The Water Seer

by HMC

  The curtains moved.

  I held my breath.

  Hamish peered out. I exhaled, thanking Criede it wasn’t Aidah’s ugly mug peering back. Hamish frowned, then threw open his window. ‘What are you doing?’ He spoke in a harsh whisper. ‘If Aidah catches you here…’

  ‘You sent me a message, Hamish,’ I said. ‘You’re the one who invited me here. In quiet dreams I come,’ I quoted his spell. ‘You see the truth.’

  His eyes widened. He had the security screen off in a matter of moments. Obviously, he had it at the ready. An escape route, as such. There were far worse things in his house than there were outside of it.

  ‘Give me your arms,’ he said. I thought of him in my visita trying to help me. I thought of the message he sent to find someone to help, someone to protect the children. If he wasn’t on my side, I’d lost my touch, and wouldn’t make it through this anyway.

  I reached up. He grabbed my arms and pulled me through the window. My thighs scraped the sill. ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he breathed as he helped me up. He then replaced his screen, shut the window, and threw the black curtains over them.

  His long dark hair was down and it fell about his face. He pushed it behind an ear, and rushed around to tidy his room. ‘Did she see you?’ he said.

  ‘No. I don’t think so.’ I said. Coldplay crooned quietly in the background about a sky full of stars.

  ‘This is as far as anyone’s ever come.’ Hamish stopped and stared at me. ‘I mean. There was another, but Aidah got to him. She’s weak right now … and slow. I don’t know why.’ He ran a hand through his hair and swallowed. ‘Sorry. I talk too much when I’m nervous. No one’s ever been in my room before.’

  ‘Never?’

  He shook his head. ‘You don’t have to worry about being quiet in here. And you can say what you want. She can’t hear us. I can tell you everything. You’re a witch, then?’ He was out of breath too now.

  ‘Slow down,’ I laughed nervously. ‘I’m still figuring out whether or not you’re the bad guy.’

  ‘What? Oh.’ He raised his eyes brows, and looked down at his clothes. ‘I can see how you might’ve thought that. Um … would you like a seat? I mean, I only have my bed. You can sit on it.’

  I laughed. He was so nervous, he was shaking. ‘Thanks.’ I took a seat on the end. I had to calm him down a little if I wanted to get any sense out of him. ‘I like your toy collection.’

  ‘Oh? Yeah. It’s kind of dumb.’

  ‘Not really. They’re cool.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ve got a fair amount of time on my hands.’ He smiled. He reminded me of Tate from American Horror Story – maybe a little crazy, dangerous, and lovable, even though he was bad for you, and probably your entire family. ‘Can I sit?’ He gestured to a spot next to me and I nodded. When he sat, I noticed his hands were no longer shaking. He was calming down a little. Idle chitchat worked.

  ‘So, Coldplay?’

  He laughed. ‘Yeah. I love most music. As you might’ve guessed from the way I dress, I like metal most. But I’ve been known to play a little Al Green from time to time.’

  I smiled. ‘Can’t go wrong with the classics.’

  ‘Classics for you are different than classics for me.’

  That’s right. He’s old. Really old. ‘How long have you been with her?’ I said.

  ‘A few lifetimes,’ he said. I nodded. ‘You don’t seem surprised.’

  ‘I know a little about you.’ I didn’t want to share too much too soon, so I stopped.

  ‘I guess she likes having me for a son,’ he said sadly.

  ‘It must be hard.’

  ‘Yeah. It’s not a great existence,’ he continued. ‘I’ve tried to escape, in more ways than one, if you catch my drift. Let’s just say, the first time I left her, it was with my own hands. Unfortunately for me, the living dead are her specialty.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I said, wondering if it would be too awkward to hug him. I put a hand on his shoulder instead. ‘That sucks. A lot.’ I tried to change the subject. ‘How can you speak so freely here?’

  ‘This is my sanctuary. I suppose since I can’t invite anyone in, or tell anyone about it, she assumed I’d never have anyone inside it. It worked for a few hundred years so far. I started sending the messages about a decade ago.’

  ‘Your spell was dodgy, you know. Aidah’s image came through and cut up my hands. You have to be more specific when you send messages through spells.’

  ‘Damn, sorry. May I see?’ He touched my arm and turned it over to reveal the cuts. They were looking a little better. He ran a hand over them. My heart thrummed. No, Mouse. Don’t get a crush on someone ELSE you can’t have.

  ‘You’re a little young to be a witch, aren’t you?’

  I smiled. ‘It started when I was nine, so yeah, probably. I’m more a seer than a witch.’

  ‘What’s the difference?’

  ‘I see the future and can change it.’

  ‘That’s a cool trick.’

  ‘It’s a pain in the arse, actually. I don’t get to choose what I see, or when I see it.’

  ‘But you use water and can resurrect the dead. That makes you a witch,’ said Hamish.

  ‘No. I can’t. I wish I could. I’d bring back a few family members if that were the case.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Hamish. ‘You can.’

  He moved over and pulled out The Philosopher’s Stone from his shelf. I held my breath. ‘You see this symbol here.’ He pointed to the ankh inside the turned triangle.

  Oh, the one I looked at while I was snooping through your room the other night? Sure, I see it. ‘What is it?’ I said.

  ‘It represents what Aidah is. A descendant of Anubis.’

  My breath caught in my throat. The image of Cat’s tarot card came to mind. Anubis stood at the weighing of the souls – Anubis, keeper of the dead, Anubis, whose daughter was Kebechet, which meant cooling water. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I may not have been specific in what my message said, and I’m sorry for that.’ Hamish continued. ‘But I was very specific in who I sent it to.’ He pointed to the symbols again. ‘Someone who protects others.’ He pointed to the top symbol, then the bottom. ‘And someone who is a descendant of Anubis.’ I couldn’t speak. I only stared at Hamish. ‘Fight fire with fire, you know? Or in this case, water with water.’ Hamish chuckled until he looked up at me. ‘Are you okay? You didn’t know?’

  ‘What does this mean?’ I said.

  ‘I guess it means you’re bad arse, Mouse.’

  I clasped my hands together. The room spinned.

  Oh no. Not right now.

  Visita – Tuesday, January 28th at 2:10PM. Hamish’s Room. Christine Ave.

  A little boy sat by Aidah. She was lying statue-still. The room was dark and the walls were made from stones. ‘Mama?’ It was Hamish. He looked about seven years old. Aidah groaned and shivered, covered in a sheen of sweat; it was easy to see she wouldn’t last without help. I walked closer to them. They made no indication that they could see me, so I inched forward. This woman was Aidah, but it wasn’t. Her hair was black, her skin much fairer. She looked more like Hamish. Hamish had his long lashes even then, and his lips were small with a tiny bow. His hair was greasy, and clothes ragged. The room looked like it had been picked up 2,000 meters and dropped it was such a mess. The poor, neglected child had probably been looking after them both. It stunk of sour sweat.

  ‘Hami,’ the woman’s eyes opened. She pushed some of Hamish’s hair behind his ear. The little boy cried as they whispered to each other. They spoke in Spanish.

  A hard knock came at the door and I jumped. Hamish ran to open it. I could hear a woman’s voice. It was difficult to understand, but I managed to make out a little of the conversation.

  ‘I can heal her … you are safe … The Black Death.’

  Hamish let the stranger enter, and I knew it would be Sacmis. She walked in and looked straight at me. Her hair was long and lux
urious. And it was copper red. Her eyes were the same colour. She walked toward me, stopping inches from my face, then sniffed the air and licked her lips. She looked older than the stories had made her out to be. Now that she was right before me I could see her fading away. She was translucent. I don’t think little Hamish noticed. He was too worried about his mother, and Sacmis had dressed herself as a healer.

  She grinned at me, then turned to the woman. ‘Aidah,’ she crooned. Sacmis carried a bag with her and removed several bottles and bandages. She asked Hamish to look away. Little Hami went to other side of the room. She told him to hide his face. He sat and put his head on his knees.

  Sacmis leaned over Aidah and her long tongue licked the woman’s face. Aidah passed out. Sacmis then took a knife and sliced Aidah’s stomach open. She made another gash across Aidah’s chest, then she breathed in deeply, then exhaled, and this time, rather than consuming the energy from Aidah, she poured herself into her. A white vapour flew from her mouth and seeped into Aidah’s slashes. Aidah took a deep breath and coughed, while Sacmis lowered her weakened self to the floor until she passed out cold and thumped down on the scarred wood, like a suddenly discarded area rug.

  ‘Mama!’ Hamish cried and he ran to Aidah. She sat up in her bed. Her face was clear and bright. She smiled, ignoring Sacmis’ body lying beside her on the floor. Aidah looked at me, and a hint of that evil demon showed in the curl of her lips.

  I was pulled back into a vortex of blue, before I opened my eyes.

  I woke lying on Hamish’s bed. He was sitting beside me. ‘Are you all right?’ he whispered. I nodded and pulled myself up. ‘What was that?’

  I rubbed my eyes. It took a while before I could put words together. ‘It happens sometimes. Remember how I told you I see the future?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well, that wasn’t it.’

  He laughed.

  ‘But it’s kind of like that … when it happens. I black out for a second or two.’

  ‘That sucks when you’re driving, I bet. Can I get you anything?’ I wished he would stop being so nice to me. He seemed to sense my uncomfortableness and changed the subject. ‘What did you see? I mean, if you want to tell me.’

  I shifted on the bed. ‘One question first.’

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘If you’re from Spain, why the Gaelic name?’

  Hamish frowned. ‘It was my father’s name. He travelled from Scotland and stayed at my mother’s home for a few nights. She never saw him again. He never knew I existed.’

  ‘Another sad story.’

  Hamish nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, sorry. I’m full of those.’

  I asked Hamish about his first memory of Aidah, who wasn’t Aidah. Seven-year-old Hamish had known straight away when his real mother was gone, and that the new Aidah was an imposter. I told him what I saw in my vision and he was able to connect some dots in his memory. The memory of his real mother didn’t sadden him as I thought it would, yet it had happened so long ago, I supposed the pain must have subsided.

  ‘I didn’t mean to drag you into this horrible mess,’ he apologised again.

  I shook my head. ‘It would’ve happened anyway.’

  We spoke for a while, mostly about trivial things. It was as if Hamish just wanted to be a person, to hold normal conversations about music, art, and films. I was happy to oblige, but there was a pressing matter at hand. ‘So tell me,’ I finally said. ‘Why did you send the message?’

  ‘Well, every time Aidah brings a soul back, part of it is missing. It gets to the point where they can’t function properly. I’ve seen it and it’s horrible. The more you get brought back, the less of you comes with. First it’s your skills, like talking, listening, motor. Then it’s whatever you were good at, art, dance, writing. Then you start to lose your identity, your personality. You become easy to influence – a minion of sorts. It’s why I try to hold onto certain parts of me. My toys are a physical part of my identity, and so are my books. My music, too. But it’s only a matter of time now, before I really start losing it. Some days, I lie down and the next minute it’s dark. I’ve spent entire days as a vegetable and it’s becoming more and more frequent. The more I lose of myself, the less likely it is I’ll be around to keep Aidah in check. She’s always been bad. But never like this.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She’s angry about something. Tired. Run-down. And she’s taking it out on people around her – killing more than ever. I don’t know what it is just yet. Aidah used to hide herself from me, pretend like she was the perfect mother. She did a pretty good job a fair amount of the time, too, if you can believe that. I didn’t see or hear much of what she did. Now, I see her. The evil inside of her is coming out and is taking over this entire house.

  ‘There’ve been times when I thought I could change her, help her come back to the light. There’s still good inside her, Mouse, there really is. I’ve seen it. Then she proves me wrong. The second time I died, it was her fault. She hasn’t forgiven herself since, and I haven’t been able to trust her again, as you can imagine. Now, though, she’s really gone. The woman I called mother for such a long time has disappeared. I can’t stand by anymore.’ He put his head in his hands. I grabbed them, and pulled him closer. I stroked his hair and held him. His body was warm and I could feel his breath on my neck. ‘You’re a surprise in a world full of nothing,’ he said. I knew it was odd and awkward to hold a stranger. Hamish hadn’t had anyone for such a long time that I wanted to be there for him, just for a moment. I sensed it was all he really had. The dark rings around his sunken eyes told more about his exhaustion than could be expressed in words. He’d had enough now. ‘I’ll help you end this,’ I promised.

  ‘I had a feeling you would be coming,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I feel peaceful. Almost like I’m ready to go now, you know? Before I was desperate to end it all. Now I’m just at ease.’

  ‘You don’t have to leave as well, do you?’

  ‘When Aidah leaves, so will her magic. I am that magic, I guess.’

  ‘Maybe we can find another way?’ I said.

  ‘Maybe,’ he breathed. Then Hamish fell asleep in my arms. Soon he was snoring softly. I assumed it was part of his whole losing days thing. I couldn’t bare to look at him lying there. I had to pull myself free. I left him a note on his typewriter.

  Dear George Charles Devol, Jr., Inventor of the robotic arm, I’ll be back. Love, Mouse.

  Trent and Sonny watched TV in our lounge room. Rick and Carey would be over later. I’d gotten my way, and we’d swapped houses for dinner tonight. Trent needed no convincing. All I’d had to tell him was tonight was the night Sonny was going to go missing if we didn’t keep him by our side. He and Sonny would sleep over and I’d take Sonny to school tomorrow. ‘As long as he gets to bed on time,’ Carey made me promise over the phone.

  ‘I swear Sonny will be in bed by seven. You’ll be here to ensure it anyway!’

  ‘True. We’ll see you at six.’

  Mum was preparing a roast in the kitchen. Anna I sat at the dining table so Trent and Sonny couldn’t hear us. ‘Are you sure this is going to work?’ Anna asked.

  ‘No. But I haven’t been sure of much lately. How about you?’

  Anna shook her head.

  ‘‘Ojo por ojo,’ It’s what Aidah had said in one of my visions. An eye for an eye. Hamish was the son of Aidah, and Aidah was a descendant of Ptah. Sacmis lost her baby because that family threw her out when she needed them most. They owed her a child. Hamish is that child. Now he’s suffering through eternity.’

  ‘That’s messed up, you know that?’ Anna put a hand up to her mouth, shaking her head. ‘Mouse. This is old, old magic. What we’re dealing with here is… well, I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  ‘You haven’t even heard my plan,’ I said. ‘Hamish said that every time Aidah brings a soul back, part of it’s missing.’

  Anna looked at me sadly.
‘You can’t save him, Mouse.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ I said.

  Anna stood. She walked around the room once, then turned to me. ‘When a body dies, the soul leaves it. What happens thereafter is up to the believer. What I do know is when a soul is owed to the Gods, or Goddesses, a soul is owed. Hamish’s soul was owed a long time ago, kiddo.’ She said the words I hadn’t wanted to hear.

  The night sky suddenly opened up and the summer storm that had been building all day thrashed against the rooftop. The rain came heavy, a wall of water, and thunder boomed constantly, as if heralding the end of the world. I had to shout over the din. ‘I think at this point, he just wants it all to end, anyway.’

  ‘I don’t blame him! We’ve only had three days of her, and I want it to end, too,’ Anna said. She sat back down and leaned in. ‘So, what’s the plan?’

  ‘Well, it seems that I’m not learning the trick of exploding water anytime soon.’

  That’s when Mum started cackling. It came from the kitchen, an almighty belly-laugh.

  The thing was, it didn’t sound like Mum at all.

  Anna and I jumped up from the table and ran to the kitchen.

  Mum’s eyes had a tinge to them I didn’t recognise. A subtle haze glimmered from them as she turned away. The light shone off her hair.

  Copper.

  ‘Mum?’

  Anna stepped in front of me. ‘Connie?’

  Mum ran her finger along the lines of the kitchen bench. ‘Do you like your new tapestry? The one of the kittens?’ she said. But it wasn’t her voice.

  ‘You made that for me years ago. Of course I like it,’ I said.

  Anna shook her head and moved me back toward the door.

  ‘Do you think I should make a tapestry for the Albrights, darling? I do believe they need something cheerful to remind them that life is peachy. Even after tragedy. We really must focus on them, rather than ourselves, don’t you agree?’