Here There Are Monsters

by Amelinda Bérubé

  But the dark pines of your mind dip deeper

  And you are sinking, sinking, sleeper

  In an elementary world;

  There is something down there and you want it told.

  —Gwendolyn MacEwen, “Dark Pines Under Water”

  Twenty-One

  We run, stumbling through the long grass in the twilight, toward the bright island of the house, the windows beacons calling us in from the dark. The creek is a twist of silver reflecting the sky, a leap just wide enough to be awkward. William lurches across it and staggers, sinks down into the grass.

  “Come on!” I tug at his arm, but he pulls it away.

  “I just”—he gasps—“I need a minute. Just give me a minute.”

  “I don’t want to be out here in the dark,” I snap. “For obvious reasons.”

  He nods, keeps nodding, heaving breath after ragged breath.

  “I know. I—just a minute.” He sags over his knees. “Oh, Jesus. Jesus Christ.”

  “Yeah,” I sigh. “I know.”

  I watch the darkening silhouette of the forest, clutching my sword, as he struggles to pull himself together. Nothing moves. A bell sounds briefly in the shadows. I wheel around to point the sword at it, but it bounds away, going quiet.

  “They took your sister,” he comes out with, finally. “That’s what happened to her. Isn’t it? That’s what you’re doing, you’re trying to get her back. That’s why you told us all of that, the other day. They made you.” I nod, and he laughs a little, helplessly. “Oh my God, all of a sudden this week makes so much more sense.”

  “You shouldn’t have followed me.” I tug at his arm, urging him to his feet, and this time he pulls himself upright and throws off my hand.

  “What the hell was I supposed to do? Just sit there like an idiot? You could have been getting rid of a body for all I knew!”

  “You thought—!”

  “That you killed her? That was Kevin’s theory, actually, but yeah, I have to admit it kind of crossed my mind!”

  I close my teeth on my outrage, swallow it. Of course that’s what he thought. What they all thought. I would have too, probably, in their place. “Well. Now you know better. Can we get inside already? Please?”

  I slam the front door to announce my arrival home and lead William downstairs to my room, yanking the door shut behind us—never mind that Dad will flip if he finds I’ve got a boy in here with the door closed. Let him think we’re in here making out. That’s fine. That’s a problem normal people have.

  William collapses onto my bed, his head in his hands. I sit next to him, dropping the sword to the tiles with a clatter and kicking it under the bed.

  “That was real, wasn’t it?” he says to the floor. “That really happened.”

  It seems like it shouldn’t be true, in here, in the light, facing the serene tapestry of my plants. Night presses up against the windowpanes. For the first time, I wish I had curtains to block it out.

  “At least now I know other people can see them,” I say.

  “How are you so calm about this?”

  “If screaming would help, I’d do it.”

  He waves one defeated hand, accepting the point, and doesn’t look up. Somewhere deep down, though, far removed and faint, his question leaves a bloom of satisfaction. Calm. That’s fitting for the Queen of Swords. That’s something.

  “Deirdre made them,” I tell him at last. “The monsters. Or their bodies, anyway.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Don’t ask me. Monsters are her thing. She used to make up these whole civilizations for them. Usually they’re just, like, weird little clay statues. Or things made out of felt.”

  William makes a face. “Or mouse bones?”

  “Ugh. No, that was—she was never that weird. Until we moved here. I don’t know. Maybe she just never had bones to work with before.”

  I think of her bare, hunched shoulders, turned away from me. I should have known something was wrong. Something was getting to her. Something was pulling her in. And I rolled my eyes at her, went to parties, went shopping.

  “I think something must have been…controlling her somehow. Maybe she was under some sort of spell. Or maybe she thought those things were her friends, and then they turned on her.”

  “This wasn’t the first time you saw them,” William says.

  I shake my head. “They came looking for me, a few nights back. Scratching at the window.”

  He glances apprehensively up at the glass, then to me, finally.

  “What was it they kept calling you?”

  “Queen of Swords.” I fold my arms. “Long story. It’s from a game we used to play. Sort of like Deirdre’s version of a knight in shining armor.”

  A rueful smile ghosts across his face. “It suits you.”

  I shrug this off. “It was just a game. They’re making fun of me or something. Trying to get to me. I don’t know.”

  “What were you even doing back there? What was—you said something about a guide?”

  “They wanted me to build another monster. Like Deirdre did. I guess it’s supposed to take me somewhere? They said I had to go to the castle.”

  “Castle? What castle?”

  “I have no idea. Deirdre called the dirt pile there a castle, maybe that’s what they were talking about.”

  “But it’s…a pile of dirt.”

  “I don’t know. None of this makes any sense. I guess I’ll find out eventually. I mean, I made the thing for them, they said I was close. I just…have to pay for it.”

  “No,” says William, looking away again. “I do.”

  There’s an awful, weighted silence after that. I can’t bring myself to break it.

  “They don’t like me,” he says. “Whatever they are. Why? What did I do?”

  “I have no clue.” I say it automatically, but then a possibility drifts reluctantly up through my thoughts. “But you’re not the first William Wright. Maybe your name’s been around here long enough for the woods to remember it. Deirdre kept calling you an invader.”

  “How is that fair?” he cries.

  “It’s just an idea, okay? They know me, and I’ve been here for less than six months. For all I know, they were yanking your chain because you were there.”

  “No.” He pushes himself to his feet, paces back and forth across the tiles. “No. I think you’re right. It makes sense. I think that’s it.” But then he pauses, puts his hands to his forehead again. “But my dad goes hunting in the woods all the time! If they wanted—why wouldn’t they—why now? Why me?”

  “Look, it really doesn’t matter. Okay? Why doesn’t change anything. We have to figure out what to do.”

  “We,” he echoes, like he doesn’t like the taste of the word.

  “Don’t look at me like that. This wasn’t my decision. You’re the one who followed me.”

  “And you’re the one who dragged me over there!” He straightens up, all accusation. “You used me to get out of the house, and now—”

  “I told you, I didn’t have any choice! What was I going to do, explain this to my parents? ‘Oh, sorry, Mom, I can’t be grounded right now. I have to go do the bidding of the monsters in the woods.’ You’ve seen them now; you know I didn’t have any choice! They have my sister!”

  He returns my glare for a few heartbeats before he caves.

  “I know,” he says helplessly. “I know.”

  “All I wanted was a way out of the house. I swear that’s as involved as you were supposed to get. Believe me, I’m not exactly thrilled about this either.”

  “So that’s it? You’re just—playing along? Doing what they want?”

  “All we have to do is get through it. Right?”

  “But what if we don’t?” He clenches his fists. “What if I can’t?”

 
“Look,” I sigh. “Let me show you something.”

  I unfold myself from the bed and stalk across the room to pull open the doors to the crawl space. The light slides over the reaching, tangled tendrils of the roots. He recoils from them, bumps into the shelves.

  “This wasn’t there before, okay? I had three days to tell you guys about Tyler. And then—this. So I finally did it on day four.” I close the door, shutting them out again.

  “But they want me to—they said I had to—” He can’t even finish the sentence, looks at me wild-eyed, a cornered animal. “I can’t do that!”

  “I don’t think can’t is an option here! If you don’t, they’ll come after both of us. You told them you’d do it!”

  “You told them I’d do it!”

  “Jesus, William, do you not understand what would have happened otherwise? I was protecting you!”

  He puts his hands up, fending off the words, his teeth clenched like he’s gripping calm between them.

  “Look,” he says. “Look. We shouldn’t talk about this here.” He jerks his chin toward the crawl space. “Right? Let’s go to my place. It must be pretty safe there, if they haven’t gotten inside in two hundred years.”

  “That’s nice for you and everything, but some of us—”

  “We just need somewhere to talk.” He lowers his voice. “We need a plan.”

  * * *

  My parents, slouched at the kitchen table, hesitate when I tell them we’re going to William’s house, maybe reading something in our faces. There’s only so much shifty anxiety you can hide.

  “We’re just going to watch the game,” William says. He’s passably casual. Good. “There’s a really big screen at my place.”

  Mom and Dad exchange a glance.

  “Your parents are around tonight, I assume?” Dad manages casual too. I’d have been mortified by that question, ordinarily. The thought drifts past from somewhere far away, an observation on a surreal pantomime.

  “Oh—yeah. Yeah, of course.” He even manages a sheepish smile. He’s better at this than I’d expected. He can get us through this. He has to.

  “Just don’t be too late,” Mom puts in, only a little shaky. It hurts, how hard they’re trying to be normal. How hard they’re pretending they’re okay. I’ll get Deirdre back. I will. I’ll fix this. “You’ve got your phone, right?”

  I nod, accept her kiss on my cheek. And we’re free to go.

  * * *

  Angie, washing dishes at the sink, goes stiff and wary as she spots me following William through the kitchen. Bet she’s been talking to Kevin and Sophie’s parents.

  “William?” she calls after him, looking at me.

  “It’s fine, Mom.” He doesn’t even turn around, and I quicken my step to catch up.

  William flicks on the TV—and it is impressive, a screen so wide it practically belongs in a theater—and turns the volume way up, hunkering down right in front of it, leaning back against the coffee table. I crouch beside him.

  “We need a plan,” he says, keeping his voice low. I have to lean in to hear him over the roaring of the game. “Some way to fight back.”

  I dig my fingers through the plushy carpet, reaching for patience. “We have to be realistic here, William.”

  “Well, have you tried it?” he demands. “Fighting?”

  “No,” I mutter, “I’ve got better sense.”

  The floor creaks behind us, and we both whip around. Bill Wright, looking startled, raises his hands apologetically and bows out of the room again. William settles back, blowing stray bits of hair away from his face. The light of the TV makes him look haggard, hollow-eyed.

  “There has to be some other way out of this,” he says. “Some way around them, you know? Help me think!”

  “William—”

  “Let’s start with what we’ve got already, okay? What do you know about them?”

  “Not much. Not more than you do. They have Deirdre. They live out there. They’re fucking scary.”

  “Come on, there has to be something. Like—what about your sword? They paid attention to that.”

  “It’s nothing special. It’s a toy. My dad made it for me.”

  He frowns. “So why does it work, then? Is it because it’s made of wood, do you think?”

  “No, it’s just something to knock them over with.”

  “So maybe we need better weapons,” he says, “like axes or something. We need something they’re afraid of.”

  I fold my arms over my knees, rest my head against them. “I don’t think they’re afraid of axes.”

  “Aren’t they all mad at my family for cutting down trees or something?”

  “Have you seen how huge that forest is? Even if we had a chainsaw, how much damage do you think we could do? Do you really want to piss them off even more?”

  “What about fire, then?”

  “Right, burn down the neighborhood. Great plan. A-plus.”

  “We just need some sort of leverage,” he insists, doggedly ignoring my tone. “Something we can use against them. We need to level the playing field, you know? So we’re not the only ones with something to lose.”

  “What makes you think that’s even possible?”

  “Just—help me out here!” He glances quickly over his shoulder at the doorway, then slumps down, lowering his voice again. “Seriously. Work with me for a minute. Please? There has to be another way.”

  On the screen, lines of blue and green uniforms erupt into knots of motion, particles breaking off and colliding with each other.

  “We’re wasting time,” I tell him.

  “Great. Thanks for that.” He scrubs his hands over his face. “Come on, help me think. There must be rules. Things they can’t do. Places they can’t go. Like here. Why?”

  “I don’t know, because it’s made of stone? Are you planning to never set foot outside again? Or convince your family to do the same? I don’t see that working out very well, somehow.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Skye—” He draws a deep breath, sits back. “You don’t understand.”

  I just look at him, and he throws up his hands.

  “All right, fine. I know you do. Sorry. But haven’t you thought that we shouldn’t be giving in to them on this? They’ll just ask for more and more! You’re showing them they have power over you!”

  “That would be because they do,” I snap. “I don’t have a choice. She’s my sister.”

  “And he’s my dad,” William says. It’s a plea. A puppy dog whimper. It cuts, and I falter. He’s looking at me like I’m withholding some answer, some way out.

  “I would tell you if I had any ideas. I really would. Let’s just…focus on getting through this. Okay? I need that guide, and they said that’s the payment. There’s no other way.”

  He shakes his head, his mouth a thin line, and we watch the game in silence for a while. Athletes crash into each other in slow motion. A referee in black and white makes a series of arcane gestures, announcing a penalty declined.

  “We should warn Sophie and Kevin,” William says.

  “What?” He can’t want to do that. My stomach twists at the thought. “Why?”

  “There’s fucking monsters in the woods, Skye! Wouldn’t you want a heads-up?”

  “Do you want them getting dragged into this too? You think they’d thank you for that?”

  “But they could help,” he insists. “Maybe they’d have some ideas. Maybe they could think of something we can’t, you know?”

  “That’s assuming they believe you. Which they won’t, until it’s too late.”

  “And you know that how?”

  “Think about it. What would you have said? If I’d tried to warn you?”

  He opens his mouth like he wants to argue, but hesitates and subsides, turning back to the screen.
r />   “I should have bargained with them,” William says. “I should have argued more.”

  “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

  “But there must be something they want! What are they trying to—”

  “William,” I interrupt, “look. Here’s what I know. What they want is to hurt you. Do you get that? You can’t bargain with something when that’s all it wants from you. Whatever they ask you for, it’s going to hurt. That’s the point. Do mice get to bargain with cats?”

  He stares at me.

  “We just have to survive. Okay? They’ll have their fun, and they’ll let us go. It’s—it’s just blood. It’s not like they’re asking us to kill anybody.”

  “Not yet,” he says darkly, and I don’t know what to say to that. The memory of voices uncoils in my head. It’s not much farther.

  It doesn’t matter. That’s not what they meant, can’t be what they meant. I’m not going to think about it. Not now.

  “I’m not doing this.” William folds his arms, hunches his shoulders. “I won’t. There has to be another way.”

  “What part of this is unclear to you, exactly? It’s not complicated!”

  He cuts me off before I can get any further. “You don’t want me to be right about this, do you? You want it to be true, that you have to play along! So you didn’t tell your secret for nothing!”

  “What I want is my sister back! I want my family safe! And—” I stumble over it, but I force the words out, in case they’ll mean something. In case they’ll work. “And I want you safe. William, you have to do this. You have to.”

  But he withdraws from me, shaking his head over and over, his face half in shadow.

  “No,” he whispers.

  “You don’t have a choice!”

  “I do!” He takes a deep breath, settles into resolution. “Look, I’m sorry. About your sister. But I was up against the wall back there. I—I have to take it back. I’m not doing this for you, okay? I can’t.”

  I push myself to my feet. For a bottomless moment, standing over him, I’m tempted to tell him what I’m facing, what they wanted from me first—what they still want from me. But I can’t risk making him even more determined to abandon me.