Demon's Reach

by Kevin Singer

  Part of her wanted to be left alone. Part of her was grateful for someone unaffected by David's death. "Why didn't you just knock?"

  Yani twirled her hand and shrugged.

  "Never mind. Please, come in.”

  Yani darted over the threshold like a cat. She looked around at the pine walls, the wood-frame sofa, the prints of greenscapes, the small mirror near the entry door. "I met the previous owner. Once. Nervous sort. I think I scared him."

  "Heart attack, I heard." Vickie pulled the suitcase off the kitchen table. She filled a kettle. "Some tea?"

  Yani shook her head.

  "Please, sit."

  She stared at one of the chairs tucked in tight. Instead she leaned against the table, stretching her legs against the floor. "I've been thinking of you, that you might be lonely out here by yourself, alone, no family. Am I right? Are you lonely?"

  Vicki sat down. Hours in her Volvo left her weary. "Sometimes, yes." She told Yani all about the funeral, how stifling and sterile it was. Then she talked about David when he was alive, always her big brother, always her protector, the one to make her laugh when no one else could. And now he was gone, taken by a disease that he could have beaten.

  "But he never seemed to want to fight. He just surrendered."

  "You can't blame him for that," Yani said. "Humans are inherently weak creatures."

  Vickie cocked her head. "I suppose, in a sense."

  Yani stretched across the table like a lion in the sun. Her face was close to Vickie's, almost too close. Vickie caught her unblemished skin, her solid brown eyes. But there was no smell, no sweat or soap. Nothing.

  "Sometimes," Yani said, "it is good to accept that you are small and helpless in this world. Insignificant." Her voice was slick as glass. "There is a freedom in surrendering."

  Vickie eased back. She let the odd words swirl through her mind, hoping to make some sense from them, gain some solace.

  "But when we are walking here,” Yani said, “in flesh and blood, in this world, they're—we're so alive. It all seems so thrilling and vibrant. All the senses flooded rich."

  Vickie nodded, though her mind was still with her brother. She reached for the chain on her neck and caressed it, pulling the pendant free from beneath her shirt.

  The yelp of a trapped animal came from Yani. She pushed herself away. "What is that?"

  "This?" Vickie held up the pendant, a silver star with a gray stone embedded in the center. "Oh, just something I made."

  Yani narrowed her eyes. "That stone."

  "It's a family heirloom. I'm not sure what kind it is. It was set in a ring. I took it to a jeweler back in San Francisco, but he'd never seen one like it. It's probably nothing more than a polished rock, but I think it's beautiful."

  "I don't like it. You should sell it."

  Vickie was just short of offended by her bluntness. "I never could."

  The girl pulled her eyes away from the gray stone and shrugged. "Suit yourself."

  Vickie tucked it back inside her shirt. Yani brightened. She stood up from the table and flashed a smile "I'm glad we had the chance to spend this time together."

  "Me too. I really needed the company, more than I realized."

  "I have to go now."

  "Oh, of course."

  Vickie closed in on Yani without thinking and moved to embrace her. As she wrapped her arms around Yani, she passed right through her. She felt as if she'd fallen in a pool of water. Water flooded her brain. Water seized her lungs. She lost all breath. Then she was on the other side of Yani. No water, still dry. She breathed in sharply and spun around.

  Yani kept her back to Vickie. Her head twisted around noiselessly, without even a crack of vertebrae as it turned. She leered as the rest of her body tottered in line. "I was hoping to wait. I wanted it to be a surprise."

  Vickie struggled for air. This couldn't be real. "Who are you? What are you?" Her voice sounded far away, a girl lost somewhere.

  "I am the last face you will see. But not yet." Yani walked toward the door. She passed the small mirror that revealed nothing but empty air. "You'll think of running. Don't bother. It's too late. I know you already."

  She passed through the heavy wood door as if it were liquid. The blood drained from Vickie's head. Her knees buckled. She steadied herself against the table and found her lost breath. Then she ran to the door and opened it. There was nothing but red hills and scrub.

  The sun hovered above the horizon, casting pink shadows over the gnarled trees. Vicki struggled for air as she ran the half mile to Eula's. She banged on the door. The knocks echoed, desperate clangs unanswered. There were no cars in the distance, no planes overhead – nothing but silence. Then the door opened.

  The boy Shark, Eula's grandson, stood before her. His black hair stood at odd angles. "Hey, Ms. Velasquez."

  "Where's your grandmother?"

  "Fixing dinner," he said, slouching in place.

  Vicki pushed past him and headed for the kitchen. Eula stood at the counter snapping beans in her brittle hands. When she saw Vickie she didn't smile.

  "What is it?"

  Vickie looked behind her as if Yani was lurking there. But there was only Shark slumped on the couch lost in his video game. "I saw something. Or I'm going crazy. I don't know." She wanted to cry but her tears were too far away.

  Eula let the beans drop. She led Vickie to the table. "Alright then. Tell me."

  "A girl. But she's like air, or water. Not really there. And she said she came for me." Vickie described every detail, the words tumbling from her mouth.

  Eula pulled Vickie's head close and peered into her eyes. "You're not crazy." Then she let go.

  "How can I not be crazy?"

  "No faith, that's your problem. And now you're unprotected. I told you the first day you came here, but you never listened."

  "Is it a ghost?" She couldn't believe what she was saying.

  "Possibly. If it were an ancestor, it would be here to warn you."

  "No. She was definitely...cold."

  "Breathe."

  "I think she wants to kill me."

  Eula grabbed Vickie's hands tight. "Look at me. Look in my eyes. That will not happen. I promise you."

  She left the kitchen and came back with a shoebox that she set on the table. Inside was a hodgepodge: feathers, a bundle of sage, vials of liquid, tiny sun-bleached bones, a nicked silver cross.

  "Come." She took Vickie by the hand. "Shark, I won't be long. Mind yourself."

  They crossed the dusty earth in the passing light, Eula still clutching Vickie's hand. She felt numbed, as if she were observing a woman named Vickie going somewhere on some kind of mission. Another woman, not her.

  When they got to her cabin she stood on the porch, watching the older woman in the gray tracksuit chant and pray, using each object as part of her mysterious ceremony. If it were any other time she would have asked Eula why she did this, why she used that. But the weight of the day was too much. All she could do was lean against the post and watch, her mind churning to make sense of what she'd seen and felt.

  Then it ended. Eula placed the items in the shoebox and tucked it beneath her arm.

  "What now?" Vickie asked.

  "This should keep any spirit from entering your home."

  "You promise?"

  “This is the best we can do. For now."

  4.