by Horn, J. D.
“Rivkah, enough,” Emmet said, putting his hand on her shoulder.
“No.” She turned to face him. “What she’s asking of you is too much.”
“Yes,” Iris concurred. “It is too much to ask, but it isn’t only Mercy who’s asking. It’s our entire family.” She stepped up behind me and gripped my shoulders.
“But he wouldn’t even consider this if it weren’t Mercy asking.”
“However, she has asked,” Emmet said in a calm voice, “and I have said yes.”
“I know you see this as some grand romantic gesture, my boy.” Rivkah spun toward me and flung out her hand. “Look at her. I mean it, look at her. She has another man’s ring on her hand and another man’s child in her womb. She isn’t yours. She never will be yours.”
“I know that.” Emmet lowered his eyes, focusing on the floor a few inches before his toes. “But I will always be hers.” My heart broke at his words. I knew I had taken advantage of his feelings for me to enlist his help. I was using him, asking him to die for me, and when I was finished, I’d send him away. I would have to. I could never give myself to him the way he wanted. I hated myself for bringing him into this.
Rivkah reached up and took his chin in her hand. She started to speak, but stopped herself. Her shoulders rose and then she sighed.
My pulsed pounded in my head and the room darkened. The room felt hot and close. “No.” The word came out before my conscious mind was sure what I was objecting to. “Don’t do this. We won’t do this. I won’t do this. I’m sorry.” I looked up over my shoulder at Iris. “We cannot ask this of Emmet. I’m sorry about Grandma. I am.”
The tension in Rivkah’s face melted. The tightness in her lips released. Her brow descended, and her eyes warmed. “There’s the girl I know and love.”
“However, this is not your choice to make,” Emmet said. “It is mine.” He knelt before me. He had no words for me, but the way he stared at me, the lids of his eyes covering the onyx irises nearly to his already concealed pupils, told me everything he wanted to say. I closed my own eyes as I couldn’t bear his message. I loved my husband. I had no doubt of that in my mind. For the shortest of moments, though, I wished I could split myself in two, setting free the part of my heart this golem-turned-man had claimed. I buried that wish and opened my eyes.
He looked over my shoulder at Iris. “Shall we proceed?”
“I’ll get Ellen and Oli.” Iris started for the swinging door, but stopped and turned back. “Thank you,” she said addressing Emmet.
“I warn you, Iris.” Rivkah pointed at Iris’s face. “I have always loved and supported your family, but if any lasting harm comes to Emmet . . .”
“I appreciate your support and return your affection wholeheartedly. We won’t fail Emmet.”
“But if you do . . .” Rivkah insisted.
“I will give my own life to return him to you.” The two women regarded each other for a moment as the pact between them was sealed. The moment having passed, Iris turned and left the room. I wondered if it were truly possible, to trade one life for another.
“I’ll go run the bath,” Maisie said. “Excuse me.” She followed Iris out of the room, her movements cautious, nearly silent, as if she were afraid to upset the delicate balance we had found.
“Please, my boy. Don’t go through with this.” Rivkah looked at me, commanding me silently to back her up.
“I’m sorry I asked you to do this,” I said. “It was wrong of me. I don’t want you to.”
Emmet stood to his full impressive height, causing me to crane my neck to take him in. “You are lying to yourself,” he said, crossing his arms and looking down at me with his irritating, smug smile. “You want me to help your grandmother, but you don’t want to be the one responsible for my taking the risk of doing so.” He reached down and placed his warm palm against my reddening cheek. “I hereby absolve you. This is my choice,” he said, then regarded Rivkah, “and I would do the same thing even if there were no Mercy.”
“Now, who’s lying to himself?” Rivkah made a huffing sound. “I see you are determined.” She lowered her head.
“Sooner started, sooner done.” Emmet smirked at the cliché. He held out his hand to help me stand.
“No.” I refused both his courtesy and his sacrifice.
“Yes,” he said. “You must be there to serve as my beacon.” He reached down and took my hand. I couldn’t bring myself to look him directly in the eye. “Mercy.” His voice came out sharp and shocked me so that I had to face him. Despite the harshness of his voice, his face was smiling. “Don’t worry. Nothing will keep me from returning. As long as I know you are waiting for me.” Guilt, love, annoyance, gratitude, confusion. In my father’s native German, there was probably a single word to describe the feelings that washed over me. My own vocabulary had no such term. “Come now.” His smile turned back to a smirk. “Many hands make for light work.”
“You two go ahead,” I said. “I’ll come up in a moment.”
They left me alone in the kitchen, Rivkah cackling like a hen at her newly adopted chick. I leaned back in my chair, placing my hands against my lower back and stretching. I ran my hand over my stomach. I halfway expected to feel a reproval coming from Colin, but I only sensed he was at rest.
I took my cup to the sink and emptied it. I washed it by hand and sat it on the drain board. I contemplated the chip in the sink’s porcelain. I pondered the spots on the splash. “They’re ready.” Maisie’s voice startled me. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m a bit jumpy. It isn’t every day you kill somebody, you know?”
“I’m trying to keep it down to two a week.” We caught each other’s eyes, and even though I knew it was wicked of us, we both burst out laughing. “Go on, they’re waiting for you.”
“You’re not coming?”
“No. Rivkah is very happy to see me up and well, not so happy with the thought of my helping to drown her son.” She sensed I was trying to find words to comfort her and held up her hand to stop me. “No, seriously, I’m trying to keep my homicides down to two a week, and I have the feeling I might need to save my second for a day or two.”
“You are terrible,” I said.
“And you can be a pest. Get out of here and leave me alone.”
I reached out and gave her hand a squeeze, then made my way upstairs. I could hear voices—Emmet’s voice, my aunts’ voices—coming from the far side of the door of a rarely used bath at the far end of the hall. I stepped into the doorway, focusing on the floor where the deep claw-foot tub dug into the checkerboard tile. The room would normally have been far too cramped for a crowd of six, but the boundaries had been stretched.
I wondered which of us had become so skilled at borrowing space from other dimensions, until Emmet stretched out his arm to display the expansion. “Not bad, huh?” His pride glowed in his eyes; a wry smile reigned on his lips.
“Not bad at all,” I said and stepped over the threshold.
“Three minutes.” Rivkah’s voice caused me to look up. Emmet began disrobing, laying his clothes out carefully over a defunct towel warmer. I seemed to be the only one of us bothered by the waxing state of his nakedness. He noticed my consternation, and the devil’s own smile curved on his lips.
“Three minutes.” Ellen nodded. “Then I’ll pull him back.” I was glad to see she had recovered from the effects of her latest bender.
“Not a second longer.”
“You have my word, Rivkah,” Ellen said, placing a stopwatch in Rivkah’s hand. “From the second his heart stops until it beats again.”
Emmet caught my eye, then fanned out his large hands to cover his genitals. I begged my eyes not to follow, but they did as they wanted, caressing the patch of hair that began between his hard pectorals and traced a line over the center of his abdominals, fanning out again on his taut lower stomach.
“You are shameless,” Iris said taking note of his flirting.
“Yes, I am. Isn’t that the point of this exercise?” Maybe it was gallows humor, but for the second time in a matter of minutes, I found myself in the middle of an inappropriate laugh. My eyes bounced up and were caught in the dark glimmer of his. Then I looked away.
“We should get started,” Iris said. “Climb in, please.” Emmet turned his back to me, casting one last naughty glance over his shoulder. His suave expression turned to shock as his foot hit the water. “I’m sorry it’s so cold, but it’s going to have to get even a bit colder yet.”
Emmet reached down, grasping both sides of the tub, and put his foot in. A second, and he lifted the other over the rim, touching the water with his toe then pulling it back.
“Mercy,” Iris called, and my head jerked in her direction. “Who is this timid little girl getting in the bathtub?”
Emmet’s face flashed a blend of shame and anger, but then his eyes narrowed. “You almost had me there,” he said, but still he seemed determined to demonstrate his toughness. He bent his knees and slid waist deep into the water. Even though his face remained stoic, he nearly panted from the cold. Finally he settled, his knees poking up high above the water. “It isn’t so bad.”
“Good, then we are ready for the rest of the ice.” Iris turned and opened up the old camping cooler I hadn’t laid eyes on since grade school. Oliver heaved a sack out of the cooler and tore open the bag. The cubes fell first in plops then with one final glacial splash.
Ellen and Iris glanced at each other. “Not quite deep enough,” Iris said. “He’ll have to kick his legs up over the sides so we can hold him under.”
“Why do we have to make the water so cold?” I asked, feeling a sympathetic chill run up my own spine.
“Just a precaution,” Oliver said as he grabbed another plastic bag. “Lowering his temperature may help prevent . . .” He stopped himself and threw a guilty look at Rivkah. “It makes any permanent damage from a lack of oxygen to the brain somewhat less likely.” He dropped the bag back into the cooler without daring to meet any of our eyes.
Iris unhooked the necklace she had been wearing, a gold chain and pendant. She approached the tub and leaned over Emmet. “Here.” She held the necklace out. “This was Mama’s, it still carries her charge. Focus on her energy, and it will help you locate her in the darkness.”
Emmet held up his bluing hand, palm up, and she dropped it into his hand. He clasped his long fingers tightly around the piece. Iris nodded at Oliver, who circled around her to take a place behind Emmet. They each put both hands on one of his broad shoulders. Ellen approached and took his left wrist in her hand. “Before we do this,” Emmet said suddenly, fighting to keep his teeth from chattering. “It’s only that I’ve heard ghosts are often seen wearing what they wore last. If that’s true . . . If I don’t make it back . . .”
“Yes?” Ellen asked.
“Please remember that this water was very, very cold.” He barked out a laugh and plunged his upper body under the water, a wave breaking over the rim as he flung his long legs over the sides. Oliver and Iris combined their weight to help hold him under, lest his body rebel and struggle to break the surface. It was unnecessary. He didn’t struggle. He gave himself up a willing sacrifice.
SIXTEEN
I approached the tub, moving slowly over the slick, wet tiles, just in time to see the bubbles from Emmet’s last breath break the surface. His body shuddered once, twice, and went limp. “He’s gone. Start the watch,” Ellen said, but I could already hear the watch’s ticking. Rivkah had no intention of this adventure lasting one millisecond longer than the time agreed upon. The floating shards of ice had gathered above his face, obscuring his features. I sensed, more than saw, that his eyes had remained open, staring out at us from the other side of the void he had crossed. I leaned closer to the water and scattered the ice. I stepped back and flung the frigid droplets from my fingers.
Iris and Oliver reached in and tugged at his slippery frame. I wondered why they insisted on doing things manually. I wiggled my finger, and his head broke the surface. His torso, cold, purplish tinged, followed, and his legs slid easily back into the tub. The body, Emmet, was now in a sitting position.
“You got a little over two minutes, then we pull him back.” Rivkah held the watch so tightly, her knuckles had turned white. Ellen nodded.
A rap on the doorframe caused us all to turn. Sam stood there, leaning against the wall. He folded his arms across his chest. “Sam, honey,” Iris said, pulling the sleeves of her top down over damp arms and moving toward the door. “I’m so glad to see you, but you shouldn’t be in here right now. I need you to go downstairs and wait.” She reached for him in an attempt to usher him out, but he stepped aside.
“What fun would that be?” It was Sam’s body, Sam’s voice, but it was not Sam. I seemed to be the only one to notice the dark aura surrounding him.
“Get away from him.” I was too late; he grabbed Iris by the arm and twisted it violently enough to pop it out of the socket.
She screamed from pain and shock. “Sam, what in the hell?” Ellen said.
“Ninety seconds,” Rivkah said.
Oliver barreled around me and lunged at Sam.
“It isn’t Sam,” I said, tugging on the back of Oliver’s shirt, trying to pull him back. He broke free from my grasp and dove at Sam, but Sam flung Iris to the floor and swung his fist. Oliver was knocked backward, his head hitting the edge of the tub. Red began dripping from the point of contact.
“I have been aching to do that for years.” The voice came from Sam. Iris had managed to sit up. She held her good arm up toward him, a ball of blue light forming at her fingertips. It shot out and encased Sam’s body. For an instant, he stood there frozen, but then the casing curled open like a blooming lily. “It is so good to be home.” A childish voice piped from Sam’s mouth. He kicked Iris in the stomach, and she crumpled over.
“Wren,” she said between coughs.
He licked his lips and shrugged his shoulders. “This body is so comfortable. It is so spacious and solid. Fits like a glove, you might say.” He winked at Iris. “I hope you don’t mind I took it out to Jefferson Street for a bit of professional companionship. I was aching to take this body for a test drive, see how well it handles the curves.” Sam’s tongue shot out and moistened his lips, then he laughed and advanced on us. “Crack whores carry such an exotic aroma, you know? Something like sweet burnt plastic. Or maybe candied ballpoint pens.”
“How could you have taken control of Sam’s body?” Iris asked.
“How could you have taken control of Sam’s body?” he mimicked her.
Rivkah beamed him between the eyes with the stopwatch. “You two bring Emmet back now. I will deal with this weakling son of a bitch.”
Ellen ignored Rivkah and scrambled around me to examine Oliver. She raised a hand and caught a towel as it jumped into her grasp. “Oli,” she said. “Open your eyes. We need you.” Oliver gave no sign of hearing her.
“Weakling?” A venomous laugh the real Sam could never have produced burst from his mouth. “No. Not anymore, and given your help in this little experiment, that is partially thanks to you.” He slapped his hands together, and a ball of dark energy, a force so black it seemed to devour light, shot from them. “In return, a gift from Gehenna.” Rivkah screamed like an enraged banshee and braced herself, but the burst of concentrated darkness hit her, lifting her and slamming her against the wall. Sam’s lips twisted up. “Oh man, I could do this all day.”
Ellen rose to confront him. “Sleep,” Sam’s sharpened voice commanded, and Ellen fell limp over Oliver’s prone frame. “I always liked that lush. I’ll take it easy on her.” Sam walked toward me, and as he did, the room’s periphery rolled back further and further. It was like his stride pushed the rest of the world away, and Rivkah and
my family with it. “You, though, I do not like at all.”
I focused on Emmet, placing a hand on each side of his head. I willed the tub’s drain to open, and the frigid water began to work its way out. Time to come back to us. I willed his heart to begin beating. I felt a bit of an electric shock myself when I realized I had succeeded. Still, he didn’t stir.
Iris’s sobs faded as her image slid yards, then miles away. Rivkah faded almost as quickly on my other side. I tried to sense Emmet’s essence. I could feel it, dimensions away. Come back. Another force, strong, stronger than my own, was pulling him back in the opposite direction.
“You don’t need to worry about the golem’s body,” Wren said and chuckled. “It may be vacant, but now that you got it ticking again, it may live forever, or at least until Gehenna goes out of business. And we both know that is as good as forever.” Wren poked a finger into Emmet’s chest.
Emmet. You have to fight. I need you. I kept trying to get a strong enough hold on him. Ellen and Oliver had now disappeared beyond the horizon.
“It’s just you and me now, princess, and thanks to the circuit you have completed, I’ve got all the power of Gehenna behind me.” He flung his arms out wide, and sizzling bits of darkness danced along his fingers. Bile caught in my throat as the air around us took on the scent of rotten eggs—no, sulfur. “That’s the smell of power. Not blood magic. Not witch magic. This here is the real stuff. Soul magic.” He lifted his nose, and breathed in. His face took on a maniacal expression, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head, his brows lifting comically. “Breathe that perfume in. You can learn to love it, you know? I sure as hell have.” He laughed. “Get it? Sure as hell?”
“How can you be here?” I said. “How can you be inside Sam?”
“You can thank your little brother, Josef, for both of those things.” He folded Sam’s arms across his chest. “Josef caught Iris’s new toy here and carried us out to Sapelo. That corpse of your Jilo, it’s rotting away underground, but it still had enough of Tillandsia’s magic to power one more tiny spell. Left me with this nice package, and made sure that high yellow cousin of yours would come knocking. We knew if Jessamine came, one thing would lead to another, and you all would end up finding out that poor sweet Adeline was trapped in Gehenna. Once you knew that, you would be stupid enough to try to get her out.”
