The Dead House

“Atholl/Atholl Brose!” the girl shrieked. “RUM!”


A man ran to oblige her, and she threw her head back, drinking deeply from the proffered bottle of alcohol, and the liquid ran down her neck and dress, yellow like urine. Then she flung the bottle away and scratched the man’s face. He cried and fell back, shaking, at the same moment the bottle smashed against the wall.

Naida kept walking. I kept walking. And the girl continued to shriek and curse. The tubby lady crying into her hands nearby seemed to be the girl’s mother, and I thought, Some honor.

For a moment I was distracted by an old man huddled to the left, sitting alone. He held a green viper snake to his face and was murmuring to it in an intimate tone that made me shudder. The snake observed him like it might possibly understand. I felt my heart trip up on itself as I recalled the snake in my half dreams.

Reborn.

I’m a girl.

Are you?

I watched the man, and I watched the snake, and I waited for the snake to give me some sign of recognition or understanding, but there was none.

It was just a snake.

And then I thought, Are you with me, Voice? Are you with me, my Aka Manah? I couldn’t feel him then, can’t feel him now, but it doesn’t mean he’s gone. After all, if I heard him shouting when he was far away and whispering when he was near… doesn’t it follow that his silence means he’s… inside me?



Top Hat Camera Clip #2

Naida Camera Footage

Time Index Not Noted



Naida moves around the crowd and Kaitlyn follows. She bypasses the screaming, which has grown in pitch and volume, instead taking a narrow path of darkness to the back of the room. We follow because Kaitlyn does.

It doesn’t take long to realize where she is headed. A man sits languidly in a large chair beside what appears to be an altar. It is decorated with flowers, fruit, seeds, broken mirror shards, bottles of liqueur, candles, baby dolls, and other statuettes.

He wears a vest shirt, revealing built arms covered in small scars in some obviously meaningful pattern. His earlobes are stretched to accommodate two large horn plugs, and he wears several talismans around his neck.

“Naida,” he says in a deep voice. “Sister.”



[END OF CLIP]





Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson


Sunday, 9 January 2005, Continued



Sister!

I stared at Naida, and if she knew I was thinking WHAT THE HELL, NAIDA? she gave no sign. I felt him before I saw him. I’ve never experienced that before. It was like it was is with Carly when we transition, except more vivid real. I could feel this guy, I could smell his power—if power is a scent. I could taste it, if it’s a flavor, feel it like a kiss or a stab.

Haji looked so much like Naida. The same chin, the same nose, the same pale skin… the same piercing, yet almost colorless eyes that seem to see so much and feel so little. Dead ocean eyes. I could barely look at him, even as he stared at me.

He caught me staring at the little straight scars along his arms.

“I cut power into my skin,” he said, pointing. “One for every sacrifice, and one in a perpendicular direction for every grant.”

There are more sacrifices than grants.

And he does have power. I could feel that too.




Top Hat Camera Clip #3

Naida Camera Footage

Time Index Not Noted



Naida curtsies low. “Haji, Brother, good health on your dwelling. I come seeking your blessing.”

“I told you never to come here, piuthar.” His voice is deep, tinged with a strong Scottish accent.

“I need help.”

He dips his head, but his eyes, penetrating and bright, never leave her face. “Does Seanmhair know you are here?”

“No. And I want to keep it that way. Our grandmother has enough to worry about. Haji, I need a guide for what I’ll be attempting very soon. I need advice.”

“Advice is not free. And guidance”—he laughs—“is really not free.”

“I know that, Brother. I also know that money is worthless.”

“Seanmhair taught you something at least, since I left.” He looks at Kaitlyn once more. “And you? Why are you here?”

Naida steps in front of Kaitlyn, blocking her brother from our view. “You’ll be dealing with me. Respectfully.”

“If you want advice, then my price is honesty.”

Naida hesitates. “You have it.”

“If you want my guidance as well… then the price is honesty from her. Your little dautie.”

Naida stands silent for what seems too long. Eventually she says, “What of… supplies?”

“Cash. Money is not so worthless when supplies are concerned.” He shrugs, gesturing helplessly. “Sannt.”

“You think it greed to request money?”

He raises his hands, as though helpless. “What can be done, eh?”

“Fine.”

Haji nods low. “It is a great shame I did not get to know you very well. I am sorry for that.”

Naida shrugs. “You were gone before I had a chance to remember you.” She hesitates. “I regret that too.”