by M. J. Caan
“What are you doing?” said Torie. “We aren’t cops, we can’t just go wandering into someone’s house.”
“Why not?” said Opal. “I mean, the door is open, I feel like I was invited inside.”
“It’s open because…oh, never mind. Let’s just get this over with.” Torie pushed past them and entered a small, but comfortably appointed, living room. There was a matching sofa and loveseat, each covered in a vibrant fabric bursting with bright flowers. A spindle-legged chair sat to one side, next to a tall cocktail table with a turquoise blue lamp that was slightly too big for the supporting table. An old, box television, complete with rabbit ears, sat in one corner.
It looked like the room had been frozen in time.
“Elric,” said Torie, “how old was this couple?”
The wolf shrugged. “Not sure. I’m not good with guessing human ages; but I’d say she was late sixties, and he was at least a decade older than her.”
“What would a teacher at the local school and her elderly, supposedly dead, husband have to do with outbreaks of violence among shifters in town?” wondered Jasmin.
They briefly walked through the house, checking the tiny kitchen and two back bedrooms. Everything in the house was pristine; from the perfectly arranged bric-a-brac to the dusted shelves and tightly made beds. Nothing was out of place.
“It’s almost too clean,” said Torie. “This place looks like it’s barely been lived in.”
“Well, we’ve looked through every room except the basement. We can give that the once over and see if anything looks amiss there.”
“I still feel guilty about rummaging through these people’s house,” said Torie as they made their way to a closed door that opened to a narrow stairwell. “You’re sure this is the same woman whose scent you caught at the bar and bakery?”
Elric nodded. “Absolutely.” He paused upon the stairs, lifting his head slightly and sampling the air.
“What is it?” asked Torie, nervously.
“Something…unpleasant,” he replied.
Torie felt a chill move up her spine as she saw his claws descend from his fingertips. Whatever he sensed had triggered something in him, and he maneuvered his body on the stairs until he was standing directly in front of her.
“I feel it too,” said Jasmin. She held both hands in front of her, each encircled by glowing blue light. “There is something down here.”
As one they moved down the steps, Jasmin in front, followed by Elric, Torie and Opal.
“What is that smell?” Torie screwed up her nose.
“I’ve never smelled anything like it,” said Jasmin.
“I have,” whispered Opal. “And I pray to God it’s not what I think it is.”
Torie wanted to ask her to clarify her remark, but the scent in the air had grown considerably as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and when she opened her mouth to speak it clawed at the back of her throat. She found herself struggling for the words to describe it. There was the heavy scent of wet dirt, but it was combined with the coppery smell of fresh blood, something that made her think of a three covered in peat moss, all overlaid on something that smelled sweet but almost rotting.
The stairs descended into a small, cramped space with a low ceiling. Boxes stored against a far wall were illuminated by the glow of Jasmin’s magic. Water lines reached halfway up their sides, indicating the space had definitely flooded at some point, and Torie wondered if maybe that was the source of the smell. Water damaged cardboard plus whatever was housed in them.
There was a single, naked light bulb swinging from the ceiling which Elric flicked on by pulling the string attached. The naked glare showed there wasn’t much more to the room. There were stacks of folding chairs and a couple of card tables leaning against one wall, along with more boxes marked “Christmas” and “Books”.
Low, wooden crossbeams covered in spiderwebs crossed the ceiling, intersecting open pipes and visible wiring. They walked from the main room through an open door into yet another damp space, this one had fluorescent lights strung across the wooden beams that whitewashed the room and the friends in an unflattering glare at the flip of a light switch on the wall. This room was empty except for a series of large, five gallon buckets that sat in the very center of the space.
Whatever was in them emanated the sickening smell, and Torie nearly gagged as they approached the buckets. Jasmin held out her hand, increasing her magical glow as they peered into the containers.
“What the hell is that?” demanded Jasmin.
“It looks like…mud,” said Elric. His nose was wrinkled at the stench, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Every instinct I have is telling me to leave this place.” His voice was low and gruff, and Torie could tell he was on the verge of shifting into his wolf form in response to whatever it was they were looking at.
His initial assessment seemed pretty accurate to Torie. Holding her breath, she peered closer into one of the buckets. They were all filled with the same brackish, wet-looking substance. For all intents and purposes, it looked like a bucket of black, wet dirt. She reached out a hand only to have it smacked away by Opal.
“Ow,” she said.
“Don’t go touching stuff you know nothing about,” said Opal. “Hasn’t my sister taught you anything?”
“You have words,” said Torie, shaking out her hand. “You could have used them, you know.”
“Opal, do you know what this is?” asked Jasmin.
She nodded. “I do. But what it’s doing here, in the home of a human, is the real question.”
“Uh, no, the real question is what the hell is it?” said Torie.
“It’s called motor-nekros. An ancient word from the hex language, the language of witches, that means dead water.”
Jasmin frowned. “Why does that sound familiar…?”
Before Opal could answer, Elric let out a low warning growl. Dropping to the ground, he shifted to his wolf form and slowly advanced to the very back of the room where there appeared to be another small room. The door entering it was tiny and little more than a cut-out in the concrete wall, trimmed with black wood. It was faintly lit by another naked lightbulb, and if Elric had not pointed it out, the witches may not have even noticed it.
“Torie, stay behind us,” said Jasmin.
She and Elric approached the room slowly, with Opal staying close to Jasmin. At some point she had summoned her familiar and it floated behind them; an extra set of eyes to keep watch over their backside.
Stepping into the room, they were assaulted by a new smell. One that had been shielded by the overpowering sweetness of the mud in the previous space. This was a smell they all recognized.
The rot of human flesh.
Tori gagged and held her arm up, resting her nose in the crook of her elbow for protection. The glow from Jasmin’s magic illuminated the room with the wattage of a hundred lamps.
Like the others, this room was sparse with only a few boxes against one wall. Unlike the rest however, this room was dominated by a large pool table that hulked in the middle of the open space. There was something lying on it; something they could barely make out, even in the glare from Jasmin’s light.
They approached it, standing at the edge of the table and looking down. It was a figure, small and diminutive. Not much bigger than a five-year-old. But upon closer inspection they realized it wasn’t a child, but rather something that had been molded into the shape of a child. It was formed from the dark mud that was in the previous room, and it lay on the table, black and glistening in the light.
“What the hell?” said Torie. “Why does it smell like something dead?”
“That’s not where the smell is coming from,” said Jasmin. She nudged her friend, directing her attention to Elric. He was moving slowly towards the back of the room where the only other piece of furniture sat.
It was a bed, covered in threadbare sheets and a plain, tattered blue blanket.
Sitting on the e
dge of the bed was an old man. His feet were planted on the floor and his spine was ramrod straight. He was perfectly still, eyes as dark as night were focused on the wall in front of him. In his arms he held a body. One that was badly decomposing in his grip.
It was the body of Myra Simms, and her husband sat motionless, cradling her in his stiff arms.
16
Elric was sniffing at the man, a low, rumbling growl emanating from him as he inched closer.
“Elric, no,” said Opal. “Stay back. Let us handle this. And whatever you do, don’t get any mud on you.”
Both Torie and Jasmin looked at her questioningly.
“Trust me,” she said, glancing their direction before returning her attention to the man sitting on the bed. “Please ask him to stand down.” She motioned in Elric’s direction.
Torie nodded and motioned for the wolf to return to her side. Only when he was standing beside her did he revert to his human form.
“He’s not real,” said Elric to Torie and Jasmin. “Whatever that is, it’s not a man. It has to be what was with the woman at the bar.”
Torie felt the hair on the back of her neck stir as she watched Opal slowly approach him, her hands at her sides, fingers splayed and palms out, indicating that she was not armed and meant no harm.
“Mr. Simms,” she said, her tone even and low, “can you hear me?”
There was no reply from the man, or whatever he was. Torie squinted, trying to see if he was breathing. He was as still as a statue, and she wasn’t sure he was even alive.
“Mr. Simms, my name is Opal and I’m not here to hurt you. I’m just going to move right here and sit beside you for a moment.” She made her way to a spot on the bed next to him and sat down, careful not to disturb the feet of the woman he held that were resting on the blanket next to him.
“What is she doing?” Torie whispered to Jasmin, who responded with a shrug.
Opal continued speaking softly to the man beside her.
“Is that your wife? She looks very tired. I am sure she is grateful to you for holding her all this time, but I’m betting she would be more comfortable lying on the bed. And I’m sure you must be tired as well; it can’t be easy sitting there, holding onto her for so long. How long have you been like this? All day? Since yesterday?”
Still there was no response, and the witch looked at her friends before continuing.
“Why don’t you let us help you? We can take her and place her on the bed where she can rest; and you can relax and tell us what happened.”
She reached slowly for the woman in his arms just as Torie and Jasmin moved to step closer to them.
That was when the man’s head snapped around to stare at them, freezing Torie and Jasmin in their tracks. His black, unblinking eyes locked on them. They were flat and emotionless and for some reason Torie found them extremely sad.
Following Opal’s lead, she approached the man slowly. As she got closer, she could make out more of his features. He was elderly, probably in his late seventies, with a shock of unkempt, white hair. Deep lines covered his forehead and around his sagging cheeks. Age spots dotted his face and flowed across his reddish nose. The skin on his face was thin; so much so that she could make out the thin veins that ran across his temples where his thinning hair had retreated.
But it was his eyes that dominated his face. Large, black ovals, with no irises or visible eyelids. They were like small saucers in the middle of his face, and the fact that they were fixed on her made her even more uneasy. Still, she inched forward, keeping her eyes locked on his.
“She’s right,” she said. “We aren’t here to hurt anyone. We just want to help, if you’ll let us.”
She reached over and tentatively placed a hand on the woman’s foot. It was cold and stiff and Torie fought her instinct to recoil from the feel.
This was obviously someone the man cared about greatly. She felt her heart bottom out at the thought of loving someone as much as he surely did to sit there holding their cold flesh for so long.
The man held her gaze but didn’t move as she took the woman’s feet and slowly swung her legs off his lap. Torie nodded to Opal, who leaned forward and slipped her arm around the woman’s torso. Briefly the man stiffened as the weight of the body was lessened. Opal paused long enough for him to relax and then resumed taking the body out of his arms. She stood at the same time as Torie, and together they lifted the woman away from him to place her body on the bed. She was beginning to stiffen, so they lay her on her side in a semi-fetal position.
The man still sat there, just as he had, arms bent and out in front of him as if he still held her body.
Even though he had turned to face her and seemed to be staring right through her, Torie waved her hand in front of his face. He didn’t respond to that either. Not sure what her option might be, she reached out and took one of his hands in hers. To her surprise, he squeezed slightly, and did not resist when she gently lowered his arm so that his hand rested in his lap.
“Mr. Simms,” said Torie, “can you speak? Can you tell us what happened here?”
When he didn’t answer, Jasmin stepped forward and tentatively placed her forefinger on his forehead. Closing her eyes, she whispered an incantation to herself. She remained like that for nearly a minute before stepping back.
“Nothing,” she said. “There are no residual memories inside this man. It’s like he’s…empty. I’ve never felt anything like it.” She looked at Opal and nodded, then stepped back.
Opal placed a hand on the man’s head and spoke to him. “Mr. Simms, I’m going to try something. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
Then she looked at her familiar and gave a nod.
Without hesitation, the smoke flowed across the floor, reassembling in front of the old man, before slowly entering his body, becoming one with the human its master now held in thrall.
Torie and Jasmin watched closely, not sure what was being done or what to expect. Almost immediately, the old man’s body stiffened even more. His torso jerked spasmodically to one side, almost as if he were trying to pull away from Opal’s grip. She placed her palm flat on his forehead and gripped his thigh with the other, holding fast.
Torie placed a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder, massaging him gently.
“It’s okay,” she intoned, softly.
Then, before anyone could act, the man stood. The suddenness of his movement threw Torie’s hand off, and he turned to face her, his previously emotionless face now a mask of rage. He roared, shoving Opal away from him as he rounded on Torie, shoulders squared, fists clenched.
Instantly, Elric was at her side. He had shifted into his hybrid form, and grabbed the man by the arm, a warning growl escaping his wolfen mouth.
The old man moved with surprising speed. Before Elric could react, he grabbed the wolf by his arm and with little discernible effort, threw Elric across the room to crash against the stone wall. Collapsing to the floor, Elric shifted to his full wolf form. Howling in anger, he bared his fangs as he crouched, ready to spring at the man. Opal moved to stand in front of him, holding her arm out to stop his attack,
“Elric, wait,” she said. “Let me try something.”
Waving an arm, she motioned to the man, or rather to the familiar inside the man. Smoke curled out of the old man’s nose, mouth and ears as Opal’s familiar left his body, only to coalesce as it re-formed, standing next to the witch.
Immediately the old man calmed, his body losing its rigor; yet he continued to stare at Torie, his black eyes and face once more devoid of feelings.
“What the hell was that?” demanded Jasmin, rushing over to Torie and Opal. “Are you two okay?’
“We’re fine,” said Torie, answering for both of them. “I don’t think he was trying to hurt us; he just lashed out at whatever Opal’s familiar did to him.”
“I asked my familiar to meld with him, see if maybe it could pick up what our magic could not,” said Opal.
“And?” asked Ja
smin. She watched as Torie moved to stand beside a now human Elric. “What did it find out?”
Opal’s familiar twisted and flowed around her, circling her body like a translucent python. She closed her eyes, letting the images the familiar had gathered flow into her mind. When she opened them, her eyes glowed white in the dimly lit room.
“Just as I thought,” she said. “This man is a golem.”
Jasmin and Torie just stared at her. Elric’s eyes lit up.
“I knew it!” he said.
“Oh, you knew it, huh?” said Opal. “Then why didn’t you save us all some time and effort and tell us sooner?” Elric looked away sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
“I meant, I didn’t know the word for it, but it explains his…emptiness.”
“Okay, for the rest of us, can you tell us in lay terms what a golem is?” said Torie.
“A golem is a creature traditionally made of clay and brought to life by magic,” said Opal. “They are used to perform their creator’s bidding.”
“Or they can act as protectors,” said Jasmin.
“True,” said Opal. “The question is, what was this one made for?”
“He seems pretty protective of Myra Simms’ body.”
Torie paced the floor, arms folded, one hand cupping her chin. “So Mr. Simms isn’t real? He’s something that someone made…with magic?”
“Making a golem is advanced magic,” said Opal. “It is beyond the skill of all but the most advanced practitioners of the arts.”
“So, who could have done this?” asked Torie.
Opal pointed to the dead woman on the bed. “You’re looking at her.”
“What? Are you saying this…teacher, was a masters-level witch?” said Jasmin.
“Not at all,” replied Opal. “There is not a whiff of power coming from that body. Even the ambient air in this home has no residual magic. But golems only respond to the orders of their creators. He was holding her deceased form, guarding it if you will. There is no mistake who created it. Elric, is this the same man you saw with her on the street?”