by Wood, Rick
Oscar nodded, not sure what to make of that information.
“Around 4000 BC,” Julian continued, “she was reported as a water-demon. More recently, however, from a stone carving in 2400 BC, it was claimed that she was having sex with various men to unleash her demon-spawn upon the world.”
Oscar looked from April to Julian, to April, and back to Julian again.
Was he in some kind of fantasy world?
They were aware this was reality, right?
He shook his head. His thoughts filled with utter confusion.
What the fuck are these people on…
“She has a Sumerian origin,” Julian began to conclude, Oscar nodding as if he knew what that meant. “She’s a sexual demon, often preying on the young, killing children, drinking blood, and raping men. Most notably, she is part of a pairing, with a similar male demon.”
“There’s more of them?” Oscar choked, bemused, only to find his irritating comment ignored.
“Lilith is often referred to as a female, but she has a male counterpart – usually referred to as Lilu.”
“So where does that leave us?” April asked, taking a seat next to Oscar, not noticing how distracted Oscar was by her smooth skin, her well-fitted strappy top, and her generous cleavage.
Noticing Julian’s frown, Oscar quickly diverted his attention away from her.
“Well, knowing the kind of horrific things this demon does to young children, and to men – I’d say we need to act fast. God knows what this thing will have done already.”
13
Finally, Jason could rest for a moment. He’d been rushed off his feet for most of the day, solving this and that, answering question after question.
It was part of his job, and it was not a problem – but it was nice to finally be able to get himself a coffee.
The kitchen of the police station was smaller than most cells, with a noisy kettle, an aged microwave, and a toaster where you have to hold the button down to make it work. Unfortunately, updating and repairing kitchen equipment was not the priority of a detective inspector, nor was it within the police budget.
As he left the kitchen, sipping his coffee and thinking how much he detests the supermarket brand stuff, one of his sergeants came bustling up to him.
“Hey,” called the man, getting Jason’s attention. “Can you sign this?”
Giving his colleague his coffee to hold, Jason traded it for a few pages attached to a clipboard. As he glanced down it, he suddenly became alert.
“What is this?” Jason demanded.
“What do you mean?”
“This is talking about Henry Kemple’s release.”
“Didn’t you hear? His daughter dropped the charges, he’s being released.”
What?
What could have prompted such a sudden change in the daughter’s story?
And how could this information have gone past him?
“No,” Jason spat. “I did not hear.”
Shoving the clipboard against his inferior, Jason marched through the corridors and to the front desk of the station.
“The Kemples?” he barked at the clueless officer sitting at the desk.
“Sorry?”
“The Kemples, being released. Where are they?”
“Er, I think the mum’s through there–” he pointed a loose finger down a corridor. Jason had begun marching down the corridor before the officer could say another word.
Storming forward, he looked through the window of every room. Eventually, he reached the one where he spotted Nancy’s distraught face and entered.
“Mrs Kemple,” Jason began, quietly shutting the door, and taking a seat opposite her. “I’ve just heard. What’s happened?”
Nancy dabbed at her eyes with a tissue as she shrugged her shoulders.
“Kaylee claimed she was lying,” she answered, shaking her head as if disbelieving it.
“Do you trust her?” Jason inquired.
Nancy took a moment to consider this question.
“I believe that Henry is innocent. That he didn’t touch her. I know that much.”
“So, what is the matter then?”
Nancy closed her eyes and sighed, furiously shaking her head. She went to speak a few times, each time producing nothing but dead air. Eventually, she took a deep breath in, composed herself, and answered the question.
“It’s Kaylee,” she spoke softly. “She’s – she’s not herself. She’s changed. And I don’t completely understand why.”
“Maybe she’s playing up for some reason. Kids can often be naughty.”
“Have you met my daughter, Detective Inspector?”
Jason shuddered at the recollection of those few moments he had spent in Kaylee’s presence.
“Yes,” he confirmed, directing his eye contact elsewhere. “Yes, I have.”
“And tell me – did she seem all right to you?”
Jason returned Nancy’s adamant stare, considering how to respond to that question. Kaylee hadn’t appeared to be your average conflicted or traumatised little girl. The room she was in had turned cold; she gave an aura of menace, and there was a deeply sinister glint in her eye. For a nine-year-old girl, there was nothing innocent or childish about her.
“I – I don’t know how to answer that question,” Jason answered honestly.
“Well, let me tell you about Kaylee. Kaylee is the kind of girl who would let another child have the last sweet in the sweet shop so that child doesn’t get upset. Kaylee is the kind of girl who draws pictures of flowers and gives them to her teacher. Kaylee is the kind of girl who smiles and she lights up the room. Did she smile while you were there?”
“… Yes.”
“And what was that smile like?”
Jason shrugged his shoulders despondently.
“It – I don’t know how to put it into words.”
“Exactly.”
Jason tucked his shirt in and pulled his tie up, having to do something with his hands to avoid nervously fidgeting. He knew exactly what she was saying, but still needed to maintain an air of professionalism. Ridiculing a young child was not appropriate for a police officer of his standing.
“Look, Mrs Kemple, maybe things will clear themselves up in time. But you are getting your husband back, and you are getting your daughter back – this is surely a good thing. Just take your time to be happy about that.”
Nancy dabbed her eyes once more and dropped her gaze to the floor.
Jason was so convincing, he almost believed his reassurance himself.
14
Nancy could see herself in the eyes of those who walked past her.
Although she could not directly see her reflection, she knew she was a mess. People’s faces were etched with discomfort and avoidance, looking at her as if she was a homeless urchin just picked up off the street.
She wasn’t a homeless urchin. Nor had she been picked up off the street.
She was a distressed, concerned mother – who simply did not understand what was happening.
Despite initial concerns, she hadn’t doubted her husband. Even after Kaylee persisted in her accusations, she remained firm in the belief that Henry had not touched their daughter, nor had the thought ever even crossed his mind.
But she hadn’t completely disbelieved Kaylee either. It was as if it was a lie that Kaylee had convinced herself so adamantly was real that, to her, it was a truth.
In a situation when someone isn’t being honest with themselves, how are they meant to be honest with anyone else?
It’s just… Kaylee had never heard the word ‘molest’ before. She didn’t even know about sex, what it was, or where she came from; she knew far too little to even approach a subjecti such as rape.
Nancy decided to put her faith in the group her lawyers had contacted – The Sensitives, she recalled them being referred to. As much as she reminded herself she didn’t believe in such things, in a time of crisis one’s thoughts jump to extreme conclusions.
&nbs
p; A girl walked out and Nancy’s body tensed. She filled with terror, desperately on edge to see her daughter’s face.
Then the girl walked past, with a different face to her daughter’s, into the arms of a different father.
And she relaxed.
Is this really how I’m going to be when I see my daughter again? Worried and on edge?
She bowed her head and closed her eyes. Despaired about what kind of mother she was to doubt her family so much. Never had she thought she’d dread seeing father and daughter reunited.
But there she was.
A pair of weakened eyes appeared from a far door. A man once strong, but full of the emotions of weeks in a jail cell, cautiously stepped into the corridor.
Nancy rose. Not sure why, she just automatically stood.
It felt like the right thing to do.
Her eyes met her husband’s.
And they broke.
So many nights sleeping in their home alone. No daughter to cuddle, no husband to cry to. Just the sound of late-night television to help her fall asleep.
After all that, this is what she does.
Stands across the corridor of a sparsely populated police station reception, staring vehemently at the eyes of the man she vowed to love, in sickness and in health.
He froze too, casting a solemn tear from his eye, letting it dance slowly down his cheek.
“Henry–” Nancy began, stepping forward to embrace him – but the gesture was cut short by the sound of their daughter running into the room.
“Daddy!” Kaylee cried, a face full of elation. Despite running out of the doorway closest to Nancy, she bypassed her and sprinted straight into her father’s arms.
Nancy could only watch as Henry fell to her level and clutched his arms tightly around Kaylee. He fell to pieces, his lip quivering and his eyes filling with tears. His arms gripped her, holding her closely, clinging on for dear life. It was an embrace that never ended, one that was flooded with the emotions of the love between father and daughter.
Nancy remained stationary, watching.
It made sense that Kaylee ran past her, and straight to her father.
Didn’t it?
Can’t think such destructive thoughts now. Pull yourself together.
Willing herself to be strong, to keep faith in her family, she forced a forged smile to her lips. She went to step forward but was stopped as Kaylee and Henry pulled apart.
They remained close and, in exact unison, turned their heads toward Nancy. A sadistic smile crept across both of their faces. Something shared, unbeknownst to Nancy, was passed across in the silent subconscious between father and daughter.
Or maybe Nancy was just being paranoid.
Yes.
Weeks of stress accumulating into bad thoughts. That’s all it was.
Just the emotions she had kept bottled up for so long, finally reaching the surface.
Then Kaylee turned to Henry and, keeping her eyes pinned on her mother’s, whispered something gently into her father’s ear.
Henry nodded.
And the moment was over.
Henry took Kaylee by the hand toward Nancy, allowing mother and daughter to finally embrace. It wasn’t a tight, desperate hug like she had given her father – but rather a reluctant, compulsory hug you would give an aunt you barely see.
Nancy willed the bad thoughts to the back of her mind.
She told herself it was nothing. Just a silly interpretation of a love between Henry and Kaylee that, really, they should be celebrating.
Her father had his daughter back again.
And the mother had her family.
No more sleepless nights alone.
Or so she thought.
15
If you asked Oscar why he entertained the ridiculous notions of him having some special supernatural abilities, he probably couldn’t give you an answer. He had no idea why he remained in the same room as Julian and April, listening to them prattle on about demons and exorcisms and ghosts.
Maybe it was because April was really attractive. Maybe that’s what it was.
Maybe it was because he had found somewhere he belonged, which was something he’d never had. At school, he’d had plenty of acquaintances, but never many friends. Various social groups he may have had lunch with, but never anyone he would invite to his house for tea, or down the park for a kickabout.
Maybe it was because it finally gave him a purpose. Something these people genuinely believed he could do, no matter how preposterous a concept as him being a ‘Sensitive’ with special paranormal powers may be. These people actually wanted him there. He hardly had huge ambitions of climbing up the promotion ladder in the supermarket. This gave his insignificant life some significance.
But, most likely, it was because it felt right. Like somewhere deep inside of him, it was true. It was a feeling he couldn’t articulate – hell, he could barely acknowledge it – but it offered him an explanation. Something that provided reasons to the various mental ailments he had been diagnosed with and medicated for.
So he watched as Julian and April fervently paced the room, distressed about the news of a phone call Julian had received.
“I can’t quite believe this,” Julian had announced as he returned to the room.
“What?” inquired April, moving to the edge of her chair in anticipation.
“Kaylee Kemple has changed her testimony. She’s saying she lied about her dad, and they are both being released.”
Oscar watched April for some direction as to how he should act. April’s jaw dropped and she looked around the room for imaginary answers, which told Oscar that he should evidently be shocked also.
Though, if this girl was in fact ‘possessed,’ as they were hypothesizing, surely she’d be erratic in her decisions. Changing her mind and coming up with precarious accusations that would mess with the family seemed like a perfect way to torment them. And why else would a demon be plaguing this family, other than to torment them?
April and Julian were on their feet. They had a huge white-board against the wall, and a dozen pens scattered around various furniture surfaces, and they wasted little time in filling it. Everything they knew went on it. Starting with the basics: the girl, the parents, their ages, their jobs, their family history. Then they mindmapped off Kaylee’s name, noting various observations they had made about her.
Oscar became mesmerized with April’s buttocks for a short period of time, watching them bounce and wobble hypnotically with a dainty enticement as she wrote various pieces of information on the board. After a few moments, he broke himself out of his daze and forced himself to focus on what she had written.
In a big red pen, she had written in capitalised letters, LILITH / ARDAT LILI, and joined it to Kaylee’s name. Around these two main headings, various pieces of information had been noted.
Cold room in her presence.
Repeated “Daddy molested me.”
Smile unlike child’s normal smile.
After the board was full, Oscar watched statically as Julian and April vocally came to life, bouncing questions back and forth. They ignored Oscar sitting there, staring at them.
“So why would she claim he molested her in the first place?” April proposed.
“To mess with the dad,” Julian answered. “But then why would she stop messing with the dad?”
“Where’s the mum in all this?”
“Has she made any accusations toward her?”
“I don’t know, has she?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Hey, guys–” Oscar tried to interject, but his timid offering was cancelled out by the relentless wave of questions.
“What’s the link here?”
“The link between what?”
“Lilith, the demon, and the accusations?”
“Is there ever really a link?”
“The demon often molested men itself…”
“Maybe it’s planning something?”
�
�Maybe–” Oscar tried again.
“I think–”
“Hey, guys!” Oscar shouted.
April and Julian froze, slowly rotating their heads toward him in unison, taken aback by the interjection of his impudent voice.
“Maybe she just needs to be closer to her parents to continue her attack,” Oscar offered, then sat back in his chair, curling up, retracting back into his introverted shell.
Julian looked to April. It was the kind of look that said, He’s right, but I really don’t want to admit it.
“Of course,” April spoke. “If this is just the first wave of attacks, surely she’s going to need to be closer to her parents for the rest?”
They continued barking back and forth various ideas and plans and concoctions.
Oscar just sat back in his chair, smiling, glad to actually be of some use.
16
Everyone has their way to escape the troubles of their life. Some sing, some dance, some even turn to drugs. Nancy sewed. Didn’t matter what – clothes, bedsheets, even skirts for her daughter’s Barbies, she just did it.
So, once she had left Kaylee downstairs to play with her toys, she retreated to the silence of the study to work on a quilt she had begun before the whole ordeal had started. It was nice to finally return to some resemblance of normality.
Henry was at work. Kaylee was playing. Nancy was sewing.
It was as it should be.
Then it occurred to her.
This silence. Kaylee had been quiet for an awfully long time…
Normally, there would be some background noise of Kaylee’s voice, acting out some kind of bickering between her dolls. Or at least the sound of her walking around, knocking into various ornaments.
But nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
She turned her head, peering over her shoulder into the darkness of the hallway. Despite it being the middle of a sunny day, the hallway was always dressed in darkness; a lack of windows was the only thing that had originally put her and Henry off buying this house.
She listened.
