by J. Thorn
“Oh, I have ‘contained’ him for now. I gather that he will join me in feasting on your carcass.”
“Where did you come from?” Ravna asked.
Gaki snickered and tossed his bony arms into the air. “I see no harm in fulfilling your childish curiosity, man-child. You will not leave this place alive.” Gaki motioned with one arm, inviting Ravna closer. He pointed at the mattress. “I really wish my skills of hospitality were better, but this is all I have to offer. I did not split the woman on that mattress, despite its tainted appearance.”
“I’ll stand,” replied Ravna, coming within two paces of the creature. The stench from Gaki’s mouth made him want to gag. “Why are you here?”
Gaki looked to the ground and then back to Ravna. “I know not of my origins any more than you know of yours. You live, you came from another, yet you know nothing of your creator. Your kind loves to dream grand stories of these explanations. The religions of your day are pitiful compared to those of old.
“The Hunter has been chasing me for hundreds of years, so you can imagine my excitement at finally killing him. We last met in Japan, in the 1940s. War brings out the feast for us.”
Ravna shivered.
“It was then that Drew’s line became cursed. That is all you need to know.”
“Who put you here?” Ravna asked.
“Who put you here?” Gaki replied.
“God,” Ravna said.
Gaki roared and slapped his leg with an open palm. He stood and circled around to the back of the chair, clutching his abdomen. “Yes, God,” he replied through a wall of tears and smiles. “God put you here, yes.”
“What explanation do you have?” asked Ravna.
“Do I look like the work of God? If he is responsible for creating the universe, why would he create a monster like Gaki?”
“He works in ways we do not understand.”
“C’mon now, man-child. You speak like a believer. You have spent your entire life preaching the value of atheism, mocking and ridiculing those of faith. And now, in the face of your own demise, standing before Gaki, you have found Him? That is quite pathetic.”
Ravna shook his head and remembered the warning from Mashoka, the one spoken in his head before descending into the creature’s domain. “I cannot let you loose again.”
Gaki shook his head like a parent chastising a belligerent child. “You hold no sway over me. It is not within your power to detain or release me.”
Gaki stood and bared his teeth, hunching over and spreading his arms wide. Ravna took a step backwards.
“I must not let you pass,” he said.
“Disillusioned to the end, man-child. At least the Hunter taught you something.”
Gaki sprang forward, driving the top of his head into Ravna’s midsection. The blow stole the man’s breath as the two tumbled to the floor, kicking up clouds of ancient dust. Ravna grasped for the creature, the slimy, thin arms sliding through his hands each time. Ravna stood and regained his stance as Gaki came at him again. This time, the creature leapt onto his back and drove his dull teeth into Ravna’s neck. He felt the cold bite of the creature and the flesh being torn from his shoulder. The pain shot through his system like a lightning bolt, and he screamed and spun, throwing Gaki off his back. He reached up to his neck and felt the warm, sticky ooze of his own blood.
“Submit to me. I will make your passing quick.”
Ravna ignored the creature and swung a fist at its head. It connected with Gaki’s jaw and spun him around in a circle. The popping sound echoed off the cavern walls as the demon stumbled to the ground, heaving greatly on one knee.
Ravna caught his breath and stepped back, unsure of what to do next. He looked over each shoulder, expecting another demon to come to the creature’s rescue. He returned his gaze to the ground and Gaki was gone. He looked left and right.
“Almost done, man-child?” came the mocking question from the depths of the cavern. “Had your fill of being a hero?”
Gaki came from the opposite side of the cave, strutting through the darkness. Ravna turned his head toward a slithering, black ribbon, an underground river running through the cavern at the edge of the darkness.
“Don’t bother,” said Gaki. “It does not empty anywhere you’d want to be.”
Ravna looked at Gaki and then to the black river. “It gives me a chance.”
“It gives you eternal damnation!” screamed Gaki.
Ravna stepped back, surprised by the creature’s reaction.
“This ends now,” said Gaki, stepping toward him.
Ravna kicked Gaki on the outside of the knee, and the demon collapsed to the ground. Ravna ran for the edge of the river. A hand came up and tripped him, sending him sprawling to the stone floor, bouncing his head and scrambling his thoughts. Gaki crawled to him, tearing at his flesh with sharpened nails. Ravna kicked both feet, the left one striking Gaki in the face, eliciting a high-pitched whine. He dug his fingers into the joints of the stone and pulled his body closer to the edge of the river, heaving his upper body over the edge and staring down into the deep abyss of the current and its unholy water. Ravna tasted the bitter tang of the liquid and felt the eyes of the cursed staring back at him from the bottom, the River of the Dead delivering souls to the underworld.
With a final lunge, he pulled his head over the edge of the river. Ravna saw his own rippled reflection staring back at him. His hair fell in front of his face, his features drawn back, already resembling the taut face of the skull. Ravna detected motion over his right shoulder and saw the reflection of Gaki in the water. The creature’s tongue fell out and its hands reached down to grab Ravna’s shoulder. As Gaki’s fingertips brushed the fabric of Ravna’s shirt, he pushed forward with all of his remaining strength. He tore loose of Gaki’s grip and fell several feet toward the surface of the flowing water. He saw Gaki’s face before landing in the river, contorted and full of rage. Ravna closed his eyes at the moment he broke the surface, the chill of the water numbing his skin. He sunk beneath the surface, falling deeper into the depths of the profane river.
Chapter 17
Ravna thought he could still taste the oily water in his mouth, even now. He had continued to see the twisted face of Gaki at the edge of the river as he floated toward freedom.
The drive felt almost routine.
Seven or eight? Ravna could not remember how many times he had been there since the event. He was still unsure what to call it. The media attention quickly faded in favor of the next sadistic crime. Even the most heinous acts of sexual depravity slip into obscure pop culture. He had lost touch with Molly when she moved with the kids to West Palm Beach. Ravna could not understand the lure of Florida. Too much humidity, too many old people, too much Disney.
He stopped at the traffic light and looked in the mirror. The new buzz cut accentuated his widow’s peak, once hidden by decades of shaggy hair. He ran a hand over his head and down his chin, pulling the straggly beard to a point. The old man would have loved the beard.
“Ravna Hedner. Here to see a patient.”
The guard at the gate held a clipboard to the light and ran a finger down the side. He nodded and hit a button inside the booth. The gate rose and Ravna pulled through and onto the winding, brick driveway leading up to the restored mansion. It had taken several years of renovation before the first patient was admitted, but since the grand opening, the Rader Facility for the Study of the Mind was the most prestigious institute east of the Mississippi. Surgeons and specialists from all over the country fought for the few staff positions, which rarely turned over.
Ravna pulled the car into the visitor lot. He took a last swig of coffee, now cold from the drive, and grabbed the keys. He left everything else on the front seat. Ravna felt obligated to document the experience, as if Molly or some distant relative would someday ask for justification of the money spent. He knew the old man had something to do with it, but a team of high-powered attorneys managed to shut the door on any explanatio
n. As long as he checked in four times a year, the checks would keep coming, with or without documentation beyond a checkmark on the front-gate guard’s clipboard.
He walked through the main doors and felt the dryness of the air conditioning wash over his skin. May had not yet turned into the blasting heat of August, but the facility strove to maintain consistency for the patients, even down to the details of climate control and menu. Ravna stepped into the elevator with a woman in a white lab coat and glasses that came to a point at the edge of the frame. She smiled at him and contributed an obligatory wink for the ride.
“Floor?” she asked.
Ravna thought he could smell the cherry flavor of her deep-red lipstick. Librarian sexy. Work hot, he thought to himself.
“Which floor?” she asked again.
Ravna shook himself from the daydream skidding toward sexual fantasy. “Seven. Seventh floor.”
She pushed the button and turned to face the floor indicator as it changed from L to 1.
“Are you a doctor?” Ravna asked. His face flushed red as soon as the question came out of his mouth.
“Yes,” she replied with an air of dignity.
“I didn’t mean to imply you were a nurse simply because you’re a woman.”
The chime signifying arrival at the fifth floor spared him from the slow impact of the crashing conversation.
“Have a great day,” the woman said over one shoulder, her eyes headed for an exaggerated roll.
“Stupid,” Ravna said to himself.
The doors shut and he felt the elevator pull him up two more floors. His stomach caught up a moment later as the door opened to Ward C. They could call it whatever they wanted; those who worked there or visited knew that Ward C belonged to the most mentally afflicted. A computer could douse the hallways with flame retardant foam or lock every door from the outside with magnets powerful enough to lift trucks.
He walked down the hall and turned past the lobby and its tantalizing vending machines before turning again and stopping in front of room 709. The first few visits had left him shaking, fighting to enter the room. He had considered running and forsaking the check from the fund until he thought of Mashoka. Ravna could live with the sense of shirked responsibility, but not the guilt that would accompany an abandonment of his pledge to the Hunter. As time and visits passed, the trip to 709 felt like a visit to the room of a family member, one unable to function outside the walls of a hospital, but not facing death either. Ravna thought it was how nurses kept their sanity.
He reached for the handle, placing his thumb on the sensor at the same time. The light turned from red to green, signifying his level of access, granted by the administration. The door swung silently inward. The air felt stifling, even warm, despite the computer-controlled climate system that was probably the envy of NASA scientists.
“Drew?” Ravna called out.
No reply.
He walked forward, the stark white of the room forcing him to squint. Ward C stood in shocking brilliance. The walls, the floors, the bedding, the doors, everything glowed in pure, alabaster white.
“How ya doin’, Drew?” Ravna asked.
The door to the bathroom was pinned to the wall with its magnetic latch. The toilet and shower stall were devoid of any inhabitants, not a towel or tissue out of place. Ravna took two steps into the room, the automatic door shutting behind him. He jumped and then laughed, unsure why the sudden bout of paranoia had arrived.
Drew must be sleeping.
He walked past the chair and simple chest of drawers that looked the same as they had on all of his previous visits. Never a balloon, card, or basket. He stood at the foot of the bed, staring at the sheets, secured at the corners by the orderly on shift the night before. Ravna felt the moisture from his mouth escape and his bowels shook with an unnatural rumble. He spun around, half-expecting to be attacked as he was in the cavern, in what felt like another lifetime.
Nothing.
The room was completely silent. And empty. Ravna took a step toward the door, his heart racing as he anticipated the lockdown of the floor or possibly the entire facility until the staff could find Drew. He turned to the right and noticed that the door to the small closet was open. Ravna could not remember ever seeing the door open. He moved closer and saw three hangers on the closet rod, dangling in the air. It was the contrast of red on white that caught his attention. A roughly sketched doorway had been painted on the wall of the closet in finger-strokes of blood. Inside the doorway was a name.
###
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank several readers that were gracious enough to read and review Preta's Realm, including but not limited to, Stefan Yates, Elizabeth, Bernadette Davies, and Mammayeo.
Thank you for taking this journey with me. If you enjoyed the book please leave a review on Amazon. It can be brief (as little as 20 words) and written in a few minutes. Authors depend on reviews from readers like you.
If you enjoyed Preta's Realm: The Haunting (Book 1 of The Hidden Evil Trilogy) you must find out what Drew saw in that hospital room. Grab Demons Within: Unholy Fire (Book 2 of The Hidden Evil Trilogy) for $2.99 OR get The Complete Hidden Evil Trilogy: 3 Novels and 4 Shorts of Frightening Horror (PLUS Book I of the Portal Arcane Trilogy) for only $3.99! Browse the entire J. Thorn catalog at http://bit.ly/JThornBooks.
Praise for The Hidden Evil Trilogy...
"Best one yet - chilling, horrific. There were aspects of this story that reminded me somewhat of The Shining...a sort of creeping horror that was very effective."
K. Sozaeva, Amazon Vine Voice, Top 500 Reviewer
"...grabs you by the throat and does not let go. Incredibly graphic it had me screwing my face up in horror at many of the scenes, yet eagerly clicking for the next page just to see what would happen next."
Bernadette Davies, Amazon reviewer
"...Preta's Realm is a fine example of character building done right. Mr. Thorn does an excellent job of crafting the characters and making sure that you can identify with them. He does a better job than some of the heavy hitters in the horror realm, actually."
Bryan Hall, Author of Containment Room Seven
Preta's Realm: The Haunting (Book 1 of The Hidden Evil Trilogy)
Drew works hard, pays his taxes, and loves his family. But when a visit from the spirit of his deceased grandfather coincides with the violent murder of two co-workers, Drew falls into a desperate spiral of delusion and betrayal until he finally faces the demons of the past, which threaten to drag him deeper into Preta's Realm.
Demons Within: Unholy Fire (Book 2 of The Hidden Evil Trilogy)
Ravna thought his ordeal with the hungry ghost was over. However, when a road trip takes him on an unexpected detour, Preta resurfaces, threatening to tear apart Ravna and his new love. Ravna must again battle the hidden evil, though he now faces a choice that could destroy everything, including the Demons Within.
Eternal: Blood Curse (Book 3 of The Hidden Evil Trilogy)
Doug believes Ravna has the power to defeat the hungry ghost once and for all. But he soon realizes that the final battle with the malevolent creature has yet to begin. Doug must combine forces with another Hunter in a race against demons and apparitions, hoping he isn't already too late. If they cannot close the portal in time, Gaki will call forth the hidden evil and the darkness shall be Eternal.
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If you are still reading, you must be a hardcore fan. Please visit http://www.authorgraph.com/authors/JThorn_ where I will personalize and autograph your digital book for free. Please do not hesitate to get in touch. I respond personally to every message. My phone number is 216.245.8476 or if you appreciate creativity on the dial pad, 216.24J.THRN. Seriously, that’s my phone number. Call and leave me a voicemail with your name and number and I promise to call you back. Did a scene
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Other works from J. Thorn
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About the Author
Healed by the written word
Want a story that's rooted in a fundamental aspect of being human?
I believe reading dark fiction can be healing. My overriding mission is to connect with you through my art, and I hope to inspire you to do the same. I’m a word architect and driven visionary. I’m obsessed with heavy metal, horror films and technology. And I admire strong people who are not afraid to speak their mind.
I grew up in an Irish Catholic, working class family and was the first to go to college. I didn't have expensive toys, so I used my own imagination for entertainment. And then I abused alcohol for entertainment. I spent the first thirty years of my life convincing myself I wasn’t an addict and the last ten worrying about all the potential threats the substances hid from me.
Anxiety and depression are always hiding in the corner, waiting to jump me when I start to feel happiness.
