The Dark Corner

by Easton Livingston

  He made it to the bottom of the stairs and surveyed his surroundings. It was old and stale. The deteriorating walls were splattered with old paint except for a section to the far left where some work had been done. Dust of the concrete walls had settled into the crevices at the edge where they met with the floor. An old washer and dryer were recessed in the open area under a small window.

  There was another room in front of him that went further back into the basement and another off to his right. All dark.

  The room in front was the darkest. Sebastian could feel it. Something was there. Palpable. Amorphous. Lingering. Waiting.

  He stood staring for a moment, scrutinizing the darkness, peering into the black. No team could afford to get used to this. Couldn’t get comfortable. Once they did, they got careless and after that, they were dead.

  It made him angry he had to do this, that they were necessary. He hated it. But what made him angrier were the things he had to face. They were sinister, chaotic, deceptive and came in countless forms. Sebastian had no problem eliminating them. He enjoyed that part because it meant that someone was safe for a while. Someone was going to live, have a chance at living.

  Slowly, he reached to the back of his trench coat grabbing the leather-wrapped hilt of his sword slowly drawing it from its sheath. The metal glittered somewhat even with the encroaching blackness. Etchings of words written on the blade could scarcely be seen out but they were there, small flashes of orange pulsating from the grooves that made the letters. They were ready.

  He strode forward into the darkness looking for a light switch or something to illuminate the inside of the back room. His feet collided with a box what sounded like a box. He could make out a light in the middle of the ceiling towards the center of the room. With determined footsteps, he walked to the light, using his left hand to pull the small chain. The fluorescent bulb strove to illuminate the room. Boxes were strewn on the floor placed in desultory locations as if someone had left in a hurry. A chill breeze penetrated the room, Sebastian’s senses feeling the brunt of the force. It was here. It was looking at him. He knew from the hairs standing up on his neck.

  He turned, scanning the walls, looking for its presence. His gaze stopped on the far right corner where it was darkest even with the light on. He could make out the gray lines of it sitting there. Glowing eyes suddenly appeared, yellow mixed with crimson. Sebastian's hand gripped the hilt of his sword tighter until it felt as if it was going to meld with the palm of his hand.

  “Sebastian Kane. We were wondering how long it was going to take you and your whelps to come and see us.”

  Sebastian turned sideways, situating himself in a ready stance.

  “You are so predictable,” it said in a deep growling tone. “All of you are so predictable. It is so fun to see you squirm and run around aimless and desperate. So what now? Are you going to kill me?”

  It laughed a laugh that pierced and shrieked. It cut through the house, surprising everyone upstairs and terrifying Brian. Sebastian never said a word, never took his eye off of it, holding his ground.

  “You cannot kill me. However, I know you know this.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  In an instant, it was in the far left corner, clinging to the shadows.

  “I was invited. I’m always invited.”

  It swiftly moved nearby, knocking him to the ground. He kept hold of his sword, looking around as he got back on his feet.

  “Those stupid cows tried to siphon my power. The arrogance. It was delicious to bring their fears to life and watch them tear each other and themselves apart. Two of them are dead. The others… let’s just say I’m holding their invitations.”

  “Where are they?”

  “I wonder,” it said, ignoring his question. It was on the ceiling. “What are you fearful of? Oh! I know. I remember.”

  Sebastian scanned left and right across the ceiling trying to pinpoint its location.

  “Sebastian.”

  Sebastian snapped his head in the direction of the voice. It was his father. A breath caught in his throat, his heart jumping in his chest. That was impossible. His father was dead.

  “Son. You need to stop doing this.” He looked at Sebastian with a wistful look like he used to have when Sebastian failed to hit the mark that was expected of him. He hated that look. It was the way his father tried to cover up his unspoken disappointment.

  “You’re no good at it. I know you want to be as good as me but it’s not going to happen.”

  It was coming back. The shame. The despondency. He wanted to make his father proud of him, wanted to be like him. It was the thing he was afraid of and he wouldn’t know if he had made him proud because he had died before seeing Sebastian take up the sword. He was dead. He… was… dead.

  “You’re… well, pathetic. That’s why you need to get out of this. Do something else. Get married. Have kids. Maybe one of my grandchildren will do what you couldn’t.”

  This was not his father. He knew this was not his father. He knew him well enough to know that he wouldn’t say that. His father wasn’t that direct. It was said with a look or expression but he always tried to encourage Sebastian even though he was expecting more. It was one of the things Sebastian loved about him and what kept him pressing on to do better.

  Sweeping in a backward arc, Sebastian sliced through the vision of his father, decapitating him. His head rolled to the floor but there was no blood. In moments, it vanished.

  “Goodness. So violent. Did I strike a nerve?”

  “This is it. This is the best you’ve got? Second-class hallucinations? That supposed to scare me? That supposed to scare anyone?”

  It moved swiftly back and forth across the room from one corner to the next in succession, knocking Sebastian to the ground, bruising the side of his face.

  “You will always have fear and I will always be there to exploit it! From the small to the large. I am good at what I do. I am Phobos.”

  Sebastian rubbed the side of his face as he got to his feet, leveling his eyes at it.

  “You love to hear yourself speak. It’s the way that your lies, manipulation, and deception invades the minds of men.”

  It snickered. “You think you know how wo…”

  Sebastian lunged forward, swiping in a wide arc with his sword, slicing through the dark entity.

  “What is this?”

  Its eyes glanced down at itself, beginning to chuckle again but abruptly found itself choking on its own laughter. The sword was glowing brighter. Sebastian slashed again and again, the sword leaving a trail of light with each swing. He lunged and stabbed one last time. A howl went through the house, shaking the walls and foundation. Upstairs, Brian and Ashley's wedding picture fell off the living room wall, crashing to the floor. Brian held onto the side of his couch staring at Tyler and Amanda.

  “What is going on?!”

  Amanda sat down next to Brian.

  “It's being evicted.

  Downstairs, Sebastian stood and watched as the entity began to break apart. Phobos fought to keep its form but was losing the battle.

  “I will kill you, Sebastian Kane! You hear me?! Do not think for a second that there is anywhere on this planet or any other where you can hide from me! I am fear and I will find my way into your heart. I will destroy you and yours, Kane!”

  Phobos let out a string of expletives, its form vibrating, shimmering, pulling apart, then dissipating into nothingness. Smoke in the wind.

  Moments passed. A quiet calm settled in the basement. Sebastian’s heart raced. He knew Phobos was serious in its asservation. He wasn’t concerned. Death was not the end for him and not the worse thing that could happen, to him or anyone else. He accomplished what he came to do. It was finished. Today, they’d won.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Part XI - Reality Check

  Brian sat in the leather orange lounge chair in Ashley’s hospital room. It was cold and stiff. Ashley lay asleep when he arrived
and he didn’t want to wake her. The television played in the background which he turned down as he peered into the night at the residential homes below. Some had their porch lights on. He could see the silhouettes of someone moving past their window in the living room beyond the curtain, concealing those inside. All of those people living their lives every day, consumed with the daily toils and struggles, focused on the here and now. They bought the mirage that it was the digital age and technology would be the new fantastic, the new miraculous. Whatever was not in that vein was relegated to make believe.

  He now knew different.

  What happened tonight was something he was still struggling to wrap his mind around. There were unanswered questions. Too many. He wanted to curl up in the comfort of the idea that it was his mind playing tricks on him. That the strangers who had invaded his home were con artists. They wanted the house for themselves and had some kind of device hidden in the basement to make people see things so they could acquire the house. A Scooby Doo episode. It sounded crazy but not as crazy at what they said had happened.

  It was a demon.

  The last time he thought about anything related to that subject was in high school. He had the privilege of attending a private school. The only people who went to private school were those who could afford it and were religious to a greater or lesser extent. As a student it meant you were taught the Bible to some degree. It was different from public school who saw it as an antiquated fantasy book with some good moral teachings. An advanced collection of Aesop’s Fables. They also saw it as a threat to their “enlightened” agenda to which it was anathema. It was the opposite in private school where it was presented as history. Factual history. Within the pages of that history was the reality of demons.

  Brian hadn’t considered them being real. His focus was getting through the classes and finishing high school. That meant completing his assignments and getting good grades. It wasn’t like he was against the idea or didn’t believe it at all. He just never thought about it in depth. At the most, he regarded them as representative symbols of evil in general. Not actual living entities. In his circles, some believed it literally. Most didn’t. He hadn’t chosen a side. But again, he’d never contemplated long and hard about it. After tonight, he was leaning in the direction of the minority.

  He didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to think about it. When he did, goosebumps rose all over his body. The subject was distressing. If they were real, if there was a chance at all they were a part of reality, it changed everything for him. In the very least, it changed how he interpreted what happened in the world.

  The three strangers left him sitting on his couch with a sad look on their faces which he recognized. Pity. Now, he understood why.

  He sighed. This was the craziest night of his life and he didn’t know how to think of it or what it meant.

  With everything that transpired, staying in the house looked less and less appealing. They had given him assurances the thing was gone and wasn’t coming back any time soon. The incident had already carved an indelible scar on his psyche. That didn’t include the wake of dark memories it injected into the minds of Ashley and Sean. Assurances were an anemic consolation. Yet, a part of him wanted to stay. That part said stick it out. That part refused to leave because he worked hard to get the house and it was HIS house. Nothing would change that. But even in his stubbornness, he knew it was false bravado at best for what was he going to do if the thing decided to come back? He wouldn’t know how to deal with it. Sebastian had given him a card in case anything else arose but that was something he simply didn’t want to deal with again.

  That’s when it occurred to him that if that thing was a demon, it could go wherever it wanted to go. It could go with them to their next home because it found them easy pickings. The nightmare would begin all over again.

  Is that was it was? Was it real? These were the questions that replayed in his head on heavy rotation. Dismissing it, which is what he wanted to do, seemed foolish. Three different people at three different times on three separate occasions were affected. That didn’t include Sebastian and his team. The snake he had seen was not a trick (was it?). It was real enough to him to leave his back in pain which he still felt. Even if the snake wasn’t real, it was.

  “Brian?”

  He turned to Ashley and got up from his chair, managing a weak smile.

  “Hey, babe. How you feeling?”

  She yawned for a long time.

  “That good, huh?”

  “I’m feeling pretty good. Did you take care of the spiders?”

  He kept up the facade, widening his smile. “Yes. I had some guys come in and take care of the problem.”

  She straightened up.

  “Was it bad? Did they find them?”

  Brian nodded. “They did. Even I saw it. But they took care of it. Got them at a good price even at the last minute. I was surprised.”

  “Well, that had to make you happy.”

  His countenance fell in response. “Not really.”

  “What?”

  Brian caught himself and smirked. “I wish I could have gotten them cheaper.”

  * * * * *

  When he asked the nurse at the front desk for directions, his mind was halfway in the conversation. He caught the tail end and recognized the location, figuring he could find his way on instinct. He only took three wrong turns before asking someone for directions again. Two minutes later, he walked through the double doors of the hospital chapel.

  The light was dim. Two white candles were lit on a small dark wood table near a podium. The rear wall was adorned with a wooden cross. The pews on either side were short as the room itself was small. He didn’t know what to do. He felt uncomfortable. Out of place. The environment was so foreign to him. It had been so many years since he stepped foot into any kind of religious climate. Alone and insecure, he felt an instant awareness that a chorus of invisible eyes observed him.

  He slid into the rear pew on the left, staring at the cross. He allowed himself to embrace the phenomenon as truth: there had been a demon in his house tonight. The one thing that his private school education had taught him was that if there was a demon, there was a God. He was the only one that could ultimately do anything about it.

  Why was he sitting there? Did he really expect God to listen to Him? A wave of shame overcame him. He hadn’t even acknowledged God’s existence in his life and here he was on the verge of asking something from Him. He felt foolish. He instincts told him he had no right.

  “I’m sorry for doing this. I am. I don’t…” The words trailed off. “I don’t understand what is going on. I’m scared and confused here. Forgive me for coming here like this but I need help. I don’t know how to process this. I don’t even know if I am processing this correctly. I don’t know if I’m talking to myself or just desperate. I… I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”

  He stared at the ground, a part of him wanting to bolt out the door. The other part screamed at him to stay. He held onto the back edge of the pew with a tight grip, the whites of his knuckles showing.

  “Help me. Please don’t let anything happen to my family. Please. Please let this be over.”

  * * * * *

  Murchowski sipped her warm black tea. The pungent taste mixed with a tinge of honey and lemon caressed her throat, cascading down her esophagus. She’d gotten the phone call minutes ago. Things were looking up. They would have the location of the E-Stone soon. When they had it in their possession, the city would be hers. She would bring whoever was interfering to their knees and snuff the life out of them with a glance.

  Yes. This was far from over.

  Part I - Nagging Suspicions

  Detective Neff walked into the downtown police headquarters inundated with weariness. His worn brown loafers padded down the hallway towards his desk on the third floor. Something had been nagging at him. He couldn't place his finger on what it was, but it kept him from a good night's sleep. There were
so many things happening in the city. It was too long of a list to even consider. That added to his exhaustion.

  He didn't understand why he cared so much. Few would notice he did with his laid-back demeanor; he covered it up well. He wasn't prone to excitement when talking about cases the way some cops did, the result of being a fan of their own voices. They thought about how they would look on television in front of the cameras once they solved a big case. It was practice for them. Sad and pitiful.

  That wasn't Samuel Neff. No sane person became a cop to be famous. If that was the case, he would live in a bigger city scrounging for soundbites. No, thank you. Better to stay away from the cameras, stay away from the news as much as possible and focus on the job. Real police work.

  Home turf was the grand city of Toledo, Ohio. Home of the Mudhens and closed factories — remnants of the city’s heyday as a manufacturing powerhouse. It was dubbed “Little Detroit”, being a mere forty minutes away from the Motor City. That was not a good thing. Detroit had made it to the top of several lists as being the worst city in the United States to live. That Toledo was following suit didn't inspire people to migrate or stay there.

  He loved his job but more than that, he loved how his job had a positive influence on people. He wasn't sure when that shift in his thinking came about during his career. When he was first hired that's all it was: a job. It was something he thought he could do well, and it didn't put him in the poor house. But his mindset shifted after a decade on the job. It was different. He was a detective who cared and had a legitimate concern for people.

  Selling that to the public was another story, especially black people. The growing racial tension between blacks and police officers across the nation didn't make his job any easier. Add to that the fact he was black, and it became rather dicey. He had been the target of their invective, called everything from sell out to Uncle Tom. An oppressor of his own people. His response was always the same: if they didn't want to feel so oppressed, stop breaking the law.