by Lynn Red
‘Flooring it’ in a nearly thirty-year old Bronco is a lot less impressive than it sounds, but the old boat did an admirable job of making noise and belching smoke everywhere.
“You’ll regret this!” He shouted, standing in the middle of the road, like a pissed off teenager who got told that he wasn’t going to get a car for his sweet sixteen. “This is the last mistake you’ll make, Lily! You’re mine! You were promised to me, you’ll keep me from... from...”
He dropped to his knees, clawing at his face. From the stop sign at the end of Crest Street, I watched all of it unfold, probably two hundred feet from where he was carrying on. I couldn’t tell exactly but it looked like he was bleeding. Again.
“You think you’re getting away,” he screamed. “You’re not! Neither is Damon! I’ll maul that Skarachee pup! You go running to him. Go running, Lily, I’ll follow you to the end of the world if I have to.”
I punched the gas again. I’d heard enough. The insanity, the wild look in Devin’s face took away every shred of beauty I ever though I saw. When he was out of options, he relied on pure unadulterated rage.
Nothing could possibly be less attractive.
Damon, oh God I need you so bad, but where are you?
I pulled over to the side of the road when I was far enough from Cat’s house that I was sure Devin wasn’t following. Sticking my fists in my eyes, I rubbed hard enough to see stars. “Enough,” I said out loud, to steel my own resolve. “Damon. Where is he?”
Damon’s parents lived halfway between my house and Cat’s, a few streets over from a straight shot. They left late last year on some kind of cross-country RV trip, but he stayed in the house. I didn’t expect to see his bike, but even so, when I drove past, my heart sank at the empty driveway.
Eight minutes later, I turned up the road leading to my house. Nine minutes later, I went past our little place, wishing for nothing more than to be in there with my grandpa and Damon, playing cards or something that normal people did during normal times.
Twelve minutes after that, I turned off my car in the middle of the forest, right where the trees got too thick to keep driving. Three miles away, lay a cave.
A cave that was the last place I could turn. If he wasn’t there, then I was lost.
I swallowed hard as my foot hit the ground.
Ten
“Is that you?” A tiny voice bounced off the walls of Damon’s cave as I squinted into the thick, oppressive darkness at a small orange light far, far from the entrance. “Pup, is that you? Come back for to visit?”
“No,” I swallowed hard trying to calm my trembling lips. “I’m sorry, I’m—”
When next he spoke, the voice was more cheerful than he had been. “Oh! So it’s the other one I’ve been searching far and wide for, is it? Come this way. Let the fire be your guide.”
“Who are you?” I asked.
No answer. Again I called out into the dark and again was met with silence.
“Great,” I said under my breath. This is just great. I’m chasing a boy into a cave. I don’t have time for this, I have a story to write, and I’ve got a career to make. A shiver crept through me. The deeper into the cave I went, the wetter, cooler and heavier the air around me became.
The stoic tightness I had all through the ordeal with Devin and his girlfriend, driving back and forth to figure out where Damon was, and then finally giving up and going to this cave as a last gasp exploded the instant the cold darkness enveloped me and light from outside no longer reached where I stood.
Werewolves and magic and soul mates, it was all a bunch of bullshit that didn’t make the first bit of sense, but here I was spelunking into some cave with what I guessed was an ancient old man at the back of it talking me to him.
But the stupidest thing of all is that I didn’t care about any of that stuff. The complete unreality of what I was going through didn’t matter one bit. Finding Damon, that’s all that occupied my mind. I shook myself and clutched my elbows, hugging my chest to keep warm.
The fire grew bigger, and for a moment it occurred to me that I had no idea how it kept going back here. Of all the things to think about, this is what I spend my brain power on. I shrugged and smiled for the first time in a couple of days, at my own strangeness. Even in these absolutely bizarre circumstances, there’s something to be said for being at least a little comfortable in your own skin.
Of course, when you walk into a cave hoping to find your werewolf quasi-boyfriend and end up staring down at a little man who looks a little like an Incan mummy wrapped up in a Navajo blanket, even being comfortable with yourself is very little consolation.
“She comes,” he said. I swear his mouth didn’t move.
“I’m sorry, what?” I looked down at him and cocked my head, not really sure how to address the ancient bundle. Was I supposed to squat down and look at him or was that rude?
There was a vague hint of a smile on his paper-thin lips.
“Please, child, sit. We wait.”
That time I knew his mouth didn’t move.
With a certain amount of trepidation, though I don’t really know what I was afraid of, except for “everything,” I sat cross-legged beside the strange little man and stared into his fire. Shapes danced, like will happen when you stare at a fire, but I saw things that were too clear to be coincidental.
Faces – Damon, my grandfather, Devin and Cat – appeared and moved, speaking with soundless lips. It wasn’t like watching a movie or anything, but the shapes of the flames showed me who they were supposed to be.
The shape I knew was Damon slouched over, moving very slowly toward some unknown destination. The other I could tell was Grandpa Joe by the darker bit of flame moving near his mouth which reminded me of his pipe. It looked like he was saying something to me, but it’s not like fires can talk. Of course, it’s not like werewolves exist either.
Still, the way Damon’s fire shape was hunched over made me think he was in pain, or confused or something.
“Is he hurting?” I asked my silent companion, as I looked in his direction.
His eyes were closed, but rapidly moving back and forth beneath the lids. Sitting beside him, the fire’s light bouncing off face made him look almost tan, like he was covered in ancient leather. A shiver crept through me, even with the intense heat emanating from the fire.
“What?” He snapped.
“I asked—”
The old man snaked a hand out of his blankets to shush me. His fingers were so thin, skin so transparent, that it gave me the illusion of seeing through to his bones. “You said...? What? My old ears cannot hear as well anymore, they,” his lips moved, though the sounds he made fell silent for a moment.
Back and forth he looked, as though he was hearing voices from some unseen sources.
Is he talking to spirits? Of course this couldn’t just stop with werewolves and an ancient mummy-man. Of course there had to be ghosts.
A definite cold sensation crept down my back, which I knew was supposed to be a sign that there were spirits floating around. In a perverse way, that didn’t surprise me much. I guess out of everything else that I’d been forced to believe, spirits weren’t much of a stretch.
“Oh,” the old man said softly. “Yes, all right.”
I looked back at him, studying the shadows bouncing on his cheeks. He turned to face me, but his eyes remained closed. Something told me I should be glad for that.
“He’s coming, eventually,” he said. “Your mate, I mean.”
“Okay, stop right there. I seem to be everyone’s mate or soul-bond or whatever you want to call it, but no one has bothered to explain to me how all this happened. I’m getting a little—”
He raised his hand again, and turned away, nodding at an unseen voice. “You are confused, they tell me. I can sense it as well.”
“Well yeah I’m confused,” I said when he paused long enough for me to think it was my turn.
But he continued a moment later, ignoring what I said. “We are all con
nected. You and I, the spirits in this chamber, my friend Joe, Damon, and even the others, who I believe you have met?”
“Joe... Grandpa? How do you know him? And what are you, some kind of psychic?”
“No, no,” he smiled and chuckled inwardly. “I only listen, I’m not a prophet. As for Joe, we’ve known each other for a time. A rather long time, actually.”
I felt like getting up and leaving. Something deep inside my chest – or maybe it was inside my soul – felt like it was being torn apart just sitting here, being shredded into nothingness.
“I want Damon,” is all I said, and very weakly at that. “I need to feel him. He,” I paused, aware that I was trembling from head to toe, but clenching my muscles to avoid looking weak. “He makes me feel safe.”
“Mhm,” the old man said. “I’m Poko. Joe has never mentioned me? We met many years ago. I consider him a close friend, though I’ve not seen him in... thirty? Forty turns of the sun? It gets hard to remember when your entire world is the inside of a cave. I’m too weak to change now. My next transformation will be my last, but I can’t do that until I’m sure my pup is ready for the responsibility.”
I pinched myself, because of all the stuff I woke up not believing, but bought into by lunch, this old man knowing my grandpa was too much. I did it again, a little harder, and made myself squeal.
The old man – Poko – laughed. “I am afraid this is no dream. You have now seen a part of reality that very few people have bothered to look upon. And those who have very often deny it. Our very existence goes against the things that are true and real, but there you are. Or here, I suppose, we are. Very real, I think you’ve found.”
A cold, dry, laugh shook the man’s shoulders.
“How old,” I began, but stopped myself.
“Am I? Oh, that’s a good question. After long enough, you stop thinking in those sorts of terms. I am as old as my pack requires. I wait for the next one to come, who will take my place and lead the Skarachee.”
“Pack? There’s a pack of...”
Across his lips, a quizzical grin spread from cheek to cheek. “More than one.”
My eyes narrowed. “You can’t be serious.”
“You’ve met the pride of the second. A rough figure, from what I’ve seen, though his name escapes me at present. That is his way though, the Carak are a wilder people than mine. Closer to their animal nature, you understand?”
“I... well, no, not really,” I laughed without thinking about it. “I guess you’re talking about Devin?”
The man’s sensation, his aura for a lack of a better word, seemed to warm a little. Suddenly I didn’t feel so weird being in his presence.
“Mhm, Devin. That’s right. He wore the skin of a boy growing up with you. Of course, his true self was growing too. We age to a certain point and then we can stop it if we want. Many choose not to take on that mantle. It’s painful to see your children, your lovers, your friends and family grow old and die for three, four, however many generations. It’s a terrible burden to take, but someone must, or the pack has no leader.”
This is perfect – even if this is just some crazy old man living in a cave, I can use all this in my story. Hard to get more folk magic and local hoodoo than this.
Thinking like that helped me distance myself from the insanity. Pushing back made everything easier, I’d learned, just like when I opened my eight year old eyes and saw my parents burning alive in the car that a couple of firemen had just pulled me from. I looked down at my hand and ran my finger along the jagged white scar that ran from my wrist to my elbow where a piece of glass had almost taken my arm off; almost killed me.
I’d never worn a short sleeve shirt since then, except when I knew I’d be alone. I didn’t even like my grandpa looking at the faded mark.
“In my pack,” Poko said, “we look at pain as growth. What you’ve been through, Lily, you’re stronger than anyone you know, even if you won’t allow yourself to admit such a thing.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I sniffed. Thinking about my parents, even now, always did that to me. Damon was the only person I’d ever really talked about them with, not counting Grandpa Joe. I just never felt like letting anyone else that deep.
I couldn’t deal with having their death be real.
Another shiver took me, from deep in my core, moving outwards .This time it wasn’t the ghosts in the cave, though. It was ghosts inside me.
“You can see them,” he said. His voice bounced off the walls, followed by a trickle of water and a crackle of burning bark. “To you they stay real, that’s why you went so long before you grieved.”
I sniffled again but didn’t respond. I had nothing to say, no way to know what on earth Poko was talking about.
“Your parents, Lily. You see them. You talk to them in your dreams. You can see them in my fire if you look hard enough, long enough.”
Abruptly, I stood up. “How do you know that?” I shouted. The old man didn’t react. “Who the hell are you to tell me this? Like you have some magical gift that lets you talk to ghosts? Let me tell you something. Ghosts don’t exist! Neither do my parents. They’re dead, all right? Yeah, good guess.”
My chest was heaving and tears burst from my eyes. My feet felt like aching nubs at the bottom of my legs, and it was all I could do to weave my way to the cold stone of the cave and prop myself up with my shoulder.
Still, the little man just watched me. He had a kind enough smile, but right then it started bothering me intensely that he had yet to open his eyes the whole time I’d been there.
“Why is this happening to me? Why can’t I just get a normal boyfriend and be a normal girl? I wish Damon was just... shit! I just wish he was normal!”
“Right about now, I’m sure he feels the same way. Lily, you must understand something. Help me to my feet.”
“That would require me to get off this wall and if I do I might throw up,” I admitted.
Poko chuckled softly. All at once I wanted to hit him, or cry. Maybe both, but what the hell good would that do?
“Yes, you will need to move from where you stand, but I don’t think you will be given to vomit. Come, come,” he gestured at me to come with the hand he freed earlier from his blanket. “Hand me that,” he said, pointing at a wooden cane that had gone smooth and dark brown with age.
Something about his calm voice forced a little steel into my stomach. My legs proved strong enough not to collapse when I tested them a moment later. Bending down was a bit of a trick, and when the blood rushed to my head I almost blacked out, but I managed to get the little man to his feet without falling on him.
“Hnnn... it is always, er, difficult to stand after so long in meditation. Hold my arm for just a moment while I gain my legs.” Poko’s arm shook violently, though whether it was from some illness or simply from being probably slightly younger than the cave in which we sat wasn’t really clear.
He bent over from the waist, his back made a series of popping sounds that sounded like a tree breaking off at the trunk, and then he twisted to and fro before tapping his cane on the ground a few times.
“There! Feels better, some.” He clenched his bare feet, popping each of his toes. He coughed and shambled nearer, his cane clattering on the ground as he did. “Now, sit. Unless you’d rather stand?”
I nodded. I braced myself with my hands on my knees, bending slightly, which relieved the ache in my back and the absolutely wonderful wave of nausea that hit me out of nowhere.
Suddenly, Poko froze in place and looked into the air, finally opening his eyes. “Oh!” he said. “Oh, very good.”
Oh God his eyes... they’re white.
Luckily a booming, thunderous sound from the mouth of the cave jerked my attention away from his ghastly eyes. Something was dragging itself back to where we were and I knew instantly what – who, I mean – it was.
“Quickly, Lily,” Poko said. “Before your mate returns.”
Seeing the shock on my face, he raised the
hand that wasn’t clutching his cane. “Very sorry, I mean Damon. I forgot very easily that not everyone is so versed in all this. Comes with age, I’m afraid.”
The clawing along the floor was getting louder and suddenly I had a terrible fear.
“Is there something wrong with him?”
“With Kataro? Er, Damon? No. Though he certainly feels like there is. We – our people – undergo a very difficult transition when we come of age, which is presently happening to Damon. I have long forgotten the specifics of the pain he feels, but I recall it being terrible. Many Skarachee do not live through the process, but once it’s complete, he will be in full control of his powers.”
My head was spinning, and those weird scratching noises just kept getting closer and closer. “I’m sorry,” I said, rubbing my temples. “What does this have to do with me? Seriously like two days ago my grandpa was going on and on at me, telling stories about werewolves, and I thought he was just telling me old folktales. I’m lost.”
“We all are,” Poko said with that curious smile and his milk white eyes wide open. They weren’t as frightening as the first time I saw them though. He had a way of calming me.
Damon was almost to us. “Poko, I... I’m bleeding, I can’t walk, I –”
“Steel yourself, Lily. You must care for him, because I cannot. He needs strength and I’ve none left. Staying alive takes all I have. Be prepared that he will not look like anything you’ve ever seen.”
“Even when I saw him on the mountain the other day?”
Poko averted his eyes. “Come, pup, you’ll find solace here,” he said. “Someone you wish to see has come to find you.”
“Lily?” His voice perked up before Damon descended into another fit of moans and coughing.
I looked at Poko, not knowing what to do. “But I need him. I need him to be strong for me, not the other way around. I came looking for him because—”
“In time,” he whispered. “He will give all you could ever need. But right now he needs you.”
Swallowing hard, it took me a couple of tries to find my voice before it actually worked.
