by Marcus James
She walked back into the front room without saying a word and took a seat on the edge of the rococo-style upholstered sofa and pressed the cool cloth to the old woman’s face and began to caress her all over, gently rubbing her forehead and cheeks.
It took a few moments, but soon her old eyes began to open and she looked up at Magdalene with a steely rage.
“What are you doing to me? What are you doing in my house, bruja?!”
The old woman tried to sit up, but was still too disoriented from the blow to do much of anything.
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” Magdalene said to her, placing her hand on her right shoulder and gently guiding her to lie back down. “But for what you tried to do to me, you deserved it.”
The old woman laughed. “I deserve it? You witches bring this evil to us and you say I deserve it?”
Magdalene shook her head and continued to caress the old woman with the damp cloth. “This was here waiting for my cousin. All I am asking is for help.”
The old woman’s eyes moved from Magdalene to the medal dangling around her neck. “Ogun... you know Ogun?”
Magdalene nodded. “Yes. I have him on my head.”
Carmen Ramos looked back up at her, her black eyes searching her face and her steely expression relaxed and warmed into a smile. “So you do mija... so you do...”
The old woman took hold of Magdalene’s hand and brought it to her breast, placing it over her frail heart. “Forgive me. I thought you meant to do me harm...”
Magdalene nodded. “I understand, and I do forgive you. I just desperately need your help.”
“The Anunnaki.” The old woman said with an understanding nod.
“The what?”
“They are ancient... like the archangels before there were archangels. The great floods, the Nephilim-the children of mortals and angels-all come from them.”
“I don’t get it...”
The old woman sighed in understanding. “You will. Look to the past and that is where you will find your present.
“We are all in great danger. They are not good, nor are they evil. They are only the right hand of the gods. They only carry out the will of the gods when the gods have been slighted.”
“The Dark God of the Wood...”
Carmen Ramos nodded. “The Devil cries for a reckoning...”
“And Angelina?” Richie asked her. Speaking for the first time since he had moved the old woman to the sofa.
“She is faint, but she is somewhere waiting to be found.” Carmen sat up and placed her hand to the side of Magdalene’s face. “Find my granddaughter... bring her home to be healed.”
Magdalene nodded and kissed the back of the old woman’s hand. “I will. I will do whatever I can.”
They began to rise up from the sofa when the old woman tugged on Magdalene, forcing her to look at her again.
“Save your cousin, she does not understand her place in all of this... the Fates will not be ignored... what will be will be, and because of this and what she will one day bring into this world, all that serve Him will want her dead.”
Magdalene nodded and the old woman let her go. She waited by the door as Richie kissed the old woman on the cheek and promised to find Angelina.
As they made their way back to the car, Magdalene’s stomach began to turn. She thought of Kathryn and Sheffield making their way up to the house in the hills and she prayed that they would be all right.
“Where to next?” Richie asked her as they got back into the car.
“To the nearest library.”
Richie nodded and started the ignition. “You got it!”
XIII
Kathryn made her way up Devlin Drive, trying to steady her nerves and ignore the twisting knots in her stomach. The neighborhood was quiet and the mid-century homes were pristine in the bright sun. She had tried to listen to music on the way, but instead of distracting her from her apprehension, it only seemed to make her thoughts all the more erratic.
She wasn’t certain of what it was she was hoping to find when she got there. Did she want Angelina to be there, lost in some erotic haze or was she hoping Angelina was nowhere to be found? Did she want them to be home or was she hoping to find the place to be empty?
And if one of them was home, what would happen? The fear was eating away at her, and yet the desire-that lust for Kuri and the rest of the band-tinged that fear with a need she could not shake.
Of all of them, Kuri had been inside of her. he had been there down in the basement of Scream, and Kathryn was certain now, that he had somehow known that she was there-that he had been waiting for her, and everything about him-from the feel of his body to that fragrant and exotic smell that lingered on his skin-had clouded her judgment and entrapped her in her hunger for him.
When she made the turn onto North Devlin Place, everything inside of her was screaming at her to turn around. To just pull into the nearest driveway and make her way back to the Sunset Marquis and wait for Sheffield to wake up.
She had a job to do. The weight of responsibility was heavy, and this was all about her. It had been confirmed, and whatever had or hadn’t happened to Angelina Ramos, it was on her shoulders.
Am I heading to my death? She wondered as she pulled up along the curb in front of the mid-century ranch with its windows covered by thick drapes. The van was nowhere in sight, and she felt only a momentary wave of calm as she opened the door and took her first steps towards the house.
It was eerily quiet. Not a bird in a tree or a dog barking. Just an unsettling silence and a warm and oppressive breeze.
Kathryn summoned all of the courage she could muster and crossed herself. It was a reflexive and old Catholic habit, but it was the only prayer of protection she could bring herself to make.
It was like walking to the gallows, and she thought of all of those men and women who found their heads in a noose, or their hands tied around a pillar of wood at the top of the pyre. Her heart raced as she walked gingerly towards the front door, her heels tapping on the concrete and providing the only sound around her.
With each step her heart quickened and her palms began to sweat. As soon as she reached the large white double entry doors with their brass handles, Kathryn stood silently, trying to discern if there were any signs of life on the other side.
Nothing. Just more silence.
Kathryn reached out for the doorknob and gave it a turn. It was locked. She tried the other and found that it too was locked. She contemplated trying to go around to the back of the house, or even to simply knock, but decided against both.
“In and out.” She whispered. Kathryn directed her gaze to the door-squinting slightly and widening them again, and as she did, her power moved out of her and seconds later the lock gave a click.
She took hold of one of the door knobs again and gave it a turn, opening the door and spilling afternoon light into the house.
Everything was just as she remembered. The alcohol bottles and ashtrays still littered the floor and counters, and the stale perfume of cigarette smoke clung to the black drapes and lingered in the air. She could taste the stale nicotine in her mouth. It filled her nostrils and seemed to linger there.
“Hello?” she called out as she made her way into the large living room, passing the sofas and the coffee table with the dusting of cocaine, and passed the bookshelf with their suspicious books that she would come back to, and continued down the hall towards the room where she had left Angelina in the middle of her ménage with Arish and Niiq.
There were no pictures on the wall as she walked across the scuffed hardwood, and all the doors to the rooms were open, including the room that Angelina had been in.
It was sparse. A cheap faux-walnut dresser was up against the wall with a large mirror and nothing on the dresser with the exception of a few candles that had dripped on the floor and a couple beer bottles and some plastic Popov Vodka bottles. On the floor was a pile of discarded tee shirts and tight jeans, and the king bed, which was on
a low metal frame, was unmade with a white sheet that needed a wash, and an old torn-up brown comforter.
Kathryn walked over to the drawers of the dresser, and aside from some socks and underwear, and one or two pairs of jeans that had not found their way in the pile, there was nothing. She walked over to the closet-which had been broken from drunken shenanigans-and found it empty with the exception of some bare hangers and a guitar case.
“Great.” Kathryn sighed and walked over to the bed. The scene of the indiscretion and stretched out her hand just above the mattress. She closed her eyes and moved her hand slowly over it, feeling for the imprint of memory-searching to connect with the energy that everyone leaves behind.
Witches had an imprint different from other people. It was warm, vibrant, and had a solidity that was not unlike the reaction the brain gets when recalling a memory from a strong and familiar scent.
Like a hand reaching out and gripping her wrist, the residual energy of Angelina Ramos came to her, coiling around her fingers like invisible tentacles, and a wave of images flooded the screen of her mind.
Once again she saw Angelina, Arish, and Niiq inside of her and inside of each other, their lips all over each other’s bodies, Angelina and Niiq on either side of Arish’s cock, sliding their tongues up and down the shaft and kissing one another.
She saw Angelina writhing in ecstasy under the press of their bodies and the ferocity of their kisses. Kathryn felt it as if she were there. Every finger, every current of passion that had passed through Angelina’s body, as if she were Angelina, and then a bright flash of red cut through the vision and a shrill and petrified scream-a scream not unlike that of Cedric Rippner those nights wight years ago running from the Campus Slasher or Manny Esteban on the side of the canyon-filled her head and forced Kathryn to tear her hand away and stumble back towards the bedroom door.
“Angelina!’ Kathryn raced back out of the bedroom and made her way to the other bedroom down the hall, the room that she knew had to belong to Niiq, and she was immediately overcome by a flash of Fred Ortiz and Renee Maple’s faces as those creatures were tearing them open on the floor.
Kathryn realized it was this floor, and as she looked down at her feet she saw the faint shadow of dried blood. It had obviously been cleaned up, but not very well, and so its dark stain could still be seen.
She knew if she touched it she could discover everything that had happened to them, but she didn’t want to know. Seeing the blood was enough, and she had already spent too much time in this house already.
Kathryn backed out into the hall once more, and began to make her way into the living room. She could see the darkened hall that led to Kuri’s room on the opposite side of the living room, but she didn’t want to risk getting caught.
Kathryn stopped when she got to the bookcase, she had thought about continuing on and getting away as quickly as she could, but she needed to find out what these guys were into; what it was that they had brought into this world.
These flesh-hungry beasts from the pits that were now roaming the night and had possibly killed Angelina Ramos, all in a plot to eventually come for her.
Kathryn knelt down and began to scan the titles, once again finding books on black magic, a copy of The Necronomicon by Lovecraft, The Satanic Bible, various books on summoning demons, a wide range of records, and history books on the ancient world, particularly Sumer and Babylon.
“What could this all mean?” She found amongst them an old leather-bound book, it was thin, and distressed, and she hesitated for just a moment before pulling it off of the shelf. There was no title, no author, and it smelled old, not unlike a used bookshop or an antique store. It had that same lingering exotic scent as the guys had, and she could feel the power it held traveling through her hands and it seemed as if it was pulsating with its own life. As if it were breathing.
Kathryn opened it and looked through the old, worn pages. She understood none of the script on the page; it was written in a type of glyph that she had never seen, just a series of sharp lines that made up a language she had never known.
Anunnaki. The word came to her. The word from her dreams, the word that those people screamed over and over as their city fell to ruin about them and the word those women called out as they were making love to those men in the temple.
Another vision came to her. One of Arish, Niiq, and Kuri hunched over naked on the floor and writhing in agony as their bodies began to contort and the flesh of their backsides began to tear. She witnessed those black feathers begin to emerge from the skin, caked in blood and tissue that clung to each of those feathers, and their fingers-digging into the floorboards-were ripping apart and from underneath the severed skin, those talon-like hands ripped forth as they howled in primal agony.
Kathryn closed the book quickly and stood, tucking the thing under her arm and raced out of the house, not bothering to remember to close the door behind her.
She threw the corvette’s door open and tossed the book in the passenger seat. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
Kathryn’s heart was racing and her body trembled. Whatever these guys were, they weren’t human. They were the beasts. They hadn’t summoned them for a cheap thrill or made a bargain for fame and success in exchange for the hunger of these creatures, they were the monsters and she had slept with one of them!
Kathryn felt the acidic burn of vomit and quickly got the door back open, just as all of that rancid bile came out, splashing on the ground beside the car.
Get the hell out of here! She commanded. Kathryn felt as if more would come out, but she knew she had spent too much time here already, and if she got caught here, she would be risking her very life.
She slammed the door, stuck the key in the ignition, and peeled out of there; making a sharp U-turn as her tires screamed against the concrete. She had to get back to the Sunset Marquis to check in with Sheffield. She knew he was most likely awake and seething with rage, but she hoped that she could make him understand, and that as soon as she explained all that she had discovered, he would realize that it had been safer for him not to go.
As Kathryn turned back onto Sunset, she was certain that she had seen their van pass her and make its way onto North Clark Street and back towards the house. Had they recognized her? Had they realized that the black corvette they passed was her black corvette?
Should have closed the fucking door! Kathryn shook her head and sped on, desperate to get as far away from the house on North Devlin Drive as quickly as possible and back to the safety and familiarity of Sheffield’s arms.
Sheffield’s head was swimming. He had wakened to find himself on the bed, his hotel room empty and a knock coming from the door. “What the hell?”
He sat up and tried to piece together the last thing he could remember. He had undressed and Kathryn had been by the balcony door looking out onto the pool.
Her auburn hair only slightly reflected the light, and her ice eyes were transfixed on the activity at the pool in the center of the hotel’s courtyard. He had just grabbed a pair of jeans and a shirt from his suitcase when she had come to him and whispered an apology in his ear before kissing him.
There was nothing after that, just the sense of getting off of a carnival ride and the knock at the door.
“Room service.” A woman’s voice called from the other side of the door.
“Coming!” Sheffield made his way across the room towards the door, his feet shuffling along the carpet. He yawned and opened the door to find an older woman dressed in a black skirt and pressed white shirt with black hair and dark red lips holding a tray with a single cocktail sweating on a tiny white napkin.
“Your Old Fashioned as requested.” She said, blushing as she took in the sight of him standing in the doorframe clothed only in his underwear.
“Uh, thanks...” Sheffield said, suddenly embarrassed to be seen so exposed.
“No problem.” She handed him the glass and when he asked for the bill the woman informed him that it had already bee
n taken care of.
“I’m sure it has.”
Sheffield rolled his eyes and thanked the woman again before closing the door and taking a sip of the cocktail as he made his way back to the bed. He sat there for a moment, staring straight ahead at the closet, trying to piece together what happened, when he caught sight of the folded piece of paper on the bedside table, propped up against the lamp.
It was from Kathryn. She explained about him needing to drink the cocktail, and that essentially she had put him under some sort of spell, and that she was sorry and would explain everything when she returned.
“Goddamn it!” Sheffield crumpled the note and tossed it in the waste basket opposite the bed next to the dresser. Every time it seemed he could move past certain things, past all of the lies and the secrecy, she did something that threw it all into disarray.
He understood that this wasn’t exactly normal, but trust was trust, and if she didn’t trust him, or didn’t think he could handle it, then what was the point?
He threw back the rest of his drink and hurriedly got into his jeans and was just pulling on his navy blue tee when there was another knock on the door.
“Jesus, what now?” he walked over to the door and threw it open, prepared to tell whoever it was to leave him alone, when there, standing before him, was Kathryn. Her breathing was quick and heavy, as if she had been running all the way to his hotel room door, and her eyes were wide and slightly erratic.
“Can I come in?”
Sheffield nodded and stepped aside, the feel of her warm skin and the cloud of her perfume woke every fiber of his being and traveled to the sex between his legs, forcing him to brace the door in order to steady himself.
“You left.” He said to her as soon as she made it to the bed, forcing her to turn around and face him.
“I know I did, and I’m sorry.”
Sheffield didn’t flinch. Her could see the regret on her face and hear the sincerity in her voice, but looking at her only fueled his sense of betrayal. “You just did whatever the fuck you did and you left.”
