Eden's Eye (The Gates Book 1)

by Leonard Petracci

  “Oakley,” I said. “It’s not my fault, what’s happening to me. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. It’s not my fault that I’m this way!”

  “That you’re what way? Psychotic? A pathological liar?”

  “I didn’t think you would believe me!” I said, my own voice rising to a shout. “I didn’t think you’d want to know anyway! I’ve spared your life so many times, why are you mad?”

  “You’ve what?” she hissed, and I heard her stepping backward. “Spared my life? Is that a threat? Were you tempted to take it before? Oh god, oh god, what a creep you are. Don’t you ever come near me again, Caleb.”

  “No, of course not! I didn’t mean it that way!”

  “Just like you didn’t mean lying about going to school here? What else did you lie about?”

  “What? I do go to school here.”

  “Sure you do, Caleb. I went with my friend to find the haunted house he had talked about the other night, the one we were supposed to go to later this week. And do you know where he brought me? He brought me to the steps of this building! Do you know why he brought me here?”

  I could think of dozens of reasons. The demon that lurked below us, the whispers, the sounds in the night. The cupboards that seemed to open themselves, as well as the figures I could see.

  But I lied, just like she accused me of doing.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “He brought me here because the school never opened again after that gas leak! That this building has been abandoned for years, that his father was a child the last time that there was class here! So I checked, and he was right. This isn’t a school—you lied to me about going here, and who knows what else.”

  “Oakley, that’s ridiculous. I just went to class today, if you let me go upstairs to get my notes, I can prove it.”

  “How do you explain the dust, then? There are only three sets of footprints in it, now that I look—yours, Shankey’s, and mine. And the textbooks from years ago? Just admit it, Caleb. Tell me why you’re lying.”

  “I’m not,” I said, exasperated, as I heard her turn to leave. “Oakley, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You know, if you admitted it and had a good explanation, I might be able to see past this. Maybe we could figure it out. I liked you, Caleb. I really did, I thought you were sweet. But I was wrong. Very wrong.”

  Then she turned on her heel, leaving me alone on the ground as she wrenched the door open into the cold night air and slammed it shut behind her.

  Chapter 38 - Signing

  “Considering the circumstances,” said the demon when I walked back down the stairs, my mind still buzzing, “I can return to renegotiate, as there’s no reason for you to take the deal now.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, and I took a seat this time, staring up the table at him. I’d taken Shankey back to my room, locking him inside before returning. Partly because I knew that I didn’t want him seeing what I had to do, whether or not he understood it.

  “It’s not like you’re going to get the girl anymore, little lord. Let her go—you’ll score some bonus points with Death, and she was rightfully his to begin with.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m going to take it.”

  “You’re going to what?” he said, practically choking as the word left his mouth. “Didn’t you hear her? She doesn’t care about you anymore. And now that your grandmother doesn't have that as a bargaining chip, I’m sure you could barter for much more. You ever wanted to be rich? Done, in a snap! Famous? Overnight, I see your name flashing on the billboards now! Hell, you could just order up another girl to replace her. Plenty of beauties to go around in Hell, you know, it attracts more than you would think. I’m sure one could be spared and sent back up here for a round two!”

  “Shut up,” I said, gritting my teeth. “The deal was I get my eyes back, and she gets her life back, right? I don’t care what she thinks about me, it’s not her time yet.”

  “By the very definition of death hunting her, I would object to that.”

  “She lives. Either way, I still get my sight back.”

  “True, you do, but I should warn you—”

  “Enough!” I shouted. “I’m not changing my mind, and I don’t see why you should care. Where’s the pen? Let’s get this over with.”

  “As you wish,” said Iaco, and he handed it to me. It was hot in my hand, stinging against my skin as if it were acid on a cut, and the paper was made of that same red, glowing material.

  “While I can see your outline, and the outline of everything else that comes with you, I still can’t read this,” I said, jabbing my finger at the paper.

  “Right, right. Well not for long, little lord! Just sign down here, right at the bottom. You don’t have to be that accurate—it’s the intention that counts.”

  I dipped the pen in the ink, and he spoke up again.

  “Hey now, that’s just ink. You can’t sign with that! We’re going to need something a little more binding.”

  “Like what?” I said, and chills ran down my spine as he answered, his voice a whisper.

  “Why, blood of course, little lord. I sharpened the pen for you. Just find a good spot on your arm and jab it in. You won’t need much. As I said, it’s all about intent. Contracts are so much easier in modern times; in the past, when we had to worry about formalities, I swear it took a pint to write some names out!”

  I swallowed, considering what I was about to do. But if it gave Oakley her life back, it was worth it. At least that’s what I told myself, but I think there was another motive. That after the death of my parents, after not having seen Liz, after Oakley’s accusations moments before, a part of me didn’t care.

  So I raised the pen, then swept downward in an arc, the tip sinking deep into my forearm, pain erupting from not only from the puncture wound, but also from the the residue injected into my vein. Taking a sharp breath, I looped my signature across the paper where the demon indicated, the letters glowing, visible even to me.

  “It is written,” whispered Iaco, rolling the paper tight. “And now, for our end. Oakley walks free. And for you, close your eyes, little lord. And be thankful we are in the cellar, so the entire city doesn’t hear you scream.”

  “Wait—” I said, but he had already lunged toward me, pushing me against the wall as he cackled. Then his thumbs were over my eyelids, applying pressure while his fingers gripped the back of my head. And with a single jarring motion, he pierced his sharpened thumbnails from my eyelids through to my retinas.

  I’ve known pain before. I’ve felt it, and I’ve toughed it out, and I’ve walked away. My stepfather had taught me that, after many applied lessons, and it had only made me more stubborn. Each time I would get back to my feet with my head held high to spite the pain, to prove out of pride that I was better than it. To never let it win.

  But I’d also never had my eyes gouged out.

  I screamed as the demon pressed harder, his fingers performing a quick circle around the inside rim of my eye socket, holding me fast to prevent me from jerking away. Then he withdrew, and what used to be my eyes started to burn as if they had been replaced by hot coals, scorching the rest of my face, the heat searing even at the back of my skull.

  I fell to the ground, rolling, my palms clasped firm over the wounds as blisters formed over the skin. Color exploded into my vision. Streaks of yellow, red and orange flared so bright that I feared I would descend immediately back into blind darkness. But as my sight sharpened, I saw that the colors were actually a wall of flames that roared across my vision, contained within a long room. And at the end of the room there was a figure that sharpened into focus with each passing second.

  I saw the smile first, a triumphant smile. Then I saw the wrinkles on her face, and her hair that the flames refused to singe.

  Then I saw her lift something thin and rectangular.

  And I screamed again as my grandmother laughed, the contract in her hand, and my name scrawle
d across the bottom in blood.

  Chapter 39 - With Open Eyes

  I shivered on the floor of the cellar as I awoke, my neck twisted at an odd angle, my breath coming in gasps as I rolled it back into place. And then I opened my eyes.

  Above me, there was a face that materialized out of the darkness—a face with crescent eyes, red skin, and long canines that extended past the lower lip when it smiled. Its black hair was slicked back and tied into a thick knot, and its ears were pointed, their tips a hue darker than the rest of its face.

  “Wakey wakey, little lord,” it said as I scrambled backward. “What, am I not pretty enough for you?”

  I gasped and held my fingers to my eyes, blinking again as the shapes came into focus in the dark.

  “I can see,” I breathed, flexing my hand and tracing it in the darkness, then turning to look around the dark cellar and spotting the wooden box on the ground. “Before you were just a red outline, but now I can see your face!”

  “That is how deals work,” the demon drawled, his voice matter of fact. “I give you something, you give me something, you know.”

  I ignored him, still in astonishment. Though my vision was restored, I could still make out a dull red outline around the box and the demon, superimposed over their shapes.

  “How long was I out?” I said, gesturing to the ground.

  “All night!” Iaco said cheerfully. “Though you’re quite a sleep talker. I would hate to be your roommate!”

  “What? Why didn’t you wake me?” I said, jumping to my feet. “That means classes are starting! And Mary would be amazed to see this, that I can see!”

  “It’s not like growing a fresh set of organs is instant, little lord. You needed your rest. Try to stay out of the sunlight for a bit, they’ll be a tad bit sensitive. Oh, you’re leaving already? Well don’t completely forget about me, and if you ever need to deliver a message to the underworld, I’m your guy.”

  “Sure,” I said, reaching the stairs, again marvelling at how I could actually see them. “I’m sure that the very first thing I’ll want to do is come back here and call into Hell.”

  “You never know,” he said, and he smiled. A smile that made me shiver. A knowing smile.

  I finished climbing the stairs, observing everything I could about the place that was new to me, admiring the shaft of light that ran underneath the door. Already I could hear bustling in the hall, students calling out to each other on their way to class.

  Maybe I should pretend I’m still blind, I thought, So I don’t arouse suspicion. Yes, I’ll do that, and I’ll only tell Mary my secret.

  So I placed my hands on the door and held my breath, then pushed it open.

  And burst into the new world.

  Chapter 40 - Farsighted

  The hallway was deserted when I walked out, though I could still hear the chatting of students. I paused, unsure if maybe my hearing had been affected by the deal, or perhaps was less acute now that I had my sight restored.

  Looking to the ground, I saw Oakley had been right, my eyebrows scrunching together as I examined the thick dust and my footprints leading to and from the cellar. It was caked on the windows as well, tinting the light that managed to come through, swirling throughout the air. And reaching down, I ran a finger through it, surprised as something hit the side of my head as I straightened up.

  But up and down the hallway, there was nothing, not the object that had hit my head or any other students. I blinked, checking again, and frowned. Iaco had said I would need time to heal, maybe my eyes were not fully functional yet.

  So I started walking towards my first class, pulling my arms in close to myself, glancing left and right as I heard footsteps. The hairs on my neck pricked upwards with each step, the sounds coming from no source, yet still all about me.

  “Watch it!” shouted a voice as I was pushed leftward, a foot stomping on my own in accompaniment to the invisible force. I fell, colliding with other bodies, hearing the sound of books falling directly ahead of me though there was nothing there. And jumping to my feet, I bolted down the hallway toward my first class, brushing off invisible people and knocking invisible bags to the ground as I went, cursing following me from behind.

  I dashed into my first period class, breathing heavily, stopping just inside the door when I saw that it, too, was empty.

  “Caleb, you’re late!” came Mary’s voice from the empty room, and I scanned the seats before I saw her in her usual desk.

  But I’d nearly passed over her, because her body was transparent.

  Everything about her was diluted, the colors of her face and hair tinted silver, her clothes muted. She smiled, a smile that turned to a puzzled frown as her eyes met mine, and I felt the scream starting in my throat. And she put her hands up to stop me, exposing bloody arms with blisters that ran along her forearms, burns like the ones my mother had occasionally brought home from the diner but far worse.

  “Caleb, everything is going to be alright,” she said as I backed away, and the teacher’s voice sounded from right beside me.

  “Mary, if I have to tell you to be quiet one more time, it’ll be a week’s worth of detention!” it shouted, and I jumped away, whipping toward the source.

  But like the rest of the classroom, the space was empty, the date on the chalkboard wrong by several months, and the year off by far more. By decades.

  “You never yelled at me because you couldn’t see me,” I shouted in realization at the teacher. Then to Mary, “And the students, they were only just aware of me, telling me to leave and move out of the way.”

  “Just calm down, Caleb,” said Mary, standing and starting to walk toward me, her feet leaving no imprint on the dust below.

  “You stay away from me!” I shouted, and she stopped in her tracks as the teacher scolded her again. And I reached inside my pocket, fishing for the newspaper that Oakley had given me from the library, and began to read the column. The words came slow as I fought to remember the specific letters. But the article was short, and only took a minute to read.

  A tragic gas leak occurred at Elm’s Ridge at approximately 7:06 yesterday morning, just after the start of classes. Inspectors discovered the origin of the leak to have been beneath the aged monastery, likely in the cellar or the foundation itself. One hundred and twelve children were claimed by the incident, as well as the entire faculty and the resident priest. Only one survivor was identified, pictured left, though she was burned during the ordeal as she was delivering a note to the kitchens, and passed out against the open flames of the stove, scorching her arms.

  A lump formed in my throat as I saw the picture, as well as the caption.

  Pictured: Mary Elizabeth Demi, with her divorced mother, Salome Anaid.

  There, receiving treatment for her wounds as she was being carted to the ambulance, was Mary, the same age as the Mary that stood across from me now.

  And next to her, several years younger, but her face unmistakable as it stared out of the picture, was my grandmother.

  Salome Anaid.

  Chapter 41 - Summons

  I backed over the threshold, outside the door, as Mary shouted again.

  “Caleb, wait!”

  But I was already running, running toward the cellar, throwing the door open and practically falling down the stairs.

  “Back so soon, little lord?” laughed Iaco when I arrived. “By the way, I have a message for you. From your grandmother, she says that it’s most urgent.”

  “You knew about this!” I shouted, pointing an accusation “You knew that all of them, that all of them were dead! That I was attending classes that were not there at all.”

  “Of course I did,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I saw it happen. But I had no obligation to tell you. Why spoil the joke?”

  “No wonder you’re a demon,” I hissed, and I turned toward the box on the floor. “That box, you said that it is a link. A link between the worlds. If something is dead, it should be able to pass through it, right? It sho
uld be a kind of bridge.”

  “You’re smarter than you let on!” he exclaimed. “But yes, typically it works that way.”

  I reached down for the box, flinging it open, surprised with my new vision that I could still see the landscape within. And I thought back to the graveyard, where I had summoned the dead man, pulling him out of hell through the connection I had with death. By his name.

  And I remembered Mary upstairs, her arms burnt. So burnt that they would probably leave lifelong scars, scars that someone would want to cover up, with sleeves and gloves. Someone who might be able to converse with the spirits still at the school, because she had nearly died here so long ago, giving her a connection with them, similar to my own.

  I reached out with my consciousness through the box, and I shouted a name into the depths, summoning the spirit forth. Pulling it through the distance toward me, commanding it.

  “Mary Elizabeth Demi!” I shouted, reaching, searching. “I summon you from death! I summon you, Liz!”

  Chapter 42 - Hooks

  Light exploded from the box, silvery light that washed over my face like a water current, stripping heat away as it flowed past me and filled the cellar. A blast of wind howled from within, propelling the box out of my hands and across the room, slamming it into the wall where it fell to the ground spinning on its edge like a top, strobing the silver light with each rotation.

  Mist streamed out of the opening like steam from a kettle, whipping in circles that spiraled towards the ceiling, condensing upon themselves to form a dress, then legs that stepped away from the box, followed by burnt hands and Mary’s face. She pursed her lips as she waited, her arms folded across her chest, giving me a look that conveyed as much annoyance as if i had just stolen another one of her pencils.

  Her dress and hair fluttered as there was a crack from the box, splinters exploding outward and hanging in midair as a figure stepped through, then slamming back together to form the cube again, its surface smooth as if it had never broken. The lid fell shut as it ground to a halt on the stone. The silver light cascaded around both the silhouettes in front of it.