by Ira Robinson
"That's not the point, Bart, and you know it." Her eyes raged at him and she held the cat a little closer. He did not seem to mind. "You kept everything from me. You acted as if I was crazy, like I was some kind of loony to be thrown away, when the whole time you knew the truth.."
She shoved the key in and turned it, letting it ride the hinges wide. She stepped in, using one hand to flick the switch on the wall near the door. Light burst into the room, the lamp stark contrast to the darkness outside.
She ducked with her arms opening until Percy jumped down from her and trotted a few feet away. He seemed to ignore the two arguing humans as he smelled a patch of rug coming from under her chair.
She whirled around again and faced her brother, who was stepping inside, as well. "Do you know how much that hurts? You betrayed me. Do you even freaking care?"
She grabbed the side of the door and tried to push it closed, but he blocked it with his foot. Her eyes flared wide.
"Do you actually want to do this now?" she shouted, her voice echoing from the walls. "Get out of here. I don't need you."
"You do," he said back, moving out of the way slightly. "Whether you believe me or not, you do."
"How much of our lives has been a lie? How many times have you looked me in the eye and said nothing but crap?" She smacked her hand against the wood, redirecting it at the last second from his face. "I don't even want to look at you right now."
She pushed the door again, bouncing it against his leg. He grimaced but did not move.
"I had to do what they wanted me to do," bowing his head. "I didn't prefer it to be that way, but I had no choice." He watched her from beneath the hat. "Can't you see that?"
"I would have told you." Sam took another step forward. "I at least would have done that for you."
"And that's the problem," he said. He backed away from her, keeping his distance, though he held out his hand imploringly. "Sam, they live and breathe secrets. I had no choice."
"There's always choice," she growled. "This is mine."
She pushed it closed and locked it before he had a chance to stop it from happening again.
"I'm sorry," he said, his muffled voice barely coming through.
Tears made their way smoothly out of her eyes as she leaned her back against the door, her heart breaking at the tone of his mutter.
He sounded sincere, but she could not believe him. Not after all that happened.
His footfalls drifted and she remained against the wood until she heard his engine roar to life and drive away.
She wiped the bitter tears, using the palms of her hands to press into her eyes, needing them to stop, demanding the despair over the destruction of her little family not come. Her chest hurt, the tightness in her throat hard as she tried to swallow down the misery.
She did not want to hate Bart, nor angry with him. Even as she wept the bitterness out, she understood why he had done the things he had. If he was deluded, or controlled in some way, he thought he was doing the right thing, and that was the epitome of who he was.
He was the Boy Scout, the knight in shining armor for everyone. Always ready to be there for anyone who needed help, even his little sister who he probably viewed more as a pest than anything else while they were growing up together in their broken home. The fixer, ever vigilant and aware of trouble so he could save others from their pain.
She knew this, but this other part of him, the place that understood the truth and hid it even from her, she could not stand. Maybe the need for secrecy was there, but it should not have been for her.
Not about the core of who their family was and what they meant not only to each other, but the town, as well.
Her mother, a witch with power Sam could not fathom, and her father, a man corrupted so much by magic that he was unrecognizable. He no longer resembled anything like a human being, bereft of any care and desiccated of any emotion but fear and death.
And a brother who was heir to it all.
That was her family. That was where she came from. That was who she belonged to.
She raised her eyes toward the ceiling and wept, crying out to a God she did not know and was not sure existed, begging for her life to become normal.
She slid to the floor, her back still against the hard wood and closed her lids.
A bump against her calf made her open them again a few minutes later. She glanced down and saw the small cat watching her near her feet.
She stretched out her hand, holding it out for him to sniff, and, after a moment, he complied, taking in the scent of tears still wet on her fingers.
He came closer to her hip, one tentative step at a time. He sat next to her, his tail drifting back and forth across the floor beneath him and watched her face.
"Do you even know what's going on?" Though she was sure he would not be able to understand the words, his eyes drifted closed and open again, blinking in response.
A sigh heaved from her as she tried to let go of the pain and heartbreak; it diminished slightly as she stood.
"We should get you some water, Percy." she said, stretching her back a bit to work out the kinks from sitting so long against the hard surface of the door.
She stepped into the kitchen and turned on the light, watching as he followed, then took the lead toward the cupboard. He waited there for her until she pulled out a bowl from the cabinet and poured some water into it from the tap.
She put it down not far from the refrigerator, out of the way of accidentally being stepped on. He went to it, his tail trailing behind him upright in curiosity, and gave it a sniff.
While he took a few sips, she looked through her canned goods and finally found a couple of cans of tuna. She could not remember when she bought them, but thought they should still be good.
She used her can opener to pop the lid and was surprised to find Percy back at her legs again, weaving between them slowly. She smiled at him as she pried it open the rest of the way and poured everything out into another bowl.
He ran to the water again as she walked toward it, putting the tuna down at a clear spot next to it.
She laughed as he immediately dove into it, biting each chunk quickly.
How long had it been since he eaten last? Or was he always so greedy with it?
She could not be sure, but, with as much as Odessa seemed to coddle him, she imagined it had been a while from his previous meal.
She did not know a lot about cats, but she resisted the temptation to reach down and pet him while he ate. She did not want to upset him or make him feel defensive in this strange place, though he did not seem to have issues accepting it thus far.
She glanced at the clock on the wall and saw the time slipped faster than she realized. It was after midnight and the woman she anticipated had not shown up.
She frowned as she stepped from Percy and his meal, crossing the kitchen once more to pull the curtain from the window. The street light revealed naught beyond the normal; no movement, no strange cars.
Sam carefully traced the lines of the road across from her, where the lamp was shining down to the ground below. She squinted, making sure nothing was there to disrupt the otherwise quiet street.
There was no sign of him. No clues remained there in any way to prove the thing existed. But Sam knew better. Even if there he was not over there, the sense in her chest, the heaviness that, with the passage of time, seemed to grow ever stronger. That alone was proof to her.
She bolted, startled by a sound near the back of her house. A subtle, but strong, tapping.
Percy watched her leave the kitchen, following her to the archway between rooms, but going no further. The door at the end of the hallway was shrouded in darkness, but lit brightly when she flipped the switch.
It was a solid one; she could not see through it at all. It was just the exit into a utility room that had her washing machine and dryer, as well as the service meters and water heater.
She hesitated, unsure if she should turn on the light or leave it o
ff. With it on, she would have a hard time seeing through the window in the door to know who or what was there.
She stepped within, leaving the light in the room itself off, but the one in the hallway streamed into it enough to let her discern where she was going. She put her hand to her forehead, squinting through the door until she saw the face of the woman she was supposed to meet.
Sam sighed, relieved to see her. Though she did not know her or what her intentions were, it still had to be better than what her imagination tried to stir up before seeing her.
She spun the deadbolt and yanked it open.
The stranger did not hesitate before stepping inside and closing it behind her.
She then pulled the thick curtain Sam left wide across the window, blocking the view of the outside world.
"I was beginning to wonder if you would come," Sam said as the woman caught her breath.
"I had to wait until I was sure Bart would not end up returning," she replied, taking another step toward the hallway where the light shone.
Samantha flipped the bolt into place and turned to face her. "Who are you? What's going on?"
The woman tipped the portal to the house closed most of the way, cutting off a majority of the illumination coming into the room. She still looked paranoid, as Sam leaned against the door.
"I'm Lucy. Lucy Hartness." She did not put her hand out, but she did step closer to Sam. "As to why I am here... well. Let's say I know a lot about the problem you have, and I want to help you."
Sam took the woman in as best as she could. She was definitely older, in her fifties at least, but she seemed remarkably strong and healthy, with no tremor in her voice. Gray streaks ran through her otherwise black hair, which scattered about at its own will. Probably from all of the frizziness.
"What kind of help?" Sam asked, carefully watching for any signs of deception. After dealing with the other members of the Society as much as she had, she did not want to trust anything right away. How could she?
"I knew your father well, when he was an agent for us. Your mother, too," she added, glancing down slightly. "I was only an Initiate at the time, and worked with both of them a couple of times."
"Did you?" Sam asked. Though she wanted to know as much as she could about her parents, and was legitimately curious about it all, the frustration at having so much hidden from her for so long was hard to cut through.
It was challenging to not rail against this woman, acting as a representative of the Black Rose Society. The only thing that held her back was the realization Lucy may not have the permission of the other members to be there.
Lucy did not seem to recognize the sardonic nature of her comment, and continued on. "I was really impressed with him. He was a powerful man, a great agent. What happened to him was a shock to all of us, but especially me."
"Why is that?" Sam asked.
"Because I found him," Lucy replied, looking down again at her feet.
"What do you mean?"
Lucy backed up a couple of steps until she was leaning against the washing machine. She her hands came to rest on the top of the machine while saying, "I found his body after he died."
Did she want to hear more of that? Her feelings about her father had always been tenuous. Having never known him, or having him in her life, the man was disconnected from her. At best, any care she might have for him was more from the sense of needing a connection with family, to have a dad there. But he was not there, and had never been. How was she supposed to act when it came to someone she never met or knew personally?
And now that he was out to destroy her, to use her to bring himself to some kind of creeping undeath and destruction, made that desire for connection to him even worse.
This woman seemed to care deeper and be more affected by the life - and death - of her father than Sam, herself, ever had been.
At least, that's what she tried to convince herself of.
"I was with another agent that day," Lucy continued, not looking at Sam. "We were sent to investigate a breach and things were going well, until we came across this cabin in the woods."
"A breach?" Sam interrupted. "You mean those leaks between worlds?"
Lucy raised her eyes to Sam for only a moment, surprised Sam knew. "Yes," she nodded. "Exactly." Her hands dropped away from the cold metal frame of the machine. "We had never seen the cabin before. We thought maybe it was something recently built, but when we went inside, we realized it was a fair bit older." She stared into Sam's face once more. "That's where we found him."
"What happened to him?" Sam asked, coming forward a step. "How did he die?"
Lucy turned her head away from Sam. "I can't say. But I wanted to tell you where it was because it might be what you need to complete the spell." She held her hand up at Sam's next question. "Yes, I am aware of what they told you needed to be done. I think the cabin is the component you are missing."
She moved toward the door, with Sam stepping aside for her. "Where is it?"
Lucy described how to get to it, quickly naming the landmarks she would need.
As Lucy reached for the bolt, Sam pleaded, more desperately than she intended, "Please tell me more, Lucy."
The woman pursed her lips, shaking her head slightly. The frizzy hair writhed around her face. "I can't, Sam. I've already broken a lot of protocols telling you as much as I have. Even being here."
She pulled it open. "Be safe, Samantha. Some of us care deeply what happens to you."
She stepped through the door and slipped into the night, leaving Sam in the darkened doorway, wondering what she could possibly do next.
Chapter 29
Sam opened her eyes, blinking slowly with her head on her pillow.
The dark mass of Percy sleeping next to her, resting on the second pad she rarely used, grew clearer as the edge of light from the hallway and the bathroom beyond filtered into the room.
She took a deep breath and held it, letting it out lazily as she tried to reason why she had awakened, seemingly only a little while from when she laid down and passed out.
She turned her body, the muscles in her arms and legs throbbing while they awoke. Percy popped his head up and glanced at her for only a moment before turning away. However, before laying it back down again, his ears perked and twisted around.
A second later, he jumped to his feet and leaped from the bed, running out of the doorway into the hall. A low growl radiated from him.
Sam sat up, protestations from her limbs cast aside. She rubbed her eyes, trying to wear away the vestiges of sleep, but her mind was fuzzy, burdened by the disruption.
What had put Percy off so much? She had not even realized he came to doze with her. He was still in the living room the last time she was aware, before coming into the bedroom.
Maybe the way she moved made him anxious, shifting around in his own. Being in a strange house with someone he barely knew for company had to be uncomfortable for him, and, perhaps, he had been seeking out her presence to help reassure himself.
She scratched her scalp while yawning, trying to decide if she should give going back to sleep a try or if she should not bother. She remained tired, but, once she was awake, it was difficult for her to find her way to rest again without some passage of time.
Sam rose to her feet, heading for the bathroom before deciding further.
She was pinned on the wall, her arms plastered against the drywall and fading paint before her brain could register she was moving.
The breath huffed out of her, while pain smashed through her skull. She gasped, sucking in rot and decay before her eyes recognized the figure of the shadow creature in front of her.
Strong. So strong, so much pressure pushing against her as she strained to move, to break free of the grasping arms. Her legs found no purchase beneath her; the thing had lifted her up off the floor as he rammed into her. Sam tried to kick out, to fight in any way she could, but he was far too strong.
She turned her aching head away, gasping for a
breath that did not gag her, but none was to be had as his own came into her, drowning out everything but fetidness.
Her mind was instantly lost in the mire of desperation and fear, jerking her body back and forth. Was that a scream? Did it come from her own throat? How could it, when she could not take in any air?
Another push against her, the powerful force the brute had overwhelming any ability she had to fight. his face, that skeletal, horrid visage, inched even closer until the skinless teeth and lidless eyes were within only centimeters of her own. She closed her own and craned her head, but the afterimage was burned into her and would not fade.
The deep tone of a humorless laugh entered her ears, hot breath from lungs that didn't exist washing over the side of her face. It was moist, caressing her skin. Sam turned to the creature, loathe for its heat to touch her, despairing that the bony fingers were wrapped around her arms. Soft red light emanated from the sockets of orbless eyes as her own stared into them; they flared at the rising fear in her gut.
