by A. L. Mengel
Squeezing the last drops of blood from between his chest muscles, Antoine flopped down on the ground next to the body, breathless and spent. Lost in a dreamlike state, he was barely aware of the demons retreating. He barely comprehended Asmodai’s warning, and as the warning was spoken, the words sounded farther and farther away, as if he were speaking it as he was drifting out into a different dimension: “Take your maker and leave this place…you are mine now. And you will do as I will you! Don’t ever make a move without me!”
Antoine felt blackness envelop him and did not wake until what felt like was much later.
And he woke up inside his coffin.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I hope that fucking monster doesn’t see me!
One minute, I’m lying peacefully in my casket, listening to my family say their farewells – the next, here I am! Listening to the intestines of an anonymous grave keeper spill onto the pavement! Damn, damn, damn what the hell has happened to me?
Jean Carlo stood behind an Oak tree, feeling the warmth of the setting South Florida sun on his back, feeling the black suit jacket he was wearing absorbing the heat. That god-awful monster stood over next to his coffin, the lid still propped open.
He dared not move a muscle. He didn’t even want to create a shadow.
This guy was bad news. First, he is a murdering psychopath, and second – wait a minute.
Jean Carlo returned his attention to his killer. A wheelbarrow was carrying the bloody remains of the guy who buried him…oh, Jesus. Oh sweet Jesus.
The coffin lid slammed and Jean Carlo heard the casket being lowered into the ground. The rudders clicked and pinged, and soon thereafter he heard the fwummmp of dirt being shoveled onto the coffin.
He peeked his head to the side of the tree. There was his assassin, standing over the grave shoveling the last of the dirt on the casket. It was almost full.
The killer gave the top of the grave a pat, and tossed the shovel aside.
What was his motivation? His mind raced as he backed away from the edge of the tree. And how the hell did I get here instead of lying in my casket? Aren’t I supposed to be dead?
“Yes, you are.”
Jean Carlo was so startled at the voice that crept up on him that he took a few steps backward almost losing his balance. When he regained control of his composure, there was the killer – looking at him straight in the eye.
Jean Carlo turned and broke into a run – he did not wait to find the answers to his many questions. He ran across the sea of gravestones, dodging to the left and to the right, running in a drunken, crisscross pattern – desperately seeking the entrance to the cemetery. He sought the sanctuary for a moment behind a large stone monument, catching his breath.
Peeking his head around the marker, he scanned the vast graveyard from left to right and back to the left again in an attempt to spot his assassin.
There he was. A tall figure, dressed in black – seen through an array of markers of all shapes and sizes - crosses, stone angels with assorted flowers and trees. And he hadn’t moved. He remained standing next to the tree staring him down. Jean Carlo knew that, he knew that this evil entity was powerful and capable of much more that he was letting on.
“You’re drunk, Jean Carlo,” he said, suddenly next to him, as his assassin leaned against the same marker that Jean Carlo had been. “Drunk with death.”
Jean Carlo caught his breath for a moment, startled by the killer’s sudden and instantaneous appearance. He attempted to break into a run again, tripping over his feet and falling on the ground, wincing in pain as his head struck a small headstone that was partially concealed by overgrown weeds and grass.
The killer laughed as Jean Carlo held his bleeding forehead, crawling on his hands and knees to the cemetery wall.
“I killed you but you live!” The killer glared at Jean Carlo. “I drained you of your blood and still…you run! Don’t you realize what I have done to you?” Jean Carlo did not bother to look back as he spilled through the rusted gate which squeaked when it opened. He did not bother to see Darius sprout black vascular wings from his back, tearing the suit that he had been wearing as the tattered bits of fabric dropped the ground like leaves. He didn’t notice that Darius rose quickly and was flying; circling over the cemetery, ascending higher and higher above the treetops until he was a small, black speck against the bright blue sky.
He didn’t see Darius above him, hiding high in the cotton ball clouds, watching his every move as he left the cemetery and ran down Chrome Avenue.
Darius, perched high in the clouds, had a commanding view of the landscape. He saw the man head out of the cemetery, turn on Chrome, and move quickly south – towards Coral Gables. He knew where he was going. He was going to where all go when experiencing something like what Jean Carlo had experienced.
The Astral.
It did not matter, Darius knew that. It would not be long before Jean Carlo would realize that he was no longer a mortal. He would soon learn that he would no longer exist in the same fashion that he had before, and that he would start to grow an insatiable lust to kill. And kill. And kill again.
Hovering above the city, his eyes continued to follow Jean Carlo. He decided to move again, and continued his journey towards the sun; he relished the warmth on his face, the wall of wind, and shortly thereafter his attention diverted away from Jean Carlo, and he turned East to head towards Lyon. It did not matter if Jean Carlo didn’t want or accept his new darkness. He will be dark whether he wants to or not.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Paula could not believe what she saw. Antoine! Making out with Anthony!? She steamed at the idea. Everything she was ever taught about vampires, everything that she had ever learned, told her that vampires are not sexual.
Vampires do not have sex.
That would make Antoine a mortal, and all of this was a hoax. So then, Antoine was some schmuck who wanted some publicity, and make up some story saying he was hundreds of years old, blah blah, blah, and got The Astral involved to make a few bucks and become a local celebrity. How cheap!
Paula sat on the bench outside the Nagevesh residence. The night grew darker, and she looked up at the sky. There moon was gone, there were no more stars. It seemed as if the clouds were getting thicker – as if a storm were approaching. The wind started to pick up, and a slight chill developed in the air. She shivered, rubbing her arms. A gust of wind blew towards her face, and Paula felt the hairs stand on her arm, and when she ran her hand along her arm, she felt the goose bumps rise in her skin. She arose from the bench to make her way back to the car. She was going to stay and confront Anthony when he left the house, but the wind was picking up too much, and it was getting too cold for her to sit outside. The wind gusted so strong that the palm trees swayed violently, and debris began swirling around the street.
What is this? She thought. This is quite a storm brewing.
She walked down the sidewalk, down the street to where she had parked her car earlier, and dodged several palm branches that blew off the trees when she finally made it to her car. She dug into her left pocket to find her keys, and they weren’t there. Then she checked her right pocket. Not there either. She patted herself down, closing her eyes in exasperation, now cursing herself, and wondering where she could have dropped her keys.
She turned her head and looked down the street towards Antoine’s house, not wanting to go back. She wondered if she had dropped her keys when she turned away from the door to the living room. Had she been holding them when she crawled through Antoine’s back kitchen door? She sat down on the ground, feeling defeated. Scanning the sidewalk, looking for a possibility – a chance that maybe she might catch the light glistening on her silver chain…but no luck.
She sat and sat, and then she sat some more and wondered how she was going to get these keys, especially if the two men were in the kitchen! They could be finished making out by now. She did not know what to expect.
Cursing herself for being so careless
, Paula began to fight the winds and debris and made her way back down First Street, arriving at the imposing structure towering over her and looking down as if laughing at her – laughing at her in victory.
That’s it girly girl! I’m going to swallow you up! I have had a psychosexual demonic owner who – guess what? Dined on the previous owner! That’s right, he sucked the blood right out of him, tore his neck to shreds until the sheets on his bed were soaked – I mean soaked, dripping wet soaked – with his blood. And guess what else he did? Guess what else?!?
She heard a high-pitched laughter coming from the house. She shuddered. When she looked up she noticed something.
The house was completely and utterly dark.
That’s odd, she thought. There were several lights on before.
A booming crash of thunder and bright flash caused her to jump. She looked up at the sky again. It was growing angrier, more intense. The clouds swirled above, ready to break in a downpour at any moment. She did not have much time to get her keys and leave.
Another flash of lighting came – and this time it was blinding – the brightest strike of lightning she had ever seen in her life. She shielded her eyes, and as the flash passed - just as Paula was looking directly at the house, it revealed a very unkempt lawn. It looked like it hadn’t been tended to in a very long time. The brush was overgrown, the lawn was tall and in need of maintenance.
That’s pretty strange, she thought.
She did not remember a lawn looking like that when she crept through it a little earlier. There were weeds overgrown throughout the lawn, and the bushes were browned and crackly. There was an old soda can and a newspaper blowing around in the wind.
She stood directly in front of the house, and stared directly at it as the house stared back at her, staring her down.
What happened?
It looked like the house hadn’t been tended to and hadn’t been lived in for years. Certainly no lights were on. As it looked to Paula, a light hadn’t been turned on in that house in years. Several windows were broken. The paint on the siding was fading, untended and peeling off. The brushes in the flowerbed in front of the house snaked up the side and crept up like fingers reaching for some unknown source. The two upstairs windows glared at her like eyes.
And then it happened.
There was a deafening boom and crack! and the rain came, and it came in buckets and torrents. Paula was soaked instantly. She stood there, now huddled and cold, staring at the house staring back at her. She stood completely still, dumbfounded.
Coming out of her trance, she ran up to the front porch, and noticed the door ajar. It swung open and banged against the side of the house in the violent winds. She went closer to the door, and debated going inside. She was totally confused, and not sure of what to expect. What was once a glorious estate, shimmering and elegant was now was before her in a state of wreck and disarray. As the wind picked up and the rain blew harder onto her arms, she made her decision, and opened the door.
The foyer was just as unkempt as the exterior. The house was still furnished, but obviously abandoned years ago. No one had lived here for a very long time, that was for sure. She tried the light switch next to her on the wall, not expecting it to work, and it didn’t. There was another crash of thunder, and the lighting lit up the foyer as bright as daylight and it revealed a hallway to the back of a large, round table that was in the center. There was still a bouquet of flowers in an expensive looking vase on top of the table. The flowers were long since dry and dead.
She continued towards the hall, arms stretched outwards, using her hands as eyes as the foyer was quite dark save for when the lighting struck. She could feel years of dust piled on the woodwork and tables on either side of her. She carefully made her way to the entrance of the hallway, cautiously shuffling her feet along the floor. When the lightning and thunder struck again, the light reflected in a mirror at the end of a long hallway. She saw the hallway was clear of furniture and debris, so she decided to continue down with the hopes that there would be a room with a candle or some source of light. She continued further down the hallway, and it got darker as she approached the center of the house. With another flash of lightning, she saw that the mirror and the end of the hallway still seemed so desperately far.
Just as she was looking straight ahead of her, she glanced up as the thunder crashed once again, and the room filled another flash of lightning - bright as day - just for an instant, and revealed to her: she saw in the mirror, a reflection. Someone was behind her! In the foyer, someone was watching her!
Her breathing stopped, and her heart stopped in her throat. She closed her eyes.
Please, that was my mind playing tricks on me, she thought.
She did not move.
She heard a rustling behind her, from what sounded like it was coming from the foyer. Just the wind, she thought. There was another thunder crash and a strike of lightning, and she did not dare open her eyes. She was afraid of what she might see in the mirror. Somewhere behind her a door creaked. She decided to move ahead slowly. She was trapped. She had nowhere else to go but further into this house.
Then she jumped, startled, at a crash behind her. And it definitely came from the foyer. Sweat was pouring down her face, and she thought to herself that she may not get out of this house. She opened her eyes, just as lightning struck again, and she saw that the vase of flowers has been knocked off the table, and the vase shattered all over the floor.
Who did that? She wondered. She did not want to find out.
The mysterious reflection was not there this time. Was someone there? She could hear herself breathing. She did not want to find out where the reflection went, she did not want to find out what made the crash behind her, she just wanted to get out of this horrid house. Her breathing remained heavy, she could feel her heart beating in her chest, and she darted her eyes around – searching for some kind of a sanctuary. She now wished she had never followed Anthony in the first place. If she hadn’t, she could have been out in Coconut Grove with the girls, or curled up at home with a good mystery novel.
Then she heard a floorboard creak again, just behind her!
She closed her eyes and froze.
But then her survival instincts took over. Her feet were no longer frozen to the floor. She broke out into a run, and ran into the nearest room to her - a door to the left. As soon as she got into the room, she slammed the door and locked it tight. Whatever it was must still be out in the hallway. She felt safe and alone in the room, and looked around for some source of light.
Her eyes adjusted somewhat in the darkness, and she saw that she was in what appeared to be a young man’s room. A single bed was placed against the wall beside a massive stereo with towering speakers against the wall, a desktop computer, and posters. There was an open laptop on an unmade bed.
There was another crash, this time in the hallway. Much closer than before.
Paula stopped in her tracks. Something was out there…following her. Whatever it was – was still out there. Waiting for her.
And now she was trapped in this house.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sheldon rose from the same chair that had blocked Paula’s view of Antoine and Anthony to refill his whiskey. His glass had been empty for some time now. Antoine got up himself and raised his hand in protest.
“Please, sit,” he said. “I will get that for you.”
“You are the most gracious host,” Sheldon replied, as he returned to his chair; his voice was now with a slight slur in his speech. Antoine only smiled and poured the whiskey. Sheldon placed a new disc in the recorder and Antoine continued his story.
*~*~*
“I finally made it out of the coffin. It took all the effort I had. And then I finally got to glance around the room I had been laying in. It was an attic of some sort. Wooden floors, wooden beams. A sloping ceiling to a point at the crest, like I was at the top of a house. Candlesticks, old books. Cobwebs in the corner.
“I was wearing the same clothes that I had been before. But, I had no idea when it was. It felt like the next morning, yet it was dark as night.
“Or at least I thought it was.
“Now, I was immortal. But I did not know it yet. As far as I was concerned, the man who I had seen earlier and who I had a most astounding encounter with and who, I assume, placed me in this coffin at some point in the night was just a mysterious stranger. But, it did not occur to me that he could be a demon.
“However, I did have the notion that he was of something different. Not necessarily a ghost or goblin or spook but certainly not human. At least not human. Ah, those were different days. The days I was a mortal. The days I was human…
“But I was no longer human. I was seeing things through demon eyes; I was part of the quantum realm and I didn’t even know it; I was part of the spirit world but I had no idea. I didn’t know that I was no longer living; I didn’t know that I was living in a different dimension while viewing the same reality that I had when I was human.
“I got up and started walking through the attic, and then Darius climbed up some stairs and appeared through a small square opening in the floor. I remembered him from the night before. But now, he seemed to jump out in front of me; he was so clear, so vivid and so sharp! Every color – the brilliance of his skin, his dark hair, and his piercing eyes jumped in front of me. He gestured for me to follow him. It was dark, but I did not need any additional light to show my way down the stairs, for I could see clearly every nook and cranny, every spider web in the corner of the floorboards and on the stairs stuck out in front of my face as if they were at eye level, right before my eyes; I could hear the scattering of paws to my left, and when I looked down and over the stairs to the floor I could see a small mouse scurrying across the floor, ducking under a newspaper that was lying on the floor, like in the shape of a makeshift roof, out the other end of the paper into a small hole in the wall across the room.
