I don’t think they are.”

  He fixed the light on her face. “So, where the hell are their parents?”

  The lighter almost dropped from her fingers at the question. Of all the things it might mean. That had never occurred to her. Swallowing thickly, she pushed the thoughts away and clicked the lighter. A tiny flame flicked into life at the tip of the barrel. The golden glow created a gentle halo that she might have found comforting if it wasn’t for the memories it provoked. Staring at the steady fire, images of burning buildings danced across her mind. Of the children burning alive. Her ears rung with their screams as the stench of burning flesh filled her nose.

  “Ruby?” Tristan asked, suddenly much closer than she remembered him being.

  She swallowed again and set to the task of lighting the candles. “If these things do have parents, I never want to meet them.”

  Even when she had more than a dozen burning, the glow wasn’t enough to fight off the darkness. Shadows pressed in on them, reaching out with ghostly fingers every time the candles sputtered.

  “These things?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “You said these things. They’re just kids, right?”

  She looked at him and decided to make the final leap of faith. “They aren’t human. They look like they are, but they’re not.”

  “Then what are they?” he asked after a long pause.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But they don’t burn … they melt.”

  “How would you know that?”

  She licked her lips slowly, trying to buy some time, but she wasn’t able to think up a way to confess it without sounding like a psychopath.

  “They tried to kill me,” she said at last. “There were three of them. Two girls, and a little boy who seemed to call the shots. He kept trying to lure me out and ...”

  “So you set them on fire? This is insane.”

  “Their eyes are completely black,” she rushed. “There’s no whites or color. Just completely black.”

  “Black eyes?” he parroted.

  Not knowing what else to say, she grabbed a serving tray and began to pack the candles onto it so she could take them outside. The kitchen is a smaller space. Easier to defend. The thought popped into her head but it didn’t slow her actions. She didn’t want to stay in this windowless room. Trapped. Cornered like she had been in the cabin months ago. If I’m about to be murdered by demons, I’m at least going to see them coming.

  She paused on her way to grab a few things from the first-aid kit. Just bandages and some antiseptic wipes that she stacked precariously close to the open flames. Instructing him to grab the other candles, she headed out of the swinging door. A part of her had expected him to instantly counter the order with a barrage of questions. Instead, there was only the steady clack of his mobile phone keys that followed her out into the restaurant.

  The mist pressed against each of the windows, turning each pane of glass into a sheet of glowing silver. For all the light it held, it offered very little to the restaurant itself, turning the tables into clusters of shadows. She staggered back a step when she saw the dozens of figures standing on top of the tables, her heart lurching into her throat, making her choke on her scream.

  But then Tristan came out. The light of his phone caught the near
est table, transforming the silhouette of a child into a stacked chair. Ruby had forgotten that the wait staff put them on top of the tables at night so they could mop the floor. Remembering it now didn’t stop each one of them from looking like a crouching figure in the darkness.

  Her heart wouldn’t dislodge from her throat as she walked out into the room. The candles kept her surrounded by a halo of light. Everywhere she looked, she could only see the chairs, but her mind was prepared to find the one that wasn’t. Reaching the table they had sat at before, she carefully lowered the tray, trying not to extinguish the fragile flames. When Tristan came close enough, she pulled the tub from his hand and continued to light them. Each made the room a little brighter, but her stomach still churned.

  Why haven’t they come in? No matter how many times the thought rolled around in her head, she couldn’t find an answer. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they were already inside, watching her from the shadows, inching ever closer.

  Only once there was enough to beat the shadows back for a few feet did she pause to glance up at Tristan. He was still on his phone, his brow pulled tight as he scrolled through whatever webpage he had brought up.

  “Black eyed children. You know there’s whole sites dedicated to people telling their stories about encountering them,” he said.

  “I’ve read a few,” she admitted.

  He made a sound in the back of his throat. “I can’t find much on what happens if you let them in.”

  A spike of panic cut through her skin. Both the lighter and the candle dropped from her fingers. They clattered against the table and the candle bounced onto the floor, leaving trails of wax in its wake.

  “I’ve seen what they can do,” she whispered, unsure if she wanted him to hear her or not.

  But when she glanced up, she found him watching her expectantly. Slowly, his eyes trailed down to her hand. She followed his gaze, startled to find that she had pulled the knife from her pocket. As if to test that it was real, she worked her fingers around the hilt, testing how solid it was. She didn’t put it down. Instead, she pulled it close to her chest, trying to express without words that she was ready to fight to keep it.

  “Ruby,” he said slowly. “What happened?”

  “There were two people who tried to help me.” Bile rose up her throat as she forced herself to continue, her voice quivering around each word. “Those children ripped them apart. With their bare hands. Just tore them to shreds.” A burning tear dripped from her lashes as she said, “Then they left their severed heads for me to find.”

  “Please tell me that you’re exaggerating. Or that something is getting lost in translation.”

  She shook her head, watching the flickering candlelight play across his features and wishing that she could garnish some kind of sense from it all. Tristan ran a hand through his hair before shaking his head, the combined motions making his curls flop around. His chest heaved before he drew his attention back to his phone.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I need to talk to someone outside of this situation, okay? I’m calling Nina at home.”

  “You can do that?”

  He tipped his phone to show her the screen a moment before bringing it to his ear. “Phone says I have a signal.”

  “How?”

  “Phone waves and radio waves are two different things, Ruby.”

  After a few moments of waiting, Ruby heard a distant click rattling from the phone. Tristan didn’t hesitate to go into a tirade about keeping promises and safety standards the second the call connected. By the time he calmed down, the soft buzzing of Nina’s responses was audible in the stillness. Ruby strained but couldn’t understand anything the woman was saying.

  “Oh, that’s such a shame that Ralph made a mess. Of course, you should take care of that. After all, we’re just stuck on a mountain with no power or way to get down. Spilt ketchup obviously comes first.” Tristan snapped each word and was left panting by the time he was done.

  There was a slight pause before he began to outline their current situation. Only having access to one side of the conversation, Ruby was forced to wait with growing restlessness. She did, however, easily notice that Tristan was editing out the encounter with the unseen person, the luminous mist, and any hint that there was someone lurking outside. In essence, he cut out everything that could have expressed how strange things were getting or the danger they were in. It took every ounce of her self-control to keep from questioning everything. I know what I saw. And he saw it, too. She repeated the thought as her gut churned. I know what I saw.

  “Is it possible to get the gondola working again from the base?” Tristan asked. “I want to get out of here.”

  He paused for a moment. “No, they haven’t arrived yet.”

  The next few seconds passed like a millennium. Ruby’s hand tightened around the hilt and she cast her eyes over the restaurant, searching each shadow anew. Her mind whirled as she tried to think of how they could pass the distance from the gate to the gondola carriages. If the black eyed children were guarding the room, they won’t let us get close. We wouldn’t be able to see the carriages or the drop off. We could run right off the edge before we have a chance to get in. Or they’d get us.

  Tristan nodded and pulled his free hand through his hair, the sudden motion drawing her attention from her darkening thoughts. After a few muttered words of agreement, he hung up. Letting out a long breath, he finally meet Ruby’s gaze again.

  “She’s headed over here now to see if she can get it to work from down there.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “No idea,” he said.

  “So what do we do?”

  “We just need to wait,” he said. “Only a little bit longer.”

  He had barely spoken the words when the room lights above them clicked off. The candles kept the room from plummeting into darkness. But they weren’t nearly enough to keep the cold from crushing in on her. She gasped for air as the sound of the sharp knocks shattered the silence.

  Chapter 8

  Tristan and Ruby locked their gazes. Neither said a word, leaving the world around them in unbroken stillness. Ruby’s heart pounded against her ribs and she felt each of the blows roll in her empty stomach. It made her suddenly acutely aware of the pain in her ankle. The pain increased with her pulse until she had to grind her teeth against it. They both jolted when the knocking sounded again. Three sharp blows, each one separated by long moments of stillness. It allowed them to hear the strikes ebb up the staircase before they rolled off into oblivion. It was almost as if the sound itself were searching for them.

  “It’s coming from downstairs,” she said.

  “It could be the search party,” Tristan said.

  Ruby knew that he didn’t believe it. Not really. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be keeping his voice so soft that she could barely hear him. In unison, they turned to look at the staircase.

  “We should go check it out,” he said.

  “Are you insane?”

  “It could be the search crew.”

  “It’s not.”

  Tristan snapped his head around to narrow his eyes at her. “You don’t know that.”

  Sighing reluctantly, she readjusted her grip on the knife handle and shook her head.

  “I’m not going anywhere until you have something to defend yourself with.”

  He cocked his head. “I didn’t know that you cared.”

  “I’m standing behind you,” she corrected. “I don’t want them getting past you without a fight. And I’ll get the flashlight.”

  She had expected him to protest. Perhaps with a few more insults or brush her off in some other way. Instead, he nodded and darted off, leaving her with only the candle light to see by. He was only out of sight for a few seconds, but it was still long enough for him to come back in with a steak knife in hand. Held in a loose grip. The hilt looked ready to slip from his fingers at any moment as he crossed the room. Still, he kept it with h
im as he moved to the front of the stairs and motioned for her to follow.

  Side by side, they slowly inched down the stairs, their shoes squeaking against the tiles. Her footsteps had an odd pace as she was forced to adjust her weight to accommodate her injured ankle. Tristan kept close, one hand hovering at her elbow as if she was going to crumble at any moment. Each step took them further from the candlelight, allowing the shadows of the hallway to reach up and touch them.

  As they neared the curve, three more knocks cracked over them once again. She could feel each one of them push against her chest like a physical force. With shaking fingers, she switched on the flashlight and trained it over the walls around them. The fog had risen. It lapped against the staircase, covering a few steps more than it had before. But it was still just as thick. Like a putrid swamp, it churned as if filled with more creatures than either of them could possibly know, transforming the top layer into a pit of ebony snakes.

  With one last glance towards her, as if waiting for her to rush forward and stop him, Tristan pushed his toe through the surface of the fog. Unlike before, his motion didn’t stir it away. Like a thousand fingers, it crawled higher up his legs, reaching until the distance drew it too thin to be seen. She waited for a moment to see if it tried to pull him under. When it didn’t, she followed him. The cloud was a pressure upon her but didn’t bring any pain. Casting the beam of light back and forth, she attempted to see everywhere at once. It only took a few seconds for the chill to work its way through the material of her shoes and attach to her feet. Taking another step, she sank deeper into the mist. It still felt like arctic water, cold enough that even the briefest contact made her shiver. Unable to see through the muck, she misjudged the stair and ended up slipping the rest of the way down.

  Her legs froze within moments, the cold ravishing her skin until it felt like it was cracking apart. Together, they continued down the hallway, closing ranks as they went. It made her bones ache and her joints grind together like shards of glass. She made herself continue. Her eyes constantly darted to Tristan, checking that he was still next to her. Still there. You’re not alone, she reassured herself. The plastic of the flashlight dug into her palm as they neared the door. It made the scar on her palm, the reminder of her last encounter with the black eyed children, itch uncontrollably. It drew her attention. And the more it did, the harder it became to keep her mind from returning to those nights.