by Mink, Jason
"Baxter!"
Baxter turned. Dressed as a bee Erica stood beside him, flushed and breathless.
"Yes?"
"James wants you to join us in the library."
Baxter laughed. "And why is that?"
"He says he has something he wants to share with us."
He sipped his drink, considering. " You know, I'm good, actually. Tell him thanks, though." Baxter turned back to the dark-haired beauty he'd been chatting up. There was just something about her eyes: Zak had referred to it as the "Innsmouth look", whatever that meant. Baxter tried to continue their conversation but there was a damnably insistent drag at the corner of his costume. "You know," he said warily, turning, "you don't tug on Superman's cape…"
"Come on." And there was something odd in the way she said it, as if it wasn't up for debate.
While he enjoyed the closeness he felt with his newfound friends, Baxter felt uncomfortable sacrificing his freedom for it. Still, if it made the host of this extravagant lunacy happy, who was he to say nay? "Hey, I'll catch up with you in a few minutes," he said to his mysterious companion. She smiled and wordlessly turned away.
"Damn it, Ashton. This better be good," he muttered, following Erica through the crowd.
"So what's with hitting on the chick back there?" Erica asked casually."I thought you and Annie were an item."
"Define item," Baxter said dryly.
She nodded. "Gotcha."
They made their way to the library, where Erica knocked twice, thrice, then twice again.
"What's that? Secret code?" he asked, trying to get her goat.
"I guess. James told me to do it. I guess he's trying to keep the riff-raff out." The door opened then and the two entered. Another couple attempted to follow, but a large man in undertaker's garb step out to block their path.
"Sorry, folks. Private party."
The door was bolted behind them. Baxter approached the circle of light at the center of the room. Unsurprisingly, it was only the seven of them who'd been gathered. Ashton and Chloe sat together quietly; Adam occupied a corner couch with Annie, who appeared to be hanging on to his every word. Zak was preoccupied, smoking a joint and slipping records in and out of cardboard sleeves and onto the twin turntables that provided the soundtrack for the party. The music was intense, a fibrillating beat mirrored with bursts of radio static, found sound and curiously-familiar vocal fragments. He nodded to Baxter absently, took the drink that Erica offered and went on.
"Hello, Baxter. Glad you could join us." Ashton smiled as Baxter sat down in the chair beside him.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, James. Hello, Chloe. You look lovely." Baxter would have complemented her on her costume but she didn't seem to be wearing one. Clad in white as usual, her only concession to the masquerade a small harlequin mask perched upon the tip of her nose. She acknowledged him with a barely-perceptible nod, then looked for something more interesting to stare at. Nonplussed, Baxter finished his drink, watching Annie out of the corner of his eye. She was laughing at something Adam said, oblivious to his presence. Ever since she'd found out he'd spent the night with Erica she'd been giving him the brush-off. This was absurd, Baxter felt; he hadn't even known Annie at the time, yet she was still pissed at him. He decided bitterly he didn't care, finished his drink and began looking for another. Just then Ashton gave Zak the high sign and rose to his feet.
" Ladies and gentleman, if you will."
They gathered in a circle, waiting for Zak. He appeared moments later, a smile on his face.
"This oughta hold 'em," he said in reference to the music. It was SEPTEPED, an extended remix Zak had acquired through new international channels. The new version was sparse, almost bleak, much more in keeping with the iFFF original than previous mixes. It filled the room with the drone of the hive, a buzz that seemed to resonate thickly through them.
Ashton smiled. "Thank you all for joining me here; I promise I won't keep you from the party for long."
Baxter felt slightly chastened but let it pass.
"Tonight is the Solstice. The beginning of the summer season, it is a high time, one of feasts and festivals. We gather together to celebrate the ascendance of Sol to the throne. He who is Ra Hoor, Thor, Vishnu and one hundred and one others, every one the Son coming into his own. This is the time of change, when power is grasped by the questing fist, when change is wrought like lightning across the face of the green earth." Ashton looked at each of them in turn, then continued. "I ask only that you join me in this humble ritual." He reached into a curiously-angled box and withdrew an intricately-carved meerschaum pipe. It was a representation of some unrecognizable icon, a creature more in line with myth than nature. Part lion, part woman, it bore a serpentine cast around the eyes, a suggestion of the aquatic about the mouth. Its carved texture suggested feathers, scales and other, less terrestrial details. The curved pipe-stem seemed dubiously consistent with its overall form, snake-like and arching in a forward motion. It was, on the whole, unwholesome.
"Ugh. What the fuck is that?"
Ashton smiled at Adam's honest reaction. "It is…a relic. Something my family was lucky enough to acquire several generations ago. Things like this no longer last in the world."
An odd statement but everyone seemed willing to let it pass, if just to hear what Ashton had to say next. But he said nothing, only lighting the pipe and taking a long, slow draw off of it. Silently he passed it on to Chloe, who wordlessly repeated his action. She passed it in turn to Annie.
"What… what is it?" Annie asked timidly.
"It's a medicinal blend," Ashton said, exhaling."It goes back to the Dadan Indians, who used it for their ceremonies. It's quite mild; you'll enjoy it."
She looked unconvinced but hit the pipe anyway. After a moment she exhaled, making a sour face. "Uck."
Baxter suppressed a laugh; he felt a surprising bitterness towards Annie, a sense of angry entitlement at her expense. Immediately he regretted it, knew he was just being petty. No promises had been broken, no blood had been shed. There was no reason to scorn her. He smiled her way and she smiled back, still rolling the taste around on her tongue. Baxter watched Adam hit the bowl wordlessly; ever the enigma, the man seemed almost reverent in the act. His twin braids swung forward as he bowed his head, mock horns swaying with the effort. He passed the pipe to Zak who blasted away on it like there was no tomorrow. Baxter had to give him credit. The fool held his hit, even though it must've been twice the size of his puny lungs. Surprisingly relaxed, Baxter took the pipe when he came his way. It tasted familiar somehow, earthy and dark. What was it meant to do, he wondered? This certainly wasn't the way the Dadan did it, sitting around a posh, moodily-lit library listening to imported vinyl.
Erica smiled, accepting the pipe from Baxter. She inhaled deeply, seemed quite surprised by something and nearly had a fit coughing. She went on for what seemed to be a long time, hacking and gagging in the worst possible way. While she did the pipe went around again, making the air dense and opaque. When it came to her again she smiled weakly, gamely taking another hit. The second seemed to sit better with her, though she still coughed a bit. By now Baxter was feeling the smoke's effects.
It began at the nape of the neck. Less than pressure, more a numbing warmth, it slowly spread down the spine and into the arms and legs. A curious, almost pleasurable sensation if not for…? It was hard to say exactly what. It built in their limbs, set their skin a' tingle, left their extremities exceptionally sensitive to the touch. Baxter rubbed his fingertips together and the feeling was intense, almost orgasmic. Had Ashton given them ecstasy? It felt similar, but there was an almost-electric undercurrent to it, as if it had been cut with speed.
As one, the group's breathing sped up, falling together and apart in ragged counterpoint to the music. The walls seemed to vibrate with them, had become some lung-like membrane thrumming in time. With effort Baxter looked away and back at the others. Zak was itching, twitching every which way. Adam stared straight a
head, through the window and into the night beyond. Annie seemed to be listening for something, her head cocked questioningly to one side; beside her Erica appeared unsure, smiling one moment and biting her lip the next. Only Chloe seemed unmoved, setting back in her chair to wait patiently.
Ashton looked beatific, his hands at his sides, a warm grin spreading across his face. "Ahhhh." His sigh rippled throughout the room, sung against the buzz of the music. They could nearly see it, the buzz, could feel it find its way through skin and muscle and into the bone.
"…damn." And though Zak had spoken under his breath they felt this, too, the sound vibrating in their skulls.
"MNNNN!" Erica said, relishing the sound. It seemed to well up from deep within her, could be felt in each of them, bringing blissful smiles, fearful stares and a sense of rapturous justification. Baxter noted Chloe was hitting the pipe again, intent on catching up. He couldn't imagine. The smoke had him so high he was sliding out of his skin. There was a roar in his head; impossibly distant, it was more the shape of a sound than anything, an echo that seemed to grow, not fade. He heard his friends speak, sing, surprised at the sounds coming out of their own mouths. It seemed impossible to determine who was saying what, their voices blending together to make different colors against the inside of his eyes. He laughed, joining the chorus of sound, setting off in turn another wave of expression among them. And the seven became part of the music, their words stripped of meaning and spoken anew as incantation, bouncing off of one another to define a new outer form. It rippled, striving for shape and ever failing, waves that rung out and away from them.
"Love," Erica said in shades, defining the word a thousand different ways.
"Lust," Zak said salaciously, an easy scar across the freshly-lain flesh.
"Power," Adam intoned stonily, paving the once-supple way with graves.
"Balance" Annie said unevenly, her words tilting on the pivot, spilling heavily across the beam. And all this fodder toppled and fell into a thing just barely there, was gone the moment they noticed the abrupt jumble of sound and shadow…
"That's probably enough for tonight," Ashton said, effortlessly rising. "Please feel free to return to the party, or remain here, if you like. I will see you all soon."
He swept the pipe and case up in his hands, leaving the group stunned and silent.
"What the hell just happened?" Baxter asked with effort, his words like wet cement. Zak shrugged helpless. Annie was once again listening for something. "Adam?" Adam did not reply, still staring at the space in the center of the room where nothing had happened.
"You had a hallucination," Chloe said dismissively, "it's no big deal."
"Then I guess you didn't see what I saw," Zak replied simply. His eyes were normal again. The effects of the strange drug had now almost completely abated, burning off in one white-hot moment of potentiality. He rose stiffly, made his way back to the turntables in the corner without another word. Adam followed suit, going to the bar and slowly, carefully, making a drink.
"Wow," Erica said breathlessly, her antennae skewed to one side. "That was really fucking intense."
Baxter nodded. "Yeah… what do you think it was? DMT?"
Erica shook her head. "I have no idea. Some designer drug James ferreted out, I'm sure. There's no way the Indians were sitting around smoking that stuff. What do you think, Annie?"
Annie rose wordlessly, straightened her costume and walked out of the room.
"What's with her?" Erica asked, brow furrowed.
Baxter sighed. "I'm not the one to ask." He smiled without meaning it, then ran his hands through his hair. "Want a drink?" he asked, rising.
"Sure. Bring the bottle." Erica stood up, adjusting her stinger so it sat high on her rump. Baxter followed it without question, back to her waiting hive.
FIVE A.M.
Baxter wandered through the detritus, pushing through the carpet creepers and hallway sleepers to reach his own room. The party had at last collapsed, falling silent only minutes before he left Erica's bed. As he slipped through the door morning was still only a dim hope for him, the endless night threatening to never end. He was truly spent, both physically and emotionally.
The experience in the library had spurred an hours-long conversation between he and Erica, one which had dredged up all kinds of psychic muck. When it was too much they fell together into bed; and while a pleasant diversion, the sex was somehow lacking, the sense of immediacy diluted by their previous experience in the library. It all kept coming back to that, that almost-something that words could not define hanging over them as they lay entwined. He'd had to leave and she didn't seem to mind; they both needed time to recover. Baxter wondered how Zak had fared, if Ashton had returned, where Annie had ended up sleeping. He knew he had no right and yet…
He fell into bed, but his mind spun on. Countless scenarios played out before him, variations of Annie's seduction by Adam, by Ashton, by any anonymous clown she took a liking to. It was unfair, of course, but he couldn't stop his imagination. The events of hours before had stoked it to a high fire, lent an air of doomed poetry to any old thing he chanced to see. All were mirrors, reflecting back the untenable rhythms of life, the unavailability of all he truly desired. At last the sun came, bringing its small solace to the young man who, only then, found he was able to sleep.
NOW
Baxter sat up, swung his feet over the edge of the bed as if he'd been sitting. "Come in." He couldn't believe he'd fallen asleep. He'd only shut his eyes…but the darkness outside the window implied otherwise. Clearly he'd been out for hours. Baxter chided himself, as always a total amateur. How could he be such a fool? He squinted. For a moment the doorway was empty, save the rectangle of sepia light spilling in from the hallway. Absolute, eternal, it seemed as though nothing could be there, the doorway simply a window into something that had long ago ended. But then he appeared: even in silhouette Baxter knew him.
"Baxter. I hope you slept well."
"I was meditating, actually."
Ashton chuckled in the gloom. "Yes, of course. Thank you for coming."
"Well, don't just stand there," Baxter said, trying to hide the waver in his voice, "I was just about to call for room service."
But Ashton's silhouette remained in the doorway, unmoving. "This weekend we begin," he said quietly. "The ceremony is complex, and will take several days to prepare. Until then you should remain here."
"Here? Where is everybody else? I'm not going to stay in here…"
Ashton raised a hand."They are all here, in their rooms resting. You should do the same."
Baxter suppressed a thrill of panic. "Sorry, James. I need to see them, make sure Annie and the others are all right." He walked to the doorway. "It's not that I don't trust you…" he began. Then he stopped. "My God."
"What is it, Baxter?" Ashton asked, a dark humor in his voice. "What is it you see?"
Baxter tried to swallow, found his throat was fused. Ashton leaned forward, his shadow falling into the room and across his guest. "Come now. You're the clever wordsmith. What have I become? Describe the unspeakable horror you see before you. Use a lot of adjectives. Make it really scary."
But Baxter was unable to move, much less wax poetic. He'd expected everything, anything but… but this. This was too much. He tried to step to one side but Ashton was there, blocking him.
"Baxter. Relax. Obviously words fail to do me justice. I understand. Trust me, it's going to be all right."
But what Baxter saw before him was evidence to the contrary. He stepped back, hands balled into fists. As he did so something became audible, a hum that resonated up through the floor. "Son of a bitch…" Baxter immediately stopped. He opened his hands, forced his mind clear. The hum grew louder, left him feeling like an ant in a speaker cabinet but he hung on, focusing on nothing. Ashton spoke but it was lost in the dissonance, as the hum buzzed through the wood, seeking. Baxter gave it nothing, kept his mind blank, placid. The sensation vibrated up through his heels, le
ft his knees weak, his bladder straining. Endless moments later it dissipated, vanishing unsatisfied into the woodwork. Secondary pulses rolled upwards and Baxter did his best to ignore them. In a way they were worse than the first burst; more beguiling, they echoed the beauty of nature's patterns in their own ravenously perverse way, fishing for him with a favored bait. He remained resolute, the spell only broken by Ashton's words.
"The phenomena will grow exponentially now that all of you are here. Tomorrow at breakfast we will gather in the dining room. You will see your friends there." He turned and strode off, closing the door behind him. Baxter didn't need to hear the click to know it had been locked. Dropping to the bed he began to shake uncontrollably. He gave the fear five seconds. It filled him, saturated every cell, overwhelming any barriers that had held it at bay. It took him as the sea must take the beach, sweeping over him without apology, stripping him of all but his most basic components. Then, from the sand, he watched it wash out, it's five seconds over.
"Nothing can hurt you unless you let it," Shea had told him one winter night, as they watched the storm blow in. "If you're gonna work in this world you best be prepared for the things that'll come your way. You take precautions, you watch each other's backs; you do the work an' you'll be all right. But there'll come a time, sooner or later, when He's gonna come right up to you. No matter how well you drew your magic circle, no matter how adept you are at leveling the angles, one of these days He's gonna catch your scent an' come lookin'. You gotta always be ready."