Four
Aaron sat in the back seat of the Comfort Limousine sedan as it made its way through the snowy streets to the hotel. He rubbed his eyes, feeling weary from his travels. The time on his cell phone read 10:23 pm.
Outside, a flurry of snow encompassed the vehicle. It took on an odd orange color from the street lights lining the roads. Buildings passed by so quickly he couldn't discern any details. He was mildly disappointed; this was his first trip into Canada and he couldn't even take in the sights.
“Where are you from?” Phillip asked from the driver’s seat.
“Dalhousie, Indiana. It’s about a six-and-a-half-hour drive from here.” Phillip raised an eyebrow. “I don’t own a car,” he finished.
“Why did you fly into Toronto and not Hamilton, then?”
“Actually I’d prefer not to fly at all. I used the points on my credit card, but it only lets me take certain airlines.”
“Well, I hope you had a pleasant flight.”
“It started off rough, but it ended well,” Aaron replied, smiling. Phillip looked back at him through the rearview mirror and opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Aaron rubbed the back of his head, the pain still persisting, albeit lessening.
“Say, Phillip, have you ever heard of a company called Alric and Associates?”
“I would have no need for a brokerage firm,” Phillip replied, not meeting Aaron’s gaze this time.
“So, you have heard of them?”
“In passing. Do you have dealings with them?”
“No. I met one of their, well, she said she manages the company,” Aaron replied, looking out the window again.
“You mean Ms. Ness?” Phillip asked. Aaron's gaze shot to the back of the driver's head.
“Ness?” he said, leaning forward in his seat. That was Jordan’s last name. Phillip moved his eyes swiftly from the road to Aaron, and then back again. Aaron thought if he had blinked, he would have missed that look. He continued staring at the back of Phillip’s head. You're being paranoid, he told himself. How many people in this area share that name? Aaron looked downward and was churning over this information in his mind when his headache flared. Stroking the back of his head, he leaned back in his seat.
Aaron looked through the window again. The streets were dotted with people; it was Thursday night and Aaron guessed most of them were out to unwind. Cars were parked on either side of the road, almost bumper to bumper. The sedan turned a corner, its rear sliding slightly.
“Sorry about that,” Phillip said. “It is a bit slushy today.”
“It's fine,” Aaron replied absently. He was still looking out the window. The people on the streets diminished in number; the cars that had lined them earlier were nowhere to be found.
“Phillip?” he called.
“Yes?”
“I realize I'm a bit tired, but shouldn't there be more people around?”
Phillip looked to the sidewalks on either side of the road. “I am not sure,” he replied flatly.
Aaron's headache flared again, although now as just a dull ache. This is getting frustrating, he thought. As soon as I get to my room, I'm finding my Advil and taking three of them.
The car slowed, then stopped in front of a large brown building. Aaron glanced up at a large green canopy with ‘The Loyalist Hotel’ in a bold, cursive typeset. The tagline below it read: ‘With our level of service, you’ll never want to go home!’ Aaron rolled his eyes.
Phillip opened the door, letting in a gust of snowy wind. Aaron quickly stowed his cell phone into his pants pocket and got out, closing the door behind him. Phillip was looking slowly up and down the street.
He broke off from his inspection and walked to the trunk. “How long will you be in town?” asked Phillip, taking the suitcase out of the back.
“Just a couple days,” Aaron responded somewhat sullenly.
“First time in Hamilton?”
“First time in this country,” he stated, pulling out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?” Phillip gave him a price. “Thanks for the drive, keep the change.” Phillip nodded and flashed his toothy grin as Aaron handed him a wad of multi-colored bills. He turned and padded toward the driver’s side door of the sedan, his footfalls making gentle squishing sounds in the snow.
Aaron walked to the front entrance of the hotel, his joints stiff from his journey. The footfalls stopped, but he didn't hear the car door open. He turned to see Phillip staring up at the roof of a grey building across the street. He followed Phillip’s gaze, but all he could see was blowing snow and darkness.
Aaron carried on over the threshold of the hotel, one wheel of his suitcase squeaking. He had meant to put some WD-40 on it, but that had been low on his list of priorities. He walked into a large lobby with polished white floors. A large table occupied the center of the room, and had an even larger fake plant on it. Two gaudy armchairs sat on an area rug behind the table, and an older man in a dark suit sat in one, reading a newspaper. To Aaron’s right was a dimly lit bar; a sign hanging above it had the words ‘The Imperial’ emblazoned in gold leaf.
To his left was a large mahogany front desk, and behind it stood a very large man, in both height and girth, whom Aaron assumed was the front desk clerk. He had dark hair and a ruddy complexion, and his eyes were firmly set on something behind the desk—a computer, judging by the tapping sounds.
Aaron walked toward the desk and stood in front of the hotel clerk. “Welcome to the Loyalist, how can I help you?” the clerk asked in a monotone, his eyes never leaving the computer screen.
“I’m Aaron Alcott, I have a room booked for the next few nights.” More tapping.
“Mr. Alcott, I see you are in our Kingly Suite. I will need to have a credit card on file for incidentals,” he continued in the same flat tone. Aaron pulled out his wallet, followed by his credit card. As he handed the clerk his card, a strong smell assaulted him.
“Do you smell that?” Aaron asked.
“No, sir, I do not,” he replied, sliding a keycard across the desk.
Well, aren’t you Mr. Personality? Aaron took the keycard and placed it in his wallet.
The smell was overpowering and somehow familiar. “It smells like ozone. What a photocopier gives off after it prints a lot of documents.”
“We have a photocopier in the back. Perhaps sir is sensitive to it.”
Aaron thought of several great profanities he had learned from his students to use on the irritating man, but held back. Movement caught the corner of his eye, and looking to his left, he thought he saw a streak of red light.
Aaron walked to the door, peering outside. Something felt wrong, but he wasn’t sure what it was.
“Sir, your credit card?” the clerk asked.
“I'll be right back,” Aaron replied.
He walked onto the sidewalk, looking down both sides of the road. There was no one there, and no cars to be seen. Several businesses lined the strip—a dry cleaner, eateries, and a convenience store, all closed. The freshly laid tracks from the sedan that brought him to the hotel were being filled in by the falling snow. Within an hour, they would be gone. Listening intently, Aaron could only make out the wind howling around him. He could see only snow and darkness. You're cracking up, Aaron. Time for some sleep.
A woman's scream broke the still night air. Aaron’s focus immediately snapped to a dark alley across the road. He stood frozen.
Another scream. Go, you idiot! Aaron ran across the street. A thin layer of ice hid beneath the fresh snow, causing him to almost slip and fall. He reached the other side of the road and stopped just short of entering the alleyway. The orange light from the street lamps did not reach inside, leaving its contents—whatever they were—draped in darkness.
“Help me!” cried a woman’s voice. A figure emerged from the darkness; based on the silhouette, it was a woman. She hastily ran at him. Stumbling, she fell on her hands and knees, but quickly scrambled up again. Aaron took several steps into the darkness, his hands outstretched. A second figure came out after her.
He was a brute of a man, standing almost a foot taller than the woman and almost twice as wide. He reached for her, something glinting in his hand.
“Hey, you!” bellowed Aaron. The brute stopped, seemed to sum up Aaron, and started at them again. “The police are on their way!” Aaron yelled. This time, the brute stopped and ran in the opposite direction, his heavy footsteps echoing in the alleyway. The woman ran right into Aaron’s arms, and embraced him tightly.
“Oh, God, thank you! Thank you!” Her voice was muffled in Aaron’s chest. Feeling awkward, he let his hand hover over her back for a moment before he gently patted her, his free hand hanging limply at his side. After several seconds of this, he placed both of his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away from him.
She had black hair that was pulled back, but it had come loose in tufts, and green eyes rimmed with red. Her face was flushed from crying as well as the cold, but her skin was flawless. She was not wearing any coat, only a black formal evening dress. It was ripped terribly along the top, revealing a considerable amount of skin. What happened to her? She could not be more than twenty—hardly older than some of his students. A shiver ran through him that had nothing to do with the weather. Realizing that she, too, was shivering, Aaron quickly removed his jacket and draped it around her. All this excitement was starting to make his mind feel sluggish.
“Come on, let’s get you inside where it’s warm. I’ll get you something hot to drink and call the police.”
“No, I don't want to call the police on my boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend.” She wiped tears from her eyes. “He didn’t take the news well,” she offered with a meager smile.
The two walked across the street and into the hotel. Aaron quickly grabbed his small suitcase and then gestured for her to enter the bar. The clerk was still standing behind the desk, his eyes glued to the computer screen. This time there was no typing.
The bar was empty, save for the bartender, who was watching the TV that hung in the corner of the room. The room was poorly lit, with several tables in front of a series of large windows. A long counter ran across the left-hand side, with an incredible assortment of liquors in various bottles behind it. Aaron coughed loudly, and the bartender looked at them.
“Could I get a ginger ale? And miss...” he turned to the woman.
“Black tea,” she said to the bartender, “and my name is Emily Delaney,” she told Aaron.
They took a seat by one of the large windows that offered a full view of the street. The table was draped in a black tablecloth, and had a small red candleholder with an electric candle flickering inside. A tall, slender wine menu stood up on their table, advertising the 'Finest Wines from the Niagara Peninsula and Beyond’.
“My name is Aaron—Aaron Alcott. Emily, listen, I really do think we should call the police,” he said, pulling out his cell phone.
Emily sat looking at her hands and then stared out the window for several seconds. Reading her apprehension, he said, “It’s up to you, I just don’t want to see you hurt.” He was staring intently at the wine menu while he said this. There was no response, and he looked up to see that her whole expression had changed. She was now beaming at him.
“First you save me and now you are concerned with my future wellbeing. Who are you, Aaron Alcott?” she asked. This seemed an odd reaction, and he wondered momentarily if she was in shock.
“Uh—I’m just a schoolteacher,” he stated, “from Indiana.”
Emily placed her arms in front of her on the table and leaned forward. She wore a half smile as she looked at him.
“No, you’re not just a schoolteacher...” she said, a coquettish tone creeping into her voice. Aaron looked at his hands; he was wringing them in his lap. His cheeks started to feel warm and he realized he was blushing. He wasn’t sure about the direction this conversation was headed.
“Can I get you anything else?” asked the bartender, placing the ginger ale and tea on the table, his gaze firmly on Emily.
“No, thank you,” Aaron replied. The bartender looked at Aaron as if noticing him for the first time and nodded.
“Emily, are you feeling okay? I know you’ve been through a… well, a traumatic experience, but you seem almost... happy,” he said clumsily, taking a sip of his soft drink.
“Why shouldn't I be happy?” she asked, ripping open the pouch and dropping the tea bag into her cup. “I was almost assaulted and you saved me. I have two ways of dealing with this. One, I can either focus on what happened and live in fear of walking alone in the city...” She trailed off as she started to pour hot water into her cup from a small silver pot.
“Or?”
“Or I could see that a perfect stranger helped another stranger. A good Samaritan. There are still some good men in this world.”
Was she in shock or was she simply a bit off to begin with? The familiar headache started at the back of Aaron’s head. Something did not feel quite right. First I think there’s something weird with August, and now this. He gently massaged the back of his neck. A pained expression crossed his face, and Emily opened her mouth to speak again.
“I’m fine,” he stated, holding up his hand in front of him. She took a sip of her tea.
He sat back in his chair, his mind lethargic and fuzzy. If only this headache would go away. He thought again of the Advil in his suitcase.
She bent forward slightly, causing his jacket to fall open, and an ample amount of cleavage lay exposed. He glanced at her, feeling a bumbling fool. Emily looked out the window again. He got the impression she was pretending not to notice his awkwardness. The thought again came to him of what had just happened to her. I can't take advantage of this, or I'd be no better than that guy in the alley.
“Are you from around here?” he asked, trying to fill the silence.
“I’m from Thunder Bay, it’s right on Lake Superior. I came here about two years ago,” she replied.
“Why the move?” Aaron asked.
“Well, I came here to be a graphic artist. I landed a job when I first arrived with a media company that owns several newspapers.” She took another sip of tea. “About a month ago, I was laid off. Tonight, I was going to go out and try to have fun, but Will, my now ex, didn’t like the idea. We got into a fight, and well, here I am!” She shrugged in an exaggerated manner.
Well, that's understating things, Aaron thought, recalling the size of the brute and the glinting object he had in his hand.
“Enough about me. Why are you here? Sightseeing, business, meeting with a lady friend?” she said with a flirtatious smile. Aaron laughed.
“No, no lady friends. As you’ve probably noticed, I’m a bit awkward around women,” he confessed.
“No, not you!” she said in mock surprise.
He gave a half smile, which quickly faded. “I’m here for a memorial. A friend of mine passed away.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she replied. “What was his name?”
“Jordan.”
Emily gave him an understanding expression, and placed her hand on his. The headache in the back of Aaron’s head exploded into a torrent of pain and light. His hands immediately shot to his skull, and the sensation subsided to a low nagging while his vision returned. He sat there, blinking at Emily, who for the briefest of moments had looked completely different. Aaron could have sworn that, instead of the beautiful young woman , a disfigured creature with green, gnarled skin and opaque red eyes had sat in front of him.
“Aaron?” she asked, concern in her voice.
His breath was ragged and he had broken into a sweat. She sat there staring at him, continuing to hold that worried expression. He looked at her closely, studying her features. The fuzziness he felt earlier was gone.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
He sat there for a moment before giving his head a little shake. “Nothing. I must be more tired than I thought,” he said, taking a final gulp of his ginger ale. Emily nodded in acknowledgement.
“Aaron, I have something to confess,” she said, not quite meeting his gaze.
“Oh?”
“I don’t really feel comfortable going home alone tonight.” She looked up at him, gently nibbling her lower lip.
“Is there someone we can call, then, to pick you up?” he asked indifferently. Emily seemed taken aback, but continued to look at him, her alluring expression returning.
The odd ozone smell returned to Aaron’s nostrils as he felt a wave of heat overtake him and his mind again grew foggy.
Emily slid Aaron’s coat off her shoulders. It looked to him as if she were moving in slow motion. He couldn’t help but notice her body, the exposed skin practically glowing beneath the remnants of her dress. Aaron glanced over and found the bartender unabashedly staring at her as well.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go home with me tonight?” she asked.
Aaron was finding it difficult to form words. “I think... I should just go to my... room,” he responded stiltedly.
“Why don’t I come too?” she asked in a low voice.
He tried standing up, but the room started to spin around him. He placed his hand on the table to steady himself. “Have I been drugged?” Aaron asked out loud. He had meant to think it, but somehow it just came out.
“Of course not, silly!” she replied, pulling his suitcase with her. She looked toward the bartender and called out, “Charge it to the room.” The bartender nodded, dazed.
Emily wrapped her free arm around Aaron’s and led him to the lobby, and then in the direction of the exit.
“No,” he said, “I have to go to my room.” Aaron pulled her in the direction of the elevator. Emily let out a soft sigh.
“If you insist,” she responded.
They rode the elevator and got off on the fifth floor. Aaron reached for his wallet and fumbled to pull out the keycard with every intention of falling on his bed and going to sleep immediately. A hand on his shoulder gently spun him around. He noticed first that Emily had brought his suitcase with them. That was nice of her, he thought sleepily. Emily grabbed Aaron’s hand and led him into the suite. The nagging headache flared at her touch, and helped cut through some of his haze.
“No, this is wrong, Emily. You were almost—” He was cut off mid-sentence as she started to kiss him passionately. Surprised, he held his hands aloft, but then, unable to resist, he dropped his arms and ran his hands slowly along the cool skin of her arms. They continued kissing until the unyielding headache grew into a searing coal at the back of his head. He tried pulling away, but she kept pressing against him.
“When I’m done, you’ll do anything I want,” Emily whispered into his ear. Aaron summoned all of his willpower and tried to push the pain away, but it was useless. A wave of nausea swept over him, his arms and legs growing heavy. Emily’s hands ran along his chest, expertly unbuttoning his shirt. He swayed slightly as she started unfastening the button to his pants. Realizing there was a bit of space between them, Aaron pulled away. The pain was so intense that he grasped his head and fell to the bed. Please, somebody help me.
Somewhere far away, his pants were sliding off. The pain reached a dizzying climax; Aaron felt himself starting to pass out. Emily climbed on top of him, only a thin layer of cotton separating them. His eyes rolled back in his head as the torment he felt forced him into unconsciousness. With a sudden sensation of something shattering in his mind, the agony was replaced by a feeling of lightness. A flood of relief coursed through him, the fog clearing. Opening his eyes, Aaron saw Emily on him—but she wasn’t Emily. Her face kept shifting between the beautiful woman he had met in the alley and the grotesque creature he thought he’d seen earlier.
“Get off,” he said loudly. Emily looked down at him, her hair tousled. “I said get off!” He grabbed her by the hips while twisting his body. She landed beside him on the bed.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked angrily.
“What are you?” he retorted, standing up now. He pulled on his pants, hurriedly fastening the button, and then started on the ones on his shirt. The creature in front of him lost all semblance of the woman it was; Emily’s expression contorted into what he thought was one of fear and shock. “What do you want with me?”
“You… can see me?” she asked, her head tilting.
“Oh, I see you,” he said, disgusted. “Green skin and red eyes.” Aaron walked backward toward the door.
She let out a soft chortle and stretched out her hand. Aaron felt his feet leave the floor and realized he was floating before he was thrown hard against the wall on the opposite side of the room. A picture there dropped, the glass shattering around him. For a moment, he wondered if he would have to pay for it. Then the reality of what was happening started to set in: The thing in front of him was somehow able to move his body without touching him.
Emily walked up to him cautiously. “Who are you?” she asked curtly.
“You know who I am,” Aaron groaned. The weight of whatever was pushing him to the wall was pressing hard against his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe. “Please... I can’t...” he gasped. She took several steps back, and the weight on his chest lessened. Aaron took in large gulps of air, his eyes wide.
Emily crossed her arms and stared at him for almost a minute. She closed her eyes, and the air in front of her rippled and shimmered, reminding Aaron of a mirage on a hot day. She opened her eyes again and looked at him expectantly. He continued to stare at her, unsure of what to say next.
“You can still see me?” she asked.
“Yeah...” he replied slowly.
She walked up to him until there was only a half inch between their faces. “What are you, Aaron?”
He looked at the green face before him. Emily’s face was made of flesh, but it was riddled with rough patches that resembled leather; bits of hair sprouted out of her head. There was no nose to speak of, and her lips had been replaced by a thin slit. The most disconcerting part of her appearance was her eyes. There were no pupils or irises; they were a solid blood red.
“I asked you a question,” Emily stated.
“A schoolteacher?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
“A human?” he said, unsure if that was what she meant.
“No, you’re not,” she stated, poking a finger into his chest. “Humans cannot see past our abilities. You… are something else. Are you an Incubus?” she asked, her eyes now narrow slits.
“An Incubus? I don’t know what that is!” She continued to study him. “What do you want?” he asked.
She maintained eye contact while walking toward the phone. She quickly glanced at the keypad to dial a number, and then looked back at him.
“We’re ready. Room 511,” she said simply, hanging up the phone. “Perhaps this is why god wants you,” Emily said, her red eyes staring at Aaron.
“God...?”
“Not your God, mine. He has instructed me to collect you.”
Aaron considered this. “And just who is your god?”
“Saveio,” Emily said as if it were obvious.
“And he told you to collect me? Just what does this ‘god’ need with me?”
“It is not my place to question him. He required that we collect you unharmed, but I believe it’s to do with the cleansing.”
“The cleansing?”
Emily gave him a malicious grin. “Something that I am looking forward to,” she replied.
Aaron looked at her, not entirely sure if he was imagining this whole absurd situation, or if he was actually debating his role in some god’s plan with a green-skinned creature who was pinning him against the wall with her mind.
“Emily, what are you?”
Smiling, she replied, “We are Legion.”
A gentle knock came from the door. Emily walked backward, her eyes never leaving Aaron. Reaching behind her, she opened it.
A bright blue light issued behind her, throwing Emily forward several feet. Her limp body lay twisted upon the floor as Aaron fell to the ground, the invisible restraints holding him broken.
From the corner of his eye, Aaron saw a figure walk into the room, reach toward Emily’s neck, and check for a pulse. Aaron stood up and turned to see the figure brushing back the long red hair from in front of her face. Panting and rubbing his chest, Aaron asked, “August?”