Harvester

by Erik Henry Vick

  The music of the wind and dunes increased in volume for a moment, blocking everything, even his thoughts. When it slid back into its accustomed place in the background, Toby felt changed, altered on some fundamental level.

  But he no longer cared about the politician’s wife.

  16

  Benny didn’t know what to do to help Toby. He could feel something working at his friend’s resolve from within, something that Benny seemed powerless to counter. Toby’s body lay stretched out on the silk cushions but without any of the telltale movements or noises expected from someone merely asleep.

  If Benny hadn’t known better, he might have thought Toby was dead. But he wasn’t dead… It was as though he’d gone spirit walking himself.

  Benny looked to the west, in the direction of home. Should I go back? If I do, can anyone help? He sucked his teeth, dithering between the choice of hanging around, hoping to learn something, and going back home for help in finding a way to help Toby fight.

  17

  Sean found Eddie out in the garage, puttering around, looking at the tools and lawn equipment. “Bored?” he asked.

  Eddie spun to face him, eyes wide.

  “Sorry,” said Sean. “I kind of snuck up on you there, didn’t I?”

  Eddie chuckled and blew out a breath. “No worries. I was thinking about doing some lawn work or something. Anything, really.”

  Sean cocked his head to the side. “The researchers have found something out about your land deal.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. It’s not just your house. Everyone in the neighborhood got a letter like yours.”

  “All from the Stanton Growth Fund?”

  Sean nodded.

  “That’s weirder yet. Any idea why?”

  “It seems the Stanton Investment Group has long term plans for the ultra-wealthy and institutions. One such institution is called ‘The Circle.’”

  “The Circle? Never heard of it.”

  Sean offered him a lopsided smile. “It’s very secretive. It’s located in Oneka Falls.”

  Eddie lifted an eyebrow.

  “Yes, uh-huh. An Abby Cho is named as the director.”

  Eddie grunted. “Lots of people are named Abby. Could be a coincidence.”

  “Maybe, sure. ‘Cho’ is one way of pronouncing the Zhou surname.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Sure, okay. Have you ever heard the legend of Abyzou?”

  Eddie shook his head, his mouth as dry as bone meal.

  “It goes back to the Akkadian empire, as does Lilitu. She has many other names: Gylou, Alabasandria, Byzou, and Apsu, to name a few.”

  “Okay,” Eddie said with a shrug.

  “She’s the demon these ancient civilizations blamed for miscarriages and infant mortality.”

  The blood drained from Eddie’s face. “Abby,” he murmured.

  “Yes, uh-huh. Sorry to upset you, but I thought you should know.”

  Swallowing his emotions, Eddie nodded. “But why? Why buy up my neighborhood?”

  “Right, okay. That section of land used to be part of the Seneca Nation’s traditional lands. It was stolen from them in the late nineteenth century. It was considered a sacred site—a place of great magic.”

  “I don’t think I like where this is going.”

  Sean bobbed his head. “There are legends about the land—that using ‘the magical language,’ wizards and witches could call horrible beasts to do their bidding.”

  “You think there’s something to all those legends?”

  “Summoning horrible beasts? It seems too much of a coincidence to be otherwise.”

  Eddie sighed and slumped his shoulders. “We’d better go tell the others.”

  18

  Toby came back to himself bit by bit. He sat in the solarium, staring out at the desert, and he had no idea the time, or even if it was the same day he’d attended the audience with Lily. His brain felt wrung out, blank, and not even static echoed in the hallways of his mind.

  “Lily?” he called.

  Toby! Toby, listen to me! None of what you are seeing is real!

  There it was again—that nagging voice that had so distracted him before. Something about the voice sounded familiar.

  That’s right, Toby. I’m Benny, your life-long friend.

  Benny Cartwright? he wondered. But the real Benny is dead. The voice is only the result of the strain, the stress—

  The pressure of what, Toby? What has you so stressed out? If this dream of a life gone wrong is reality, why are you stressed?

  Toby shook his head to dislodge the harrying voice. The music of the wind and sand swelled in volume, and a half-smile descended on Toby’s lips like a vulture on roadkill.

  Don’t do that! Don’t call your own doom!

  My own doom? Toby stared out at the golden sand. If Lily were here, she’d know how to get rid of these troublesome thoughts.

  If things are truly how you wish them to be, then why do you need a distraction from what I say?

  The blissful melody of the desert was right there; all he had to do was reach for it, and it would obliterate his doubts, his nagging voices. But he didn’t reach for it, and he didn’t know why he didn’t, though it seemed of tremendous importance.

  It’s because she keeps wanting you to ask for help. She says it’s the rules driving it, but it isn’t. You already know the real reason she wants you to ask her.

  “Because it’s a binding action,” Toby murmured.

  “Did you say something, kisa?” asked Lily.

  Toby jumped—he’d thought he was alone. Lily stood in the doorway, her radiant beauty eclipsing the stern beauty of the desert.

  “Oh, you say the sweetest things, Tobes.” She strode forward and reached out to pat his cheek. But as her fingers grazed his skin, she froze.

  And Toby froze along with her. Everything froze, the tiny wind-devils dancing across the dunes, the sand kicked from the top of a dune by the wind, the passage of the sun in the sky.

  “What’s this?” she hissed, and the ground trembled with her rage.

  19

  Free at last, Dan Delo thought. He slid his phone back into the zippered pocket of his fanny pack, then cracked his knuckles. He took a moment and stretched as best he could forty feet up in a tree.

  He swooped out of the ash tree in the backyard, angling his wings so he’d crash through the double French doors and right into their living room. Fools think they are safe here? I’ll teach them otherwise—starting with the damn mind reader.

  Chapter 5

  The Last Day

  1

  Benny snapped out of his trance and lunged upright in the recliner. “Fuck!” he cried.

  Sitting on the couch opposite him, Mike raised an eyebrow. “What happened? Did you‍—‍”

  “They’re coming!” Benny flipped the lever that dropped the footrest of the La-Z-Boy and flung himself at the gun case standing in the corner.

  “Benny‍—‍”

  “They’re almost here! Lilitu caught me and…and…” Benny’s gaze had frozen on the face of the wall clock hanging opposite the French doors. It read: 7:13 p.m. “How did that happen?” he muttered.

  “Benny, what’s the matter with you? First, you thrash like a madman during your trance or whatever, and then you freeze and start snoring. Then, after hours have passed with you barely even breathing, you start moaning and carrying on, and now, this.” A one-sided smile curled Mike’s lip. “Either get hold of yourself or share some of whatever you’re smoking.”

  “What?” asked Benny, pausing halfway to the gun cabinet. “Hours?”

  Mike started to nod, but the French doors that led to the terrace exploded inward, showering them both with dagger-sharp shards of glass and spears of shattered wood.

  2

  Every time Sean blinked, a hot, scratchy sensation accompanied it. He’d been staring at a computer screen all day, scouring paranormal sites, archeology sites, any- and everywher
e that purported to have information on Akkadian religious beliefs and magical practices—there was a surprising amount of knowledge about both. Most of the incantations included demons—summoning them or exorcising them, and for so many references to exist, the ancient Akkadians must have believed they had need of magical protection from demons in their midst.

  He assembled a syntax of sorts and found a nifty little website that translated English into phonetic Akkadian. He uploaded his report and transferred a few of the more promising incantations to his phone.

  He yawned and pushed back from the computer desk, and as he did so, his stomach gurgled and rumbled. He thought he’d probably missed lunch, at least, but perhaps dinner, as well. He stole a quick look at his watch and discovered it was past seven in the evening. He turned back to the office door and spied the sandwich Kristy had no doubt brought him.

  He smiled and took a gigantic bite out of the sandwich.

  Downstairs, glass and wood shattered, and it sounded like something big—like the French doors to the terrace. Sean dropped the sandwich back on the plate and ran for the stairs.

  3

  Dan Delo snapped his wings once, then again, halting his forward motion. He furled them and dropped to the ground, not five feet from the mind reader. One of the unchanged humans stood across the room staring at Dan open-mouthed. He’s no threat.

  He turned all his attention on the mind reader and took a deliberate step toward the puny man, baring his talons and smiling to show his fangs. It was a display that, more often than not, inspired pure terror in his victims.

  But this time, the mind reader barely glanced his direction before lunging for the corner.

  Laughing, Dan intercepted him with a brutal kick to the head. The mind reader dropped like a sack full of rocks.

  4

  As the plain looking man launched a brutal head-kick at Benny, Mike’s sleep-addled brain finally caught up. As Benny dropped to the ground, Mike jumped up on the coffee table and launched himself at the intruder.

  Sean Walker stumbled to the railing of the balcony overlooking the living room. He cocked his head to the side in a strange manner and scanned the room. “Only one!” he shouted. “Big purple bastard.”

  The demon glanced at Sean, a sneer on his lips, which turned into an angry grimace as he saw Mike diving at him. He swatted at Mike in midair, knocking him through the smashed French doors and out onto the terrace.

  Mike hit the ground rolling, but that did little to dissipate the force of the demon’s blow. He lay there a moment, sucking in oxygen, curled up and holding his ribs, and staring up at the sky.

  5

  Doors slammed open down the hall from the little Juliet balcony, but Sean didn’t succumb to the temptation of looking to see who was coming and who was running away. He tried to hold the purple demon with his gaze.

  Eddie slammed into the balcony beside him, breathing hard. “Oh, shit,” he muttered. “Benny!”

  Amanda Mitchell hadn’t paused for a look—she’d already reached the bottom of the staircase in four leaping steps. Without pausing to think, she threw herself at the demon in a textbook-perfect cross body block.

  “Amanda!” Eddie yelled as he raced toward the stairs.

  The demon spun to face them, a broad smile stretching his lips. He held his arms out wide and beckoned with his fingertips. As Amanda closed in, the demon flapped his great wings twice and flew to intercept her.

  6

  “I’ve got to get out there!” Shannon shouted in Kristy’s face. “Benny is‍—‍”

  “You can’t help, Shannon!”

  “I can! I’ve done it before!”

  “No,” Kristy shook her head, standing with her back against the door.

  “Your husband is out there, too!”

  Kristy shook her head. “I can’t let you go out there. If your injuries‍—‍”

  “Oh, you stupid woman! What good is my health if the demon kills us all?”

  Kristy half-turned her head to listen through the door but didn’t move otherwise.

  7

  The slight woman squawked as they collided, her head bouncing off his pectoral muscles. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her from her feet. He beat his wings, stirring the loose papers on the coffee table.

  “Amanda!” the man racing down the stairs yelled.

  The woman in his clutches fought, kicking and punching.

  “Stop, or I’ll drop you,” he rasped.

  “Please do!” she snapped, lunged upward in his grasp, reaching for his eyes.

  He flew toward the Juliet balcony, ascending as he did. His gaze locked on the weak-looking man who just stood there, holding up his phone like some looky-loo at a crime scene.

  Using one hand, he squeezed the woman’s wrist, grinding her delicate bones together. She moaned, but not as she should have. Her bones should have fractured, but they didn’t.

  He pulled his head away from her and stared down at her. “What are you?” he murmured.

  “I’m the girl who’s going to kick your ass!” she snapped.

  8

  Sean stood at the railing, unmoving except for his eyes, which twitched back and forth between the screen of his phone and the big purple demon. It’s foolish! he told himself. I have no idea if these incantations are anything other than superstitions run amok.

  But the big brute held Eddie’s wife clutched to his chest as though they were lovers, and Sean had to do something!

  His gaze flicked to the screen and then back at the demon, whose eyes roved Sean’s face, also flicking back and forth to the phone. When their eyes met, the beast winked and sneered.

  Hovering opposite the balcony, the demon switched his grip to free one hand. He bared his talons, never taking his gaze off Sean.

  “No!” Sean looked down at his phone, then lifted his free hand above his head. “Ninurta, aiālu annāši da'ānu,” he chanted. Outside, the wind rose to a shriek, and shadows rushed from the horizon to cover the terrace.

  “Prayers will not help you,” said Dan Delo. He rested his talons on Amanda’s neck. “Should I rip out her windpipe or tear her carotid artery and let her bleed to death?”

  “Nergal, aiālu annāši kišpē.” The wind blew against the house, rattling the windows in their frames, gusting in through the wreck of the French doors and making the magazines on the coffee table dance.

  “Those names mean nothing to me, fool. Old monsters from the tales we tell our children.”

  Sean swallowed against the fear bubbling in his throat. “Ereshkigal, abāru agannû alû!” he shouted. The wind raced around the living room, dumping books and magazines to the floor, ruffling Benny’s hair, shoving Eddie against the wall.

  Dan Delo froze within arm’s reach of the balcony, his taloned hand poised to rip into Amanda’s flesh, but he didn’t move. He didn’t even twitch as he fell.

  “Anāku atta ašāpu!” The wind howled, sending the coffee table skittering into the couch.

  The muscles across the demon’s back began to twitch and spasm, but he was still there, still holding Amanda tight against his chest, despite her best efforts. Sean glanced down at the phone again, the yelled, “Anāku atta ašāpu ina irkalla!”

  Outside, thunder jangled, and greenish lightning danced across the sky. The demon moaned and foam spilled from his mouth.

  “Anāku atta ašāpu!” Sean repeated.

  The demon collapsed to his knees, groaning and gurgling, losing his wrestling match with Amanda at last. As she scrambled away, the fiend squalled and thrashed, kicking furniture, ripping the carpet with his taloned feet.

  Sean stared at the beast, willing it to die, to disappear. He was so intent on his efforts that he never heard the front door bang open.

  9

  Toby blinked and blinked, his eyelids moving as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Red silk fluttered in the dry wind above him. “What a dream,” he said.

  “There’s no more time for fucking around, motek. I’ll
have your answer now.”

  Toby dredged up enough spit to swallow. “My answer…” he murmured.

  “Yes. Your answer to my proposal. Your answer to the question of whether what you just saw, what you just experienced was to your liking. An answer to the question: Will you stand by my side forever?”

  He turned his head to find her standing in the darkest corner of the tent, black dress and boots blending with the darkness, her red hair blending with the color of the pavilion. Her eyes glowed, casting an eerie orange pall over everything.

  He had to fight to form the sentences he wanted to say. Well, needed to say if not wanted. “If it were just you and me, Lily, I would‍—‍”

  “I can make it so,” she said in a voice like that of a child expecting a disappointment.

  “I don’t even know what to say to that.” As inexorable as gravity, something tugged at him. Something pulled at his core, his personality, his mind…his soul. “Why are there demons in Oneka Falls?”

  She jerked her head back and stared at him without blinking. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  Toby let his grit-encrusted eyes slide shut. “It’s corruption, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “What you eat. Corruption.” He opened his eyes and locked his gaze on hers.

  “Some of the time, yes.” She stepped forward, leaving the shadows behind. “Other times, I eat differently.”

  Toby nodded once. “Souls. Like Lilu.”

  “Does any of this matter?”

  “Why are there mazzikim congregating in Oneka Falls?”

  Lily shrugged with one shoulder and turned her profile to him. “They are like herd animals, these mazzikim. They gather together, fearing danger, fearing the seraph will find them.”

  “And yet many of them leave the herd,” Toby mused. “Is it because of that lamp?”

  Her gaze sharpened, focus twitching from eye to eye. “I don’t have time for this, chingado. Events demand my attention.” She snapped her fingers. “Your answer! Now!”

  Toby opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated.

  10