by Steven Fox
Jason nodded, and Darlene walked toward the street. She held up her cell phone, clicking away, crossed herself with it, and then jabbed it forward. A portal ripped open mid-air, revealing a lush landscape with a castle and hordes of magi high schoolers. Jason’s chest tightened.
Before passing through, Darlene turned, waved at Jason, and said, “Smile!”
As the portal closed, Jason tried. But failed, and his eyes remained locked on where the floating portal had been. He tried to cling to the castle with its mighty turrets and the dragon-guards. All those things swirled in Jason’s mind for a moment. Immediately, he clutched the bench’s edge. All wrong, he thought. I shouldn’t be here. But she was—
And before the thought set in, the bell rang.
***
First period passed in a blur, yet slowly, so that Jason suffered through the pre-class banter and lecture but couldn’t remember anything worth repeating. He got a few hi’s from people he used to call friends. But they quickly scurried away, as though Jason were a viper. When the end-of-period bell rang, he waited until everyone else had emptied out. Then he followed, shuffling his feet, staring ahead at nothing in particular. He bumped into a few people, but didn’t care.
He somehow managed two more class periods, then decided school was a nuisance best skipped. The less human contact the better. Instead of heading to homeroom at the south end of the building, Jason walked to the cafeteria, toward the library. The library was a safe place because, unlike Darlene’s school, none of the faculty were dragons-in-disguise, prowling the school grounds in search of students MIA.
At the other end of the cafeteria, Jason passed a bulletin board. He peered at it, a habit that hadn’t faded in over a year. His feet stopped working, along with his legs, and he halted mid-walk. His gut seized. The liquid stone poured into his arms, just like when the second chair in his room had flashed into existence.
The word is “forth,” he thought. Just say it and keep moving. But his body wouldn’t listen. His feet and hips pivoted; his legs carried him to the board. First he saw the yellow cardstock, then the letters stretching across the top and the block of text anchoring the bottom. He stared deeply into the sign. He resisted letting his eyes drift to the middle, where he knew there was a picture. But his eyes wanted to look, and Jason had no control of his body. After reading the text-block across the bottom, he shifted his gaze to the picture.
She had long blonde hair, but this was the cardstock’s manipulation. It had actually been light brown. She’d had hazel eyes, which were such a sickly shade of yellow in the photo that Jason wanted to laugh. But he couldn’t. This thought released something inside, the very something that leaked prickly liquid stone into his arms and legs and body. Already his fingers started to weigh heavy.
Say “forth,” he thought. And walk away.
But he couldn’t, for a scream ripped through his head: PAY FOR YOUR BETRAYAL.
Jason tore himself away from the picture, and ran down the hall. He breathed a sigh of relief. He had escaped. Adjusting his backpack, he headed for the exit just at the end of the next hall. But as he rounded the corner, another sign jumped at him, luring him in, seducing him. And he froze again. The girl in the picture smiled at him, and he felt as though she were there in person. He could almost smell her favorite lavender shampoo and taste her strawberry lip-balm.
“Tara Engel,” he said, savoring each syllable like a bite of vanilla sundae.
The flyer was titled, “In Memory of Tara Engel.”
The liquid stone closed its grip upon him. He stumbled forward into the picture. He flailed his arms, hoping to catch himself. Instead he smacked his face into the stone wall and his arms flattened against his sides. He didn’t feel any pain in his face. All the pain gathered at the back of his head, at the base of his skull, as it usually did.
SAY FORTH YOU IDIOT.
Jason wrenched his eyes shut, trying to take in a deep breath. It sounded like he was sucking ice cream through a straw. Exactly what it felt like, too. He sucked in enough air to say, “Forth,” and as though someone had unplugged a drain, the liquid stone bled from his body and flowed back to the dark depths of his mind. He felt heavy, like he’d woken from a deep sleep. Except he didn’t feel refreshed. His heart pumped hard; sweat bulleted down his face. The thrum in his temples was enough to make him close his eyes again. For good.
“Get up.”
He opened his eyes and looked around. All he could see was the wall and floor, so he flipped over, leaning his back against the wall. Stars buzzed in his vision. Someone was next to him, placing a hand on his right shoulder. He smelled something like mothballs.
“Come on,” said the hand’s owner. “You have that boy waiting for you, remember? He’s looking forward to that toy.”
“Hit…my head…”
“I don’t think that’ll hurt it any. You have a very hard head.” The voice chuckled at this, then continued, “Besides, you don’t want the giant to find you like this. Trust me, she will find you. Get up. Move.”
He raised his head in the voice’s direction. After the stars lifted from his vision, but before he could say anything, there was no one.
***
Besides the sun feeling too bright, everything returned to normal. Jason could think straight, and his limbs moved upon command. But the voice still bothered him. Not the one in his head, but the other one, the one that had touched him.
Jason came upon a chain link fence. The fence surrounded the corner of a block. A sign on the fence read: SHERIFFSBURG ELEM. PLAYGROUND. It was recess now, and the playground flooded with untied shoelaces, schoolyard crushes, and whooping and hollering. Monkeys disguised as kids darted around the blue-foam grounds, ducking and weaving around metal slides and jungle gyms. Nothing amiss here. Jason didn’t spot Trevor, but kept looking.
Two high school-aged kids were leaning against one of the slides. Jason didn’t recognize them, but felt like he should. They each had black hair, and were very pale. One was a very voluptuous girl, with hair down to her back. The other was a boy. Despite their obvious difference in gender, Jason had a hard time telling them apart. He glanced at his phone for the time; he wanted to give Trevor the Megatron figure and get home so he could take a nap before work. If he went to work.
No sooner had he turned than was there a shriek for help.
The high school boy held another boy half his size against a plastic wall knotted with footholds. The girl pointed at the small boy, a slight grin on her lips. Must’ve done something, thought Jason. Nothing strange here. Nope. Not at all.
But something was wrong.
Jason edged along, hugging the fence, and hooked his fingers through the chain links. At the feet of the high schoolers lay a body—the body of the boy they had pressed against the wall. The high school girl pulled a knife, wicked and curved, from her pants. The boy screamed, but no one seemed to notice besides Jason. The girl rotated the blade, giving the boy a nice view. Then she placed it against his neck.
“Hey!” shouted Jason, rattling the fence.
Most of the kids stopped playing and stared at him, as did the high schoolers. Upon seeing Jason, the two straightened up and dropped the boy, who vanished into his body on the ground. The high school twins then turned and ran.
As Jason stood there, watching them run, he realized something: He knew those two; their names were Amor and Bootelia; and somehow, they were connected to Talshe.
FOUR
As Jason walked toward the Silver Moon garage, he yawned—the result of his unsuccessful nap attempt. He felt slightly annoyed at this. But he was more annoyed by the moment he presented Trevor with Megatron. Trevor had been happy, smiley. Jason had wanted to return the smile, but no. He didn’t even feel happy, when he gave the toy away. He just felt…there. Numb, maybe. Even that felt like too much. He was also thinking about the two high schoolers, those twins at the playground. He’d recognized them in the same way as Talshe. Yet he didn’t. When he thought too ha
rd about them, as with Talshe, his head hurt.
He used his key to unlock the side door and walked inside. Just before he could hop in his van, someone shouted at him: “Jason!”
From the other side of the garage appeared a tall, barrel-chested man holding a wrench in one hand and some papers in the other. His beard curved upward as he smiled, his blue eyes watery in the overhead lights. “So, have you heard?” he said.
“What?”
“We’re short two people! Can you believe it? ‘Parently we’re supposed to get a new girl tomorrow. But waddabout today? Your father’s a good man, but I don’t know why he does the things he does sometimes.”
Jason shrugged. “Me too, Tom.”
“’Nyways, guess you’ll be training ‘er. Father’s orders.”
“Can I do that?”
“You been working long enough. A year’s vacation hasn’t made you that rusty.” Tom laughed, oblivious to Jason’s clenched fists. “Don’t think it’ll be hard. She’ll just need to ride around with you.”
Jason considered this a moment, unclenching his fists, then said, “I wonder if he’s training her to replace me.”
Tom shook his head. “Don’t think about it. She’s just a new driver is all. You’re still the best I’ve seen.” He patted Jason on the shoulder, and Jason wished he could show something, anything. But all he felt on his face was a stone-like expression. Tom awkwardly removed his hand, looking around, pursing his lips. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t.”
“You look bothered. Something wrong?”
As much as Jason liked Tom, he couldn’t explain anything to him. He’d tried with his father, and that’s how he got his dreams sealed. No one listens, thought Jason. They think everything can be fixed with magic. Normies with their medicine and technology, magi with their wands and enchantments. And here I am, in between and outside of both.
Jason started. The thought had been the closest thing to resentment he’d felt since before a year ago. But the wave of strange anger ebbed, and nothingness re-absorbed all of his emotional interests.
Tom cleared his throat. “Well, I have your orders. Don’t got much today, so you’ll prolly be working inside afterwards.”
He handed Jason a list of groceries and a slip of paper with the address. Jason, out of habit, checked the address first. He double-checked the address, then looked up at Tom. “There must be a mistake,” he said. “They only get a weekly delivery and that was yesterday.”
Tom shrugged. “Said they didn’t get the milk and eggs last time.”
As Tom turned and disappeared to the other side of the garage, Jason stared back down at the note. The address read: 214 South Hollow Ave. That was where he’d received the note, where he’d first seen Talshe.
***
Ten years ago, South Hollow Ave as Jason knew it didn’t exist. Instead of many broken-down houses there was only one large, moldy mansion. Jason remembered going in there a couple of times, despite his parents forbidding it. As a kid he’d loved to escape his house and run through the night. He was lucky that he hadn’t been hurt in the earthquake, which completely demolished the mansion. After that, the city leased the land to build more houses, including the house at 214 South Hollow Ave.
It looked the same as before. Except for the lack of vase shards and potting soil. Someone had cleaned it up. This didn’t surprise Jason. Who would just leave a bunch of sharp, broken glass pieces lying about? He took inventory of the messy porch, the overgrown front lawn, the grass-stained foundation, and the layer of grime on the windows. Perhaps he was a little surprised.
Jason killed the engine and hopped out. Crossing to the back of his van, he jerked his head in each direction. She’s still out there, he thought. She won’t stop till I’m dead. He lifted the eggs and milk from the van. Thanks to Talshe, to that bizarre note, Jason had forgotten to do his job last time. He double-checked to make sure he had everything, then, without closing the van doors, headed toward the porch.
The door was unlocked, as usual, and the table was set with a new vase and new flowers—tulips of yellow and frothy pink. He set the eggs and milk on the floor, craning his arm as a sneeze came on. After wiping the mucus off his elbow, Jason spotted it: In front of the vase sat a large, golden key. Next to it was another note, labeled with his name, written in the same flowing script and fuchsia ink. The envelope smelled of mothballs.
The note read:
Jason,
This key is it.
Do take it with you. Show it to no one. Some people might know what it is. Others may only stare blankly at it. I’ve heard of these antique collectors who will pay for anything that looks old and valuable. I’m not sure if this key fits either description, but be careful with it nonetheless. After all, it’ll let you inside. And, if I’m right, that’s where you’ll want to be. If not now, then soon.
At the bottom, instead of a signature, there was another line:
I know you miss her, but you can’t give up.
There were a few tears in the note where his mysterious writer had accidently poked through the page. He glanced back to the key, then set it and the note on the table and left. Already his hands felt heavy at his sides. His breath turned shallow. His tongue still moved with ease, and he had enough control over his lungs to quickly murmur ‘forth,’ which dispelled everything and jettisoned it to the darkness of his mind. He sighed, shaking out his arms, which felt prickly and warm.
He headed toward the back of the van so he could shut the doors. Just as he put his hands on the door handles, a clicking noise came from around the van. The noise was that of a dog’s untrimmed nails on concrete. Had a stray wandered to his van? If so, he would chase it off. Then again, it could be dangerous. But this only occurred to Jason after he rounded the van to look at the animal. He wished he’d thought about the danger before looking.
Next to the van, pawing at the door, stood no ordinary dog. It was hairless and eyeless and earless. Its skin was wrinkly, leathery and red. Its mouth hung open, a slick tongue dangling off to the side.
As if just noticing him for the first time, the hound turned its head toward Jason. A deep, menacing growl emanated from its throat, a gurgle that made Jason’s toes curl. Jason knew he should run. But as he whipped around, the earth trembled. He fell to one knee. The blood drained from his face. He could already taste the rotted stench of Talshe’s breath. The hound growled as it stalked toward Jason, its muscles popping. Its claws clicked upon the road.
The hound stopped. For a long moment, Jason stared into the eyeless dog’s face. Another tremor rippled through the earth.
Something clicked inside Jason’s head, and he said to the hound, “Leech. Your name is Leech. You’re also connected to Talshe.”
Growling, it lunged forward. Jason barely ducked in time and missed Leech’s black, fishhook-like talons. It crashed onto the porch, rolling onto its side and stopping. The ground shook again, this time much louder and much more violent than before. Jason glanced over at the van and the back doors he’d left ajar.
Leech clambered to its feet and swung itself toward Jason, but already Jason had hauled himself into the back of the van. His heart was pounding, and he could taste the salt of his own sweat as it rolled down his upper lip. The hound leapt, narrowly missing Jason’s right leg. Jason scrabbled to the front of the van and dug his keys from his pocket. Leech’s claws scraped on metal as it struggled into the back of the van. Just as planned, thought Jason.
Leech pulled its red bulk inside just as Jason inserted the keys into the ignition. The dog’s growl sounded thunderous, and a smell of wet copper, thick like the taste of nosebleed, curdled the air. Leech darted forward, and Jason turned the keys. The van shook, and the white circle appeared around the hound in a white-hot flash. Leech yowled, reeling back, then forward when it hit the circle’s back-most boundary. It flopped onto its side in the middle of the circle, panting like a marathon runner.
He jumped
out the driver’s-side door and locked it with a spare key. He went to the back, shut those doors, and locked them, as well. His next step was to head for the paladins’ stronghold. It would take him about fifteen minutes on foot. The van doors were locked and no one was getting in or out. So Jason turned west. And he froze. How foolish he felt for not noticing the vanished tremors.
Towering high above everything, Talshe smiled, her stale-warm breath washing over Jason. She winked at him, and lifted a balled fist. Jason knew he would die, and thus wondered if his dad would regret deciding to erase Jason’s memories. He half-expected his life to flash before his eyes. Perhaps it would remind him that there was so much to live for.
Besides Trevor, Jason couldn’t think of anything.
Talshe’s fist hammered down, and missed him. She raised her hand again, brought it down again, but still missed. Jason stared up at her. She can’t be that bad of an aim, he thought. But her fist came down again, and she hit the van a third time. The van’s back doors popped open, and there was a sputter that sounded like a dying engine—his van’s. The giantess smiled triumphantly as Leech slumped out, his claws clacking on the pavement. He slunk away from Jason and stood at Talshe’s feet.
“Now,” rumbled Talshe, “no more escaping.”
Jason spared only a moment before trying to run. But Leech was quicker: It reared onto its hind quarters then slammed its paws into the earth. Jason’s body seized. Immense dizziness rushed up his body as he fell to his hands and knees. Leech’s claws clicked as it charged him, its mouth growing wide enough to swallow Jason whole. With only a few feet between them, Jason closed his eyes and braced himself.
Something wrapped around him. But it wasn’t Leech’s wet, slimy mouth. It tightened and hoisted him into the air, away from Leech and its gluttonous mouth. He opened his eyes, still dizzy, and looked up at Talshe’s approaching face. She leered down at Leech. From her height, Leech’s growl sounded more like a cat’s purr.
