by Nick Scorza
The King pinned Zoe down with one immense hand, while with the other he cut a spiral pattern into her arm, a whorled glyph like we’d seen cut into poor Danny. This time Zoe did scream.
I couldn’t bear to see that thing hurt my sister. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t really my sister—she was in every way that counted, and I couldn’t let this happen.
“Stop!” I shouted.
The King looked up at me and laughed, a horrible sound like rocks scraping together.
“What will you do, little bird? When I am finished, you will no longer look alike, at least until I start on you. You will not die here, unless I wish it. Your suffering will sustain me until I return to your world.”
I shook with fury as much as fear as he carved another letter on Zoe’s arm. What could I do against this living nightmare? His shadowy form filled half the chamber. I had never felt so small. Then I remembered something, something so desperate and crazy I could barely believe it—I had something he wanted.
“Wait! If-if you stop and let her go, I’ll—”
“Yes?”
The King raised his awful red eyes to me. I could not meet them.
“If you let her go, I’ll be your vessel. You can come back into my world through me.”
“Clara, no!” Zoe shouted, “you can’t!”
The King’s hand closed around her neck, silencing her.
“I come from an old bloodline. I was bathed in the lake as an infant. You must need a host to agree, or you would just take one. So, I agree—take me, but you have to let her go.”
I could only imagine what this would mean, but I’d seen enough with Keith and his father. I’d have to go far, far away from anyone I cared about, or I’d make their life a living hell. I’d have to endure as it brought out everything cruel and hateful in me. I already felt despair settling in my chest, but I felt a kind of grim joy as well, knowing Zoe would be free.
The King glared at me a moment longer, his clawed fingers flexing, and for a moment, I thought he would tear me in half for daring to bargain with him. Then he bared his fangs in what I could only guess was a smile.
“Very well. I grant you your wish.”
He took his hand off Zoe, who curled into a ball on the stone altar, shivering. The look she gave me was pure horror. She knew better than me what I just agreed to.
“Step closer,” the King said, “into the pool.”
I took steps into the cold, clammy lake water, wincing where it touched my skin. The pool was shallow, fed by a source I couldn’t see.
“Give me your hand.”
I knew he meant the one that Keith had marked, the cut that had barely stopped bleeding. Grimacing, I opened my hand and held it out to him. With a swift flick of his claw, he opened the cut again. I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip was too strong. I wasn’t prepared for what came next. He plunged his hand into the open wound—it was more painful than anything I’d ever felt. I screamed, expecting to see a bloody ruin instead of my palm when I looked down. Instead, the King was melting. . . . That was the only way I could describe it. His hand, and now his arm, was flowing into mine, seeping slowly into my body. Every moment of it was agony. And worse than the pain, I could feel the King seeping into my thoughts, sifting through my memories. He dragged all of them out, showing me the very worst in each one. Everything and everyone in my life was tainted somehow, I could see that now as never before. I hated my father for leaving, for not being strong enough to fix things, for almost letting me drown; I hated my mother for her need to control me, and for fawning over an idiot like Chuck; I hated Keith for obeying his father, and accepting all the privilege it brought, even as he claimed to hate it; I hated Ash for her cowardice, and her acceptance of a rotten life; I hated Hector for his farce of smug detachment; most of all I hated Zoe . . . Zoe . . .
She just lay there shivering, watching me with fear, or was it disgust?
She had lied to me my whole life, made me a freak and an outcast. She had kept me from having real friends, or a normal childhood. She . . .
She had saved my life, twice.
I didn’t hate Zoe. I loved her. She had been everything to me for so long, and she was finally here with me. I told myself it was the King who hated her, who hated all the people I loved, not me. I tried to resist, to clear my memories of his infection and see them the way I used to. I couldn’t. I could only remind myself this wasn’t true. I needed help. The King was halfway into me by now, his horrible predator’s face drawing closer to mine.
Desperate, flailing, I reached my other hand out to Zoe. Somehow, her fingers found mine, and held on tight.
In an instant, another memory came to me—a dim recollection of being bathed in the lake long ago, at the beginning of my life. Zoe had found me then, a kindred spirit in that darkness. I knew then that before being Zoe, she had been someone else, someone as lost as me. I saw her long ago, a different person, laying down her life for her family, enduring pain and death so they could live. I knew she had seen my pain and tried to save me, as well.
Together we were stronger than we ever could be alone. Just holding her hand in mine, I could see us together, playing in the park that for us was an enchanted forest, speaking the language only we understood. We had a bond no one could break, not even the King.
I focused on those memories, running down the wooded path with Zoe, telling each other stories until we fell asleep, and I felt the darkness recede. I heard the King roar as his form began to flow back out of my hand.
His other hand closed around my neck, choking the life from me, but I clung tight to Zoe and felt him recede even further.
“No! I’ll tear you to shreds! I’ll bleed everything you love!” He howled, but we held on tight, and finally I felt the darkness leave me. The King staggered, roaring in pain and rage.
“Now, hurry!”
Zoe grabbed me, pulling me down with her into the black pool of lake water.
I braced to hit the shallow bottom, but somehow we just kept falling through the darkness, swimming through the black depths of the lake. Zoe led me, swimming until little glowing lights appeared out of the darkness, swirling around us and rising toward what I could only hope was the surface.
Then Zoe began to rise. I felt her, lifting me, pulling me upward. She smiled then, her face breaking into the sly grin I’d missed for so long. Just by looking in her eyes, I could see it had hurt her as much as me to be apart. There was so much to say, but we needed to say none of it—we looked at each other and we understood.
All around me, pale lights were rising in the darkness of the lake, rising with me and Zoe toward the sky. With a shock, I broke through the surface of the water, air rushing into my lungs. I held tight to Zoe’s hand, but she kept rising, slipping through my fingers.
I cried out to her, but I felt the exhaustive weight of everything I just survived catching up with me, and my body could take no more. The last thing I saw before consciousness left me was her face looking back, giving me that mischievous smile she always did when she was the first to run down a dark forest path or dive into the deep end of the pool. The last thing I heard was her voice saying, Ah lora soo, sosa—I love you, sister.
XXI.
I woke up to see my mother’s face above me. As soon as she saw me open my eyes, she held me tight.
“Oh, Clara. I came as soon as I heard.”
I was in a stiff, uncomfortable bed which propped me up at an angle. An IV drip was connected to my arm. It was obvious, but it still took me a minute to realize I was in a hospital.
“They found you in the lake, barely breathing. They had to beat that awful water out of your lungs. Then after that, you wouldn’t wake up, and they didn’t know why . . . and after almost losing you twice, I told them I wouldn’t move until your eyes were open.”
She squeezed me to her again. I coughed a little, doing my best to hug her back.
“Dad . . . and my friends . . .”
My throat was scraped
raw; it hurt to talk.
“Your father lost part of his intestine, and it’ll take time to mend, but he’ll be okay. The Redmarch boy was in some kind of shock, but he’s doing better. Poor kid, to see his father do something so awful.”
“A-and Hector?”
My mother frowned, and all of a sudden I felt like I was back at the bottom of the lake. If Hector was gone, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be back here.
“He’s alive. . . . His condition is still critical.”
It was hard for me to focus on anything without knowing Hector was okay. I let the nurse poke and prod me a while longer, badgering her for news she didn’t have. Finally, she decided I was well enough to take a walk and stretch my muscles. I made straight for my father’s room, rolling the IV bag on its stand with me like an old man’s cane.
Dad was napping when I came in, but his eyes snapped open as soon as he heard me, and when he saw who it was, his face lit up with joy and relief.
“Clara, sweetheart, I’m . . . I—”
The relief was plain in his face, his wound and the enormity of everything we’d just lived through made it too hard to say more. He was pale, drowsy from the pain meds, and still fighting through what must have been serious agony, but he seemed happy in a way I hadn’t seen him in a long time. There was a cloth covering his wound, and whatever apparatus they’d rigged to help with bodily functions, which he said was too disgusting for words.
“Really, though, I’m lucky,” he said. “That was everything I’d dreaded my whole life, and I can’t believe we’re alive—”
He saw my worried look, my eyes drifting off toward whatever wing of the hospital Hector lay unconscious, probably wired to a battery of bleeping machines. Even now, I could imagine him making some sort of joke about being too attached to his technology.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I think Hector will be all right—we just have to give him time. We were really worried about you, too. I’m sorry, you never should have been anywhere near this place.”
“Don’t,” I said. “This was bigger than either of us knew, and it wasn’t your fault.”
“Now I know how it feels to have a million questions,” he said. “Maybe someday you can tell me what I missed.”
I nodded and gave him a kiss on the cheek, letting him get back to resting.
As I was about to go, he called me back, his voice as hoarse as mine from not talking.
“Clara, there’s something I have to tell you.”
I came back to his bedside. The strain was evident in his face.
“Dad, you need to rest.”
“I’ll rest, but you need to hear this. I should have thought of it sooner. The twin you almost had in your mother’s womb. Maybe you were supposed to have a twin, somehow, and when she wasn’t born . . . maybe when Jonathan bathed you in the lake,” my father shuddered at the thought of this, “somehow some-someone came through, and took the place of the sister you were supposed to have.”
I nodded. I’d been wondering nonstop about those last moments in the lake, but to have my father say the same thing I’d been thinking out loud made me shiver.
“She saved my life,” I said. “That night, eight years ago. I think she used up whatever power she had in this world to do it, which would have sent her back to the lake.” My heart ached, imagining Zoe doing this for me. “She saved me again last night.”
“I wish I could thank her,” my father said.
“I think-I think she’s free now. I think all the souls they’d trapped are free.”
I remembered the lights rising around me. I hoped she was free, though I wondered if that meant I’d never see her again.
I squeezed my father’s hand. There were tears forming in the corners of my eyes.
“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I spent so long trying to disbelieve the place I came from. I should have known. . . . I should have believed you. . . .”
“No, Dad. It’ll take time, but it’ll be all right.” I could barely talk, afraid the tears would start flowing. Just a short while ago, I had hated both my parents, but when I thought of all my father came from, and how hard he tried to protect me, I couldn’t do it anymore. It would take me a long time to get over the lies, but I loved my parents, and after everything I’d seen in Redmarch Lake, I felt like I finally knew my father.
“You need to rest now,” I said.
They had a few more tests for me, and then the nurse removed my IV. I had been out for more than a day—I had no idea how time passed where I was. I could barely bring myself to think it, let alone say it. Zoe had saved me again, and at least this time, I returned the favor.
When it was just Mom and me again, I knew I had to tell her Dad had revealed what they’d been keeping from me.
“Mom, Dad told me about Zoe.”
She nodded.
“He was afraid you’d hate him, he still is. I’m sorry, dear, it’s . . . well, I can’t even imagine how hard that is. We had no idea what we were doing; we just wanted to do whatever would make it better, but I guess we made it worse. When we almost lost you at the beach, and then after, when you wouldn’t respond to anything, I didn’t know what to do. I hope you can forgive us.”
“I love you guys, but I’m still processing it. I guess it will take a while.”
She held me close again. After everything I just lived through, it was good to see her, good to know my parents were both okay. Sorting out all our drama could come later. Right now, I felt like I’d just put down a burden I’d been carrying a long time, and only now realized how heavy it was. I just wanted to rest—as much as I could rest while not knowing about Hector.
“Mom?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Thanks for not bringing the Woodchuck.”
I expected my mother to give me another disappointed frown, but she actually laughed a little.
“He found out you call him that. He actually thinks it’s hilarious. He said no one ever thought of it, even in high school. Clara, I’m sorry about all this, I know it’s hard. But you have to admit he has a great sense of humor.”
I had to admit nothing, but I did kind of like that he found the whole Woodchuck thing funny. I couldn’t picture myself ever liking Charlie Woods, but I didn’t feel like dealing with it now. It could wait, just like everything else.
A little while later, my mother said I had several visitors. The first to come back was Elaine Cross River, limping slightly on a bandaged leg. She gave me a firm handshake when she saw me.
“You saved my life back there, kid. I won’t forget a thing like that. I’d give you a medal if we had one for that sort of thing.”
“Being alive feels good enough for me,” I said.
“Well said. I’m afraid my visit isn’t only social. Ms. Morris—”
“DiStefano,” my mother said.
“Right, Ms. DiStefano, could you leave us alone for a moment?”
My mother hesitated, but she ultimately walked out. Elaine’s face turned serious.
“We have to be very careful about this incident,” she said. “The statements we’ve taken so far all name Jonathan Redmarch as the perpetrator, possibly by reason of insanity, now deceased in a firefight with sheriff’s deputies. Is that your recollection of the night in question?”
She gave me a meaningful look as she said this, subtly nodding her head.
“Y-yes,” I said.
“Good.” She looked relieved but not happy. I could see this would gnaw at her for a long time. It would do that to all of us.
“Stay strong, Clara. I have a feeling you’ll get into more trouble in your life. You seem to have a real talent for it. Maybe someday you can tell me what really happened.”
She shook my hand again, put her hat back on, and headed out the door, giving me a final wave as she left.
Next they finally let Ash and Keith in to see me. The two of them overwhelmed me with hugs. It was almost too much to see them both right after what we’d all been though—I was overjoyed,
but we were all still scared to death about Hector.
I had to take a deep breath when I first saw Keith—the memory of his eyes glowing with that awful fire came rushing back to me, but it took only a moment to see that was gone, and he was my friend again.
I couldn’t tell if it was lack of sleep or something more mysterious, but he didn’t seem quite as tall or as roguishly handsome as he once had. He was still incredibly good looking, but there was an extra something he no longer possessed, and based on where it came from, I think he was all the better for it.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to help,” said Ash. “I called the cops when I saw lights on the island, but they were already on their way thanks to Hector.”
“And we wouldn’t have made it if not for Clara’s sharp eyes,” said Keith.
As I’d suspected, I was the only one who’d seen Zoe. I guess that was how it used to happen back when I was a kid. I could see Keith wince at Hector’s name. I couldn’t be angry at him—I knew what was in him when he stabbed Hector, since it had been in me, too. But I knew if Hector didn’t make it, Keith would never stop punishing himself.
Ash had brought me a bouquet of black roses, which matched her lipstick and eye shadow. From anyone else, it would have been too morbid for a hospital, but from her it was perfect. She’d also smuggled me a box of cookies from the café, courtesy of Lady Daphne. After a while, Ash said her goodbyes to go start her shift, and Keith stayed behind, a haunted look on his face.
“You okay?” I said.
Keith only nodded. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through right now, to lose a parent in such a horrible way, and to almost lose himself. He winced when he looked at my bandaged hand.
“Clara, I want you to know how sorry I am, for you and for . . . for . . .”
“Don’t,” I said. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You can’t decide who your parents are, and . . . other things . . .”
He leaned in toward me, barely able to whisper what came next.
“It was only inside me for a moment, before we hit the water,” Keith said. “But it was . . . it was sickening. In those few moments, everything I loved, I could have destroyed. I wanted to destroy it. That was the worst part. It wasn’t like The Exorcist, or anything like that. It knew me. It didn’t control my actions, it . . . it made me want to hurt everyone I cared about.”