by Tony C. Skye
“Maximize volume,” Martha orders with a devious grin.
Beep...beep-beep-beep-beep-beep.
“Max-eh-mum Vahl-ume,” the library system informs.
Martha crosses her arms over her chest.
“Play Robby,” Martha orders.
“Play-ing Rah-bee.”
Julianna turns over and quickly sits up. Her hands, immediately, take hold of her pounding head.
“Stereo off!”, Martha yells.
“Steer-e-oh off,” the computer reports after the room falls into silence.
“Hello dear,” Martha greets with a smile, “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”
Julianna squints against the dim lighting of her bedroom.
“What time is it?”
“It's eight-thirty, dear.”
Julianna glares briefly before lying back down.
“You could have let me sleep in today,” the seventeen-year-old complains.
“That's eight-thirty p.m., Julia,” Martha reiterates.
Julianna rubs her forehead.
“My head hurts.”
“I figured that would happen when I seen you with that band.”
“It wasn't the band, grams. It was the Crown Royal somebody gave me.”
“Well dear, I didn't get that so you could put away the whole bottle like an alcoholic.”
“Don't worry. I didn't. I threw up first.”
Martha chuckles.
“Serves you right.”
Martha walks towards the kitchen, “There's medicine to help with your hangover on the desk. I'm going to make you a BLT.”
“Not hungry,” Julianna objects.
“Too bad,” Martha closes the argument.
Soon as Martha clears the room, Julianna forces herself back up and dizzily walks over to her desk. She picks up the shot glass and sniffs.
“Oh hell no,” Julianna curses the thought of putting a mouth full of Crown Royal into her mouth. She takes the glass into the kitchen and defiantly dumps it into the sink in front of Martha. Her grandmother laughs.
“Not funny,” Julianna sounds more innocent than threatening.
“What's the matter, dear?”
Julianna walks over in silence to the fridge and opens it. She grabs a bottle of water, twists the cap, and slams the cool liquid down her throat until half of the bottle is gone. Her belly grumbles. Slamming the refrigerator door closed, the seventeen-year-old dashes out of the kitchen. She vaguely notices her grams laughter as she rounds the corner leading into the hallway where the bathroom is.
* * *
Frank lowers his newspaper enough to see over the top edge. Martha enters the room with a stern look.
“How's she doing?”
“Better than you.”
Frank smiles.
“It was only two and a half million, honey. Those diamonds the prince brought over from Russia are worth four times that. And that's just one of her gifts.”
“That's not the point and you know it,” Martha warns. She points her right index finger at her husband, “Besides, you don't need to be fussing me right now. You have some serious making up to do.”
Frank searches his wife's blue eyes for any change in demeanor. Remaining true within her stern gaze, Martha relaxes her pointing hand and offers it to her husband.
“Come on, old man.”
Frank places the newspaper on the stand to the right of his recliner – his brown eyes never wavering from the love of his life. He reaches out and tenderly takes hold of his wife's patient hand as he stands. Silently, Frank follows Martha.
* * *
The following morning seems as mundane as any other for Martha. She gets up, showers, and cooks breakfast for Frank. By the time the coffee is ready, Frank is already seated at his normal spot at the kitchen table. Martha pours him a cup and glances at the clock on the stove.
6:30 A.M.
She removes the two over-easy eggs from the pan and places them near the toast and bacon on the plate. Walking over to the table with plate and coffee in hand, Martha sits Frank’s breakfast down in front of him. Her husband looks with that adoring smile of his – the same smile that lured her in so many years ago. Martha leans down and kisses him on the left cheek. When she turns around to pour herself a cup of coffee, Frank glances at the empty setting where Martha usually sits.
“No food this morning?”
“I might eat with Julia,” Martha answers while pouring her coffee.
“You think she’ll be up?”
Martha turns around with both hands around her coffee mug. Her left brow lifts slightly.
“She got a reprieve yesterday,” Martha confesses, “But today, she will be explaining herself for embarrassing me like that.”
“I thought the Mother…”
“You can stop right there, Frank Dermott,” Martha sternly interrupts.
The patient man waits for his wife to speak. She takes a sip of her coffee before continuing.
“The Mother, no,” Martha explains, “My granddaughter, yes. She pre-planned the whole damn thing with that tee-shirt of hers. The least she could have done was to warn me. But she didn’t.”
“And how would her grandmother have handled such a notion beforehand?”
Martha’s brows narrow, “I don’t know. I was never given the chance.”
“I have a pretty good idea.”
“And just what is that supposed to mean?”
Frank picks up a piece of toast, bites into it, and begins chewing.
“Uh-huh,” Martha answers his silent response with a calmer tone, “That’s what I thought.”
Frank, playfully, rolls his eyes upward and to the right.
Martha’ ensuing grin reflects her frustration of not being able to remain mad at her husband. Frank takes the opportunity to push the conversation forward.
“So what do you ladies have planned today?”
“I want to hear about her progress,” Martha informs, “It’s been a while since she gave me an update. After that, I thought we might go shopping.”
Martha walks over to Frank, leans down, and kisses him on the lips.
“And what about you, old man?”
“If I decide to go anywhere, I’ll let you know,” Frank confesses he hasn’t made any plans.
Martha kisses him again, stands upright, and turns towards the entryway leading into the hall of candelabras. Frank watches her as she begins walking.
“I’ll let you know when we’re leaving,” Martha explains.
“I’ll be here.”
* * *
Click.
Martha steps into the library as the double-doors lock into place. Fear and confusion washes over her face as the sounds of a man’s voice fills her ears.
“Brochsléch xré yhcho,” the deep growling voice calls out, “Fhcxo trové érié.”
“Leave me!”, Julianna screams out.
Martha drops her coffee mug on the library’s carpeted floor as she quickly heads towards the left staircase. She hears more growling while she desperately ascends the stairs leading towards the neutralizing zone. When she reaches the top landing, Martha covers her mouth with both hands.
“Oh, baby. What have you done?”, she whispers through shaky hands.
Although Martha is quite certain her granddaughter couldn’t have heard her, Julianna’s head unnaturally snaps towards her direction. Martha’s heart pounds within her chest as she witnesses her granddaughter’s green eyes turn coal black and then back again. And as if Martha’s interruption were nothing but a brief inconvenience, her nude granddaughter turns and begins pacing once more. She prowls on all fours like a trapped tiger held prisoner within the bounding perimeter of the stone pillars. Tears streak down both cheeks while a deep voice laughs slowly.
“Heh-heh-heh-heh,” the demon victoriously makes his presence known, “Shriavet Marthahhh.”
Martha watches her granddaughter fight back by flopping onto her back. Julianna attempts to spread her arms an
d legs upon the drawn spell. The demon’s voice calls out from her lips with another laugh as she quickly assumes her pacing stance once more. Martha lowers her hands while she stares into the face of evil.
“Heh-heh,” the demon mocks the young woman’s feeble attempt of assuming control, “Julieee-ahh-nahhh yhzo féio cié hnzéch.”
Martha attempts to recall everything the demon has spoken so far. Whenever she first walked in, she believes she heard him say, ‘Masterful try human, but you lose.’ And just now, she’s rather confident he has said, ‘Julianna has been very naughty.’
She understands the extreme danger her granddaughter is in. Demons are not to be taken lightly. They are extraordinarily powerful. The higher their rank, the more likely others will enter as well. And just like if it were on cue, Martha listens to Julianna’s voice change to that a female.
“Éhcia oi jiéch féaié, tré?”, a seductive voice taunts through her granddaughter’s lips.
Martha watches in horror as Julianna spreads her knees apart and sits back on her feet. She flips her long hair over her right shoulder and runs her left hand down the length of her body. Julianna licks her lips while staring at her grandmother.
“Éhcia oi jiéch féaié, tré?”, the voice taunts again.
Martha understands the words as meaning, ‘Such a pretty body, yes?’
Martha narrows her red brows. She is fed up with all of this mocking within her house. She marches with purpose towards her granddaughter.
Grams, stop.
Martha pauses. She cocks her head curiously to the left.
Julianna?
Yes.
What is going on? What happened?
I happened.
Martha sees Julia’s eyes change from black to green.
“Stop touching my body!”, Julianna demands with her own voice. She slams herself onto her right side. Her eyes change color back to the blackness of night. A deep male voice escapes her lips.
“Heh-heh-heh,” the demon slowly mocks.
Within a few seconds, Julianna is forced to roll over onto her hands and knees. She begins stalking the inner perimeter of the pillars while watching her grandmother from afar.
“Éhti rééh ecix,” the demon threatens Martha with the words, ‘She is lost.’
No, I’m not. Don’t pay attention to him.
Can I do anything?
Yes. His name. He won’t give it. I need it.
Okay.
Martha stares defiantly at the creature within her granddaughter’s eyes. She places her hands behind her back and begins pacing herself – walking back and forth as though she were a teacher or professor giving a speech inside of a large classroom.
“Do you know where you are?”, Martha questions.
“Heh-heh,” the demon laughs, “The Motherrr.”
Martha stops pacing and looks questioningly as though she were confused by the demon’s response. She quickly throws out another question.
“Are you a retarded demon?”
“Shut your mouth, womannn,” the demon threatens through Julia’s lips.
Martha’s left arm leaves her back and sweeps right to left towards the various books within the library.
“Well, in case you don’t know,” Martha explains, “This is thee Collection. Have you heard of it?”
“Yesss,” the demon answers.
“Only the mightiest are entered into these books,” Martha taunts.
“I will beeee,” the demon beckons, “I will kill herrr.”
“No,” Martha counters, “You will not beeee. Because I don’t even have a name to write down. It is impossible for me to record any events when I don’t know in whom to credit. Therefore, no one will know. No one will ever read of this day. And no one will know about the retarded demon who somehow got lucky and killed the Mother.”
“Shut up! Not luck. Powerrr.”
“That’s the rules,” Martha parries, “I don’t make the rules. I just follow them. No name. No story.”
“All will know Dranestannn,” the male voice answers victoriously.
Martha bows her head, “As does the Mother.”
“Ahhh,” the demon wails out as Julianna flops onto her back. She effortlessly stretches her arms and legs upon the written spell.
Martha watches the blackness within her granddaughter’s eyes. They both give the illusion of two small hurricanes swirling in opposing directions. Julia closes her eyelids.
“Ssstop that,” the growl orders. Only this time, it is the demon that seems to be desperate.
Julianna smiles with a calm order, “Go home, Dranestan.”
Martha observes Julia’s back arch upward. But it doesn’t appear to be from any violent reaction. Instead, it looks peaceful as her granddaughter exhales a long-extended breath. Black mist proceeds from her mouth before her body gently relaxes against the stone floor. The smoky substance moves upward and circles near the top of the pillars.
Julia sits up and watches the mist. She pulls her legs up to cover herself for her gram’s sake. A few seconds later, a quite growl escapes the mist as it dissipates into nothingness. She looks over at her grams with a smile. Problem is, her grams doesn’t seem to be sharing the same enthusiasm about it.
“You okay?”
“No,” Martha scolds, “I am not okay. What were you thinking? What would you have done if I had decided to leave with Frank this morning?”
“I’m sorry, grams. I never experienced a Captain before.”
Martha’s head retreats, “Before? Have you lost your mind? How many times have you done this? How long has this been going on? And why in Lilith’s name have you been doing this?”
“Grams,” Julianna answers with a soothing voice, “I control the beasts, remember?”
Martha pauses as her mind races to understand Julia’s last statement. She uses her right hand to wipe away sweat beading on her forehead. The woman’s blue eyes fixate upon her granddaughter.
“That’s what it means? The prophecy means that?”
Julianna nods.
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s my connection to the Place of the Dead. I can use my body to weaken them and force them back to their own plane of existence. It causes them to pretty much have to start over again in order to interact with our physical realm. It’s connected to the time when I gargled the water. But I’m not very good with the physics stuff yet.”
Martha shakes her head, “Their interactions are minimal at best, Julia.”
The woman points at Julianna with her right index finger, “Of course that’s before someone decides to invite them in like a working girl at a truck stop.”
Julianna’s mouth opens slightly as her bottom jaw lowers. She’s not quite sure, but she thinks her grams just called her a whore. And for the life of her, she has no words to combat with.
Martha lowers her right arm and places both of her hands on her hips, “I just don’t understand the point of it all. Prophecy or no prophecy, it seems dangerous for no reason. It’s no different than if I go to a gas station, pour gasoline on myself, light myself on fire, and then say, ‘Hey everyone! Burning this gasoline causes it to return to the air.’ ”
“Grams, it’s not like that.”
“It’s exactly like that, Julia. Do you even know why you should be doing this? Or are you doing it just because you can?”
Julianna looks away from her grandmother.
“That’s what I thought, young lady,” Martha says while crossing her arms. She glances over to a pink robe lying on the floor outside of the neutralizing zone and walks over to pick it up. Once in hand, Martha tosses it to Julianna.
“Here, put this on,” Martha orders, “I’m tired of thinking that my granddaughter is about to masturbate right in front of her own grandmother.”
“Grams, that wasn’t my fault.”
“It is your fault and you know why.”
Julia stands up with her back to her grandmother and slips the robe on. She t
urns around and looks into Martha’s scornful eyes.
“You’re right, grams. I’m sorry. I should have talked to you about this a long time ago. ”
Martha stares sternly for what seems like an eternity to Julianna. Finally, she releases her frustration with a quite sigh.
“They’re demons, Julia,” Martha speaks a little more calmly, “They lie. They hurt. They destroy. And they always do it because it’s fun for them to do it.”
Julianna nods, “I know. I’ll be more careful. Promise.”
Martha turns away and begins walking towards the staircase.
“I guess that’s your way of saying this will continue then?”
“Not until I know all the whys, grams,” Julianna makes an unspoken promise.
“I suppose that’s the best I’m going to get out of you,” Martha concedes to Julianna’s choice, “It’s not like I can stop you anyway.”
Grandmother and granddaughter descend the stairs in silence. When Martha’s feet touch down onto the carpeted area, she heads towards the stairs leading into Julianna’s bedroom – away from the scene of coffee staining the velvet. Julianna notices her gram’s brief glance and detours to make her way over to the abandoned mug. She picks it up knowing this is the first time someone has spilled anything onto the floor. As a rule in general, Martha never allows any drinking on this floor. And if Julianna had to guess, Martha was probably on her way downstairs when she discovered her granddaughter’s predicament.
