Detritus

by Kealan Patrick Burke

  He sighed and rubbed his brow as he frowned. "And why do you suppose that is? Your lessons are sorely behind. Would it kill you to come to me once a week for our sessions? It's been over a year. This isn't like riding a bike, you know? Training is constant, and diligence is a must."

  Nodding, she huffed her red bangs out of her face. Now, would he throw the whole, 'your mother would be so disappointed you're not following in her footsteps,' spiel at her? She hoped not. Instead, he took a different track, but no relief came. His next question clenched a cold, tight fist around her stomach.

  "Does Marta know about the inter-dimensional parasites you're keeping in your mother's armoire?" Xian's eyebrow rose.

  Ophelia watched the shadow man while he swung the lamp behind Xian. The illusion pinned her with those eyes, and she could not tear her focus away. They were brilliant blue almonds with only a pupil. No whites, and no other features on the man's smoky face — if it could be called a face at all.

  "Look away from him." Xian broke through her terror trance. "Look at me. Does Marta know?"

  Ignoring the shadow man, she shook her head. "She knows the armoire belonged to my mom, but I don't tell her a lot about life... before. She knows you. That's about all."

  "Well, she's in for a nasty surprise then." He scanned the day planner splayed open before him. "I've got a non-denominational exorcism in twenty minutes. It's the Catholic priest's first time, and I don't want to leave him alone with that grumpy Celtic shaman I've got coming in. Can we do the purging this evening? "

  "That'll be fine," Ophelia said, watching her murky tormentor float to the front of the desk where he perched, crossing one wispy trouser leg over another. His stare always glowed, cutting through the darkness his fedora cast over his eyes.

  She got up to leave, but Xian stopped her with a hand placed on her shoulder before she got to the door.

  "Marta will need to be a part of the purging. She's unprotected, so we should teach her some defense tactics, as well. You can't keep inter-dimensional parasites in jars and not expect them to take an interest in your girlfriend."

  "Yes." She tried not to worry about Marta's reaction to all this occult intrigue. "I'll go home and sit her down. Tell her everything I can before you arrive."

  He gave her a soft smile then, and a quick hug. "I'll be there in less than four hours. I promise."

  The shadow man flicked a forked tongue over Xian's ear, wagging this sludgy root at her from between squirming lips. If the occultist noticed the shadow man's nearness, he didn't show it this time.

  "You will not eat my fear for supper," she whispered to the illusion as she tapped her forehead. "Not today."

  * * *

  "We need to talk," Ophelia told Marta, as she helped her partner put the last of the groceries away. Ophelia arrived home at the same time as Marta, only to find her balancing an armful of cloth bags.

  "What's up, sweetie?" Marta tucked a bottle of milk in the fridge and then turned to her.

  Ophelia led her from the kitchen. "You know the armoire in the basement... the one mom left me?"

  Marta nodded, casting a confused look at the door that led to the lower level of their small house.

  Now, as she stood before it, Ophelia's fingers hesitated on the knob. "I'd like to show you what's inside."

  She took Marta's hand and led her down the steep, cement stairs leading into the basement. Marta grabbed the light at the top, and soon the pale blue, cement walls clashed with a flood of fluorescent light.

  In the very back of the large workshop / storage area, the armoire sat with unpacked boxes crammed up against either side. The polished walnut wardrobe had been in Ophelia's family for at least five generations. It sat on stumpy carved feet that possessed claws, and at its top a carved face poked over, mimicking the appearance of a wood nymph watching from atop a tree. Its two doors were adorned with complex golden locks that ran up the seams. Golden hoop handles rested in the center of each panel.

  Ophelia plucked a set of keys from the 'v' of her blouse. With shaking fingers, she removed the silver chain that held the keys. Each one was a struggle to insert into its lock, and her mouth grew drier with every soft click. Ophelia questioned herself, the doubt haunting her like the sinister shadow man. Should she prepare Marta further? What more was there to say?

  "My mother was a Siberian shaman." Ophelia licked her lips, stared at the door. "I told you that, right?"

  Marta nodded, casting impatient glances between Ophelia and the armoire. "You were supposed to assume full time training this year. Xian says you copped out. I remember."

  Ophelia scowled slightly at Marta's choice of words. 'Copped out' cut deep. What did she know about the rigors of esoteric training? Had she been an inter-dimensional parasite beacon since she was four? Ophelia thought not.

  "Well, you could say what's in here is a part of my inheritance." Ophelia wrapped her fingers around the hoop handles. "These... creatures zone in on an astral signal I emit. I'm supposed to banish parasites back to their realm when I see them, but I've been collecting them in here instead."

  Marta started to look worried. She wrinkled her nose. "Whatever for?"

  Ophelia shrugged. Guilt made her drop her gaze from Marta's. "I... I can't seem to help myself. I've grown obsessed with it. But the problem is, I can't contain them very well anymore. They're tricky bastards, and my containment spells are rusty. One got out recently, and..."

  Marta laid a hand on her shoulder, so she looked up. Ophelia's eyes were blurred with tears that embarrassed her. Such a fool she'd been. How grateful she was to see a compassionate expression greet her when she met Marta's gaze.

  "And?" Marta danced on the verge of fear. Ophelia could see it in her wide, shining eyes.

  "And he's in my head."

  Marta tried to quickly mask her disgust under a trembling smile, but Ophelia noted it just the same. How could she blame her, though? By rights, Marta should be furious with her. She should be happy with this mild reaction to her secret. But, the worst was yet to come. Ophelia willed the nerves in her stomach to quiet.

  "They wrap around your pineal gland. Your third eye." She pointed to her forehead. "They're parasites who broadcast illusion, which they use to mess with you. See, the parasite feeds off the adrenaline rush we experience when we're afraid. They won't kill you, but they can sure scare the shit out of you."

  Ophelia thought back to the first parasite that burrowed in her brain. It was her introduction to her innate abilities, and to the shadow man who taunted her those six months before her fifth birthday. He'd grinned out of closets, or pulled her toes when the blankets betrayed them. That parasite had belonged to the same family as the one now coiled tightly around her third eye. They were an ancient kind, and could be difficult to remove. Mother had sought the help of a well-respected sangoma to get rid of that first one.

  "The longer they stay in your head, the more influence they have over your environment, and anyone who comes into contact with you. They act like a radio signal that influences all thoughts that come in their range. They can trick you into thinking their glamour is reality."

  Marta tapped a toe on the cement, crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you going to open it? I'm not sure I want to see, but I better."

  Nodding, Ophelia gripped the loops and concentrated on the door. She spoke the four entrance spells to unbind it, then traced a sigil with a finger to release the final esoteric lock. Before she tugged the loops, she motioned for Marta to come closer.

  "Be very careful," she said, as the panels parted. "I can't leave it open for long. They're sneaky beasts."

  Nervously, she turned to gauge her girlfriend's reaction. Marta's mouth was frozen half-open, with the rest of her face wrinkled up in a puzzled frown.

  Translucent jars filled the six shelves that lined the converted closet. In each one, balls of fiber optic nerves wriggled, pulsing with beads of pinkish light that zipped through their tubular bodies. When they noticed Ophelia and Marta
, the parasites showed thin tendrils tipped in barbs shaped like coaxial connectors. They pressed these against the glass of their jars, seeking to feed their hungry clusters.

  "I'd better shut this," Ophelia said, when she noticed Marta's glazed eyes. "Xian is coming over this evening to help me — us — deal with this mess."

  Before she could swing the doors shut, Marta stopped her. She gave Ophelia a distant but yearning stare. "May I touch one?"

  Ophelia swallowed as fear's icy feet tiptoed up her spine. "No. It isn't wise."

  Marta's slack-jawed lack of expression curled into an ugly sneer. "I want to."

  Ophelia snapped the panels shut and stood in front of the armoire. "No. They want you to. It's how they get inside. They're like sirens."

  As she slipped the first key into its lock, Marta lunged on her back and growled. Ophelia managed to turn it before she threw her off. Marta stumbled and fell to her side on the cement. It gave Ophelia time to secure two more locks before she was on her again.

  "You don't know what you're doing." Ophelia grasped her girlfriend's fingers and pried them from her hair.

  "Oh, I certainly do," Marta snarled in her ear. "Let me touch one."

  Hating herself, Ophelia reared back and clocked Marta a good one on the jaw. The blow staggered her bewitched lover, but it didn't stop her relentless pursuit. She was slower when she lunged this time, though. Ophelia gave her a hard shove that sent her sprawling on the floor once again.

  Frantically, she finished locking the armoire, spoke the binding spells and traced the sigil. As she did so, the sealed wardrobe began to jitter violently. Jars banged against its sturdy oak panels, demanding release.

  Marta moaned from behind her, and Ophelia turned in time to see her partner stand, rubbing her jaw as she did so.

  "I'm sorry, sweetie." She wanted to go to Marta, but was still hesitant to do so. Locking the armoire should've broken the glamour the parasites had cast over her girlfriend, but there were no guarantees, what with Ophelia being so out of practice.

  Before Marta could reply, the lights in the basement went out. Cold laughter filled the room. The only illumination spilled in via two small windows to Ophelia's right. In that slice of light, she saw a smear of darkness flit across the room. Then Marta screamed.

  The scant light allowed Ophelia to see the stairs, and, luckily, she had left the door open at the top. But she couldn't see Marta in the near complete darkness surrounding her. Before she could step into the gloom to look for her, Marta ran out, gasping, and clutched Ophelia's hand.

  "Something touched me." She pinned Ophelia with bulging eyes, childlike in their openness, wet with terror. "Something cold." Rubbing her arm, Marta shivered. "So cold."

  The parasite was growing bolder by the moment. Ophelia began to believe this was more than just some random escape and pineal occupation. This was a planned attack. Xian's earlier words wafted through her thoughts: It's inevitable they'll come seeking revenge.

  "Oh no." Ophelia's gaze locked on the beacon of hope above, spilling through the open door, spotlighting the stairwell. She squeezed Marta's hand. "We need to get upstairs, now."

  Marta nodded, and they raced up the cement steps. The breath Ophelia held whooshed out of her as she spotted the kitchen window through the door frame.

  Three stairs from the top, Marta's hand fell from hers. Her girlfriend's shriek stole Ophelia's brief calm with a sucker punch of panic. She looked over her shoulder, and the panic upped its assault a notch.

  A universe swirled, eating through the sickly-hued paint, breathing in the cement steps beneath. At its center, Marta clutched at stardust. She looked up at Ophelia, and her face became candle wax as it melted into the vortex claiming her.

  The vortex spread out, licking oily tongues over the floor and walls, snuffing the sunlight from the tiny basement windows. As the murk below deepened, Ophelia watched arms darker-than-night climb up the front of her armoire. She heard the creak and crack of wood, and she cried out. Before the mass reared up and swallowed her cherished heirloom, she swore it formed a face, which flashed a hideous white smile, then all-encompassing blue eyes winked at her before the wardrobe vanished.

  Hugging the doorframe with one arm, Ophelia reached out to Marta, who still fought against the portal's pull. Marta's fingers stretched like taffy, but they found no purchase. Ophelia leaned farther forward, trying not to topple and fall into the hole between worlds.

  As quickly as it bloomed, the vortex began to shrink. It would soon take Marta with it. Ophelia shouted words of encouragement, then switched to cursing anything esoteric, as she helplessly watched her lover lose this fight. As the cement stairs reappeared, Marta started to vanish. Frantically, Ophelia chanted spells and scribed sigils over the retreating portal. All her efforts proved futile.

  Soon, light crept back through the tiny windows below. To add insult to injury, the basement door swung shut with a bang of finality. Ophelia slapped her forehead hard and cussed her parasite. Then she beat her fists on the cheap wood entrance.

  A squeak at the archway leading to the living room. Ophelia's stomach clenched. Her bladder threatened. Still, she turned her head and willed herself to look at black, polished loafers headed her way. Her gaze traveled up the charcoal pants that trailed wisps of smoke. A man in a fedora smiled his toothless, empty smile when she reached his face.

  She stood as the shadow man drew nearer. He reached out, taking her chin in his cold fingers — so cold their frosty touch bit her skin. This wasn't her parasite's work, but she knew the touch well. This was his older brother. The same who had tormented her as a child.

  "You had, what, six of mine?" he whispered. "Now I have one of yours. You want her back? You need to pay us a visit then. Bring my brother."

  He stroked her forehead then walked into her, letting her cells absorb his icy being. The illusion felt all too real. A tingling took over her skin that stole her breath and made her heart beat too fast. In her brain, the parasite wriggled, greedily suckling on her raw panic. Her lungs fought to draw air. Invisible weight crushed her chest.

  There were no black, blooming stars. She fainted without realizing it. When she woke up, she was a foot from the glass coffee table. Her cell phone waited there. Thank Ariadne she had Xian on speed dial. Ophelia crawled forward and snatched the small purple phone from the surface. She pushed the button and fell back to the carpet.

  "Hello?" Xian sounded rushed. A high pitch howl filtered through the connection, and then she heard someone in the background scream, "Get behind me, Beelzebub!"

  "Help," she croaked. "The whole basement went missing. They've taken Marta. And the armoire."

  * * *

  "Take me to your vortex," Xian said, holding a hand high above his head when Ophelia opened the door.

  She crinkled her nose at his mild melodrama. "I've already told you it's in the basement."

  He sighed and gave her a scowl. "Humor an old man."

  Ophelia led him to the basement door. "It's not there now, but I'm sure you can invoke it."

  Xian turned the knob and studied the gloom below. "It's still there. It's just hiding." He opened the black doctor's bag he'd brought along. "Hold this please." Then handed it to Ophelia, withdrawing from it a bottle of nutmeg-colored powder. He uncapped the bottle and blew the contents into the basement, chanted a revealing spell, and carved a sigil in the air.

  The vortex started as a point of light, billowing out at breakneck speed to become a swirling cyclone of dark energy. It reared up, kissed the ceiling, and then dropped. Ophelia took deep calming breaths, looked from her mentor to the frenzied portal, and wished she hadn't been so lax with her studies.

  "When this is over, we can begin classes again?" Xian looked at her as the walls peeled back to blackness.

  "How did you know I was thinking that?"

  He chuckled good-naturedly, then took her hand. "Ophelia, our minds were connected before you were born." His mouth set in a grim line of determination. "
You ready?"

  If she wanted Marta back, she had to go in there. No wimping out. She stared into the glimmering, churning eye of another world. With a deep breath, she nodded to her mentor. "Let's do this then."

  On the count of three, they stepped out of their comfortable reality.

  * * *

  The city stretching before them was dusted in mauve light that reminded Ophelia of Grandmother's old pantsuits. Fat green clouds drifted over the pale purple sky.

  She and Xian emerged in a back alley. By the smell of rotten vegetables, Ophelia guessed they were behind a restaurant. With Xian, she crept to the mouth of the alley and peered around the neon-orange wall.

  The parasites' world was one of brilliant Technicolor set against a backdrop of grey. It hurt her eyes to look at the neon buildings.

  Ahead, the sidewalk was thronged with illusory bodies. In the parasite's world, however, these fleshy facades they projected could carry weight when they needed to. Here, Xian and Ophelia had to be careful. She scanned the parade of sharp teeth, plumage tipped with fierce talons, and heads sporting a multitude of eyes and mouths. In here, the parasites could bite, tear, scratch, simply by plumping up their humanoid flesh suits.

  Xian and Ophelia slinked back into the alley. Keeping an eye on the restaurant door, Xian plucked a syringe out of his doctor's bag. He motioned Ophelia closer.

  "This will hurt a bit," he whispered, then covered her mouth as he plunged the needle up her nose.

  With a muffled cry, Ophelia dropped to her knees. Hot liquid shot up her nostril, burning a trail to her brain. Xian pulled the plunger back. A sickening sucking filled her skull, and she thought grey matter would soon dribble from her nose. He turned the needle on himself and injected the fluid he'd taken from Ophelia, with merely a flinch.

  "I've put your parasite to sleep, temporarily. We're going to use his DNA, and this," he pulled free another syringe, this one filled with a cherry-colored cocktail, "to cloak ourselves, and get in that building."