The Deeps (Book Three of The Liminality)

by A. Sparrow

  So here’s your first test. There is a nice old gal up in Burlington (just up the road a half an hour). Her name is Miss Elsie Beedle. She has a gorgeous soul and was a beauty in her prime. I want you to pay her a visit for me.

  Don’t worry, she’s expecting you. She’s already told the staff her grand-nephew is coming to visit. If anyone asks, tell them you go to UVM.

  Her address is:

  The Lakeview Assisted Living Center, Room 29

  335 South Winooski Avenue

  Burlington, Vermont

  In the door of the fridge, you’ll find a bag of physiologic saline plus glucose. Elsie has issues with keeping her food down, so she has a tendency to get dehydrated. Betsy, her day nurse, tends to keep an extra unit on hand in the room for when she runs low. All I want you to do is swap that bag with the one in the fridge. Betsy will do the rest.

  Careful not to puncture the bag. It’s laced with microscopic Fellstraw. Once it gets into her system it’ll seek out her sino-atrial node, that little patch of cells on the surface of the heart that regulates your heartbeat. Those fibers will muck up her natural pacemaker, stop her heart and that will be that. One more freed soul.

  Real clean. One of my favorite methods. Gets rave reviews from the clientele. There’s no pain. They just go to sleep. And it’s untraceable. It’s basically fibers of collagen. In an autopsy it will look like scar tissue.

  Oh, and make sure you bring Elsie some flowers. She likes tulips.

  One last note. Any delay in executing this task will be met by an escalating series of consequences (the same consequences we discussed earlier, and more.) I just want you to know that.

  Sincerely,

  Wendell

  I took a deep breath and slapped the note back down on the counter. How did he know? How did he know we were coming up here? How did he have enough time to set all this up?”

  “He must have access to the Singularity,” said Urszula. “He sees the future. He reads minds.”

  “Actually, it might have been my fault,” said Ellen. “Back in Newark, the immigration officers wanted me to give them an address. So I gave them this one. I thought I was gonna stay here. I didn’t want anyone in my family to know I was back. Not even Grams, at first.”

  I sighed deeply. “I guess … we should have expected this.”

  I stared out the window at the shimmering surface of the lake, wondering if Billy was out there keeping watch for us. I hadn’t received any visions since we left Connecticut, though I probably wasn’t accessible during my time in the Deeps. I wondered if Wendell had infested us with more of those mouse-like extensions of his alter ego.

  “What if I went up to Burlington and did what he asked? It’d buy us some time.”

  “James. No. You can’t just go and kill an old lady just because some guy asks you to.”

  “Why not?” said Urszula. “The woman wants to die. So go help her. It gives us more time to build a trap. What does it matter if there is one more Frelsian Freesoul?

  “And what if he kills someone we know to set an example?”

  “You want to kill, to stop him from killing? That makes no sense. Someone dies, regardless.”

  “Yeah, but at least … it’s a stranger.”

  “Guys, please!” said Ellen. “We don’t have to do this. I know of other places we can go, out west, up north. Places I am certain I didn’t mention to anybody. We can keep running.”

  “Enough running,” said Urszula. “It is time we stand our ground. Let the Frelsian come to us. Soon I will have my spell craft and we will have the advantage. I am sure that my scepter and I are on the verge of forming a bond.” She plopped down on one of the sofas. “Besides … I like this place.”

  Chapter 24: Middlebury

  For the first time in a very long time, I slept the simple, restful sleep I knew in the days when my mother home-schooled me. I would come home all tuckered out from youth league basketball and settle my weary bones into a little twin bed defended by a valiant stuffed Triceratops named Benny.

  And there I would dream. Nice dreams. Not the angst-ridden psychodramas that would haunt my adolescence. But fanciful forays in the company of a legion of imaginary companions through landscapes that looked remarkably like my old neighborhood in the Cleveland suburbs.

  And so here again in Vermont, with the spring peepers screeching, I slept the drowsy sleep of my childhood, falling into a deep stupor entirely free of roots and Reapers and lands of frigid dust. Instead, I dreamed of walking an endless beach, nothing but breakers and dunes to either side. Skittering crabs, tiny and pale, appeared and vanished like ghosts.

  I followed a distant figure, dress billowing, hair flowing in the wind. Her footprints had been mostly washed away by the surf, but here and there, the traces were sharp and clear.

  When I awoke, the frogs had gone silent, their duties taken over by the less frantic chirping of birds. Bright shards of reflected sunlight danced on the far wall. I was completely refreshed—bright-eyed, mind buzzing as if I had already guzzled a double espresso.

  An ululating scream disrupted my reverie. I heard a thump and the sound of wood splintering. I nearly fell out of bed trying to scramble out of the room. I rushed out of the bedroom to find Urszula sobbing in the sitting room, a piece of scepter in either hand. She tossed both pieces into the fireplace and collapsed face down on the sofa.

  “What happened?”

  “What does it look like? I destroyed my carving.”

  “But why? I thought that was your scepter.”

  “No. It is just a chunk of wood. I tried all night, but I could find no resonance in it, whatsoever. And it seemed so promising. But no. It is useless, just like me. I am nothing. I have nothing here. No craft. Nothing.”

  “But I thought you said you were starting to bond.”

  “Wishful thinking. I thought it was the case … but I was wrong. I tried … very hard to find the flow. To have it channel. But there was nothing. No response. It is only wood. And I am only flesh. Nothing more. I am hopeless.”

  “Well, you didn’t need to break it. I mean … that was some nice carving.”

  She sneered it me. “Fool! I didn’t carve it to be pretty for you to admire. The carving releases the essence, if there is any essence to be released. But there was none. It is just a hunk of wood. And me? I am worthless here. I am … nothing.”

  Ellen appeared in the hallway looking all sleepy-eyed. “Is everything okay out here?”

  “Oh, uh … Urszula kinda had a tough night. Her spell craft isn’t working.”

  “Oh. That’s too bad. I’m sorry to hear that. Let me make us some breakfast. Maybe that’ll cheer everybody up. How do you guys like your eggs?”

  “Me? Over easy, I guess.”

  “Urszula?”

  “I am not eating.”

  “But you have to eat something.”

  “What for? I am worthless. Let me waste away.”

  “Oh stop. You are not worthless. Look at me. I have never been able to do magic. Does that make me worthless? Now go and wash up. I’ll have breakfast ready in a jiff.”

  ***

  While I helped Ellen crack a bunch of eggs and shred some potatoes for hash browns, Urszula avoided us. She went out back and started gathering sticks, hauling armloads up to the house and arraying them neatly on the porch. She carried hunks of driftwood up from the lake shore, tore the prickly lower limbs off hemlocks, and snapped all kinds of branches from maples, oaks and beeches, both green and dried, all vying for the opportunity to become her scepter.

  The intricately carved length of knotty maple she had found in Naugatuck was just ashes in the hearth by now. It was a shame having to watch it burn.

  Ellen was oblivious to Urszula’s loss. She didn’t realize how much a scepter meant to a Duster. They were naked without them. Scepters were the conduits of their will.

  Ellen just kept tossing splits on the fire until there was a great, big roaring blaze. I couldn’t go
anywhere near it. My sensitivity to warmth was persisting. I had spent the night sleeping in the raw, uncovered and with the window wide open. Ellen, in contrast, was swaddled in a thick men’s sweater with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. The cuffs kept sliding down and were already soiled with egg whites.

  “I would have made us some pancakes too, but did you happen to see what kind of syrup they had in the pantry?”

  “No.”

  “It’s Aunt Jemima! Can you believe it? What sacrilege! Here we are in Vermont, of all places and there’s Aunt Jemima in the cupboard. Well, we’ll fix that when we go into Middlebury. I actually prefer the Grade B stuff, myself. It’s darker than the top grade, but I think it’s got more flavor. I’m making a list, by the way, for when we go into town. Anything special you want from the supermarket, let me know. I’m stopping by the bakery, too and get some nice, crusty bread.”

  “Mac and cheese.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s been ages since I’ve had mac and cheese.”

  “You got it, mister, though there’s plenty of stuff here to make it from scratch from real Vermont cheddar.”

  “No. From the box. I want it from the box. Just like we used to have in Florida.”

  “Suit yourself. Not a problem. I’ll put it on the list.” She leaned over and peeked out the window at Urszula, who had climbed a tree and was hacking away at a bough with a small hatchet. “Oh my God. That girl and her sticks! These eggs are almost done. See if you can get her to come in and eat something.”

  I stepped out onto the porch, although there was barely enough room to walk. Urszula was crouched town in the dirt, prying at a tree root. A cool breeze kicked up off the lake. It felt real felt nice.

  “Yo. Come on in and have some breakfast.”

  Urszula didn’t even look up at me. “I am busy.”

  “Oh come on, you’ve got to eat. You’re a human now.”

  She just snorted. “Eat without me. I will make something later. Maybe I will make us some borscht.”

  I ducked back inside, turning up my palms to Ellen. “What can we do. She’s fixated on finding a scepter.”

  “Well … we’re not gonna let these eggs get cold. Let’s go ahead and eat. I’m famished.”

  ***

  So we drove to Middlebury after breakfast, Ellen and me. Urszula stayed behind, still absorbed in her ransacking of the wood lots for interesting lengths of wood. Irregularity seemed to be the only unifying characteristic of her chosen rods. She favored knots and scars and twists over anything smooth or linear. She had assembled quite a collection of candidates by the time we left.

  It was a short drive to town. Ten minutes along, we had already reached the outskirts.

  I had brought Wendell’s letter with me. I was thinking maybe I could convince Ellen to drive me up to Burlington after we were done shopping, if it wasn’t too far. I had smuggled the bag of IV fluid into the car and tucked it under my seat.

  It seemed like such simple act, swapping this bag of fluid for another, and one that would go a long way towards easing the pressure on us from Wendell. It would sure be nice to stay put in a place more than a day for a change. But I struggled for a way to broach the topic with Ellen, without stimulating a knee-jerk response from her.

  But the more I thought about what was in that bag under the seat, the more it troubled me. That was Fellstraw in the car with us. Yes, it was sealed in a bag, and likely programmed to go after one particular person, but it unnerved me just the same. It got me thinking about what else Wendell might have laced with the stuff.

  “You know, I’m thinking maybe we shouldn’t have eaten that food Wendell left for us.”

  “Why not? It seemed fresh enough to me.”

  “It’s not that,” I said. “It’s the Fellstraw. If he could use it to doctor IV fluid, what’s to stop him from slipping it into our food?”

  “I’m sorry, but what is … Fellstraw?”

  “Well … it’s basically these fibers that attack the body. I suppose they’re kind of like smaller versions of Billy—little fragments of will that do nasty things for the soul who creates them. It was Fellstraw that killed my girlfriend. Karla.”

  “Magic? You girlfriend was killed by evil magic?”

  “Basically, yeah.”

  “So what should we do? Dump all that food?”

  “Maybe.”

  She squinted and scrunched up her nose. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would he want to poison you? He wants you to work for him.”

  “True. I know it doesn’t make sense, but just to be safe, we should restock.”

  “Seems a damned shame,” said Ellen. “Did you see those steaks he left? I was hoping to stick them on the grill for dinner,”

  “Maybe it’s fine, if we cook ‘em well. I just … I don’t trust him.”

  “It’s a little late for you to be worried, mister. The deed is done. We drank his orange juice. Ate his toast and eggs and potatoes. If anything was in it, it’s inside us now. So … why should we worry at this point?”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  ***

  So we went with the assumption that Wendell’s provisions were safe to eat and just stocked up on various condiments and treats at the Middlebury Hannaford’s, stuff like hot sauce and Grade B maple syrup, sour gummy worms and Ben & Jerry’s ice cream by the pint.

  Serendipitously, there was a TJMaxx right across from the supermarket. So I picked up some jeans and stuff that actually fit me and didn’t make me look like some old man farmer from Appalachia. Ellen bought a heap more stuff than me, but then again, she was buying for two, though I couldn’t imagine seeing Urszula in the dress Ellen bought for her.

  Ellen wanted to buy a gnarly walking stick for Urszula that was in a bin marked down 90%, but I put the kibosh on it. That girl had plenty of sticks to choose from in the woods. We didn’t need to buy her one.

  We were crossing the lot, back to the car when my vision went kablooey. I had this sensation of falling. I thought for sure I was being dragged back to the Deeps, but it was a false alarm. It turned out to be Billy sending me visions, and although I was glad to connect with him again, he was clearly in trouble.

  He was hurtling through the treetops in a mixed conifer and deciduous forest. I caught snatches of his erratic, darting flight and glimpses of a gleaming expanse of water that looked remarkably like Lake Dunmore. It almost seemed like Billy was fleeing from something the way he pulled all these evasive maneuvers.

  And them something latched onto Billy and started tearing him apart. He tumbled down through the branches and hit the ground hard. What was left of him gathered itself together and went scurrying through the leaf litter, taking refuge under a rock.

  Ellen unlocked the door to the car and stood there watching me.

  “You okay? You look like you’re drunk … or in a trance.”

  “Yeah. I’m okay.

  “Is it that root place? Coming to get you?”

  “No. It’s Billy. He’s in trouble.”

  “Where is he?”

  “I think … back at the cottage. We’d better go back. Now!”

  ***

  I was a little bit relieved to see no sign of Wendell’s car when we pulled into the driveway, because that was what I dreaded and expected. I relaxed a bit more than I should have.

  Grabbing a sack of groceries, I whistled for Urszula. There was no response, but that was not so surprising. She didn’t particularly appreciate being called with a whistle. She once told me that whistling was only fit for summoning dogs.

  We entered the house. Something smelled good. There was a pot of what looked like borscht simmering on the stove. Piles of beet greens and cabbage trimmings littered the counter top.

  There was an iPhone on the kitchen table that hadn’t there when we left. It rang the instant I stepped into the kitchen. I picked it up.

  “No more dawdling. Get your ass up to Burlington.” It was Wendell.

  �
�Yeah. I plan to. We had … uh … errands to run.”

  “Is it him?” hissed Ellen, eyes bugging at me.

  I nodded.

  “You might have noticed,” said Wendell. “There’s one less girl in your household.”

  “Urszula? What did you do with her?”

  “Oh no!” said Ellen.

  “Calm down. She’s fine … for now. Pathetic little thing. Obsessive-compulsive, from the looks of it. Did you see all those damned sticks of hers? As if a Duster could expect to find a scepter in this world. Sad, really.”

  “What did you do to her? Where is she?”

  “You’ll find out once you get your ass to Burlington and do what I asked of you. Technically, if you don’t do anything, you’ll find out too, but I guarantee you’ll like the news a lot better if you do what I asked you. Now, it’s not that hard. I laid all the groundwork already. You just need to consummate the act. And the sooner you get moving the more intact your little Duster friend will be. So enough dilly-dallying. Poor Elsie thinks she’s been stood up yet again. Ta-ta for now. And don’t forget the flowers.”

  He hung up.

  “So did he take her?” said Ellen.

  “I don’t know. He didn’t really say.”

  Ellen scrambled out onto the porch. Every stick Urszula had gathered was still neatly arrayed on the porch. I saw no sign of a struggle.

  “Check every closet,” she said. “I’ll look down in the basement.”

  Ellen ran back into the house and clambered down the kitchen stairs, I didn’t bother with the closets. I knew it was pointless. There was only one way to satisfy a guy like Wendell. I snatched the keys to the Camry off the counter and slipped out the front door.

  Chapter 25: Elsie

  I got in the car and tore out of that drive before Ellen could stop me. Through the dust cloud behind me, I caught a glimpse of her in the rear view mirror as she barged out of the cottage. She didn’t chase me far. She pulled up on the road, all slumped and sad, watching me go. I wondered if she wondered if I would ever come back. I wasn’t so sure myself.

  I didn’t exactly know the way to Burlington. But driving through Middlebury I lucked out and stumbled onto a signpost at the junction with Route 7 North, so I turned. It was as momentous a left turn as I had ever taken in a vehicle. Now that my course was set, my core filled with little needles that seemed to precipitate out of my blood. I’m not sure I was cut out for this assassin business.