Here Be Monsters

Figs



Jeremy C. Shipp

© 2011

All rights reserved.

The black ink on the bathroom wall tells me, There is hope in God. And below that, God is a lie. And below that, Your mom is a lie and a whore. Then, a drawing of a cross-eyed stick woman having sex with an anthropomorphic teacup. I search the stall and find the word whore four times. Fag, nine times, and eventually, I hear a woman screaming. I can’t paint over the graffiti, so I do the next best thing. I take the Nikon out of my backpack, and take a picture.

At this point, the woman calms down, and I finally feel comfortable enough to take a dump.

After leaving Sierra Library, I wander around and end up in Cruikshank’s Orchard, sitting on a fern-patterned bench next to the girl of my dreams. She’s wearing a T-shirt that says, Vegetarian Zombie. Below that, the zombie says, Graaaaaaains.

“You don’t mind me sitting here?” she says.

“No, not at all,” I say.

“It’s just, this is my favorite bench. I love the smell of the figs.”

I turn my head toward the old Mission fig tree, and sniff the air as loud as I can.

“Do you have a cold?” She opens her brown leather stash bag. “I think I have some Airborne.”

“No. No thanks. I’m good. Thanks.”

She retrieves a tin of Altoids from her bag and drops a few mints into her mouth. “So, are you a photography major?”

I look down at notice that I’m still gripping my Nikon in both hands. “I used to be. What about you?”

She shrugs, and stands. She approaches the fig tree. Then she picks up a moldy fig and holds the rotten fruit close to her thin red lips.

Time freezes.

No, I can feel the wind on my face. I can hear a boy laughing behind me. She’s the only thing in the world that isn’t moving.

“What are you doing?” I say.

“Posing,” she says, without moving her mouth.

“Um. I can’t take your picture with this camera.”

She drops the fig, which lands on her white tennis shoes. “And why not?”

I could tell her that the camera’s out of batteries, but the thought of lying to her makes me feel a little nauseous. “It’s hard to explain. It’s weird.”

“What’s a little weirdness between friends?”

When she says the word friends, I can’t help but grin. “With this camera, I only take pictures of…well, bad things.”

“And you’re assuming I’m not a bad thing?”

“Yeah.”

Then she runs at me, and wraps her hands around my neck. She squeezes, gently. Then she laughs.

I laugh.

And then she kisses me.

Her mouth tastes a lot like cinnamon and little like manure, but I don’t care.

On the way to my apartment, Teresa freezes on the sidewalk and points. At first I can’t see what she’s seeing, but then I spot what looks like a dead baby bird caught on a low branch.

“The fall broke her neck,” Teresa says.

“Must have,” I say.

The woman in my head whimpers.

I take a picture.

In my apartment, Teresa kneels beside my DVD collection. She runs a finger down the tower.

“You’re a geek,” she says. “You know that, right?”

“Right,” I say.

We spend the next hour and a half watching Bio Zombie and making out. And then I sit on the bed, reading my textbook for the psych test tomorrow, while Teresa rummages through my drawers and cabinets.

“Are you looking for something specific?” I say, smiling.

She shrugs.

After a while, Teresa joins me on the bed and massages my shoulders. Sometimes she squeezes me a little too hard, but I don’t tell her that.

“Take off your shirt,” she says.

I obey.

“Give me my gourd,” she says.

“What?”

“From my bag.”

I open her stash bag, and inside I find five tins of cinnamon Altoids, an egg timer, a simple wooden box, and a small decorative gourd. I hold the gourd close to my face, but even then, the carvings are too small and intricate for me to make out.

Teresa lifts the top off the gourd, and sticks a finger inside the hole. Her finger returns, covered with a dark yellow substance.

“Massage oil,” she says.

“Oh,” I say.

Teresa rubs the oil into my chest.

The oil smells a lot like cinnamon and a little like manure, but I don’t care.

“Don’t wash this off until tomorrow morning,” Teresa says.

“Alright,” I say, and she kisses me goodnight.

After Teresa starts snoring, I get out of bed and kiss her forehead. I get the feeling that I’ve known this girl longer than a day. Much longer. Of course, that’s probably just the love talking.

In the living room, I sit at my desk and turn on my Nikon. I stare at today’s photographs until the woman in my head weeps.

As my hands tremble, the graffiti and the dead bird swirl together in a whirlpool of ink and blood. The woman shrieks, and I caress the body of the camera.

I say, “I’m sorry.”

I can’t save her from all this hatred and bigotry and death, so I do the next best thing.

I delete the pictures.

After heaving my Del Taco into the sink, I search my mind, and I can’t remember what was on those photographs anymore.

And I finally feel comfortable enough to sleep.

In the morning, I find a pyramid of cardboard boxes beside the bed, on Teresa’s side.

“What’s all this?” I say.

“I’m moving in,” she says.

Things are moving so fast, I know I should freak out. But when I think about living with Teresa, my heart jumps into my throat. Then my heart crawls up toward my head like a snail, and I can’t stop it, and I don’t want to try.

My psych test starts in thirty minutes, but Teresa wants Denver omelets. Then she wants to watch Dead Alive. Then she wants me to sit still and look into her eyes. Finally, she wants me to take her to Cruikshank’s Orchard for a picnic.

We sit near the old Mission fig tree, and the smell of the rotting fruit makes me feel nauseous.

“I’m really excited about the Joining,” Teresa says, and touches my cheek. “You are too, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Of course.”

I try hard to convince myself that when Teresa says Joining, she’s talking about sex. But I know that’s not true. Teresa’s been talking about the Joining all day, and every time she mentions it, her eyes narrow and she starts panting. Whatever this Joining is, it’s more intense than sex. More important.

“Take off your shirt,” Teresa says.

“I can’t,” I say. “Not in front of everyone.”

“There’s no one here. It’s almost midnight.”

I look around, and realize that she’s right. Outside of our nest of candlelight, we’re surrounded by darkness. I remove my Cthulhu T-shirt.

While I eat my tuna salad sandwich, Teresa opens a simple wooden box, and sticks two fingers inside. Her fingers returns, covered with a luminous purple substance.

“Massage oil,” she says.

“Oh,” I say.

Teresa rubs the oil into my chest.

The oil smells a lot like rotten eggs and a little like ant poison, but I don’t care.

“Don’t wash this off,” Teresa says, and sets the egg timer beside her. “You’ll fully absorb the oil in about ten minutes.”

“Alright,” I say.

Teresa lies down with her head on my lap. I caress her hair. Sweat pours from my face.

“Do you love me?” Teresa says.

“Of course,” I say.

“How much?”

“So much it hurts. The oil you put on me feels like a thousand angry fire ants.”

“You’re sweet.”

After Teresa’s egg timer goes off, she stops kissing me and says, “Happy anniversary.”

I laugh. “What?”

Her smile withers. “You really don’t remember, do you? You don’t recognize me at all. I mean, from before.”

“Um.”

Teresa stands and holds out her hands. I take them. I gaze into her eyes, and they’re like tiny planets, full of life and death and power.

“You and Teresa were a couple,” she says, squeezing my hands a little too hard. “Teresa didn’t tell me all the grisly details, but a year ago, you killed her. You can’t imagine how much that hurt her feelings. Her spirit screamed at you to repent, but you just ignored her. You erased her. I can’t even find anything that smells like her in your apartment. How could you forget her like that?”

“I…I don’t know,” I say.

“Well,” Teresa says, grinning. “You’re not going to forget her ever again.”

Teresa kisses me, and when she pulls away, her flesh rots and cracks and shrivels. She holds out her skeletal hands, as if she’s going to choke me.

“What are you doing?” I say.

“Posing,” she says, without moving her mouth.

I lift my camera with trembling hands, and take her picture. I hear Teresa screaming. All the photographs I’ve deleted over the past year flash in my mind. I see hatred and bigotry and death. I see the dark marks on Teresa’s neck where I choked her. I search Teresa’s corpse and I find the word whore eight times. Bitch, twelve times. When Teresa opens her mouth, a dead baby bird wriggles on her tongue.

I say, “I’m sorry.”

I can’t take back what I did, so I do the next best thing.

I delete the picture.

But Teresa doesn’t go away. Instead, she knocks me to the ground, and gazes down at me. Her eyes are like post-apocalyptic worlds, full of all the destruction I caused.

“I love you,” she wheezes.

Then she holds down my arms, and presses her decomposed face against my chest. The angry maggots tickle my chest hair. I know I should push her off me, but when I think about Joining with Teresa’s corpse, my heart yells her name, and I can’t stop it, and I don’t want to try. Teresa keeps pressing and I keep screaming, and she and I swirl together in a whirlpool of life and death.

Finally, we Join.

After tossing the Nikon into the darkness, we pluck a fig off our white tennis shoe. We sniff the moldy fruit as loud as we can.

We love the smell of rot.





Deals and Demons



Samantha Anderson

©2011

All rights reserved.

Edited by M.T. Murphy

The wrecking ball came down, the force of it blowing the hair back from my face. A rumble went through the ground as it impacted the building it was aiming for. I didn’t cry for the destruction; it was a bittersweet moment. I held the whiskey bottle in my hands and poured some of the contents to the ground in a silent toast as the bricks started to fall.

“To new beginnings,” I whispered. Capping the bottle, I slipped the whiskey back into my pocket. A month ago my life started over and now was the time to focus on bigger things and get back to the basics of purpose. Loyalty and duty were the only things I was concerned with at the moment. I headed to the darker side of town. Even a village as remote as this had its unmentionable areas.

I opened the door to the jingle of little bells and was bombarded by the smell of incense, tobacco and musty hardwood flooring.

“Be right there,” a gruff voice from the back said. I looked at the artwork on the walls, flipping through the displays until I found what I wanted.

“Are you rebellious or a pain junkie?” a man asked as he walked in from the back. He looked like an Ozzy Osbourne impersonator with long black hair, borderline slurred speech, and tattoos covering him everywhere I could see except his face.

“Neither, being reborn. I would like this,” I said, pointing to one of the sketches. He looked it over and brought me into the backroom. Lifting my shirt off over my head, I leaned my face into the massage-style chair, rolling my shoulders forward. He wiped my back with alcohol and then drew the design with a marker. Lifting a mirror so I could see the reflection of my back, he showed me that the tattoo would cover a large section from shoulders to waist.

“That’s what you want?” he asked.

“Yes, exactly.” I didn’t move as I heard the buzzing of the tattoo gun, and I only winced as I felt the first bit of pain. I lost myself in thoughts of my life and what had led me here to this moment.

* * * * *

If I look at you, you will see, your place is in Hell, right next to me…

I was rocked awake, sweat dampening my skin as I gasped for air, gulping in as much as I could before the sobs choked me. The dragon tattoo on my left leg felt like it had been branded there and my skin was over-heated beyond what it typically was. Images from the dream flashed in my mind as I blinked, wiping the sweat from my face.

The alarm next to my bed sounded, startling me further. I slammed my hand against it, shutting it off.

Breathe in, breathe out.

I kept repeating the mantra in my head. I heard the dogs barking, their snarling growing louder with each passing day and I ignored it as I set about washing my face.

Dressed and no more calm, I pulled my chestnut hair into a knot and zipped up the black sweatshirt. Putting the earphones in, I pulled my hood up over my head and stepped out into the icy rain. This time of year it always rained in this part of town. It was said that it was the heavens’ way of cleaning the wicked. An Old wives tale told to kids so they ate their vegetables and did their homework at night, I was sure. Rain was rain.

Taking off into a jog, I rounded up Van Siclen Avenue and crossed through the alleyways to make it to Flatlands. The nicest building on this street was St. Laurence Church. It looked out of place with their rich landscaping and bright colors next to the dull blacks and grays of charred buildings and slum streets. I refused to lift my eyes on the statue of St. Laurence as I went past. His eyes always looked down on me. Judging me. Seeing right through me. Today was not the day for it.

I rounded the corner and stepped into the MonroeBuilding. My sneakers slid slightly against the grimy floors, but no one paid any attention. This wasn’t like I was in Manhattan in one of their marble-floored buildings. Here the air clung to you like a stink you couldn’t clean off. It smelled like 70’s shag carpet, old ashtrays and mildew.

I entered room 66F, head down, not looking at anyone, not getting the complimentary stale cookies or even a cup of coffee to take the chill out of my bones. I took a seat and crossed my ankles. My left foot soon started to tap in impatience.

“Good morning everyone,” Mrs. Chamberlain said, her voice calm, but raspy. The room mumbled hellos back to her. “Who would like to go first today?”

Whitney was always the first. She was a chipper little thing, someone I didn’t readily care for, but didn’t exactly hate either. She didn’t belong in this group, but some would say she was just what it needed.

I tuned her out. Her saccharine voice was extra sweet today, but I focused on a spot of dull yellow on the floor.

“Jani?” I lifted my eyes when my name was called, my face still hidden mostly by my hood.

“Yes?”

“Care to share your story with us today?” Mrs. Chamberlain asked. I pulled my hood off and stood , biting at my lower lip and shoving my hands in my pockets.

“Hello, my name is Rajani, I’ve been sober for nine years, eleven months and five days.” The room erupted as everyone said hello to me like they had been programmed to do so. “I was addicted to cocaine and heroin and just about anything else I could get my hands on.” I told the rest of my story while barely looking up from the floor and sat back down, Mrs. Chamberlain thanking me.

Yes, it was rare that someone went to addiction meetings for as long as I did, but it was the program I was on. I complied, and in twenty-five more days, it would all be over.

I didn’t say anything to anyone as the meeting ended, pretending to not hear Mrs. Chamberlain call my name as I left the room. I made it home and out of my clothes, safely tucked back in my bed before the chill started to subside. Life had been this way for almost ten years now. My probation and required rehabilitation was almost over but then it would continue to be much more of the same.

There was a knock at my door a little after four that afternoon. I tied the threadbare robe around me and went to answer it. Leaving the chain in place, I unlocked the dead-bolt and opened the door only a fraction of an inch before it was kicked in. Four uniformed officers were the first through the door and I was forced to the ground just in time to see a man in plain clothes come in behind them. My tiny room was a mess of activity but I didn’t struggle or argue. Instead, I grinned.

“Miss Rajani Eve Aspara, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one can be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?” the plain-clothed man asked. He stood before me, his lips grinning slightly as he held up his badge.

“Yes.”

We rode in a black sedan down to the 67th precinct and I was put into an interrogation room. My handcuffs were removed and I was left alone. I examined everything around me as questions filled my mind. The arresting detective walked in, breaking my train of thought.

“Miss Aspara, can I call you Rajani?” he asked as he sat with my case file and a cup of coffee in hand.

“Jani,” I said.

“You are quite the interesting little woman,” he said, his eyes still scanning the file. He fished out a pack of Marlboros from his pocket and lit one. “Would you like one?”

I shook my head.

“It says here you haven’t been so much as a hiccup on anyone’s radar in almost ten years. Jani, I have to tell you, that is odd, especially with your track record from before.”

I said nothing, trying to see what he would throw at me.

“We see a lot of addicts come through here, criminals and such. They never shape up, and we didn’t think you would either. We found it strangely odd that you would stick to a narrow path with everything and get your life turned around.”

I shrugged.

“Not that we were unhappy that you got your life in order, but it was rather odd. Now we see why, you were biding your time.” He set the file in front of me and I pulled it closer.

There were the bank statements from international accounts that had transferred money to an account in my name. My eyes widened. The amount was in the high seven figures.

“Now we are assuming you got involved in something you probably didn’t want to be involved in, and we’re also assuming you want the bad men that are trying to get you involved in their illegal drug smuggling behind bars. So if you can agree to help us then we can make this all go away.”

I couldn’t explain my predicament to him. He would never understand.

In the silent confines of the interrogation room, I heard the snarling of the dogs unseen. Felt their breath heating the room around us. It sounded as if they were laughing. They were laughing at me for believing in a figment of the night, the little leprechaun of a man who had promised me things unheard of In return for my soul.

Yes, I’d made the deal. It wasn’t that I’d promised my soul with the intention of handing it over. He tricked me. It was a bait and switch and I’d done exactly what had been asked of me. Only now that the trickster was supposed to protect me when the demon came to collect my soul, he had not held up his end of the deal. The money wasn’t supposed to come until my life was safe, my soul was safe. So why did I still hear the dogs? Still feel them breathing down my neck waiting for my ten years to be up?

The door to the room opened and a man entered, providing temporary relief from the panic raging within me. He was taller than the detective by at least six inches and he had a much warmer demeanor. His hair was the color of hot chocolate, eyes a smoky gray and he had a wide, friendly smile. His face twisted in anger when he looked at the detective and he slid a stack of papers towards him.

“You have no jurisdiction here Baroni. You shouldn’t be interrogating her without legal counsel, not to mention that warrant was forged at best,” he said turning back to me as the detective scrambled through the papers.

“Hello Miss Aspara my name is Tyler Devereaux,” he said as he outstretched his hand to me. “I’m your attorney.” I shook it, immediately yanking my hand back as I felt something like fire burn in the pit of my stomach at his touch. He looked at me closely with his smoky-colored eyes. He shook his head slightly and pulled another few papers out of a leather briefcase, setting them down for the detective.

“These are signed orders for the transfer of my client to a facility in Louisiana, to receive mental and physical rehabilitation at the JerichoHillsMemorialHospital. It was signed by Judge Moretti an hour ago. So if there is nothing else you have, she is to be released into my custody for transport.”

The detective stood speechless as Tyler took me by the arm and led me from the room. We were in his dark SUV within minutes and on the freeway shortly after that. I strained my ears against the sounds of traffic but to no avail, the dogs had fallen silent. It was the confirmation I needed about Tyler and I finally calmed, facing the man next to me.

“The prophet sent you to get me?” I asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve met a prophet?”

“Well yea, he’s the reason you’re here, the reason I made the deal with Leviathan.”

“Right, the deal with Levi,” he repeated. “So tell me more about the prophet, and what his instructions were specifically.”

“Not right now,” I yawned suddenly feeling tired. “I just want to sleep, I’ll explain more later.”

Two things happened on our almost three-day trip to Louisiana. First, I completely lost my voice due to a throat infection. Second, after a trip to the emergency room I realized nurses didn’t like Tyler for some reason. I wasn’t sure if it was simply because he looked like a pimp in comparison to me, or they simply just didn’t care for him. Two of the nurses refused to make eye contact with him, and a third had held my hand long enough to say she’d be praying for me. If I’d been feeling better I’m sure I would have laughed.

We made it to Louisiana though, unharmed and still no barking to be heard. I knew the dogs would be closing in. I was down under the three week mark of time left on my pact, surely they would be coming to collect. But Tyler was here now, and when he was around I didn’t hear the barking. That alone restored my faith that everything would be all right.

Tyler got me settled in the hospital which wasn’t really a hospital, and my voice still wasn’t strong enough to ask him the burning question: Why, after I had lived in the slums of New York for almost ten years attending meetings and rehab on my own, did I now need to be hospitalized?

It wasn’t until my second day in Jericho Hills that I realized not everything was what it seemed. There was no reason for me to be there. I was not even close to being as bad off as what these other patients were. This was a psychiatric hospital and I didn’t have any mental disorders that I knew of. This was protection. It reaffirmed my belief that Tyler was what the prophet had spoken of. He’d said that Angels would come to protect me when it came time; that they would be the ones to take the dogs captive.

The prophet had told me that they needed one of the beasts of hell, a pack of their rabid dogs. That all I had to do was offer my soul in exchange for something I wanted and when it was time to collect, the dogs would come and the Angels would grab them. He had described them as being bigger than wolves and that I would hear them before I’d ever see one. He hadn’t been wrong so far.

One day in the gardens, while watching the other patients around me and waiting on Tyler, I noticed one particular man who seemed even more out of place than I did. Everyone else was a mess, and while he made no sense when he talked, Jamie Sullivan looked at me and it was easy to see he comprehended everything going on around him. He would watch the others, his eyes taking them in and I noticed the smiles that occasionally tugged on his lips in reaction. The nurses spoke of him being autistic or something—a term I wasn’t familiar with—but I enjoyed watching him wander around the gardens.

Jamie was in his thirties, but had a cherub face with big blue eyes and sandy brown hair, flecks of gray already shading his hairline. I had watched him every time I could, intrigued that he spoke in riddles. All of them rhymed and made no sense to anyone who heard them, but I found it rather endearing even if some of the rhymes were completely morbid.

“Is your voice any better today?” Tyler asked as he sat down across from me.

“A bit,” I managed to croak out as I grinned.

“Do you feel up to telling me more about this prophet?”

“Sure but don’t you already know all about it?” Something was spinning in my stomach, making me feel uneasy.

“Well of course. We just needed to,” he paused, flashing a wide grin, “make sure he told you everything you needed to know.”

“He just gave me the information of how to summon Leviathan. He told me that I was needed and my soul was pure, which I thought was nuts because I was a junkie.” I took a few sips of water, my throat screaming at me for straining it.

“Yes, but he told you why it had to be Leviathan?” Tyler asked.

“No, not really. He said the chances that there would be more of these dogs come after me in the end were higher if it was Leviathan.”

“And he fully explained all of the conditions of what you were offering in return?”

“Yes Tyler,” I chuckled. “I thought I was having a bad trip, I didn’t believe him.”

“But you did it anyway.” Tyler pulled his lower lip between his teeth in an odd sort of grin.

“Did he explain why they need the dogs?” Tyler asked.

“Two of four, three of three, five of one,” Jamie said in a panic and gripped my arm, his eyes fixated on Tyler as he tried to pull me from my chair.

“Jamie what are you doing?” I said, trying to free myself.

“Two of four, three of three, five of one. Two of four, three of three, five of one. Two of four, three of three, five of one!” Jamie was screaming by the time the orderlies got to him. It took six of him to pull him off of me.

“What does that mean Jamie?” I asked. Before he could answer, they sedated him and carried him away. I rubbed my throat and tried to fight back the cough I felt at the pain. I felt a poke in my arm and I turned, finding another orderly pulling an empty syringe from me. Everything spun as Tyler caught me.

“I didn’t do anything…” Everything went black.

I am not sure how long I was asleep for but when I awoke in my room, a figure loomed over me. As I opened my mouth to scream a hand clamped over my mouth.

“Shhh.” I realized it was Jamie. He uncovered my mouth and handed me something cool and round.

“Two of four, three of three, five of one,” he spoke softly, his blue eyes visibly upset in the small sliver of light from the window. “Demons control the man who plays his vicious game. Oh how the mighty have fallen and now evil will reign.” He left my room and I looked down at what he’d placed in my trembling hand. A St. Jude emblem engraved on what looked like a coin. The patron saint of lost causes. What was that supposed to mean? It was then that I heard the dogs growling again and I started screaming.

* * * * *

“And then he gave me this,” I told Tyler, holding the coin out for him to see. His gray eyes turned dark as he narrowed them but he didn’t take it. He just sat back against his chair and studied my face.

“This is a very precarious time Jani. There are a lot of things that came to pass to get you here.”

“Yea I get it. I’m not blind,” I chuckled and took a sip of my water. We were seated in a small corner of the cafeteria discussing the events that had occurred.

“What do you mean?” Tyler asked.

“Well, addicts spend their whole lives trying to fight urges and to stay sober. I didn’t. I made the deal with Leviathan and I never had an urge to get high again, not once. Rehab and the meetings were a show for my probation and to keep me out of jail. That was it. Now I can hear the dogs all the time, Ty, except when you’re around. Plus, I’m in a mental hospital when I have no business being in one. I’m not stupid. You guys are doing this to protect me so when they come to collect, you can grab them.”

Tyler looked at me with a wicked grin.

“Nice set-up by the way,” I said as I took a bite off of a carrot stick. “With the bank accounts and red flags with the cops just waiting to bust me on something. Good idea. Should have known you weren’t an amateur but still. Props to you my man.”

Tyler’s smile grew a little wider. “Can I give you a piece of advice?”

“Sure.”

“Stay away from Jamie.”

“Why?” I asked. “This isn’t like an angel stronghold? I thought everyone here was a protector or something.”

“No, even the strongest of fortresses still have their weaknesses. Look at the devil.”

“What do you mean?”

“Lucifer,” he said the name like it pained him, “was in heaven of all places and tried to overthrow things. Look how well that went. Nothing is completely safe.”

Tyler finished his water and stood. He touched my shoulder, sending that same odd sensation through me. Even though it was pain, that same strange burning, I gripped his hand. In twenty-eight years I’d never begged for anything, but I was about to.

“Tyler do you have to go? Can you please stay?” I pleaded.

“No,” he said flatly and pulled his hand away. “You’re safe here. Be good, and stay clear of Jamie. Things are going to be tense around here for the next few days. A hurricane is coming and we’re all trying to prepare for it. I’ll be back when I can.”

“Oh, a hurricane, right,” I said and nodded. It would be a good cover for the fight I was sure that was going to happen. I doubted it would be as simple as an angel coming in and taking one of Hell’s prized hounds.

“Goodbye Rajani.”

Tyler looked at me for a moment, his eyes drifting down to my hand and his lips pressed into a thin line. He turned his back to me and walked away as I looked down at the coin still in my hand.

* * * * *

For the next few days, I did as Tyler had asked and stayed away from Jamie. The sound of the dogs got closer and I was terrified. The fear was gut-wrenching. I could hear them and if I let my eyes lose focus I could see them in crystal-clear perfection. They were big and black, the size of pickup trucks with shark-like teeth and red eyes. Their breath was hot against my skin. The heat left my face permanently flushed and my hair damp always, and the smell of rotted flesh was enough to make my stomach turn.

The days I spent waiting for Tyler to return and avoiding Jamie. Nights were spent with nightmares, screaming to drown out the sounds from the dogs and pondering if I was slowly losing my mind there.

Had I been completely insane to make this deal and believe all of this? Hadn’t Tyler at least proven that he was connected to the angels that were coming to save me? The longer that Tyler stayed away, the more I felt my faith diminishing, and fear was beginning to take its place.

The night before my contract was set to expire was the worst of it. I kept waking up screaming. Tyler still hadn’t shown up and I could hear the scratching of claws inside the room. The dogs were pacing and snorting, snarling and huffing. They were growing impatient.

I sat up and listened to the wind and the rain. The hurricane wouldn’t make it here fully until the next day, but the outer bands of the storm were already here. The staff would start boarding up all the windows at dawn I was sure. I went to the window and stared out. Lightning flashed, illuminating the gardens. There was Jamie, huddled down in the middle. I knew Tyler had told me to stay away from him, but I couldn’t just leave him out there. I grabbed a robe and snuck out of my room.

The gardens were secure within the hospital grounds, so I wasn’t worried about setting off any of the alarms. I was, however, worried about Tyler finding out, so I couldn’t let the staff know. I made my way out through one of the side doors and down through one of the maintenance walkways to the west end of the garden. The temperature was colder because of the rain, and I was soaked the minute I stepped outside. I ran to where Jamie sat on his knees rocking back and forth, mumbling something in the wind and the rain.

“Jamie, come inside,” I said, putting my arms around him. An icy chill ran through me at how hot his skin felt. It was like the fires of hell were alive in him. I heard the snarls as I froze in place, listening to his words.

"Be sober, be vigilant, because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walks about, seeking whom he may devour.”

I looked up and saw them: twenty pairs of red eyes watching us. The rain and wind still spread chaos, but over it all I could hear the snarling. In that moment I realized Tyler had been right. I let go of Jamie and turned to run, but he grabbed my ankle.

“Two of four, three of three, five of one!” Jamie yelled trying to pull me back to him.

“No! Jamie let go of me.” I kicked, my foot landing in his stomach, sending him sprawling. I scrambled inside through the door I’d come out of. My heart was hammering in my chest as I ran through the halls trying to get back to my room. I could hear Jamie and I could hear the hounds, all trying to get to me.

Rounding a corner, I crashed into someone who grabbed me and I screamed.

“Rajani it’s okay, it’s okay,” Tyler’s voice said soothingly, his arms holding me. Everything but the storm outside fell silent around us. No more hounds, no more Jamie. I held on to Tyler tighter, ignoring that strange burning in my stomach I got every time I touched him.

“Let her go in the name of the Father,” Jamie said, speaking perfectly clearly. I jumped at the intrusion.

“Your instructions don’t work here, my brother,” Tyler smirked and I tried to pull away but he held me tightly to him. “You should at least know that.”

“I figured I would give you the option,” Jamie said, his blue eyes looking to me. “Be vigilant and faithful, they are coming.”

“They? They who?” I asked, panic filling my voice.

“The angels. They have been trying to find you but Mammon here has kept you very well hidden.”

“Mammon?”

“I believe you know him as Tyler,” Jamie said calmly. “His demonic name is Mammon, he’s a prince of hell.”

“B-but he’s an angel Jamie, you’re the demon,” I said less than convincingly. Jamie stared at me neither confirming or denying what I believed.

“Rajani don’t listen to him. I don’t expect you to remember the things you learned when you were such a young child,” Tyler said softly next to my ear. “But you know I would never harm you, I’m here to help you and save you from him. There are always false prophets, the ones that try to sway your faith in what you believe.”

“Jani, do you know of your heritage?” Jamie asked.

“What does my heritage have to do with anything?”

“Everything. It’s the only reason they would have accepted the deal they did. It was why, regrettably, Elijah had to come to you and get you to make the deal. It ends and begins with you because of your heritage.”

“Rajani he is trying to fill your head with nonsense,” Tyler said. “You cannot listen to him. You have to be stronger than this.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Tyler handed me a gun. “Shoot him.”

“What?!” My hands started to shake at the feeling of metal seeming very heaving in my palms

“He’s a demon Rajani,” Tyler’s voice was like smooth velvet against my ear, calm and soothing. “He’s trying to take your soul to Hell. Kill him.”

“I-I can’t.”

“Jani look at me,” Jamie said calmly. “Your heritage, think of your name, the origins of your names. Your grandmother told you when you five what they meant.”

I stiffened at Jamie’s words. He spoke of a memory of my family that I had buried with so many others: The parents that had abandoned me to my grandmother, the grandmother who had died when I was fifteen and the drug addictions that had come as a result.

“She said Rajani was Hindi for death and I was cursed,” I said, my voice shaking slightly.

“It means dark one, but your grandmother was a bit too superstitious,” Jamie said. “Your middle name?

“Eve.”

“Eve means Life or mother of all that lives,” Jamie said. “And then when you were eighteen you had your last name legally changed to what?”

“Aspara.”

“Why?”

“Because it means Goddess.”

“Yes, and all of these things mean what, Tyler?” Jamie asked, his eyes finally lifting to meet Tyler’s gaze.

Tyler didn’t answer. He just snatched the gun from my hands. He took me by the arm and started to lead me away.

Jamie called after us, “The demons come out of hell today, coming to take a soul. They will drag you kicking and screaming down the big, black hole. Are you just going to let him take you away, Jani?”

“Stop, Tyler,” I said, trying to pull my arm away, but he pulled harder. “Tyler, stop. You’re hurting me!”

“I don’t care, shut your mouth or I will cut out your tongue!” he spat. His normally calm, gray eyes turned red as he hissed at me. I froze in place, realizing I had made the worst mistake of my life.

“Then just take me now,” I hissed back at him.

He laughed. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He knows why,” Tyler said motioning behind us to Jamie.

“Why not?” I demanded again.

“Yea Tyler, why not?” Jamie asked.

Tyler stopped. “Her time isn’t up yet, not for another nineteen hours. If I try to take her now, you’ll take her. You’re an apostle. I know that they’ve given you the juice to harvest her soul if needed. It’s not mine to take yet.”

“Well for a demon you’re not that dumb, I think I’ve been fooled about you guys,” Jamie chuckled. “So what now?”

“Now we wait. I keep her under my watch until your brothers show up, watch the bloodbath that my four-legged friends are going to make of them, and then I take her with me.”

Jamie nodded as he spoke. “You still think you’ll win?”

“Oh, I’m banking on it,” Tyler growled and we started walking again.

“I don’t even get a say in this?” I asked.

“You had a say in this ten years ago. You made your deal and you got clean. Now it’s time to pay up. Lucifer says, ‘hi,’ by the way, can’t wait to see you.”

Tyler’s words made my stomach drop. I was beginning to think I really wasn’t going to get out of this alive. We got to my room and I was pushed inside, Jamie shoved in next. Tyler came in and pulled a small blade out of his pocket and slit open his palm. Using the blood he drew symbols all over the door and the window as Jamie and I sat and watched. Watching Tyler draw his symbols triggered a memory for me. I remembered something a minister had shouted during a sermon he was giving on a street corner.

“The mark of the beast!” I exclaimed.

“What?” Tyler asked and Jamie chuckled.

“Two of four, three of three, five of one. That’s what it meant didn’t it?” I asked Jamie and he nodded. I felt like I should have gotten to that realization sooner and I nodded apologetically. Tyler glared at us and went back to drawing his symbols. After he was done he sat down in the corner with his head laid back, his eyes closed.

My eyes looked from Tyler to the door and I gauged how fast I could sprint for it and be down the hall.

“Do it and the hounds will start tearing you to shreds,” Tyler said. As if on cue, the growling started to ripple through the deserted halls of the hospital.

“We got you into this, and I’m sorry,” Jamie said as we sat down on the bed next to each other.

“You didn’t do it.”

“No, but the angels convinced you.”

“A prophet did, but I was higher than a kite at the time. Hell, I think he could have convinced me he really did have Lucky Charms and they really were magically delicious and I would have believed him.”

Jamie laughed and so did I. It made things calmer somehow to talk to him.

“Doesn’t matter anyway. I was dying then, just a slower death. If I die now, I die now.”

“I still think we could have won this without the hounds, but that was my opinion. I’m a messenger at best, nothing I say really matters to them. It only matters down here,” Jamie said.

“So they aren’t just demon dogs are they?” I asked.

“No,” Jamie answered. “They are hounds of hell, specially created from demons and Lucifer himself.”

“Why do you need them?” I asked.

“It’s like taking two armies, one has swords and the other has tanks. Who do you think is going to win?” Jamie asked solemnly.

I didn’t want to think about it. I didn’t want to think about heaven or hell, winning or losing wars, any of it. I chose to drift off to sleep occasionally, never staying out for long, always waking up to the same scene.

“Shouldn’t the sun be up soon?” I asked after sleeping for what felt like a few minutes and Tyler chuckled.

“The storm has blackened the sky,” Jamie said flatly.

“What time is it?” I asked in a panic, not realizing that time was slipping away faster than I’d thought.

“It’s three in the afternoon,” Jamie said softly.

The information made me sick and I felt the whole room spin. Jamie touched my face, his eyes intently looking at mine. I was sure I was imagining it, but in his eyes looked like endless skies of blue. The power I felt from his touch was like nothing I’d ever experienced.

“Shhh,” Jamie said. His lips turned into a small grin and I felt peace come over me and I slept.

I knew when I awoke that the storm had come full force to our little inlet of Louisiana. I also knew that the war was beginning. My time was up. Tyler stood and went to the window, whispering something I couldn’t understand. Then he stepped back, his face sweeping into a satisfied grin. I heard the hounds snarling, heard ripping and biting and clawing from outside. I tried not to imagine the sight I would see if I chose to look.

The window blew out first. The wind was fierce beyond the window, the sound of metal scraping against metal, branches creaking and breaking from nearby trees. The sound of the power of the storm had my full attention, but Jamie seemed to be listening intently to something else.

“What is going on?” I asked over the noise as the pressure in my head grew painfully strong. Jamie gripped my arms and pulled me to the corner.

“Whatever happens, we will lay say siege to Hell to get to you, I promise.” His words hit me like a brick wall as he was yanked from me by an unseen force. All I saw were his blue eyes flying into the black as he was pulled out of the window and I screamed after him.

Tyler grabbed me and tossed me to the floor. He started babbling words in a language I didn’t understand. I struggled, trying to force myself up.

“No, my Father I have not failed you. She is the chosen,” Tyler pleaded to someone unseen. All I heard was more snarling and wind. He dropped his head as if he were about to be struck.

“Please take her, the time is nigh and she is ready. I am yours and am ready as well. Please bring me home,” he begged and dropped to one knee. The snarling grew louder and blood started running from his ears as he screamed. I watched in horror as he crumbled to a pile on the floor clutching at his head.

Blood poured from his ears and his nose, forming a snake on the ground. The bloody monstrosity slithered towards me and I screamed, unable to move. I could hear the creaking of boards and the rushing of water as the storm came inland even more, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight of this blood snake that was attempting its way to me. The head of the beast formed, black eyes opened and stared straight at me.

I heard the explosion a moment before the sensation of flying registered and everything went dark.

* * * * *



“Just about done,” the tattooist said. He was quite the talker while he did his art. His name was Earl and he had a wife who was a seamstress and four children.

“Just terrible to hear about all the devastation in town though, the ritzier buildings all got ate up pretty bad, lots of people gots to spend their money to rebuild now.” He rambled on and I let him talk. His accent wasn’t native to Louisiana in the slightest, but I couldn’t quite place it either. He had a big heart, and I figured it was why he hid behind the long, black hair and tattoos.

“I heard about the Wilburn Facility. Gas main blew just as the storm hit. They’d evacuated it the day before though. Only time they’d ever did that though, lucky they done it though I guess. It’s just odd though that nothing else on that whole street got damaged by that, no fires, nothing. And only one half of that there building blew out, left their inner garden untouched. Just real odd.”

I grinned at his words as he wiped off my back and handed me a mirror again. My back had a large blue bird rising up out of flames and ashes with a red-eyed black dog in its talons on it now. A phoenix was fitting I thought, considering.

“Can you add just one more thing?” I asked. “Right under the flames in script: ‘Two of four, three of three, five of one’.”

He looked at me oddly for a moment but complied, handing me the mirror once more. I nodded my approval and paid him generously for his time and work.

Stepping outside the shop, I realized the street was much like those I was most familiar with. I glanced back at the shop window to see my reflection. My eyes flashed red as I pulled my sunglasses down over them and grinned.

My phone started buzzing in my purse and I picked it up, looking at the display before opening it.

“Good afternoon Levi,” I said sweetly as I left the shop front ready to start the next chapter of my new life.