The Dead House

Haji nods, regarding her, then gets fluidly to his feet. “Follow me.”


He turns and draws open the heavy curtain behind his chair. We follow him into a room a fraction as big as the entrance room, where the people writhe and moan. Here are the wares of his trade—rows of shelves holding jars of all shapes and sizes. The jars are old and murky, and it is difficult to see the contents of many, but numerous frames paused for detail reveal animal parts, root herbs, powders, and liquids of varying color. Here and there hang trickbag talismans and conjure bags.

Kaitlyn takes a superficial look at them before passing on with Naida into the back of the room, where Haji opens a door, this time with a key. He waits for Naida and Kaitlyn to go inside, and then shuts it firmly behind all three of them.

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to a circular carpet in the center of the room. Naida and Kaitlyn comply, while Haji walks around lighting candles that throw a warm, flickering glow over the dim surroundings. The room seems dank.

Naida, as though responding to a glance from Kaitlyn, shakes her head and smiles slightly as if to say everything is okay.

“What is your name?” Haji asks from the darkest part of the room, where he is still lighting his candles.

“Carly,” Naida says.

“My people call me Brother,” Haji says, eyes boring into Kaitlyn. “That is the truth.”

There is a small silence, then Kaitlyn shifts.

“Kaitlyn.” Her voice is soft. “My name is Kaitlyn.”

“She understands my price. You, it seems, do not. I will withhold one piece of information from you.” He looks at Kaitlyn. “And to you, I will give one truth.”

“I’m sorry—I…” Naida stammers. “Carly’s who we’re here about.”

Haji, finished with his candles, sits down, facing the girls so that they are sitting in a circle. His expression is hard, closed, and expectant.

“Tell me what is needed, and I will offer both advice and guidance. Minus one piece of information.”

“And one truth,” Kaitlyn says, and Haji’s eyes seem to sparkle as they turn on her.

Naida is about to speak when he holds up his hand.

“One more thing. After we are done, you must never return to this place. Never seek me out again. I have told Seanmhair to tell you this, and I have told you myself, long ago. Never come here, Naida, dautie. It is not safe.”

Naida hesitates. “I swear it.”

“Fine. Give me that hat, and we will begin.”

Naida glances at Kaitlyn, hesitates, and then nods.

The camera wobbles as Kaitlyn removes her hat and hands it over. We spin around, stare up into Haji’s stern face, and then the screen goes black.

[END OF CLIP]





Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson


Sunday, 9 January 2005, Continued



Haji is an intriguing man, Dee.

He told me not to tell anyone any of the things he shared with us, and so I can’t tell you, Dee. I want to, please believe me, but I fear the price. Naida already lost us one piece of information for her accidental lie about who I was, and so I dare not risk losing anything more. I feel like he can see everything I’m writing as I write it.

But I will tell you this: He was speaking to me. Me, Dee. I knew it just as I knew he realized right away that Naida was wrong about my name being Carly. And at one moment—no more than a fraction of a second—as he stared at Naida, listening to her explain a vague version of what we need… I saw his mind turn to focus on me.

And clear as anything I have ever heard, his mind-voice reached out to me in the darkness.

You know it won’t be enough, it said. You know the end already. This is the truth.





81


Top Hat Camera Clip #4

Naida Camera Footage

Time Index Not Noted



Naida’s face appears, though the audio is distorted. “Ugh, finally.”

Kaitlyn’s voice from nearby. “I had to give it to him.”

“Don’t sweat it, sugar. You did the right thing.”

The camera swivels towards Kaitlyn’s head, then stops, facing Naida. Kaitlyn is wearing the top hat once more.

“Let’s try to go over everything he said,” Naida says, walking down what is now visibly the drive to Elmbridge High.

“Maybe we should wait until we’re inside. Safer.”

“No.” Naida’s voice is firm. “Now. I need to remember it now. I feel it slipping away like sand in an hourglass.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he was your brother?”

Naida shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. We barely know each other. He’s twelve years older than me—”

Naida breaks off as Kaitlyn’s hand shoots out to grab her arm. They turn to see blue lights flashing in the distance.

“Do you see that?”

“Police!”

“Shit—what do we—”

“Get behind the trees,” Naida says, pushing Kaitlyn away just as an officer walks through the side gate to the gardens.

Kaitlyn ducks behind a tree, and the camera goes dark, but the mic picks up the audio.

“Who’s there?” calls a male voice.

“My name’s Naida. What’s going on?”

“Are you a student here?”