by Dorian Dawes
Veronika flinched at the phrasing and hoped it didn't mean what she thought. She recalled the bruises along Donovan's forearms. "He was fine, Bernie. I'm going to go."
He nodded. "It was lovely meeting you, I hope you find whatever it is you need out there."
"Right." Veronika turned and began walking along the cracked and faded sidewalk back to the hotel.
"That flesh-thing is soaked in violence," Yiggie hissed into her mind.
"We're ones to talk," Veronika snipped.
Back at the hotel, she found a small rock lying in the parking lot. It had a strange R shape to it, almost like it'd been cut naturally into some form of rune. Her long purple sleeves brushed against the cracked pavement as she knelt and pinched the strange rock between her two fingers. This would be her present to herself.
* * *
Witchcraft on Harbinger Island was unlike other magical practices. Two things set witches apart from other magic users. The first was that of a familiar spirit to guide them and help channel their emotional energy into magical power. The second was that a witch must spend time communing with her familiar each morning to draw upon their energies and turn said energy into spells. For each witch, the ritual was different. It was really all dependent upon whatever worked best for them. Some liked to be outside. Some liked to dance and throw on loud, violent music.
It often helped for Veronika to meditate and specify what type of spells and incantations she'd like to cast that day. It was as close to prayer as she was ever likely to get. She had taken to collecting stones of distinctive shape and size that she carried in a silk pouch tied around her waist. Each stone had a memory and an emotion attached to it. She would call upon these emotions and memories every morning as Yiggie curled its serpentine form around each stone, forming strange and colorful patterns into new shapes.
When she was done, she stared at the stones in their circle while Yiggie looked up at her with its unblinking black eyes. Her hands fell loosely in her lap. There was a far-off expression on her face.
"You are troubled, flesh-thing," Yiggie said.
"When am I not?" she said wryly. "C'mon, let's go."
Her legs felt weighted as she stood. She wanted to climb into bed and sleep forever. All that kept her going was the knowledge that, even if she hid herself beneath the covers, sleep would be denied her. Her mind would replay a horror show of past traumas and crippling what-if scenarios. It was better to fucking go so that her brain wouldn't have a chance to torment her.
Bernie's directions, scribbled out onto a napkin, were easy enough to follow. There were several frustrating moments of trying to find anything on the radio to listen to only for the car to be filled with noisy static; very few signals reached into the heart of Kerryville. She drove on in contemplative silence, trying to shut out the thoughts in her own head.
There were few sights to distract her on her drive - only dirt roads, woods, and cornfields for miles and miles on either side of her. It was a bleak, depressing shade of monotony. The hollow feeling in her gut only continued to grow and spread throughout her entire body until at last, after an hour's worth of driving, she came to a turn in the road through an empty field where a broken wooden fence and rusted cattle gate waited.
Sighing, Veronika came to a stop and climbed out her car. The gate had a thick chain and heavy padlock wrapped around it. Just a short distance away, she could see an old barn and nearby house surrounded by overgrown fields. They both looked lonely against the endless gray horizon.
Veronika held the padlock in her hands and jiggled the chain, listening to it clanking against the gate. With the right spells, she could probably break the padlock and force the gate open, but decided against it. Instead, she walked back to her car to retrieve the keys from the ignition. She somehow felt it important to leave this place as she found it, disturbing as little as possible.
Veronika hoisted herself over the fence and climbed into the overgrown yard. She wiped flakes of rust off her hands onto her pants and set off down the tire depressions in the long dead grass. She supposed she'd check the house first. The roof appeared to have sunken and warped over several years. Along the porch, some of the beams looked bent, on the verge of breaking.
"Oh yes, another creepy, run-down, and potentially haunted house," Veronika said with no small amount of bitterness. "Totally aren't a bunch of those on this island. Not at all!"
"Once you dig deeper, you find that every inch of this rock is covered in histories of violence and despair. Tormented souls cry out from their bloody graves for retribution," Yiggie responded in a grave, dramatic voice.
Veronika patted her tattoo reassuringly. "I was being facetious, Yiggie."
Even still, it was hard for her to look at the dust-covered rocking chair on the front porch or the rusting doorknob without feeling a tinge of unease. She was reminded of Blackerly House back in Wakefield. Whenever she blinked, she saw blood and barbed wire.
An awful smell greeted her inside. Some animals had broken in at some point, leaving their little paw prints in dust along the floors and counters, as well as their own little droppings here and there. The kitchen cabinets had been ransacked and old, moldy food left there to rot in festering piles. A pile of unwashed dishes was stacked in the kitchen where cockroaches and worms bathed in their own putrescence.
Dissonant sounds of white noise shrieked from the living room beyond. Veronika winced and struck a defensive position. Yiggie came uncurled from her forearm and rose, hissing back at the noise. She crept cautiously into the living room, bathed in the eerie white glow of an old television set. Her eyes darted about carefully, seeking out intruders.
"Flesh-thing …" Yiggie called her attention towards the TV.
She crossed over the half-turned molding and frayed carpet to the television set at the far corner of the living room. There were at first only images of raining static, but gradually other images came through. She saw the living room from a wide angle, like that of a camera on the ceiling. Gradually, the image became clearer and clearer.
A figure wandered into view. She never got a good look at their face, as every time they looked up at the camera, the static worsened until the image was completely obscured. They were wearing what appeared to be a stained hospital gown. The top of their head was swathed in bloody bandages.
Veronika felt her skin start to craw as she watched the figure wander around the house, hunched over and sniffing at the air. They were a gangly thing, tall and unnaturally thin, and their flesh was discolored and graying, corpse-like. They had long bony fingers, and even longer yellowed fingernails that had grown brittle and curved.
The image faded into static. Next it showed a little girl sitting on the rug in the middle of the living room. She stared up at the camera, expressionless. Around her, family members moved about as if she didn't exist, going throughout their daily routine. The image sped up, still with the little girl staring at the camera.
"It's her," Veronika whispered. "That little girl is Eileen."
"What of the creature?" Yiggie pondered. "The one in the bloody gown?"
Veronika raised her arm against the corner of the room. "Yiggie, slither up there and see if you can find any security cameras."
Her familiar begrudgingly uncoiled itself from around her arm and began slithering up the wall, vanishing into the darkness of the ceiling. Veronika watched it for a moment until movement on the screen stole her attention. The figure in the hospital gown had returned. It approached Eileen from behind, its movements twitchy and unnatural.
"Flesh-thing …" Yiggie called.
Veronika continued to watch. She pressed her face closer to the screen and could swear she almost heard the figure's bones cracking every time it moved. Young Eileen kept perfectly still, even as the figure now stood directly behind her, arms stretched wide, long fingernails hovering menacingly over the little girl's head.
"VERONIKA!" Yiggie screamed into her mind.
Veronika looked to find her f
amiliar had returned to her and was staring at her intently. She didn't have a chance to ask what the matter was before the TV shrieked, followed by a loud popping sound. Sparks flew as the screen blacked out and the acrid stench of smoke rose from the smoldering set. Just before it went out, she thought she saw the little girl on the screen smile.
She waited for her heartbeat to settle before turning to Yiggie. "Well, what'd you find?"
"Nothing, my little flesh-thing," Yiggie said, in an almost apologetic tone. "No cameras. They didn't have anything resembling a security system in place at all."
"Then what the fuck was that?" she said, still shaking.
Yiggie slithered up her arm to lay its head against her chest. She gently rubbed the back of its head as it shook. She'd never seen the spirit so distressed before.
"We do not know, flesh-thing."
* * *
Later that evening, as torrential rain pounded against the ceiling of the hotel, a young woman in a white dress splashed barefoot in the puddles, hurriedly running to the hotel doors. Long red hair fell in matted clumps about her face as her shoulders heaved, her face set into a distraught grimace. She held a pistol in one of her pale shaking hands. The front of her dress was stained with blood.
Rosie looked up to see the young woman through the glass doors of the lobby. Her lips were curved downwards into a solemn frown as she stood and walked around to the front of the counter. She extended her hand to the young woman.
Overhead, the lights in the lobby flickered. The young woman entered, dripping blood and water onto the hotel carpet. She walked slowly, as if in a funeral procession. Her quiet sobs echoed off the walls, intermittently drowned out by the roaring thunder.
Each step felt like it took everything out of her. There was a pain in her throat from wanting to scream but holding it in. Her feet ached from running barefoot so long, and she was tired and cold.
Rosie did not move to help her. She stayed, holding her hand out, face as stone as a statue. Finally, the redheaded woman fell into Rosie's arms, dropping the gun at her feet. "I did it. I shot him dead."
"He can't hurt you anymore, Donovan," Rosie whispered, kissing the top of her head. "It's over."
"Donna, if you please." The young woman pushed the strands of the red wig out of her face. Her eyes were fierce and shining.
Rosie nodded. She pressed a set of keys into Donna's shivering hand and closed her fingers over them. Rosie pulled away, departing for her office.
"Room 104 is unoccupied," she said. "I'll bring in dry clothes for you. Enjoy your stay."
* * *
Veronika had searched the house and the barn for several hours. Outside of the initial horror on the television set, there was nothing outright telling or interesting in what she'd seen. The air had a palpable energy to it, the trace remnants of something evil that had occurred there decades ago. It unnerved her to think how familiar that feeling had become.
As it grew dark and rain began to pour, she gave up her search and began driving home. She kept her cell-phone charging next to her. There were a few texts from concerned friends who hadn't heard from her since that disastrous party at Blackerly House, but they were easy enough to ignore.
An unknown number lit up her phone's screen, accompanied by a musical ringtone.
Veronika furrowed her brow and answered. "Hello?"
The voice on the other end caused a lump to form in her throat. "Veronika? It's me, Kara. I got your number from Dayabir."
"Yeah. Sorry, I guess we never got around to exchanging numbers, did we?"
"Things got weird," Kara admitted. "How's Kerryville?"
"I think as far as general weird occult shit, it may give Wakefield a run for its money," Veronika said. "I drove by the place your mom lived when she was a kid."
"Oh shit, what happened?"
Veronika relayed the event back to her. She thought better of it, but after a moment decided to tell Kara about Eileen's family having all killed themselves when she was a child. There was silence on the other end of the phone.
"Eileen had a lot of secrets," Kara said, sighing softly. "Veronika, I've got something to ask you."
"Yeah?"
"I want you to come back to Wakefield. We can look into whatever fucking cult our moms were in later. I'm sure maybe there's something at the school library on it, and you know we always have the Historical Society on our side. Maybe they know something we don't."
Veronika slammed her palm against the edge of the steering wheel. "Kara, I can't. This isn't just about what happened to us."
"Then what is it about? I'm really reaching here. Help me understand, please." Kara's voice had risen with every word.
"Christ, I feel like part of me died last week, okay?" Veronika said. Her voice was strained and she was trying not to stammer out her words. "I don't even know if you can get that. It's like my entire life has been ripped from beneath me and I've no idea how to get it back."
Kara waited patiently till she was finished. "Actually, I kind of know exactly how that feels."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you again," Veronika said.
"I can take it." Kara sounded calm. "But look … whenever you're ready. You've got my number now. Say the word and I'll be right there. I know you don't want any kind of a support network right now and that's cool and all, but if you ever get to the point where you feel like you want someone there … Well, just say the word. All right?"
"Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks." Veronika nodded. Her eyes were watering. "You know … it's both sad and hilarious. If we had actually talked before that stupid fucking party, none of this might be happening, and you and I would be dating already."
Kara gave a forced laugh. "You think so?"
"Yeah."
They made their painful, awkward goodbyes and Veronika hung up the phone. She threw it into the passenger seat. Her eyes briefly glanced over the rear-view mirror. There was a thing in the back seat of her car, staring intently at her. The top of its head was swathed in bandages, and all that could be seen of its face was a pair of blood-colored lips that parted in a yellow-toothed grin.
Veronika shrieked. She slammed her foot on the brakes, causing the car to skid in the muddied road. The creature reached forwards with its long crusty fingernails to brush against her shoulder. Yiggie uncoiled from her arm, hissing.
"Pelortel!" Veronika yelled, making a quick hexing gesture with her fingers.
There was a dizzying second and she was no longer inside her car but standing directly in front of it. She'd taken a fighting stance, legs parted and fingers raised with a spell waiting on her lips. Cold rain drenched her skin and caused her hair to cling to her face in strands.
The creature pressed its face against the windshield. It opened its mouth, revealing an abnormally long and thin pink tongue. She watched in open-mouthed repulsion as it began licking the windshield in a perverse display, slathering thick globs of saliva across the glass.
The thing withdrew from the window. It chuckled for a moment before retreating into the backseat, vanishing from sight. The headlights in the car flickered off, leaving Veronika in complete darkness. She shivered, fingers twitching.
Veronika quickly hissed out the word to a small cantrip. A pebble-sized orb of white light emerged from her hand and rose to hover on the side of her head. There was no sign of the creature anywhere around or near her car. She lowered her gaze to the ground, noticing her shadow was far larger and longer than usual.
The thing was behind her. She whirled around, a spell halfway out of her mouth before it grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off her feet. She could scarcely breathe, let alone summon the words for a spell to save her. She kicked at the air, choking and gasping, struggling within the creature's grasp.
It let out a flurry of voices, some familiar and others quite cold and alien. "We were promised your azoth. The witch did not hold up her end of the bargain, so now we must take what was promised by force."
Yiggie slither
ed away from Veronika's arm to coil itself about the wrist of the creature. It opened its mouth wide, revealing a set of sharp fangs the familiar was very proud of, then bit down hard upon the thing's wrist. The creature howled in a cacophony of voices. It flung both Veronika and her familiar off its body as it writhed around in pain.
They crashed against the windshield of her car, cracking it. Veronika opened her mouth in a silent moan as sharp pain shot up her back. She reached for the bruised and unconscious form of her familiar lying in a heap along the front of the car.
Lightning arced across the sky, revealing the creature. Its form had changed slightly, the spirit's venom disrupting whatever pitiful disguise the monster had constructed for itself. Thin, black tentacles had erupted from its wounds and burst forth from the bandages whipping about in the air. It had looked somewhat human before, in that kind of uncanny valley sense, like something trying to be a person and failing utterly. Now the façade faltered.
"What are you?" Veronika yelled over the roar of the storm. "What do you know of Eileen Kiernan?"
"The little witch was a fool, thinking that the Ein Sof was something inside you flesh-things." The creature howled, opening its mouth wide revealing a dozen mouths inside, each with its own set of sharp-pointed teeth. "But no matter, we will have what she promised. Your azoth, it will be ours!"
"I don't want to fight with you!" Veronika yelled. "What is the Ein Sof? What is azoth?"
The creature snarled and laughed - at least, she thought it laughed. It was the sound of singing and screaming and weeping, a factory grinding flakes of metal into dust. She'd never heard a sound like it in her life, and never wanted to hear anything like it again.
"Ein Sof is everything," the creature howled. "In your limited tongue, you might even call it GOD. She brewed the azoth in you though; I see it swirling about your little stomach and breathing life into your veins. Give it to us! Give it to us, sweet flesh-thing or we will rip it from you by force!"
