by Lucy Swing
* * *
I grabbed the makeup bag from the front seat and fumbled in my purse for my keys. With them in hand, I walked up the four steps to the wraparound porch and unlocked the door. Mom must be running behind, because there were no decorations outside. Still looking down at my purse, I closed the door behind me. Then I looked up and gasped.
Mom had really done a fantastic job decorating inside. All the pumpkin lights were strung up around the threshold, and the Grim Reaper’s robe was billowing in the breeze from a small fan underneath. That must have been Dad’s idea—he was always clever that way. The snack table was set up with all the fake body parts and food made to look like guts and slimy things. I was a bit surprised that it was so quiet, though—they were probably waiting somewhere to jump out and scare me. They always got into a festive mood for my Halloween birthday party.
Then, amid the orange crepe paper decorations in the far corners of the living room, I noticed something strange. By the fireplace, standing stock-still, was a red-haired woman with a black panther beside her. My stomach made a back flip at the sight of the animal. It did look just like the one I had seen below my window.
I shook off the feeling that took over me. Mom must have hired entertainment, I thought. A smile started to form on my lips. How cool! I took a few steps forward, my eyes on the panther. It wasn’t on a leash, which I thought strange—even maybe a little dangerous.
The woman looked at me without saying a word, as if studying my every move. I looked around to see horrible red stains all over the walls and furniture. Just as quickly as I had noticed the stains, my heart sank to the bottom of the deepest sea.
I finally realized why it was so quiet.
Dad was lying on the couch, his clothes soaked in blood. His neck was torn apart. Was this a costume? It looked too real. My breathing started to fail me, and my head started to spin. Then I noticed Mom, crumpled face down on the floor, also bloodied. She was not in a natural position.
I couldn’t speak. My knees went numb, and the tears blinded me.
It couldn’t be . . . My parents were dead.
How? Why?
I felt my heart and mind shatter. I looked through my tears at the woman and let out a little moan. She looked at me with the most unnatural I smile I had ever seen. I took a step forward, ready to rip her to shreds.
Her finger tapped the panther, and in response it bared its teeth and moved toward me. It had been crouched about twenty feet away, but it was across the room in an instant, close enough for me to reach out and touch, its long, yellowed canine teeth bared.
Was I going to die, too?
The question came to me clear as day. All my numbness and horror vanished, replaced in that instant by a desire to escape, to survive. I bolted toward the kitchen and slammed through the back screen door. I heard it break off its hinges. I could hear the panther’s claws scrape wood as it followed me across the back deck. I jumped clear of the steps and fell on my landing. Frantic, I rolled up to my feet and sprinted to the edge of the woods.
And there I stopped. Everything I had just witnessed filled my mind to the brim. There was no way to withstand it, and I began screaming. The scream turned into a wail like the siren on a fire engine. The panther came to an abrupt halt in front of me, and just as suddenly, I saw the woman appear beside it. The wailing sound I was making grew louder and louder. I didn’t even draw in a breath—just somehow continued to bellow in unfettered rage and anguish. My ears were hurting, and I felt as if my whole body were on fire. But my back felt as if it was being pricked by thorns.
At that point, everything began to feel like a dream. Perhaps I imagined it, but from the forest, a flock of ravens appeared in a great cloud—thousands of birds. They swooped down around me and attacked the panther. Bird after bird hit with such force that each impact made a loud thud. A few birds fell dead, their necks broken from the force of their attack. The panther leaped and swatted a few times before fleeing, defeated by the birds’ vicious assault.
The woman looked at me. Her face was horrifying. There was something in her deep obsidian eyes that made me feel as if she was here for nothing else but to kill me.
“Ki-sikil-lil-la-ke,” came the voice in my head.
The woman was pale with rage.
“Ki-sikil-lil-la-ke,” it called again with greater urgency.
Looking at the woman, I was frozen. Somehow, I knew that she wanted me dead, and I knew I needed to run. But I couldn’t.
She took a step forward, and all hesitation vanished. I moved through the forest with a single-minded fury that left me without another thought. I could sense the woman behind me. Everything was moving past so quickly, I could barely see where I was going. I could hardly catch my breath, and my clothes felt tight. The collar of my shirt constricted my neck.
After running headlong for what felt like an eternity, I came to the dirt trail leading to the forest’s outer edge. I knew that just beyond it was the cliff. This was a dead end. I had run in the wrong direction.
Hearing the rapid footfalls of the woman running behind me, I ran a few steps more, then stopped right at the edge of the cliff. In an instant of terror, the most tremendous pain I had ever felt in my life came over me. It was as if someone had shot a bullet into my right shoulder. I lost my balance and fell over the edge.
The woman’s eyes looked down at me in surprise. She raised her hand, and in it was something small and white. All around me the darkness pulled at me, and I grew lost in it.
****
“Jade? Jade, are you all right?” I opened my eyes, and even with my blurry vision I could distinguish Claire’s face. “Nate, call nine one one.” She slipped her hands underneath me, and with unearthly strength I didn’t think plausible, she picked me up, and carried me into the warmth of her house.
9. on my way