Harbinger Island

by Dorian Dawes

  Kara started laughing. "That's ultra-specific, but honestly, who the fuck cares? Like, what business is it of ours if that's something you truly believe? I mean, it could either be a performance art piece or religious or whatever."

  Only Helena wasn't amused by Pharaoh's little brain-exercise. She tapped her fingers in an irritated manner against the table before blurting out, "I really, really hope you're not using this to talk about transgender issues, 'cause that comparison is more than a little offensive."

  "I wouldn't dream of being so flippant." Pharaoh said in a low voice. "But don't you think it's interesting that people might accept a group worshiping an invisible being in the sky, but when someone decides that they're a man or a woman contrary to outdated biological classifications, the world is up in arms about it?"

  "Interesting," Justin scoffed. "Yeah, there's a word for it."

  Pharaoh's shoulders stiffened and he looked hurt for a moment. "I hope I haven't offended you. It's just that I find you remarkably beautiful, and I think you're very brave for what you did. I haven't seen someone so radiant as you in a thousand years."

  Justin stared, mouth gaping. He was utterly speechless. Kara clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from an inappropriate burst of giggles. Helena could only bury her head against her folded arms and groan.

  "I'm a sucker for poetic bullshit," Justin said in a breathy whisper. "Especially when it comes from absurdly attractive men."

  Pharoah's mouth dropped open. He lowered his head and giggled. Justin thought his heart was going to explode. He'd never imagined such a stupidly adorable sound.

  "I think I'm gonna throw up," Helena said. "How can you already be this sickening?"

  The conversation drifted once more into light-hearted affairs and laughter. Pharaoh was an expert on a wide range of subjects; from history to the arts, he could drift fluidly through each conversation. Every member of the band could relate to him on one discussion or the other, from shitty fathers to the failures of capitalism.

  Kara watched the two boys continuously exchanging flirty glances, hands growing closer and closer till fingers locked. After three hours, she'd had enough of the budding love-fest and patted Helena on the shoulder. She jerked her head towards the jeep and made an obnoxious clicking noise with her tongue.

  "All right, Sinead. Let's give these love-birds some privacy, huh?" she said.

  Helena rolled her eyes, but still turned in Justin's direction and winked. "Use protection, boys. I'm out."

  Justin looked mortified, watching his band-mates walk away. Pharaoh rubbed the back of his neck while making an awkward grimace.

  It was dark enough now that fireflies had started to fill the air. Justin couldn't have asked for a more cheesy romantic setting, even with the awful grossness of the Roasted Dog sitting behind them. They could look out at the impenetrable blackness of the Black Goat Woods while listening to the nighttime sounds of crickets and owls.

  "Your friends are really something," Pharaoh said.

  "You're really something," Justin said and then made an 'ooooh' face.

  Pharaoh snorted. "You're kind of a dork."

  "That is mean - but also entirely honest, and I hate you for it." Justin said with a little laugh. Then he got serious. "So earlier, you said you understood what Kara meant when she referred to our collective daddy-issues. So, what's your story?"

  Pharaoh looked off into the distance. His brow furrowed and for a moment those beautiful features looked cold and alien and frightening. Without realizing it, Justin had retreated a few inches away from him, where before they'd been remarkably close.

  "I wonder if you've the capacity to appreciate my predicament …" Pharaoh murmured in a low voice. "I think you may at least sympathize. I am bound to my father in a way that might seem unnatural. My existence is nothing more than an extension of his will. It is maddening."

  Justin drew close to him once more. He slipped his hand back into Pharaoh's and pressed his forehead to his. Pharaoh's quiet rage seemed to taint the very atmosphere around him, but it gradually faded as their skin touched.

  "I can definitely understand that," Justin whispered.

  They held hands, and their heartbeats quickened. Pharaoh leaned in. Their lips locked. It wasn't Justin's first kiss, but it might as well have been. There was something electric coursing through the two of them, powerful and primal.

  Pharaoh breathed heavily. "It would delight me to know your flesh."

  "My dorm is a ways away," Justin panted. "That'll be a bit of a walk."

  "I brought my bike." Pharaoh pulled back, giving him a devious grin.

  "Bike?" Justin raised an eyebrow.

  A few minutes later Justin was straddling this strange and beautiful man on the back of a motorcycle, riding through the streets of Wakefield. He wanted to holler at the top of his lungs. Nothing would ever be this perfect again.

  * * *

  A majority of professors at the university held the opinion that many of the tomes in the restricted section of the Stithyan Library were hogwash; superstitious nonsense for vulnerable and fearful minds. The excuse for their being locked away in a dark and forbidden corner of the library was that they were old and needed to be preserved. Bartleby knew better. No one preserved books by binding them in heavy chains.

  One book in particular kept nagging at him. It was locked in a glass case and sat on a pedestal at the end of the library. Only certain trusted members of the faculty were given access. Bartleby had fought long and hard to be one of those key-carrying members. Permission was only granted as he was one of the few who could actually read it, and even he was in no hurry to read it again. The last time had nearly destroyed him.

  Surrounded by ancient texts, this section of the library had its own dark aura to it. Whispers from another world had breathed life into these texts, and even locked away behind glass cases and chains, they still found ways to seep into the air around him. It took incredible resilience to withstand the foul tongues creeping into his mind as he walked towards the shadowy end of the section.

  His eyes widened, and he rushed towards the glass case. The lock had been undone and the case thrown open. Bartleby placed his hands on either side of the book, entire body quivering while a slew of nightmare scenarios played through his mind.

  "No, no, no, no …" he murmured, tearing open the book and flipping through the pages in a quivering panic.

  Someone had definitely looked through this book recently. The bookmark had been placed between its pages as opposed to lining the inside cover. His pulse quickened as his fingers ran down the sides of the page to where someone had scribbled out an illustration of the creature described therein. Someone had added a phrase in English over the illustration: THE CRAWLING CHAOS. He gave a startled gasp and slammed the book closed. He scrunched his eyes tight and tried to block out the silent laughter of malevolent energies swirling around him.

  If burning the grimoire would have purged the world of its evil, Bartleby might have done so then. He fiddled with the lock several times as his sweaty fingers slipped against his ring of keys. Only when he was certain the book was securely shut away did he allow himself to relax even a little.

  In addition to Bartleby's reserves of esoteric knowledge, he possessed a heightened psychic prowess. It was the source of his magic. He could touch any object and perceive those who'd last interacted with it, picking up all their thoughts and memories from that specific moment. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Through distorted visions, he could see Justin flipping through the book, casual and curious. Fortunately, any understanding of the text was beyond him, preventing the boy from its true danger. It was in understanding the words that gave them the power to harm.

  Still, Bartleby pressed further, willing his mind to pore through the surge of auras pressing into him from the library. There was a reason Justin had been able to access the book. He watched the visions rewind themselves. Through haze and fog, he saw someone approach the book. Bartleby's jaw clench
ed.

  Whoever it was, they'd masked themselves from any form of scrying magic. Their entire face was a swath of swirling darkness. He could only make out a finely-dressed man in an expensive-looking suit. The man hovered for a moment over the book, still locked in its case. Some dark mutterings spewed forth from the man's lips as he waved his hand over the lock, causing it to break free.

  Bartleby couldn't discern much more, only that the man felt a rush of satisfaction as Justin had come racing around the corner. The man seemed to disappear then.

  Bartleby took a step back. His fingers were crooked, instinctively having gone to the most dangerous spell he knew. He clenched his hands into fists and marched purposefully out of the library.

  * * *

  Helena didn't live on campus like Justin and Kara, but her home wasn't a place she felt she ever needed to escape from - not for the same reasons, anyway. Kara dropped her off, and almost as soon as Helena walked inside, she wanted to run back out and dive into the back of the jeep. It was too late in the evening to deal the screaming and yelling of her brothers. It didn't help that her mother, Soon-bok, was screaming the loudest.

  There were a few Korean swear words, and then in English, she hollered. "Served! Guess who's not doing dishes tonight!"

  They were playing a video game, something to do with brightly-colored characters on go-karts throwing giant bananas at each other. Soon-bok had taken to the thing like a force of nature, much to the lamentations of her children.

  "Nerds!" Helena shouted into the living room while kicking off her shoes.

  Soon-bok quickly abandoned the game. She came rushing into the hall with arms outstretched, eager to dispense tight hugs. Helena feigned disapproval but was quick to return her mother's embrace.

  Soon-bok launched into immediate apology. "I'm sorry I couldn't make your concert; no one would switch shifts with me."

  "Mom, it's okay. You've already heard the entire set from us banging around in the garage anyway."

  "Oh, but it's not the same, a live show is different! There is a different energy!"

  Helena nodded. "Yeah … there kind of was."

  "Oh?" Soon-bok had a hyper-awareness of the social cues and moods of those around her. "If you want to just go be by yourself that's fine too, but if you want to talk, you know I'd love to hear."

  "No, it's fine." Helena bit her lip, reminded of her mother's 'superpower'. "It's Justin … really. I didn't want to say anything 'cause it was kind of his big moment, but his energy. It was weird tonight. I mean, not necessarily weird in a bad way, just different. Some of those songs … it's like he was possessed."

  Soon-bok smacked her on the shoulder and scolded her. "Don't start talking like that. I have no patience for superstitious bullshit."

  "Ehhh, I thought about it, but I'm too old to have a teenage rebellion."

  "No, don't even think about it." Soon-bok tapped her own chest with a finger. "If anyone gets to have a rebellious phase next, it's me."

  Helena rolled her eyes. "What are you gonna do? Beat more people at video games?"

  "Underestimate me at your own peril." She winked and turned back to the living room, shouting at the boys. "Hey! Make room! Who told you kids it was okay to un-pause the game?"

  Helena rolled her eyes and began marching up the stairs to her bedroom.

  "Fucking nerds," she said again under her breath. Didn't stop her from smiling at the swearing and laughter coming from the living room.

  The house was loud and obnoxious, but they were happy. Her mother had found a way to make them all laugh again, something Helena had never thought possible when her dad first left. She'd thought she'd cry forever.

  Her room was a mess - at least, what she considered a mess. She'd neglected to make the bed that day, and she had left her makeup scattered on the vanity beneath her mirror. There also may have been a blanket still deposited over the back of the chair by her computer desk from where she'd snuggled beneath it spending far too many hours in the evening watching You Tube videos about snails. Compared to the dorms of her bandmates, though, the room was relatively spotless.

  "It's all right," she whispered, closing her eyes. "You can come out now."

  What had appeared to be butterfly earrings detached themselves from her earlobes and grew until they were full-sized shimmering scarlet creatures flapping around on either side of her head. Red sparkles fell from their wings and she giggled as they darted against her cheeks to cover her face with tiny kisses. Superstitious bullshit indeed. They had yet to reveal their names to her, but they were her familiars and she loved them.

  Magic was fucking awesome.

  * * *

  A heavy fist slamming against the door startled Justin awake. He rolled over in bed. Pharaoh was leaning against the wall, staring out the window. He barely acknowledged Justin with a glance, his eyes still fixated on the glass. Red and blue lights flashed through the window and made dancing shadows along the wall. Justin sat up and reached for his clothes.

  "What time is it?" he asked groggily.

  "Six in the morning," Pharaoh said in an idle tone. "Will you get in trouble for me being here?"

  Justin shrugged. It was too early for this shit, and his consciousness would deal with the consequences whenever it caught up with the rest of him. He threw on some pants and a shirt, not even bothering with his binder. Whoever was on the other side of that door would just have to deal with his man-tits.

  The red and blue lights really should have been an indicator. Behind the door was a man in a brown coat. There were bags under his eyes and he stank of aftershave and bad cologne. He also looked as if he'd dressed in as much a hurry as Justin had.

  "Detective Tim Brunt. Are you Elizabeth Hughes?" he said in a gruff voice, flashing his badge and ID.

  Justin cringed at hearing his dead-name. He placed a hand over his eyes and groaned. "I'm going by Justin now, if you don't mind, and yeah that's me … or used to be, anyway. What's the matter?"

  Brunt completely ignored the correction and leaned against the doorframe, taking the chance to peer around the room. He saw Pharaoh sitting up in bed. Pharaoh waved and gave a perverse grin, sticking his tongue out at the officer.

  "Were you two in here all night?" Brunt asked, placing two fingers at the inner corners of his eyes, almost as if he didn't want to look at either of them.

  Justin folded his hands over his chest. "Yeah, why? Did something happen?"

  "Did you see anyone coming onto the campus property? Out the window, perhaps?"

  He shook his head. "Nope. We were a bit um … preoccupied."

  "Yeah, I figured. All right, you're not leaving town for anything okay?"

  "I go to school here. It's the middle of the semester. I have finals and an overpriced tuition fee."

  "Just don't leave in case I need a statement - oh, and you may not want to look out your window. At least, not on a full stomach."

  Justin raised an eyebrow wondering what the hell that meant and closed the door. He turned around and walked towards the window, approaching the glass slowly. Pharaoh placed a hand on his shoulder.

  "You may not want to look," he said. He was still smiling. "It will not please you."

  Justin had to let that one sink in for a moment. "You're freaking me out a little."

  Pharaoh laughed. "Look if you must, but don't say I didn't warn you."

  "Well, now I have to look!"

  Justin rushed to the window. He placed his hands on the glass, eyes drifting down to the campus courtyard below. He almost screamed.

  Yellow police tape had already been drawn around the incident. Cop cars helped provide an additional barricade to keep curious onlookers from peering further in, but that did nothing to block the view from Justin's dorm on the second floor.

  It was the corpse of a man he knew. The worst was the face, eyes wide in permanent horror, mouth torn in a perverse display as a sharp pole forced it open. That same pole ran through the entirety of his body, shoved through his b
utchered asshole. Every organ in his stomach was left carefully decorated in a circle around him. A star Justin recognized from a book in the library was carved into the corpse's forehead. A gory hole was left in its center, filled by a glass eye painted a glittering gold. Justin fell away from the window, collapsing against the floor. He pressed his back to the wall, hands clamped against his mouth. He could only whimper over and over again, "What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck …"

  Pharaoh watched. "A lot of needless grotesquerie. I'm curious, do you know the man out there?"

  "Math professor," Justin sobbed. "I didn't know him that well. He seemed like an all right guy, though."

  "People die. Good or bad, it doesn't change things." His voice was unnaturally calm.

  Justin felt a chill run through him. "You don't seem too shaken by this."

  Pharaoh lowered his eyelids. He seemed bored already. "That's right, this is all very new for you. I've spent entire nights sleepless for the screams outside filling my ears. Don't think he suffered too much. This looks like someone trying to make a statement. Maybe your band pissed someone off?"

  "That's not funny," Justin muttered, standing to his feet.

  His hands were shaking. There was a callousness to Pharaoh's words that unnerved him. He took a quick glance from Pharaoh to the door without even thinking. His brain was already making a mental checklist of everything he'd have to do to escape if this man turned out to be responsible for the macabre display outside.

  "Actually, I don't think it was your music at all that has them riled," Pharaoh said. He was still naked as he approached the window, caring not if anyone saw him from below. "A lot of love and detail went into this; it may even be a gift to you."

  Justin was already backing his way towards the door. "A gift? You think this is a gift?"

  Pharaoh's smile faded. He reached out to brush his fingers against Justin's cheek. Justin nearly recoiled. The man's fingers had an icy touch.