Harvester

by Erik Henry Vick

  “I don’t have any idea, nor do I care what the answer is. I don’t even know who you are, lady.”

  “Oh, Tobes… That hurts my feelings.” She plunked into the sand beside him. “You can call me, Lily.” She held out one dainty, pale hand as if to shake. “I already know your name. I already know everything there is to know about you, cazador.”

  “There’s that word again.”

  She lifted the shoulder nearest him, almost touching his arm with her skin. He shivered at the ethereal sensation of that almost-touch. “It means ‘hunter,’ Tobes. It’s what the mazzikim have taken to calling you.”

  Mazzikim? LaBouche had used the word in relation to the demonic hierarchy, but he hadn’t had the time to explain it.

  Lily arched an eyebrow at him, then laughed. “That fool?” She sucked her teeth. “He betrayed my daughter. To you.”

  “I‍—‍”

  “That wasn’t a question, boo. I just wanted you to understand that I knew.” She leaned closer and bumped him with her shoulder as though they were lifelong lovers. “Mazzikim is a word of split meanings. In Hebrew, it means ‘harmful spirit,’ but in Arabic, it means ‘mighty.’ In Azerbaijani, it means ‘my sweet.’ We use it ironically to name the weakest, lowest caste—a pairing of Arabic and Azerbaijani. ‘Mighty’ because they are the weakest. ‘My sweet,’ because we disdain their company other than at meal time.” She grinned. “But you can’t distract me that easily, chavo. You said, ‘This won’t work.’ I asked you two questions: guess how many have said the same to me and guess how many were wrong.”

  Toby let his breath wheeze out of him. “I‍—‍”

  She lay a perfect pale finger against his lips. “Time for guessing has passed, mazzikim. I meant that in the Azerbaijani idiom. How many men have said that to me? Every man who has caught my eye. How many were correct? None of them, Toby. None of them.” She cocked her head and stared into the distance. “Not even Lilu, though he was not a man.”

  The music of the desert swelled in volume until Toby thought his skull must fracture under its onslaught.

  6

  Eddie snapped his attention back to the road, trying to process the snippet of what he’d seen in the parking lot. The redhead had disappeared, but the other three remained as he’d last seen them: a woman with a black snake’s tail from the bellybutton down, a woman made from cherry red flame, and Abby.

  “Anything, Benny?” asked Mike.

  “Discord. They know what the redhead is doing, but I can’t…” muttered Benny. “LaBouche is gone.”

  “Gone?”

  “As in ‘no more.’ The redhead…ate his soul.”

  A grim silence descended on them.

  “Well, that’s new,” said Mike.

  7

  Toby clutched his head and groaned while Lily hummed death’s own dirge, somehow humming both the low, throaty part and the reedy, wailing part at the same time—forming discordant, horrible chords that made him wish for deafness. She gazed at him while he thrashed, a faint smile on her lips. Just when he thought the song would drive him crazy, she leaned toward him and patted him on the cheek, smiling.

  “It will work, habibi. It always works.”

  Toby lay his head back against the sand, eyes pressed shut, mouth drawn into a grim slash. “What the fuck is that?”

  “What’s what?”

  “That song.”

  “Oh. Never mind that, neshama.”

  Toby opened his eyes and stared up at the golden-brown clouds. Something felt different deep inside. Something felt…open.

  “Anyway, Tobes. Do you believe me now? When I say this will work?”

  Toby drew a deep breath and blew it upward, making his bangs dance. “What I meant was the illusion. I know I’m sitting in the driver’s seat of that SUV back in New York. I know this place…” He swept his arms wide. “I know this is a dream you put in my mind.”

  She leaned forward and chuckled. “Is that what this place is?”

  “I survived an attack similar to this one before. When I was a kid‍—‍”

  “First, it’s not an attack, Tobes. Second, you survived a short time in the clutches of a mere mazzikim. I am to him as the sun is to a candle. I have but to wish it so for your life to draw to an end. Make no mistake, motek. I do not wish you dead. Far from it.” She sat back and turned to face him, drawing one beautiful leg toward her groin, kicking the other out straight. “Third, I’m not manipulating your perceptions.” She flashed a sunny smile at him. “You should feel honored. You are the first human to set foot in Akkad since I destroyed it.”

  Toby looked around. “Akkad?”

  Lily patted the sand beneath her. “Down there, in the dark. The people of Akkad displeased me, and I buried them for all time. No human will ever find it, no human will ever give their spirits rest.” As if to support her point, the wind howled across the top of the dunes.

  One corner of Toby’s mouth curled up. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

  “I do not jest.”

  Toby held up his hands in surrender. “I believe you.”

  Her face scrunched, her eyes narrowing. “No, I see that you do not. You still consider this is a simple illusion.”

  Toby swallowed, then forced a smile on his lips. “Uh…”

  Lily’s eyes whirled and whirled as he stared into them. The creepy little melody swelled in volume once again, chords smashing themselves to pieces against one another. “I am not in the habit of repeating myself. I like you, cazador. You have…promise.” She held up an index finger. “But don’t test my patience.” Her voice thundered across the desert.

  As if in answer, a sound like that of mighty stones grinding together hissed and spat from behind the dunes. As he watched, Lily began to change, to dissolve at the edges. The color leached out of her hair, her creamy skin faded, and the black of her dress and boots swirled and swirled into a cloud in front of her.

  For a moment, Toby could see a creature out of nightmare, a being composed of the blackest of smoke, the densest of shadows, the darkest of hatreds. She pulsed, long chrome talons decorating the tips of her too-long fingers, and the edges of her frayed, wisps curling away into the air only to disappear with a pop. He stared, unable to look away, unable to deny what he saw.

  Then, she became a column of smoke and shot upward, higher and higher, until she disappeared.

  8

  The Suburban’s tires shrieked and slid as Eddie wrenched the vehicle into a space and slammed on the brakes. Across a double row of parking curbs, the Life Flight helicopter idled on the helipad. Mike leaped from the vehicle and beckoned at the chopper.

  A trauma nurse and a doctor dropped to the tarmac from the side door and ran hunched over to the Suburban. “I’m Doctor Walker. What’s the nature of the injuries?” asked the doctor, pressing her mouth to Mike’s ear to be heard over the helicopter’s turbines.

  “Bear attack,” said Mike. “And a mugging.” The story had come from the combat medics, based on the wounds Shannon and Greg bore.

  The doctor gave him a strange look, eyebrows quirked. “A bear attack and a mugging?”

  Mike leaned toward the doctor and put his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “My friend and my lover are dying in the back of this Suburban. I don’t care if you believe me or not. Get to work.” A rictus of anger settled on his features as the doctor looked at him wide-eyed. After a heartbeat, she nodded and stepped toward the back of the vehicle, and Mike turned to follow.

  The doctor stepped up into the back of the SUV and listened to each of the medics’ reports. She glanced at Mike, her eyes tracking down to the remaining bits of the black uniform that all but the Mitchells wore. Her gaze tracked to his, questions dancing in her eyes. Mike lifted his hand toward Shannon and Greg, his face finding impassive lines. With a nod, Doctor Walker turned and pushed her way between the medics.

  9

  Dan watched the drama unfold. He hovered three stories above the ground, in tight against the nor
thern wall of the hospital, wrapped in cold shadow. The Trickster had looked bad, but the other one… He had looked half-dead.

  The demon smiled at that assessment.

  Delo waited as the helicopter took off and flew north. He paused as the somber group of would-be human hunters climbed back into the big black SUV. He waited as the SUV left the hospital parking lot and drove toward I-86.

  He ascended in the column of shadows, then peeled away from the building and followed the Suburban.

  10

  Lily descended toward her daughter, riding the air as a fish does the currents of the sea. She regained her human form and stood staring at the three abandoned SUVs and the dead humans that littered the parking lot. She turned her head, scanning the dead mazzikim lying among them. Her head stopped as she gazed at the demon Lamia had killed, and her sated expression darkened.

  “Come, Mistress,” Lamia said behind her.

  Lilitu turned, watching the snake-tailed djinn assist her daughter into a sitting position. Free of her adopted lower caste facade at long last, the ifrit burned with a bright, satisfying red. “Naamah, my dear one,” she said.

  Brigitta’s eyes snapped open, and she glared at Lilitu. “Don’t call me that! Use the name my father gave me!”

  Lilitu narrowed her eyes. “I did. Lilu was your father, not that trumped-up charlatan!”

  “Herlequin was more parent to me than anyone.”

  Lilitu’s brows twitched, and she turned her face away, her eyes glowing and spinning with power and ire. “A mazzikim,” she sneered.

  Abyzou stepped to her side and lay a hand on her forearm. “Perhaps another time, Mistress?”

  Lilitu peeked at her from the corner of her eye. “You ifrit always stick together,” she murmured. “It was the same with Lilu.”

  Abyzou dropped both her gaze and her hand.

  “Lamia,” said Lilitu, turning her ice-cold gaze on the djinn. “Would you care to explain why my daughter had to face this mazzikim alone?”

  Blood suffused Lamia’s cheeks and throat. “Mistress… I…” She trembled, a rolling shiver that coursed from the top of her head to the tip of her black tail. “The mazzikim took me by surprise. The fury of his attack‍—‍”

  “I don’t believe I asked about the mazzikim!” snapped Lilitu.

  “I was trying to explain…” Lamia’s face paled as Lilitu turned toward her. “I failed you, Mistress.” She bowed her head.

  “Oh, come off it, Mother!” snapped Brigitta. “If you cared, you’d have been here instead of foisting your responsibilities on others.”

  Lilitu turned her head a fraction of an inch—enough so she could see her daughter—and allowed a lopsided grin to split her face. “How is it you misunderstand the ways of your own kind, Naamah?” she mused.

  “I told you not to call me that!”

  “It is but your name.” Lilitu turned away, refocusing on Lamia. “But you’ll not distract me, mija.” She stepped forward and lay her hand on the back of Lamia’s head, curling her fingers into the greenish-black hair. At first, the touch was gentle, but as she bent down to put her face on the level of Lamia’s, she jerked her fingers into a fist and pulled the djinn’s head back. “Will she, Lamia?”

  “No, Mistress. I didn’t expect the mazzikim to act as he did. I failed to predict—to prepare for—his fury. He took me unaware.”

  “And you couldn’t beat him!” shouted Lilitu in a basso voice that seemed to roll to the very edges of the earth and beyond.

  Behind her, Brigitta scoffed. “The mazzikim have grown here—they’ve gained power and physical strength. Plus, he had strength born of his insane hatred of Lamia and me. I couldn’t best him either.”

  “Ah, but you did,” said Lilitu, glancing at Brigitta. “You bested him—your mistake was not ending his existence when you did.” She turned back to Lamia, the planes of her face hard, her mouth set in a ragged moue. She jerked the hand holding Lamia by the hair. “The mazzikim beat this one!”

  Brigitta pushed herself to her feet, swaying a little. She drew a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Leave her be!” she snapped.

  Lilitu smiled into Lamia’s face, then winked. She released her hold on the djinn’s hair and stepped back. By the time she turned to Brigitta, all traces of her smile had disappeared. “You dare command me?”

  Brigitta scoffed and folded her arms across her chest.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” said Abyzou. “It’s always the same with you two.” She sneered at Brigitta. “Mommy didn’t treat me right!” She turned and frowned at Lilitu. “And you! Always rubbing against the girl’s grain! Always needling her!”

  For a moment, Lilitu’s face clouded over, but then she smiled, eyes whirling with humor. She threw back her head and laughed.

  11

  Toby gazed up into the burning sky for a long time, staring at the last point where he’d seen Lily. That he couldn’t penetrate her visage scared him more than any subtle threats she may have cast his way.

  Away from the constant need to move, to fight, to hunt, his mind turned inward, showing him Scott’s lifeless corpse, again and again. He’d been the first of their impromptu cabal to fall. His mind turned to Shannon and Greg for a moment, and he realized the magical thinking he’d embraced—that no one would die to the demons, that there would only be victories—was pure fallacy. I have to get back home, he thought.

  The sun remained hidden behind the gray clouds, but the heat mounted and mounted as time slithered past. As the air heated, it lost some of its pleasant, spicy aromas and gained more and more of the flinty, burning odors.

  Nothing moved in the vast plain of the desert spreading itself before him. He saw no birds, no reptiles, no people, no nothing. Not even the clouds moved with the ever-present wind. Toby’s throat got drier and drier as he marked the movement of the golden sun on the canvas stitched from the clouds.

  Still, he waited for Lily to return. What’s the point of an illusion where I’m left alone? Where’s the terror?

  He waited and waited, but Lily didn’t return.

  12

  An eerie silence fell over them as if the entire world sensed Lilitu’s mounting fury. “Where is the talisman?” she asked in a voice that hissed like a volcano about to erupt.

  Abyzou lifted her arm and pointed east. “It is there.”

  “Have you failed me, as well, Abyzou?” asked Lilitu.

  “I…” Abyzou slumped and let her arm drop.

  “At least they don’t know its importance,” said Brigitta.

  Abyzou turned to Lilitu, her eyes downcast, but she said nothing.

  Lilitu regarded her for a moment, her eyes spinning faster and faster and faster. Then she screamed, and the three abandoned Suburbans exploded, one by one.

  13

  A sigh gusted out of Toby, and even the passage of air from his lungs hurt the parched tissues that lined his throat. His thirst had continued to grow as the gray clouds dissipated, and the full force of the sun bore down on him. Judging by the sun’s passage through the sky, he’d waited against the dune where Lily had put him for three or four hours, give or take.

  And still, no Lily.

  If I sit here much longer, I’ll get heat stroke. Dehydration at the very least. I need water, shelter from the sun.

  He turned his head from left to right. It all looked the same—all sand and heat shimmer, without even the hint of mirage to give him a direction to choose. He pursed his lips and let his gaze dart back and forth across the vista before him. His attention shifted from uninteresting point to point, looking for any hint of humanity, any sign of shelter.

  But he saw nothing.

  With a sigh, he got to his feet and fought his way up the face of the dune against which he had leaned. Lily’s tracks through the sand spanned from midway up the dune’s front to the bottom where they disappeared.

  It’s strange that her footprints remain, he thought. He cast his mind back to the nightmare of being chased t
hrough Herlequin’s woods, the dog-things pounding on his trail. He didn’t remember ever seeing a track there. No marks on trees, no scuffs on the roots of trees, nothing. Strange.

  He climbed to the top of the dune and stared east, then turned and stared west. Neither direction looked any different from the other.

  If what she said was true, that this isn’t an illusion, and if you leave this place, how will Lily ever find you?

  Toby knew he was in trouble, that if Lily chose not to come back, the chances of him living long enough to find help were slim and none. He did not understand where he was—not even which desert she’d plunked him down in—so trying to plan an escape route seemed like a waste of time. His choices were to walk in a random direction or to sit and wait.

  With a shrug, Toby set off walking. Demons lie. It’s what they do. Besides, they can’t teleport.

  He ignored the little voice in the back of his head that said, Brigitta can.

  He walked along the ridge of the dune, burning in the desert sun. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the sand seemed to get brighter and brighter, the air, hotter and hotter. He was forgetting something he’d read about surviving in the desert, but no matter how much he racked his mind, he couldn’t come up with it.

  The image of Lily distracted him. Her smooth skin, the graceful curves of her cheeks, her glistening lips, her long, luxurious Kool-Aid-red hair that seemed a perfect complement to her black leather dress. Her hips had been narrow and her breasts small. It was as though someone had designed her to Toby’s tastes.

  He shook his head and set his mind to scan the plain in front of him once more. The dune didn’t run straight—it curved to the right with subtle grace—but it didn’t much matter until Toby came up with a destination. And it took less effort to walk along the top of the dune where he could see his surroundings.

  He walked with his mouth open, breathing in shallow little gasps as the temperature soared. Sitting at the bottom of the dune, he hadn’t sweat much, but with the exertion of walking along in the loose sand, he sweat and sweat until the black assault uniform he still wore had soaked through. His thirst grew more and more demanding, shouting louder and louder in his mind until it drowned out his thoughts of home, his grief for Scott.