I walked over to the counter beside the refrigerator, where the old woman had pulled the black substance from the jar, but the jar was gone. In fact, everything was gone, the jars, the dishes, the pots, the small cups…everything. I turned and walked over to the table where the candle had been burning, and that surface too was spotless.
Frowning, I was about to call out to the old woman again when I heard a noise come from upstairs, seemingly directly above me. Straining my ears to listen for any more sounds, I made my way back out of the room and to the single staircase halfway down the hall.
At the base of the rotted wooden stair, I glanced up at the yawning blackness of the level above. A part of me, the rational part, urged me to leave. It was the first and only time the thought crossed my mind since I’d been back, but what would happen if I never really knew for sure what the woman saw?
I hurried up the stairs and circled the railing without a second thought, looking down a similar hall to the floor below. In the room at the end of the hall, a sliver of light cut a diagonal line across the ground—the only light I’d seen anywhere within the house so far.
I rushed to it like a moth to a flame, entering the room without hesitation, and was shocked to see it was ambient window light shining in. It was the first non-covered window I’d seen inside the entire house.
It was a bedroom, with only a single bed covered with plain white sheets spread neatly across the top the, a rough looking green wool blanket folded at the foot, and a single nightstand beside the bed serving as the only furnishing. There were no other niceties in the room, and, more importantly, there was no one inside.
I walked over to the nightstand and went through each of the three drawers. The first had a half dozen old, leather-bound books stacked as high as they could fit in neat rows all along the interior. The other two were empty.
"Didn't expect you back here tonight, D," Red said from behind me.
I flinched and spun around to see Red standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets and half his body cast in the blackened shadow of the house.
I sighed. “Where the hell have you been, Red?”
Red didn’t respond; he folded his arms across his chest and watched me.
“You just gonna stand there looking stupid, Red? We need to talk, man.”
“Why did you come back here, Darien?”
“I need to speak to the old woman. Where is she?”
Red spread his arms. “Not here.”
“Well… do you know where she is?” I brought my hand to my forehead. “Why am I asking you anyway. We just got here.”
I went to walk past Red and continue checking the rest of the house for the old woman, but he put a hand on my shoulder that was so cold I flinched away before the sensation fully settled in, the way I flinch away when I touch something hot.
“What the fuck?” I said, more to myself as I rotated my shoulder, working feeling back into my numbed arm.
“What exactly do you need to speak to her about, D?”
There was something about the way Red asked the question, or maybe it was the way he looked at me, that triggered every instinct. “The fuck is wrong with you, Red?”
“What do you need to speak to the Shaman about, Darien?”
I shook out my arm as feeling slowly came back to the tips of the fingers on my right hand. “Aren’t you curious about how she was able to see you?”
“No.”
"No? How can you not be? She saw you, Red."
Red sighed. "Darien. Don't be stupid. We've been together a lot of years, and for many years we've been successful. Besides all that, I've always protected you. That's the only reason why I'm here, talkin' to you now. You're too fuckin' stubborn now, too stubborn for your own good. But, right now, you need to go home and forget about this house, forget about this old shaman, and, most importantly, those thoughts circlin' around your head right now."
I shook my head. "I can't do that, Red. Half my life I've been trying to make sense of myself; you know this. I need to understand who I am, and this old woman seems to be my first real shot at finding someone that can tell me something new."
Red shook his head. "Who you are? I made you who and what you are, Darien." The temperature in the room cooled, "but what you're really asking, what you really want to know, is who I am."
“Okay then. Who are y—“
“Careful, Darien.”
The temperature continued to drop, and puffs of vapor escaped my lips when I spoke again, punctuating each word. “I just need to know if I’m crazy.”
"You're not crazy, Darien," Red said. He reached behind him and pushed the open door close. "What you are is too fuckin' stupid for your own good."
A web of frost and ice spread out from the spot on the door Red had touched, cracking and popping as it expanded across the full surface of the wood. My eyes widened as I watched the cold spread to the walls, ceiling, and floor, cracking, grinding as it spread.
The temperature continued to plummet in the room, and I doubled over, vigorously rubbing my bare arms in a vain attempt to generate warmth.
"What… the hell are…are you?" I managed to say through chattering teeth as I edged away from Red.
"I was your friend, someone you could relate to. I chose that for you, Darien, but I didn't have to. I could have been this." Red's features began to change—his face narrowing, cheekbones and eyes becoming more pronounced, his jaw and brow, less so. I blinked, and his hair doubled in length, then doubled again, and then doubled once more, until it sat atop his head in loose, curly afro.
He’d lost over an inch of height in the span of a breath, and his body began to shift—hands, arms, and waist narrowing, hips and torso curving and elongating. I couldn’t believe my eyes, but where Red had just stood just moments before, now there was a curvaceous woman that looked like it could have been his sister. She smiled at me with full lips that even had a touch of color.
“What…” I staggered back into the nightstand, lost my balance as the back of my knees clipped the lip of the top, and landed on the cold surface.
"Oh wait," Red said in a soft, feminine voice. Her skin grew a shade darker. "There, that's about right for you." She placed her hands on her hips. "This might have worked for you now, but it wouldn't have when we first met. You were so young, so naïve. Girls still had cooties." She giggled and tossed a stray curl of hair up over her ear. "Red was only supposed to be a childhood friend, you know. You were supposed to meet me by the time you got to college, studying those late-night hours at the library. Remember those? Or maybe a chance encounter at a party, or on vacation. I needed to be invisible to all but you while you were a child because I needed to be with you at all times, protecting you, molding you. But as an adult, I could have revealed myself, been a perfect wife." She shook her head. "But Fatima fucked that up. I should have just dealt with that problem."
My mind reeled. He had tried for so long to get me to leave her.
Red frowned and cocked her head to the side. "What? Don't you find me attractive, Darien?" She raised her hand high above her head and snapped her fingers, and her clothing fell to the floor in a pile at her feet, revealing a body that hit the perfect balance of thick and toned. She spun around in a slow circle, and when she made it back around, she giggled again and brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. "Oh, Darien, if you could see your face now. Don't worry; I was never really a guy. Well…I'm not a woman either."
"You really are a devil," I whispered.
Red frowned and looked around. "Devils, demons…those are the names humans have given us because you fear what you do not know. But even that can be exploited. If I had been this…" Red morphed again, this time almost faster than I could visually register, shrinking more than a full head shorter, thick coarse fur grew out from every visible part of her body, her face elongated, nose rounded, ears shifted forward and lengthened, all at once.
I blinked and a pure white shepherd with vibrant blue eyes that a
lmost glowed, more beautiful than any dog I’d ever seen, sat on the floor where the pile of clothes had been just a moment ago.
The dog’s mouth moved, but it was Red’s actual voice that spoke. “You would have viewed me as your spirit animal had I appeared like this. But the form is irrelevant. Lovers, guides, we exploit any weakness or affinity our human host has.”
“Enough...” I finally found my voice as I climbed to my feet. “I can’t make sense of anything I’m seeing right now, but I refuse to let fear control my life anymore, you did teach me that, Red. Kill me if that’s what you want. But please, enough of these fucking games.”
“What I wanted from you was friendship, Darien. That is why I appeared as I did, all those years ago." I blinked, and Red appeared again like the Red I'd known for half my life, crouched down on all fours, dressed in the same clothing he had on when he first appeared in the room.
He stood and smoothed down the folds of his shirt as he continued. “I wanted to keep shit exactly the way they fuckin’ were.” Red cast his eyes down and nodded. “Enough of these fuckin’ games. So be it.”
Red's skin darkened until it was black as pitch, and bloody fissures began snaking along his arms, neck, face. His hair greyed and fell to the ground in clumps still held together by patches of fleshy scalp. Any semblance of male or female vanished as Red’s features dramatically shifted and morphed into a leathery creature two full head’s taller than the man I remembered, with long spires of bone rising beneath the skin of its chest, shoulders, and forehead like a natural armor. And cold radiated from the creature as if I was standing beside a block of solid ice.
As terrifying a sight as the creature before me was, it was the eyes, the blackened pits with single glowing red slits at the center, locking focus on me as I struggled to process what I was seeing, that chilled me more than the frigid temperature in the room.
"This is what I am, Darien." The creature's voice was hoarse and raspy, and I was transfixed on the Jagged rows of exposed teeth as its leathery lips parted to continue to speak. "There was a time when I had hoped to reveal my true self to you, and we would be able to do great things with no pretenses. Alas, I did not groom you well enough, and that failure is mine. However, considering everything I've given you, Darien, everything we have achieved together, I am hoping we can continue our mutually beneficial relationship, helping one another."
My body was close to giving in to my almost uncontrollable shivering, but I willed my head left and right. "I… don't want any of this. I want… to be left alone."
Red remained silent for a long moment, then walked towards me. Somehow, the air grew colder with each step. Just before he stopped, just inches in front of me, my vision blurred and I lost the ability to move my eyes as the moisture on them froze. "Is that what you truly want, Darien, to be left alone?"
I inhaled a searing cold breath and tried to speak, but my tongue was stiff and unresponsive. I managed a weak nod, barely a few inches up and down.
“That is a shame, considering how long we have been linked. So be it. But know, there will come a day when you regret this choice, perhaps sooner than you think. When that day arrives, I’ll be there for you, Darien. Simply call my name aloud: Mbwiri.”
With that, the creature sank into the floor, and the bone-chilling cold left the room immediately. I waited just long enough for feeling to return to my numbed limbs and my vision to clear, and then ran.
I grabbed the doorknob but immediately recoiled as the shocking cold of the metal stung my hand. I doubled back to the bed, ripped the wool blanket from the bed that was cold stiff, shattering a thin layer of ice that had formed on the surface and sending shards scattering across the floor. Wrapping the blanket over my hand, I grabbed the knob again and tugged two times with all my strength and the door opened, sending another sheet of ice that had accumulated on that surface shattering to the ground.
A blanket of comforting warmth wrapped around me as soon as I sprinted out into the hall. More feeling returned to my limbs, increasing my power and dexterity, allowing me to pick up speed as I fled down the hall, rounded the staircase, taking them three at a time to the base, down the darkened corridor, and rounding the corner of the final hall that led back to the outside world. There wouldn’t be a third visit to the house; I had the answers I was looking for, for better or worse.
I crossed the foyer in what felt like a single stride, swung the front door open, and then slid to a stop just before the short flight of stone steps that led to the front yard. Standing in the middle of the dead lawn of the front yard was the pale man, with the long scar across his face and the same long black leather coat he had been wearing the two other times I’d seen him. In his hands were a pair of twin knives that he carried down to his sides. His eyes were closed, and he was mumbling under his breath.
“What the fuck?” I said, more to myself but the words came out aloud.
The instant I spoke the pale man's eyes shot open, and the volume of his voice grew steadily louder as he became more overcome with passion. "…and shield. Be beneath me O Mistress, my helper, and strength. Be ahead of me O Mistress, my inspirer, and guide. I am your servant O Mistress! May I be full of Your love each day..."
He rushed towards me, knives in front of him at the ready. I barely had time to process the attack before he was on me, swinging the blades with precise, skillful strikes.
I ducked the first two attacks aimed at my neck with two quick dips, the way I would punches in a boxing ring. By the time I pivoted around to his side, I had my guard up, already looking to take advantage of the first opportunity, which came as he clumsily turned to face me square on.
I fired three sharp punches that rocked his head left then right in both directions as I first went high, and then doubled him over with a clean right hook to the body that landed flush in his liver.
Both knives hit the floor, and I ran at the pale man, taking advantage of the opening and shouldering him with all of my strength. He hit the ground in an awkward tumble and slid to a stop halfway across the yard.
I picked up his knives at my feet; one had ‘Glory' etched into the handle, the other read ‘Repent.' I tossed them over my shoulder, clear over the short fence and onto the neighboring property. The pale man climbed to his feet, positioned between me and the gate entrance, blocking what would have been the perfect opportunity to flee.
I sighed in resignation and edged closer. "Hey, man. I don't know what your fucking problem is. I don't want to hurt you, but you need to tell me why you've been following me. And I think you need to start talking right no—"
The pale man whipped his arm around, and a glint of metal streaked towards me. A moment later the hilt of a knife jutted from my shoulder, sending a searing pain flaring down my arm and across my chest as the reality of what had just happened mentally registered. My arm dropped halfway to my waist like a thick branch suddenly cut free from a tree before I even thought to stop it. And when I did catch it, another explosion of pain flared from the point of impact, and I didn’t have the strength to bring it back up.
That seemed to energize the pale man; a wild look came to his eyes. He put his head down and rushed towards me.
I tried to pull the knife from my shoulder, but the pain racing down my arm multiplied the instant I placed my hand on it. I let it go in a growl and raised my good arm in front of me to meet the oncoming attack.
I stole a quick glance around in hopes that someone on the desolate street was watching, or at least walking along the sidewalk. Of course, there was no one. By the time I focused back on the pale man he was on me, grunting and panting as he swung wild, looping punches that would have been hard enough to deal with had I had full use of both arms. But limited as I was, getting overwhelmed was inevitable.
I managed to weave and block the first several of the clubbing blows, but one eventually slipped my guard, catching me flush on the chin. The world lurched to the side as if I was standing in the middle of a moving subway cart,
and blackness closed in on my periphery. I shook my head as vigorously as I could, and the world came back in a rush.
There was a moment of disorientation as I had somehow staggered away from the pale man without being consciously aware of it and was working my way up the short flight of stairs, back towards the house, when my full wits came back to me. I scrambled to the top and turned around, expecting to see the pale man right behind me, ready to press his advantage. Instead, he was a dozen feet away, slowly walking towards me with a fresh pair of knives in his hands.
“Yes, you fall far too short of the Mistress’ glory to repent. My humble body will be the conduit of Her wrath.” He raised the knife in his right hand and gazed at the blade, then nodded. He then raised the blade in his left hand to his face, shifting his gaze to it, and continued speaking. “But there is still room for mercy, should the Mistress so choose.”
He ran at me again, and I staggered backward until my back was pressed against the wall, waiting. He swung the point of the blade towards the center of my throat, but I sidestepped it at the last moment, leaving the knife grinding against the brick wall behind me. I countered with an uppercut that snapped his head up and buckled his legs, dropping him down to a knee in front of me.
I push-kicked him back down the short flight of stairs, then turned and rushed into the house, slamming the door behind me. My injured shoulder made me far too slow fumbling with the lock; as soon as my numbed fingers found the latch, the door exploded open, staggering me backward off balance.
The pale man roared and returned the favor with a kick to my chest that drove the air from my lungs and launched me off of my feet, clear through the small foyer and into the darkened hall in a sprawl on my back.
I pushed myself up onto an elbow and slid backward as the pale man stalked forward. He stopped and raised one of the knives into a shaft of light that came in from the glass panes above the door, and then shook his head as he studied the broken blade.
"I didn't think so. No," he said, tossing the broken knife to the ground. "There will be no mercy for you, then." He pulled another knife from his coat and held it up to the light to read the handle, and then visibly recoiled just before he read the hilt aloud. "Salvation?"
Red Lineage Page 10
