Sam Black Shadow

by Paul Berry

  I walk slowly up the staircase, the wood creaking under every step. There is a rattle like a dying breath and the staircase starts stretching. I grab the bannister to steady myself as the steps concertina upwards, the hallway distending into a vast cavern, its walls rising into eternity above my head.

  The house is trying to stop me.

  I scramble up the staircase, but it stretches even further into the distance until the top becomes the size of a pinhead. I sit on the stairs and punch a step in frustration.

  The wood flinches under the blow as though it’s alive. I focus on my hand until claws slide from my fingertips and I rake them across the step, splintering it into deep furrows. An agonised howl rises from the tenebrous abyss below.

  I smash my fist through the stair and rip up a section of wood. There is a screeching noise like every note of a church organ being played simultaneously, and fetid wind blasts against my face. It stops and I’m standing at the top of the staircase. The broken step below me quivers and repairs itself.

  ‘Where’s my dad?’ I shout. The house chuckles, the sound reverberating from all the walls. I run down a corridor, stopping at the painting of the Roman bath. The water is striated red from the blood of dismembered swimmers, eviscerated torsos bobbing amongst severed limbs, their heads staring upwards in rictus screams. Laughter reverberates from the marble archway of the library at the end of the corridor.

  ‘Dad, I’m coming!’ I call, racing towards it.

  The library looks like a storm has torn through it, books ripped in half, their pages scattered across the floor.

  ‘Poor Terry,’ Marcus says, sitting on a table and looking up from the book he’s reading. ‘He had such potential.’

  ‘Bravo for ripping open the doctor’s neck. You’re truly a monster now,’ Philip says, slouched in a chair and smirking.

  Marcus flings the book aside. ‘We have something to show you.’ He points at the body of the orderly crushed under a bookshelf. I step back and slip on blood-sodden pages. ‘Be careful. Slippery when wet, darling. We found him wandering around, all tasty and alone.’

  ‘Didn’t seem very pleased to see us,’ Philip says.

  ‘Was even less pleased when we pushed the shelf over.’ Marcus slaps his hands together. ‘Splat! He only stopped screaming when I yanked out his tongue.’

  ‘My dad. What have you done to him?’

  Philip shrugs his shoulders. ‘He’s around. Adam’s taking care of him at the moment.’

  ‘We also know mommy dearest is nosing around the house with some beast on a leash,’ Marcus says.

  ‘Did you think you could sneak in here without us knowing?’ Philip asks.

  Marcus licks blood off his fingers. ‘As you may have surmised, the house doesn’t like you. Hates you, in fact.’

  Their mocking tones enrage me, and I feel the bones in my face shifting as it begins to transform.

  ‘Tell me where my dad is!’

  ‘Quite the scary monster now, aren’t you, Sam?’ Marcus taunts. ‘Fortunately, it’s your lucky day. We’re not going to kill you.’

  ‘We’ve grown rather tired of being told what to do,’ Philip says.

  ‘You’ll help me stop Adam?’ I ask.

  ‘He trapped us here too,’ Marcus says. ‘But together we can defeat him.’

  Philip flexes his bicep. ‘Our combined strength will make us unstoppable.’

  ‘We’re brothers now.’ Marcus walks closer. ‘Our blood is your blood.’

  ‘We can save your father,’ Philip says. He glances at Marcus.

  They’re lying.

  Before I can react, they each grab one of my arms. I struggle to free myself, but they grip tighter.

  ‘Unfortunately, your owl friend isn’t here to protect you,’ Marcus says. They start pulling, and I scream as my arms start coming away from their sockets.

  ‘Easier than plucking the wings off a butterfly.’ Philip laughs.

  There’s an angry bellow behind me.

  ‘Stop them!’ my mother shouts. They let go and I collapse to the floor as the Frankenstein creature lumbers towards them. Philip ducks out of the way and the creature skids on the blood and crashes into a shelf, books falling onto his head. As he clumsily gets to his feet, Marcus slashes a clawed hand at his stomach. He howls as thick green liquid spills from the wounds. I’m about to attack Marcus, but my mother pulls me back.

  ‘Let him do his job.’

  ‘But they’ll kill him.’ The creature staggers, blood splashing down his legs, soaking his shorts. They both circle him as he awkwardly lashes out at them. Philip jumps on his back and sinks his claws into his neck. He tries to pull them out, but his fingers are stuck in the creature’s thick skin.

  ‘Help me!’ he screams at Marcus. The creature reaches around and grabs Philip’s head in both hands. There is a visceral tearing of cartilage as he rips off his head, a torrent of oily blood spraying from the ragged neck. His body falls off the creature’s back and smacks, twitching, onto the floor.

  Marcus watches, terrified, as the creature angrily tosses the head. It bounces once and rolls to a stop against his feet, Philip’s eyes still blinking in surprise. He tries to run, but the creature lunges forward, grabs him tightly by the leg and pulls him to the floor. There is a loud crack and a jagged piece of shin juts through Marcus’s trousers. He shrieks and tries to pull his leg free.

  ‘Sam,’ he begs weakly. The creature starts dragging him towards his salivating mouth.

  ‘Let him go,’ I order. The symbols on the collar glow and he releases him. Marcus crawls towards me on his stomach, grabs my hand and I help him to his feet. He puts the foot of his broken leg on the floor and jerks it forward, snapping the bone back into place, and spits out a mouthful of blood.

  ‘Help me stop Adam,’ I say, ‘or I’ll tell my new friend to take off your head too.’

  Marcus nods. ‘I’m tired of being forever trapped in this house.’

  The creature cries mournfully and clutches his stomach, loops of purple intestine protruding through the lacerations.

  ‘We have to do something,’ I say.

  ‘Unfortunately, he was never built to last,’ my mother says. The creature shuffles over to me and bends his head down, allowing me to stroke its blood-covered scalp.

  ‘Remove the collar and the energies animating him will dissipate,’ she says. ‘He’ll return back to a collection of body parts.’ He shivers with pain under my hand. ‘Sam, there’s nothing that can be done to help. He’s in agony.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ I say, kissing his head. I unfasten the collar. He shudders and a low whimper vibrates from his throat. His eyes turn milky white and he crumples to the floor as the staples keeping his body together disintegrate, falling forward with a wet smack against the marble and scattering limbs and hunks of flesh.

  I look at my mother in disgust. ‘Your father would have been proud of your creation.’ She bristles at the mention of his name.

  ‘I’m glad I was able to save your life.’ The corruption on her face looks worse, her face and neck now covered with quivering pustules, fleshy tendrils wriggling from their centres.

  ‘This your mother?’ Marcus asks.

  ‘Unfortunately.’

  ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance.’ He holds out his hand towards her, but she declines.

  ‘Where’s my dad?’ I ask him.

  ‘Adam’s waiting with him by the lake.’

  ‘How did he find him?’

  ‘He was wandering in the park last night.’

  ‘He was probably trying to find out what happened to me. Did you do anything to him? Did you touch him?’

  ‘Relax, Sam. We didn’t put hands or teeth in any inappropriate places, although your father is a very handsome specimen.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re his type,’ my mother sa
ys.

  ‘And, sadly, neither are you,’ Marcus says, wiggling his fingers next to his face. ‘I’m sure growing your hair longer would cover it. Maybe a sombrero.’

  ‘Stop talking,’ she says, tapping the handle of the knife tucked under her belt.

  We walk down the staircase and see Dr Stone lying spreadeagled in the lounge, his chest soaked in blood, while Terry lies by the fire as though he’s fallen asleep.

  ‘He killed Terry,’ I say. ‘Then he tried to kill me.’

  My mother smiles. ‘You did what needed to be done.’ We cross the hall and enter the conservatory. I look hopefully into the bird cage, but it’s empty.

  ‘That’s the last time I keep pets in the house,’ Marcus says.

  ‘It’s a pity he didn’t kill all three of you,’ I say.

  ‘You were the first to ever escape. I was impressed. Although Adam was furious, even more than the house.’

  ‘I thought he’d killed Terry.’

  ‘He was just sleeping. Then we woke him up. I think he was in love with you.’

  I look through the glass walls into the moonlit garden. Next to the lake is Adam, his arm around my dad’s waist as though they are lovers admiring the view.

  ‘He’s there,’ I say, pointing.

  ‘Maybe I should stay out of this,’ Marcus says. ‘Family dramas were never my forte.’

  ‘If it wasn’t for you – for both of you,’ I say, looking at my mother, ‘this never would have happened.’

  ‘I didn’t have much of a choice,’ Marcus says. ‘Although I can’t speak for her.’ She flashes him a look of contempt and pulls obscenely at the growths on her face.

  ‘You could have said no,’ I say.

  ‘You think you’re the first he’s seduced?’ he says. ‘He does the same act with all the boys he lures here before we tear them apart.’

  ‘Was Adam just pretending to care about me?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. He only loves his father, although he did seem to like you more than the others. You weren’t just a meal; he wanted you to join us. He sensed something special in you.’

  A quiver passes through all the plants and their leaves unfurl. We pause, bodies tense, waiting for them to attack, and my mother takes out her knife. I slowly open the conservatory door.

  ‘Don’t be fooled,’ Marcus says. ‘The house just knows something worse is waiting for us outside.’ We step out into the night, the frosty grass on the lawn crunching like broken glass.

  Adam bows when we reach the edge of the lake. My dad’s face is vacant, as though he’s staring at something in the distance.

  ‘The prodigal Sam returns,’ Adam says, pulling my dad close to him. He looks at Marcus. ‘So, you’ve finally turned against me?’

  ‘Living with you is worse than any hell,’ he says wearily.

  ‘I should have left you and Philip to carry out your suicide pact in the park.’

  ‘Better than this life.’

  ‘And Sam, you’ve brought your mother with you. This is quite the family reunion.’

  ‘You planned this from the beginning,’ I say. ‘You knew I’d return with the crystal.’

  ‘Like a faithful dog returning a stick. Your escape from the house, all part of the grand plan.’

  ‘If you’d asked, I would have given it to you.’

  ‘I can’t put my faith in the human heart.’

  ‘I know about Hastur, how the ritual that brought him here was flawed.’

  ‘When your mother and her equally inept confrères performed the ritual it worked, but only partly. It opened the door a crack, allowing my father’s body to escape with a fragment of – what do the Syncret call it? – the Datum. He was bound to the house and had to retreat into it every morning. At first, he was weak when he escaped, split down the centre and burned by the sun. He knew they would try to send him back, so he kept himself hidden, the blood we took keeping his body strong. His mind, if we want to use such crude human terms, is still imprisoned.’

  ‘The house is his father,’ I say, looking at my mother.

  ‘You knew all along that Adam wasn’t Hastur?’ she asks.

  ‘It seems that Sam also understands the power of lies. It’s a pity you weren’t able to gain his trust. You might have been able to stop me.’

  ‘I was an arrogant fool.’ She sighs.

  He kisses my dad’s cheek. ‘The fun and games are over. Sam, open a rift to the Datum.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘You can. You managed to steal the book from my library. Your power, augmented by the crystal, can create a door.’

  ‘I can travel places, but I can’t control it. I can’t open doors into other worlds.’ A flash of recognition passes across my dad’s face.

  ‘Then I’ll have to persuade you,’ Adam says, pressing a talon under my dad’s jaw.

  My mother drops her knife. ‘Sam, do it.’

  ‘Your mother has the right idea. Would you like me to rip your father a new face?’

  ‘Alright, I’ll try. But first let him go or no deal.’

  He pushes my dad towards me.

  ‘Sam?’ he slurs. ‘Wake up, we’re having a nightmare.’ He looks blearily at my mother. ‘Christine? Your face.’

  ‘What did you do to him?’ I ask.

  ‘He’s perfectly fine,’ Adam says. ‘Just a little hungover from his adventures. But before you open the rift, I’ll introduce you to my father. It’s only fair after meeting yours.’

  The ground begins to vibrate and a groan echoes from the house. Shadows start pouring down the walls like waterfalls of sewage, black and sebaceous. They flow towards us in thick rivulets and start coalescing together, a dark shape slowly forming, huge and misshapen. Adam bows. Twisted arms thick as tree trunks grow from the bulk and it heaves across the grass towards us, tentacles bursting from its skin. It stops, towers up on its elephantine hind legs and roars from some unseen mouth.

  ‘What did I do?’ my mother asks in horror.

  ‘You freed something beautiful,’ Adam says.

  ‘I’d recommend we get far away from here,’ Marcus says, backing away towards the house. ‘This will not end well for any of us.’ He runs towards the conservatory.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Adam shouts. The shadow beast lashes out a tentacle, wraps it around Marcus’s waist and lifts him into the air. He screams, his legs flailing, claws sprouting from his fingers as he attempts to free himself from the tentacle by slashing at it. There is a cracking sound like breaking twigs as the tentacle constricts tighter around his chest and he screams louder. A black leech slides out of his mouth and disappears into the beast’s body. Even though his face is racked with pain, something peaceful passes across it. He looks at me and smiles, blood spilling over his lips.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sam.’ The tentacle snakes around his neck. ‘Philip!’ he cries out. His head snaps backwards and his body goes limp. The beast flings him towards the conservatory and he smashes through the glass.

  ‘You shouldn’t make my father angry,’ Adam says. ‘He tends to lose his temper quickly.’

  ‘Let my parents go,’ I say.

  ‘You think you’re in a position to bargain?’

  ‘No, Sam,’ my mother says, her arm around my dad’s shoulders. ‘I’m not leaving you or your father again.’

  ‘Let them go,’ I say, ‘and I’ll open the rift and stay with you forever.’

  ‘You’ll stay with me to save your family? Sam the hero,’ he says sarcastically. ‘Because you love me?’

  I hesitate. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Unfortunately, you can’t even lie fast enough to save them. Open it now or the last thing you’ll hear will be your father’s screams.’

  The crystal is throbbing in my hand like a palpitating heart. I stare into it, and instantly my mind is pulled into its shif
ting facets. They chaotically slant over each other in a swirling maelstrom of parallaxes, yet somehow I instinctively know their order. I concentrate until they align into a single plane of symbols. When the last facet locks into place, the one etched with the symbol of a snake swallowing its tail, stabbing green light flares in my mind.

  The light fades and I am back in the garden. The shadow monster is hunched behind Adam like some vast leprous dog, bowing the wriggling mass of its head in some grotesque form of deference to me.

  ‘You should have more confidence in yourself.’ Adam laughs. ‘Look what you’ve opened.’

  In front of us is a stone archway.

  Behind it there is darkness, but within I can glimpse shadows moving, gnarled shapes crawling amongst structures that have bizarre geometry, things that look like skyscrapers that are simultaneously growing from the sky and the ground.

  Inside me, the vampire is cowering in fear.

  From the darkness a pair of yellow eyes spark. A male figure made from concentrated shadow steps out from the archway, the only discernible feature those feral eyes.

  ‘My son,’ he says, walking over to Adam and embracing him. ‘You have finally freed me.’

  Hastur.

  ‘At last I can be whole again.’ He raises his arms and the beast roars triumphantly and grows nebulous, becoming a cloud of gaseous shadow. It flows into him, and when he absorbs the last ribbon of darkness his features become more distinct, more human. Hastur’s face moulds into Christopher Lee’s from Taste the Blood of Dracula.

  ‘I thought you’d appreciate me wearing a more familiar form,’ he says, brushing the shoulders of his black cape. He grins and flashes his gleaming fangs. ‘Now this world is finally mine.’ He strokes Adam’s hair. ‘With you ruling at my side. But I can’t have any impediments to my dominion.’ He pats Adam’s back. ‘You know what to do, child.’

  ‘Yes, Father.’ He springs forward, sinks his talons into my shoulders and pins me to the ground with his knees. ‘Does this bring back happy memories?’ He leans down to kiss me, but I throw him off and he tumbles across the grass.

  ‘Why do you still hate me?’ He laughs, jumping to his feet. ‘I brought your parents back together.’ I snarl in fury and run at him, wanting to rip off his smug grin. I punch his face and the blow glances off his temple. He ducks to avoid the next swing and punches me in the stomach. I fold onto my side, winded, gasping for breath, dropping the crystal. I call on the vampire inside me for help, but it is silent.