Elatsoe

by Darcie Little Badger

  “We’re at least PG-13,” Ellie said. “At least. But I appreciate your consideration. If we can survive the night without more death, that’d be lovely. Kirby, come!”

  Kirby gave Glorian’s leg a final shake before relinquishing his bite. Kirby excitedly ran circles around Ellie and Jay, his shimmer tail whipping side-to-side. Al and his new ally wrestled Glorian into a coffin and sealed it shut. “You should have killed me,” Glorian taunted, his voice muffled by three inches of metal. “I finish what I start.”

  “What did you start?” Al snarled, smacking the coffin. “Well? ’Cause this is pathetic. Who brags about attacking a couple of harmless nerds.”

  “Nerd?” Jay asked. “Hey!”

  “I’ll accept nerd,” Ellie said, “but we aren’t harmless. Are you okay?” Al’s clothes—black pants and a white undershirt—were wrinkled, and his hair direly needed a fresh wash and spray. It drooped over his brow.

  “Yeah,” Al said. “Thanks to you. I almost died! You know what Dr. Allerton does?”

  “Heals ancient vampires by exchanging their developed curses for the health of young vampires?” Ellie asked. “We gathered.”

  The bat-earring woman whistled, impressed.

  “Well, uh, yes. That’s exactly right,” Al said.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” Jay said. “Sorry about all this. And I’m sorry that my parents had a fit about the wedding. Ronnie loves you. That’s the important thing. And I, well, I …” Jay flashed a pair of thumbs-ups. “I think you’re swell.”

  “Does this mean that you’ll be my best man for the wedding, brother?”

  “Uh.”

  “I’ll let you take everyone to an arcade for the bachelor party.”

  “Then yes,” Jay said. “Yes, I will.” The two sealed the deal with a firm side-hug.

  “Get out of here,” the bat-earring woman said. “Before other security arrives. I can free the remaining prisoners.”

  “Okay, Lily.” Al jogged to the door without a barricade and unlocked the bolt. “Let’s go.”

  “We can’t leave without my mother,” Ellie said.

  “And Ronnie,” Jay added.

  “Ronnie?” Al looked over his shoulder, whiplash-fast. “Where?”

  “They’re upstairs,” Ellie said. “A green room with fancy mirrors on its wall.”

  “Okay,” Al said. “Change of plans, kiddos. We go upstairs, retrieve family, and then run!”

  “Careful,” Ellie said. “The mansion is …”

  Al opened the door.

  A body was lying on the staircase landing. A dead body. Definitely dead. Ellie didn’t need to check for a heartbeat, because the body’s head was twisted one hundred and eighty degrees.

  “Haunted,” she finished.

  THIRTY

  JUST IN CASE, Ellie checked the body for signs of life. Predictably, she found none. No pulse, no breath. Although the skin still felt warm, it had a waxy pallor.

  “Did he fall?” Jay asked. “An accident?”

  “Not likely,” she said. “A fall can’t make a head … look like … are the prisoners okay? We should hurry.”

  “Everyone fed and free,” Lily said. She and four others clustered in the doorway. “What the hell happened?”

  “Glorian called for backup,” Ellie said. “I don’t think they made it to Dungeon B alive.” She stepped away from the body, trying to forget the way his skin felt. It had been so still. Like touching a warm, soft mannequin. “Stay behind me. Kirby will sound the alarm before an ambush.”

  “Should we bring his gun?” Al asked, gesturing at the dead man’s weapon in its holster.

  “No!” Jay said. “No. It’s … just no.”

  “Bullets won’t help us,” Ellie said, starting the ascent. “They didn’t help him.”

  The lights flickered once, as if winking in agreement. She took the staircase two steps at a time. There were drops of blood on the railing and a red handprint on the wall. How many people had responded to the walkie-talkie summons? Hopefully, just one: an exorcist. However, exorcists usually wore a specialized trade uniform. Their features varied, based on methodology. Some exorcists wove bones and hair into voluminous cloaks. Others draped themselves in mineral crystals precipitated from dead seas. The man on the landing—the body—just wore a black suit, like run-of-the-mill security. What were the chances that a security guard worked alone?

  When Ellie reached the top of the stairs, with Jay, Al, Lily, and the freed prisoners on her heels, she heard Kirby whine timidly.

  “Is there a problem?” Lily asked, her voice a secretive whisper.

  “I don’t know,” Ellie admitted. “Get ready for anything.” Cautiously, she opened the door. As if preparing for a jump scare in a horror movie, Ellie covered her eyes with one hand and peeked through her fingers.

  Violence marked the corridor.

  Broken bodies slumped against the walls and sprawled, in pieces, across the floor. She counted six men: one wore a red robe, the others dressed in suits. Nobody had fired a gun. Maybe they realized that bullets could not deter the dead. Maybe they never had a chance.

  “You didn’t have to kill them,” she said, hesitating in the doorway. “There are other ways.”

  A walkie-talkie on the nearest body crackled, and Trevor’s voice hissed, “Can’t let an exorcist ruin our fun tonight, Cuz.”

  “You’re strong. He wasn’t a threat.”

  “Are you a threat?” asked the walkie-talkie voice. “Or ally?”

  “We just want to go home,” she said. “Will you let us pass?” Ellie took a hesitant step forward, into the corridor. “I won’t appeal to your compassion, Trevor, since it’s far away, but consider the cost. Are we worth the trouble?”

  All six walkie-talkies responded at once: “Go.” Ahead, the exit door exploded open, thudding against the outer wall with enough force to chip brick. It was dim outside, as if the sun decided to call it quits. Had storm clouds flooded the clear blue sky? Texas weather could change on a lightning-strike whim. None of the meteorological forecasts predicted this and the weather icon on Ellie’s phone still displayed a cartoon sun.

  “Go,” Ellie said. “Double time! I’m right behind you. If anything attacks, I’ll send the mammoth.” She waved the escapees forward. Al, Lily, and the four other prisoners hustled toward the exit. Ellie kept a wary eye on the dead bodies, half-expecting their guns to float in the air and riddle the hall with bullets. She and Trevor watched the Indiana Jones trilogy together; he had ample inspiration for deadly traps.

  Thankfully, the bodies did not pounce, and the guns remained silent. All but Jay and Ellie reached the exit safely. “Kiddos, c’mon!” Al called. He rested a hand on the doorway. Ellie had an alarming vision: Trevor slamming the door and severing Al’s fingers. Could vampires regrow digits? Old ones, maybe. Not new vampires like him. “Give us room!” she whispered. “Al, step back! We’re going to run. Okay, Jay, your turn. Sprint like you’re at the end of a marathon.”

  Jay tried to take her hand, but she delicately brushed him away. Trevor had lured Ellie into the house for a reason. He might not want her to leave so soon—or at all—but maybe Jay could escape.

  “Together,” he said, smiling, because Jay was the kind of optimistic fellow who believed every cheer he endorsed in-uniform. Even surrounded by corpses, he had the audacity to see the glass half full, and maybe his optimism was as contagious as his smile, because …

  Jay’s shirt bunched up in the back, as if an invisible hand grabbed it. He toppled with a yelp and slid down the hall, pulled by his shirt. “Let go!” he cried. He thrashed, kicking, but the force that dragged him was stronger than any living human. Trevor flung Jay out the door, and Ellie didn’t see whether Al managed to catch him, because the exit shut with a thunk.

  “Kirby,” she said. “Heel.”

  A tremor ran through the corpses. One by one, they trembled and flopped, like fish out of water. Ellie closed her eyes. They might have been bad men, but s
he didn’t want to see their bodies treated like puppets.

  The sounds of movement ceased, except for a whisper of fabric. She felt the air around her shift, as if somebody was leaning close, and a sour odor tainted the air.

  Ellie opened her eyes. She was face-to-face with the exorcist’s corpse. His mouth hung open, locked in an unending yawn, and his skin was waxy-looking, his blood pooling in his feet. The body did not frighten her, however. It was just an empty shell.

  Trevor frightened her.

  The walkie-talkie in the exorcist’s cloak hissed and sputtered. Through it, Trevor said, “He was wrong.”

  “Who?” she asked.

  “Samuel Tanner, that insufferable know-it-all in your sixth-grade class. He was wrong. We aren’t just balls of negative energy.”

  “What are you, then?” Ellie asked. “Honestly. You aren’t my cousin. He’d never …” She thought the implication was obvious, but just in case, Ellie pointed at one of the bodies. “Never do that.”

  “You’re right. I’m not your cousin.”

  She waited for Not-Trevor to continue.

  “I am,” he said, “an impression Trevor made. I am his spiritual footprints in the earth. I am, Ellie, an emissary of a murdered man, unleashed to right a terrible wrong. His suffering filled me like a breath of air, and now I have purpose. Everything I do tonight will be for him. For justice.” The exorcist corpse’s head flopped to one side, as if trying to study Ellie with its cloudy eyes. “He loved you,” the emissary said. “He loved all his family.”

  “I love Trevor,” she said. “Always will.”

  “Someday, you’ll be reunited,” the emissary promised. “If you want that day to come sooner rather than later, interfere with my vengeance.”

  “Vengeance?” she wondered. “Didn’t you say ‘justice’ a moment ago?”

  “In this case, they’re the same.”

  “No,” she said. “You’ve already gone too far.”

  “Not far enough,” it said. “Not far enough until Willowbee is salted by the blood of its people. They’re despicable leeches. Young and old. They’ve suckled upon centuries of suffering.” The corpse puppet touched a red splatter on the wall. The hissing walkie-talkie voice continued, with a trace of sorrow, “They are worse than vampires, Ellie. Cursed men drink blood indiscriminately, but Willowbee puts a bounty on the Indigenous, the poor, and the vulnerable. Its familial line of doctors steal health to glut the rich. The influence of its founder, Nathaniel Grace, still desecrates our bodies and our legacy with hideous magic. You think the townsfolk here are ignorant? Hah. No. They just don’t care. I’ll make them care. I’ll teach them what it feels like to be powerless. To mourn.”

  “Teach? Listen to me. Trevor taught some of the children at this party! He cares for them too! They’re like his second family. He’d never—”

  “Ellie!” screamed every speaker in the hall. “I thought we already established that I’m NOT! YOUR! COUSIN!”

  The emissary’s voice transformed into a shrill hum that shattered the light fixtures. In the darkness, silence fell. Judging by the meaty thunk beside her, the exorcist’s corpse had collapsed, its puppet strings cut. Ellie winced as a piece of glass pricked her palm. She felt more shards in her hair and on her shoulders.

  The emissary continued, “We must exist for a reason.”

  “Who?” Ellie asked, shaking her arms. Clink, clink went the glass that rained from her sleeves.

  “Me,” it said. “Others like me. There are so many. So, so many emissaries of vengeance trapped between this world and Below. If you tried, could you free us? We’re not too different from animal ghosts.”

  She heard the air ring; the glass shards were floating, colliding, and although she could not see them, their tinkling voices were too close for comfort. “Does anything exist for a reason?” she asked, biting back nervous laughter. “Ask that question to a room full of philosophers, and they might start a brawl.”

  “Another time, perhaps,” it said. “Right now, I’m asking you.”

  “You’re strong enough without an army.”

  “Not nearly. I’ll mince this party, but there’s more work to accomplish. Willowbee is just one town.”

  “I can’t help you.”

  Ellie felt a razor-sharp edge slice through her upper arm. It happened so quickly, at first, there was no pain. Then, a sharp sting pulsed through the wound.

  “Kirby,” Ellie said, sticking her fingers in her ears. “Big howl.”

  If his voice could disperse a river of trilobites, it might also prevent her from dying in a glass tornado. Kirby’s howl reverberated in the hall, drowning out the sound of falling glass. Ellie ran to the exit. Twice, she stumbled over the dead. Were they screaming, too? Or had Kirby’s howl split into a dozen separate voices, each resonating in a different key of anguish? Before her, the door opened, bathing Ellie in a pale rectangle of light. She dove outside, dripping blood from her right nostril, and wrenched the door shut. Beside her, Jay and Al were doubled over, clutching their ears, aching from the bombardment of sound that flew from the hall when they opened the door.

  “What the nine hells was that?” Al asked.

  “My dog,” Ellie said, wiping her nose. Kirby, blessedly silent, appeared at her side. She petted his shimmer affectionately.

  “Is that what he did during the howl incident?” Jay asked. “Back in sixth grade?”

  “Yep. My whole class got nosebleeds. Glass rained everywhere. Why is it so dark out here?” Ellie looked up. There were stars overhead, the bright ones that appeared at dusk. “It’s night?” she asked. “How? We just … we only …”

  “Look at this,” Jay said, holding up his wrist. He wore a watch with a woven blue strap. “My wristwatch says it’s noon. But my phone jumped ahead to 8:00 P.M. when I landed outside. We got stuck in some kind of freaky ghostly time pocket!”

  “That means the masquerade has started,” Ellie said, “and everyone has gathered in Dr. Allerton’s mansion. They’re worse off than fish in a barrel!”

  “Lily and the other vamps went for help,” Al said, grimacing. “What’s our next move?”

  “We save the day,” Ellie said. “I mean. Night. Hurry. The vengeful thing won’t stay gone long.” She shook a few persistent glass fragments from her hair and pointed to the mansion. “Ready?”

  “Onward!” Jay said.

  They ran to the grandiose, columned front entrance. The jesters were gone. In fact, Ellie couldn’t see anyone outside. A crowd of elegant masked people mingled beyond the windows. At least the partiers were in good spirits, unscathed by the emissary of vengeance. Ellie tried the front door. It did not yield.

  “Locked,” she said, “though I don’t know if it’s physically locked or just jammed by the emissary’s poltergeist powers. Who wants to break a window? Anyone see a brick?”

  “Oh! Oh! Another way in!” Jay pointed to a second-floor balcony. The party had spilled outside; two children in papier-mâché masks were using bubble guns to shoot soap bullets over the balcony railing.

  “Easier to climb than a bridge,” Al said. He spider-crawled up the brick wall and jumped onto the balcony, popping a bubble underfoot. The children shrieked and ran inside. “Sorry!” Al called after them.

  “How are we supposed to get up there?” Ellie asked. “Can you lower a … Jay. No.” Jay had knelt near the balcony and extended his hands, as if he wanted Ellie to step on them. She’d seen him do a similar move during pep rallies. The stunt usually ended with a cheerleader balanced on his hands above his head.

  “Trust me,” he said. “I’ve been one-person base with tons of fliers.”

  “What are those? Birds?”

  “I’ve thrown and lifted lots of people,” he amended. “Al will catch you! Right, Al?”

  Maybe Kirby would catch her if Al missed his chance. The pup was good at fetch. With a muttered apology for her dirty tennis shoes, Ellie stepped on Jay’s palm. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she
said. “Because I don’t.”

  “Tuck your chin,” he said. “It reduces the chance of neck injuries. Okay. Three! Two!”

  “Neck injuries?” Ellie asked.

  “One!” Jay stood and threw her in one quick motion, and if Al hadn’t grabbed her by the arm, Ellie would have wobbled and plunged to the grass.

  “We actually did it!” she cheered, her legs bicycling in midair as she dangled from Al’s grasp.

  “Maybe you can join the squad next year!” Jay said. “You’re a natural flier.”

  “Hey, kiddos,” Al said, “we aren’t done yet. Ellie, you need to climb, because I can’t pull you through these bars.” To reach her, he’d shoved his arms through gaps in the railing. “Lift me just a bit,” Ellie said, and Al obliged. When she felt a metal bar against her hand, Ellie grabbed it, flipped to face the building, and pulled with all her strength. Al, now free to move, helped guide her over the rail.

  “Now me!” Jay called. “Lower a rope!”

  “We don’t have a rope,” Al said.

  “Can you carry him on your back?” Ellie suggested. “You’re extra strong, right, Al?”

  “Huh.” Al crossed his arms. “Come to think of it, I could have carried you, too. Or … both of you. At the same time.”

  “Yeah,” she said, lowering her voice, “but he’s so proud of that throw. Look at his smile. Don’t mention it, okay?”

  Al winked and pretended to zip his lips.

  It took a minute for the group to reconvene on the balcony. They followed the sound of laughter and chatter through an empty guest room and down a hall. A woman in a devil mask pointed them toward the ballroom. She giggled when Ellie asked, “Is everyone alive?”

  “I haven’t seen any zombie costumes, if that’s what you’re asking,” the woman said, sipping bubbly liquid from a glass flute. “Hurry, hurry! You don’t want to miss the giveaway. Somebody is going to win a trip to Hawaii!”

  “Where are you going?” Ellie asked. “It’s a great night. You should step outside.” If nothing else, she wanted to spare one person from the emissary’s violence.