Something Happened

by Brandy Isaacs

  "Let's do this," she whispered.

  "Bring Shep down," Rion told Beckett.

  Beckett's only response was to look up towards the ceiling. They heard several small thumps, then a sliding that grew closer to the access panel in the closet. Rion gasped when Shep's shaggy brown hair fell over the opening followed by his head, hands then shoulders. He slid along the floor as if pushed from behind. By the time she realized what was going to happen, Rion didn't have time to do anything. Not that she would have been able to stop it from happening anyway.

  She darted forward as Shep's body slid, limply, through the hole in the ceiling and crashed to the floor. The impact shook the walls. Shep's only response was a low moan. "No!" Rion shouted.

  Beckett stared at the crumpled body as if it were a wadded-up piece of paper. "He's alive," she shrugged.

  "If you do that again...Do it again and our deal is off. I'll call the cops right now."

  Beckett only sneered. "Do you plan on carrying him to the kitchen?"

  Rion stared at her were rage burning in her chest. It was getting harder and harder to remember that a little girl—her little sister—was still inside the monster in front of her. Shep wasn't a big man, and Rion only hoped that she and Kerry could lift him. They glanced at each other and nodded. Rion, the larger of the two, grabbed his arms and rolled him onto his back. When he moaned in pain, she winced. She couldn't see any outward injuries, but he could have internal ones.

  Beckett walked out of the bedroom as if she didn't have a care in the world. Totally confident that Rion and Kerry would follow her with Shep. "Is he OK?" Kerry whispered.

  "I don't know." She leaned over him and placed a hand on his chest. "Shep?" she shook him slightly. The only sound he made was another moan. "At least he's breathing," she told Kerry.

  "We shouldn't move him."

  "I don't think we have much choice though."

  To punctuate the statement, Rion felt a heavy pressure descend through the air. By the time she noticed it, Shep's body was already lurching across the floor. As if an invisible rope was attached to his shoulders. "Stop it!" Rion yelled. The volume of her voice and the rawness of rage burned her throat.

  "We're going to have to try to carry him," she told Kerry. The blood pounded in her head in time with her heart.

  "We could hurt him more."

  "So could Beckett."

  Kerry knew she was right. Rion lifted Shep's arms and hoisted his body off the floor. Kerry did the same with his feet. Together, they still weren't able to get his butt completely off the floor. His head dangled backwards and he made an agonized wheezing sound that twisted Rion's heart. It took all their combined strength to move Shep from the bedroom into the kitchen. It wasn't so much his weight as it was his height. Even working as carefully as possible, they still dragged his backside across the floor, into the hall, then living room, then into the kitchen area where Beckett waited.

  It was clear that the kid had moved the dining table out of the way. On the ground were the black streaks and lines forming the strange circle where Lavinia had been murdered. A pile of materials lay at Beckett's feet and beside them was the teddy bear. She waited for the two women to lay Shep down as gently as they could. Panting, Rion glared at her sister. "What now?" she bit the words out.

  "We need to redraw the circle. It was sloppy to begin with and now it's damaged." She held up a small can. Paint. Blue from the look of the label, but it was hard to tell in the darkness. "We need to add our blood to this. Then we can paint over the lines that are there already."

  "Is that blue?" Kerry asked.

  Beckett shrugged and looked harder at the can. "It seems so."

  "It doesn't need to be black?"

  On one hand, Rion understood Kerry's desire to delay Beckett's plans. But, on the other, the asinine questions grated on her nerves. Clearly, it did on Beckett's as well. "It doesn't matter!" She snapped. She slammed the can down on the counter and picked her bear up off the floor. The incongruous visual was disorienting. Beckett turned the bear over and began digging her fingers into the seam at the back. Rion could hear faint ripping sounds and she watched silently as Beckett pulled something from the guts of the bear. The kid dropped the toy, no longer attached to it as she had been for days. Instead, she dismissed it like trash. The moonlight that managed to push its way through the shadows glinted off the knife that the kid held. It had a short blade, but looked wickedly sharp.

  "That's why you wanted that bear."

  It wasn't a question, and Beckett didn't bother answering. "I'll do the cutting." Her sly smile didn't offer Rion any confidence.

  "I'm not OK with that."

  "Me either," Kerry agreed.

  "I'm not giving you this knife."

  "Where did it come from?" Rion swallowed the lump in her throat. This was getting out of control. She couldn't stop staring at the knife. This is what killed Frank? The tried to picture Beckett stabbing their father, and while she knew—mentally—that the kid was capable of it, she couldn't feel it. Her heart and mind still refused to accept what they both knew. She shouldn't be risking herself or her friends for this monster—demon—thing. But, she couldn't not care about her little sister.

  Beckett stared at the gleaming blade. “It has always been."

  Beckett used the tip of the dagger to pry off the lid of the paint can. It had apparently been opened before and she struggled with the lid. For a moment, she looked like the frustrated child she really was. Her smooth brow wrinkled and the tip of her tongue poked out from between her lips. Rion glanced at Kerry. The woman had sweat on her brow and she was breathing with her mouth open. She could hear the breaths, labored and bordering on panicked. Rion reached out for Kerry's hand and when she grasped it, the woman jumped, then gave her a look of gratitude.

  "Where do you think you are going to cut us?" Rion asked. Beckett grinned and Rion let out a ragged breath. "How about I cut my forearm." She did not trust Beckett to cut her with the knife.

  The girl growled between clenched teeth. "Do you think it would benefit me, at all, to kill you? I need you for the ritual."

  "But, that doesn't stop you from seriously wounding us." Rion fully expected the kid to hurt them bad enough they wouldn't be able to pose any real threat to her.

  Beckett giggled, her too deep voice making the laugh sound predatory. "In theory, you are right. It would benefit me to do that. But, I could very easily kill you by accident. Also, you'll need to focus to help me with the ritual."

  The kid's cold logic chilled Rion to the bone. "What if we refuse to help you with this ritual? I don't want Shep to die. I don't want any of us to die. But, wouldn't the death of three people be better than the suffering that will come from opening the door?"

  Beckett stared at Rion for a long while. She couldn't read the kid's face, but she knew it was not a compromising look. "Do you think you can just stand there and watch me kill your friends?"

  Rion looked at Shep, groaning softly on the floor. She looked to Kerry, who looked paler than before. Could she just stand by while Beckett murdered her friends? And, she knew the monster would make it as painful as possible. As if following her train of thought, Beckett smiled. Rion was pretty sure she didn't believe in god. She found it hard to believe some divine being was watching over them all. Especially now. Her friends didn't deserve this. If there was a god, why would he let innocent people suffer like this? Why would he let a little kid become victim to such evil? However, not long ago, she also would not have believed that there were evil creatures in other worlds that could take over a human's body.

  Even if Rion didn't believe in god, she did believe in hope. Even after all this time. After everything she had been through, she still had hope. She barely believed it. But, if she didn't have hope, she wouldn't have kept trying to save her sister. Rion's shoulders slumped in defeat. The stupid hope that persisted wouldn't let her watch her friends die. Not when hope kept telling her even if she helped Beckett and she opened the doo
rway with her, she would be able to find a way to stop Beckett and the creature later.

  "How do I know you won't kill us once we are done with the ritual? Like you did to Frank and Lavinia?"

  Beckett chuckled. "Frank and Lavinia didn't realize what they were getting into. You do."

  "So, you caught them by surprise?'

  Beckett only grinned.

  "What will happen once you open the door?"

  "I will make a calling."

  "What's that?"

  Beckett huffed in annoyance. "You are wasting time with these questions." Rion didn't respond. Eventually, the kid gave in. "The doorway is not a gateway. It will not open a floodgate allowing all my brethren to cross over. A calling needs to be made. If you know who you want, you can call them. Or, you can allow the first to show up to cross over."

  "Who do you want to call?"

  Beckett stared at her for a long moment. "Another.”

  Rion was surprised. She couldn't believe this creature, or any of those like it, would care enough about another to want to call it. According to Maggie, the beings were made of anguish. "I wouldn't have expected you to be capable of caring."

  The kid tilted her head. "Why wouldn't I?"

  "Doesn't your kind only care about suffering?"

  Beckett's face stretched into a wider grin. "The suffering of others."

  Rion watched her for a long while. Animals didn't necessarily love, but they reproduced. It was a matter of the survival of the species. She believed Beckett's explanation of not being able to throw the floodgates open. She even believed that Frank and Lavinia weren't prepared and Beckett—the thing inside her—was able to overpower or trick them. But, she didn't believe that this thing cared enough about another to go through this effort to bring them over. Then, what does that leave? Power. Beckett wanted power. Whatever she brought over would only serve one purpose, to help it cause more pain and suffering.

  The situation had gone beyond her ability to control, Rion knew that. She took a deep breath and clenched her fists to stop them from shaking. She had missed so many opportunities to do the right thing at the right time. She couldn't say for sure if she would, or would not choose differently if she could go back and do it over. Regardless, she had to make the best decision now. If she refused to help, or called the police, Beckett would kill her friends and her. Most likely in that order. If she went along with the ritual, she was opening the door to more evil. Possibly something that would be even more dangerous and hard to stop than whatever was in Beckett.

  Also, she realized, if I don't help with the ritual, Beckett is lost. Rion couldn't bring herself to watch her friends and sister die. She knew it was a bad decision, but hope made her an idiot. "Fine," she choked out. Beckett smiled, but Kerry—thankfully—didn't respond. She didn't seem to have any better ideas either.

  Rion stepped close enough to smell the paint in the can. She didn't take her eyes off Beckett, but she pulled her arm from Kerry's grasp. "Stay back." If she takes more than she is supposed to, run for help." She didn't wait for a response, but held up her arm.

  Beckett didn't hesitate. She lashed out with the knife. The strike was so fast, and the blade so sharp, Rion wasn't even sure anything had happened at first. It felt like the kid had simply hit her arm with the knife. It took a couple of seconds for the burning pain to hit. And a few more before the blood welled up and pushed its way through the white line across her forearm. Rion hissed, but managed to hold her arm steady. Her blood fell into the can that Beckett held and the blood drops made small patting sounds as they met the surface of the paint.

  "How much do you need?" she asked the kid.

  "A little more," Beckett watched the blood with greedy eyes. "Squeeze some of it out," she instructed.

  She purposely chose the same arm that Beckett had bitten earlier so that she wouldn’t have injuries on both sides. Eager to get this over with, Rion held out her arm. The knife was so sharp, the cut didn’t even hurt at first. Then it exploded into a stinging throb. The blood ran into the paint in a thin, steady stream. At the back of her mind, Rion realized she was probably going to need stitches if she made it out of this. "Is this enough?" She asked through gritted teeth.

  Beckett lowered the can enough to see inside. The paint was dark enough that the blood was hard to distinguish, but Rion could tell that it had covered the top of the paint. "This is fine."

  Rion wrapped a hand over the wound and backed away. "Here." She jumped when Kerry held out a piece of cloth. She hadn't noticed the other woman tearing into the sweater she had been wearing, but she was holding out a thin strip. Rion held up her arm and gave her a grateful look. Kerry tied the tourniquet around the wound, enough to help it stop bleeding, but not enough to cut off circulation. She handed her two more strips and nodded solemnly. "My turn."

  Kerry repeated the process and all Rion could do was watch. She was prepared to run for help, to fight Beckett off. Whatever she needed to do, she would do if the kid harmed her friends. When Beckett felt she had enough blood she nodded and Kerry backed away. Rion helped tie a bandage on Kerry's wound as she had done for her. When Beckett leaned over Shep, Rion snapped at her. "Him too?"

  "Of course. I need blood from all four of us." Beckett sat the paint can on the floor and raised Shep's arm.

  Rion watched her cut Shep as she had done to her and Kerry. She fought the urge to intervene. But, the fact that Shep was still unconscious and didn't react to the cut helped. Beckett held his arm over the can until she felt she had enough. Rion waited until Beckett backed away to assist Shep. She wondered if the kid was going to ask for help cutting herself. But, instead, she sat the can down, and ran the blade across her own arm without hesitation. When she had enough, she stood, looked at the two women for a long moment before smiling and running the back of the hand holding the knife over her arm. As she did so, Rion could see the red gash grow smaller. Within seconds, the wound was closed over. It still looked red and raw, but it was no longer bleeding.

  "That's a nice trick," Rion said, dismayed.

  The kid shrugged. "Life lines. They can do a lot of interesting things." She put the lid on the can and began shaking it as if she were simply preparing to paint the walls.

  Rion's skin crawled with revulsion instead of fascination. "You can move things, you can heal. What else can you do?"

  "I can't heal all things," Beckett's voice was labored as she shook the can. "I can't bring anyone back from the dead. Once a lifeline had been cut, its cut. I can just...help smooth the frayed threads of an injury, if it's not too bad. Humans are easy."

  Rion wondered how things would be different if Beckett used her powers for good instead of evil. If she was the superhero and not the super villain. It only took one look in her sister's cold reptilian eyes to know it wasn't something this monster was capable of. She got a better look at the knife as she pried the lid off the can this time. Besides the ornate, double-sided blade, it also had a gold and leather handle carved with images that Rion was too far away to make out. "What now?" she asked.

  Beckett sat the opened paint can down next to the circle that still marred the floor in between them. "Renew the symbol."

  Rion and Kerry glanced at each other. "I'll do it," Kerry offered.

  Rion wanted to argue, but she also wanted to watch over her friends. That wasn't something she could do if was distracted by painting. "What is she supposed to paint with?"

  "I don't care. She can use her hand. Her hair. Whatever she wants."

  Kerry held up the rest of her sweater. "I'll just use this." The circle was large enough Kerry had to crawl around the floor as she filled in the missing spots. She dipped the cloth into the paint and blood mixture, ran it along the remnants of the circle and repeated the process until the circle was dark, strong, and fresh.

  Rion could smell the paint along with the metal tang of blood and her survival instincts told her to run. But, she forced herself to stay still. As Kerry worked, the air seemed to grow warmer
, and heavier. By the time she was done, Rion could barely breathe from the pressure. "Do you feel that?" she asked.

  "Yeah," Kerry whispered.

  The weight of the decisions Rion had made settled over her with the air. She knew she had done the wrong thing—so many times—and now it was time to pay for those choices. As the temperature in the house rose, Rion began sweating.

  Beckett smiled. "It's working."

  "Everyone stand on an elemental symbol."

  "A what?" Rion croaked. The weight of the air pushed against her lungs and she struggled to speak normally.

  "The symbols in the north, south, east, and west positions. They represent the elements. Stand on them."

  Rion hadn't known what the lines on the outside of the circle were until then. But, she could see it now. The hard, vertical lines were the earth. The swirling ones were wind. The wavy ones water and the crisscrossed ones must have been fire. "Which ones?"

  "It doesn't matter. We are all made of earth, air, water, and fire."

  Rion didn't know if it mattered or not, but she chose to stand on the one representing water. Mostly because it was the closest. Stepping onto the symbol sent a wave of dizziness washing over her. Her feet felt rooted to the spot and it wasn't just because the paint was still wet and sticky. Kerry moved to the fire symbol and the intensity of the dizziness increased. Through blurry eyes, Rion could see Shep slide across the floor to the air symbol and Rion tried to admonish Beckett, but she didn't have the strength. By the time the kid stood on earth, the pressure in the air was so heavy it was a task just to breathe and the only reason she was able to stand was the force that rooted her to the water symbol.

  A sound like a train roared in her ears and bile rose in her throat. Rion looked around the best she was able, but she couldn't see the source of the noise. She was helpless. As long as this ritual had a hold on her, she didn't stand a chance at fighting back. Dismay twisted her heart. Wrong choice. She could hear Beckett's voice mixed in with the bellowing noise. She couldn't make out the words, but they sent chills over her body and the pressure increased. It was as if the invisible train was bearing down on her from behind.