Harris
Page 13
"I would pay double to see a sequel. That was hilarious," Harris said, walking out, hand in hand with Dylan. "Let's hit the bathroom and then we should grab some dinner."
Dylan went into the men's room, across the hallway from the ladies' room. Harris went into the women's restroom. Two young women giggled, quoting lines from the same movie that she had just watched. She laughed quietly with them. Harris sat on the toilet in one of the stalls and heard the door close as the girls left. The restroom was empty, now. Harris smiled, thinking about the movie still, when someone stopped outside of her stall. She could see a person waiting in front of her door, their body almost visible through the crack along the door.
"Occupied," she said through the door. She thought it was weird that the woman wasn't trying any other stall, when there were about ten more unoccupied. The person didn't answer. Harris leaned forward toward the crack, trying to make out the waiting person better. Snapping forward, a pure black eyeball stared in at Harris. Harris gasped. She jumped up, pulling her pants back up.
"Excuse me! Occupied!"
The eye disappeared. Harris opened the door of her stall and walked to the sink. She didn't see any other woman and assumed she must have found an unoccupied stall, unless it was a creepy pervert trying to catch a thrill. She washed her hands and went for the door, but stopped. Harris took two steps backward, eyeing up the row of stalls. All of the doors appeared open. Where was the other person?
She walked along the row, bending forward to peer underneath, looking for feet. There were none. That was bizarre, she thought. She came out of the restroom to see Dylan waiting, leaning against the wall.
"The weirdest thing happened. Someone came in and looked right at me through the crack alongside the door. There were no other people there. They could have went in any other bathroom, so why look into mine? Unless they were some sort of peeping-Tom." Harris stopped and studied Dylan's face. He didn't have his usual smirk and relaxed eyes. Instead, his mouth was tight and tense, and his eyes were serious with concern.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
Dylan looked at Harris and then looked around, as if checking for anyone within earshot. "Something happened to me, too. I was alone, but when I was washing my hands, I saw someone behind me in the mirror. I turned around, but no one was there."
Harris felt a creepy-crawly feeling tease the back of her neck. It couldn't be happening. The jar was in the dirt. She had a normal dream, like a non-haunted person would. Also, why would Dylan suddenly be experiences supernatural events when he never had their whole entire relationship?
"That doesn't make sense. It can't be like that. Maybe the same pervert was in both bathrooms," Harris suggested. She didn't want to admit that she felt it. She felt a presence, but she pushed the feeling down, away from her thoughts. Her life was finally starting to be normal. Maybe the theater was actually haunted. That was a possibility. It strangely made sense, the more Harris thought about it. They've had no hauntings except for now, in the theater. That must be the case.
On the way home, they didn't discuss the bathroom events again. They also didn't discuss it out at dinner or at home. They went about their normal nighttime routine and went to bed. Through the dark, Harris looked over and saw the light from the window reflecting off of Dylan's opened eyes. He was staring at the ceiling, probably thinking about the movie theater. Harris thought about it, too. After the theater, nothing weird had happened. She told herself that her original theory was correct. It had to be.
* * *
A tapping started on the bedroom window. Dylan sat up abruptly. He was on high alert. Harris knew it couldn't be her ghosts. Dylan never heard or saw those ghosts. The tapping continued. Dylan slowly put his feet onto the floor. Harris watched as he approached the window. Squinting, Dylan put his face closer to the glass, trying to see into the night. He turned and looked back toward Harris to see if she was awake.
"I'm up. I heard it, too. Maybe a tree branch?" Harris said softly, even though they have no trees in the front yard.
Dylan turned back toward the window. A face flashed in the window, dark and twisted. Harris saw it, too, and yelped. Dylan stumbled backwards and tripped over his boots left on the floor. He hit the floor with a thud.
"Babe, are you okay?" Harris asked, afraid to get out of bed.
"I'm good. I thought I saw something," he answered.
"You did," Harris responded, almost in a whisper.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
"Maybe we should go back to Pearl," Dylan said.
"No, there's no point. If she couldn't help us, she couldn't help us. She did what she knows. If she knew something better, don't you think she would have used that?" Harris asked.
"I guess. Harris, that face last night...did you ever see that before?"
"That particular face? No. Have I seen similar faces before? Yeah. There are so many, but only a couple repeats. The boy in my room, he was a regular, although there were others who came, too. Sam, too. She had been there at the party, on the Ouija board. She spoke to me on the computer. The shadow man, he used to appear often. He is like ten feet tall, but he always hunches over," Harris explained. "Then there are others. Sometimes regular people, sometimes other things, not human things."
Dylan took in Harris's words. He looked terrified. Was this it? Is he finally going to run away? Everyone has a breaking point, Harris thought. Dylan looked around the house, looking paranoid. His blinks were far apart and brief, as he was alert and ready. Harris felt bad for him. He wasn't used to the spirits.
"It's okay, Dylan. We can go back to Pearl if you want. Maybe we can try something new, too. There's a crystal healer in Burbar that just opened. We can try them." Harris told Dylan, rubbing her hand across his shoulder and back.
* * *
On the way to Pearl's, the car was quiet. There wasn't much to say that didn't involve spirits, so they both kept to their own thoughts. The trip seemed shorter, now that Harris had done it twice. Dylan flipped through radio stations, and before they knew it, they were already pulling up next to Pearl's vegetable garden.
Pearl walked out onto the porch. She was expecting them since Dylan had called ahead. Her bright eyes looked concerned.
"Come in, guys. I already have the room set up for you." Pearl said.
The living room looked much the same, except there was a round table in the center of it. The couches had been pushed away to allow for more room around the table. Candles were lit all around the room and a smell of burnt spices filled the air. A pentacle was laid out on the floor around the table with salt.
"Please sit," Pearl said gesturing toward the table.
Dylan and Harris sat side by side at one half of the table and Pearl sat at the other half. She placed her hands palms up, on the table.
"Grab hands. We are going to see who these spirits are," Pearl said bravely.
Harris took a big gulp and held onto one of Pearl's hands and one of Dylan's.
Pearl started, "I ask the mother and the keepers of the dark to open up the portal between worlds and allow us to connect to each other. Spirits rise from your slumber, rise from your hiding and hear us. Tell us. Teach us."
Harris shook at Pearl's words. Everything she wanted to avoid they were calling out to, intentionally.
"Spirits and souls who follow Harris and Dylan, who are you? What do you want? Speak or show me, so that we can resolve your issues and close this gate." Pearl continued as Harris felt her heart race.
Harris felt her neck tighten. She was paralyzed, except for her mouth. Something moved her, controlled her from inside. A creaking groan rose up from her throat and out her mouth. Dylan looked over at her, an intense fear lit up his eyes. Harris's shoulders slowly rose up toward her chin level and her head tilted to one side.
A voice came from Harris's mouth that was not Harris. "Fuck your witch chants and spells. You can't stop it. I feel no constraints."
Harris felt her mouth move and heard herself, but she did not
sound like her. The voice was sharp, and gravely. It vibrated in Harris's head and stomach. Her mind raced. Her head tilted the other way as the demons inside her took over again. An image played in her head, as if she was seeing through someone else's eyes. It was her yard. It was night. Whoever or whatever she was in, it was running quickly toward the disturbed dirt where the jar was buried. Harris watched as long dark, filthy fingers dug into the ground like a dog, flinging dirt behind her. Quickly the jar was exposed. The thing looked around the yard, scanning for something. A rock laying in the grass caught it's eye. The blackened hand snatched up the rock and threw it down into the hole, smashing the jar open. Then its head snapped up, eyes fixated on Harris and Dylan's house. Harris's vision went blurry, then black.
"I like it here. I think I'll stay." Harris shook, banging against the table, knocking down the candles. Hot wax spread across the table and onto Pearl's lap. She flinched but stayed in her seat. Dylan saw the wax shoot across the table and jumped up to help Pearl.
"No, don't!" Pearl yelled to Dylan, but he had already jumped up.
Harris sat with her head hanging down. Dylan sat back down into his chair. It was quiet, now.
"You must never break a seance circle. When you thin the veil between us and them, you have to tread carefully. The circle helps contain whatever might come through. Hopefully nothing got through," Pearl said solemnly.
"What was that? Is she okay? Is that thing gone?" Dylan was in a panic. "What do you mean 'got through'? Isn't it already through? Why does Harris see them if they aren't already through?"
Harris slowly lifted her head. Dylan squeezed her hand. "Baby are you okay?"
Harris nodded slightly. "The jar is gone. I saw the jar. Something dug it up. They broke the jar. Whatever it was. I could see it," she stammered.
Dylan looked to Pearl for answers. Pearl furrowed her brow.
"Thank you spirits for your presence. Please move on, now. Keeper of the dark return all home, close the circle, return your throne. Mother watch us, keep us safe, I will it now, I've closed the gate," Pearl said, rushing through her speech. She stood and hurried to a drawer, pulling out a bundle of herbs. She lit the herbs and put them out. Smoke streamed from the bundle and Pearl darted around the room, waving the smoke in symbolic shapes in the air. "Well, that was interesting. Harris, you saw the jar?"
"Yeah. I broke it. Well, not me. Whatever I was inside."
Pearl nodded. She seemed to understand what was happening. Her face was reflective and difficult to read. Harris could feel a rawness in her throat. She tried to focus on Pearl's face as she cleaned her house of spirits. Did she see worry? Or was Pearl sad? Something turned in the pit of Harris's stomach.
Dylan sat silently. He was obviously trying to string together all of the events that led to that moment. Harris could sense his apprehension. He didn't look up, just focused on the table top and the now dried puddle of wax across it. Finally he looked up at Harris.
"What else can we do? There is nothing. Mediums, priests, witches, spells, and blessings, we've done everything I can think of. Now...now I'm not even your safe spot anymore. I saw them, too. Why you? Why is this happening?" Dylan's eyes glistened, tears welling up. He was failing to protect her, and it killed him inside.
Pearl made her way toward the table, extinguishing her smoking bundle of herbs. "I have to be honest. This doesn't look good. I can't understand how a person becomes a walking doorway to the other side. Harris, you aren't just a doorway, you're like a lighthouse. Your light just guides these spirits to your side, using you as a door. And they aren't just ghosts of the deceased. Some are, but some of those things you see, they are demons. That black figure you said came through the building? Demon. An actual demon from Hell." Pearl turned around and grabbed a book from a nearby shelf. She flipped to the index, then navigated to a page and dropped the book onto the table, facing Harris.
There were a couple short blurbs about hell and contracts with the devil and demons, and then a chant of some sort. A sketch of the dark figure stood to the side of one of the pages. On the other side, a man's body with a goat's head and goat hooves held his hands above his head. Harris had chills.
“But why now?” Dylan asked. “Why are they trying to kill her now? Why are they killing anyone now? They’ve had her whole life to come after her.”
“I don’t think the ghosts that haunted her as a child are the same that are trying to hurt her. I would think as a small child, her spirit did not attract as much attention. Maybe a ghost here and there. They are scary, sure, but not very dangerous. These things now, these creatures, they are not just ghosts. These are demons. Now that Harris is older, I think her presence is larger on the other side. Now these demons are aware that they can get through using her,” Pearl explained.
“Yeah, but why kill me? Then they lose their door,” Harris asked.
“They don’t care. Demons are simple, irrational beasts. Once they are here, they don’t care if they can go back and forth. They love to torture, maim, scare, and kill. There is no rhyme and certainly no reason. They take pleasure in suffering. Unfortunately, this has been mostly directed towards you, Harris, since you are so noticeable.”
"I have to call first, but there is someone you should see. He was a member of the Wicca community, but left years ago. I’m warning you though, you may have to travel. Let me set something up with him. This is more his wheelhouse. We are getting in too deep," Pearl said, widening her eyes. "I think Petr can help you. If he can't, no one can."
Chapter Forty
"Coffee? Tea? Pretzels?" a woman's voice woke Harris from her nap. She lifted her sleep mask to see the stewardess talking to Dylan. They still had about four hours left of their 10-hour flight.
"I'll have a tea, please," Harris said, her voice still scratchy with sleep.
"How are you doing?" Dylan asked.
"Well, I'm a little cramped, I need a shower, I've officially reached my pretzel limit, and I'm pretty sure someone on this flight has raw garlic in their pocket."
"Okay," Dylan said, " but are you nervous, hopeful, anxious, you know? How are you feeling about this trip?"
"Oh. Alright, well I feel like some witch-doctor is going to do some voodoo magic on me and it is going to have no effect and I will have to live like this for the rest of my life, however long that is." Harris answered, pulling her eye mask back down to rest her eyes until her tea arrived.
* * *
Dylan pointed to the sign above their heads as they entered the airport. Harris wheeling her suitcase behind her, looked up.
Vítejte v Praze
Welcome to Prague
"We're here!" Dylan said. "Look at us, world travelers." He nudged Harris's arm.
She tried to smile, but the weight of the dread she felt made it difficult. The airport was busy. People rushed about and chatter in different languages filled the air. Harris had only ever left the country once, when she took a vacation to Spain with her parents. It would probably be more exciting if this wasn't a last ditch effort to free Harris from a lifetime of hauntings.
A taxi waited outside the airport. The driver held up a sign for them.
Reed/Haim
Dylan waved at the driver and they dragged their bags over to the car. The driver mumbled something and loaded the bags into the trunk. Dylan handed a paper with the address to the driver. After reading the paper, the driver paused.
"Libeň? This is sure where you go?" The driver looked doubtful, speaking through a thick accent.
"Um, yes. I guess so. That is the address we were given. Is that not good?" Dylan asked.
"You will stay in Libeň? Maybe no so good for tourist, huh?" The driver tried to reason with Dylan.
"Well, we are visiting someone. We have an apartment nearby that we already rented," Dylan answered, his lips pulling down into a frown.
"Probably it's good. Just not for most tourist. Still very nice to see different things of Prague. You enjoy." The driver assured him.
"No, is good. You enjoy. We can go, here we go."
Dylan and Harris pressed their faces to the glass. Tall spires shot up off of ancient architecture. They passed over stone bridges and through bustling city streets. Castles stabbed out through the skyline. Shops and bars were busy with tourists and locals, alike. Harris rolled down her window to hear the sounds and smell the air.
"It's beautiful," Harris said, awestruck.
"Yes, Prague is most beautiful city in most beautiful country," the driver said proudly.
Twenty minutes had gone by and they were still driving. Prague was a large city, Harris was realizing. They drove through different districts, each having its own unique features. As they approached their destination, Harris could see they were off the beaten path, at least as tourism goes. The roads went from worn pavement to rough cobblestone. Tall apartment buildings stood side by side like soldiers overlooking a high traffic area. People walked in the street, passing right in front of cars with disregard. They turned down a street with no sidewalks. Colorful buildings painted in bold colors sat directly on the street. Bright reds, blues, and yellows livened up structures that may have seen better days. The door opened on a green painted house and a small child poked her head out, only to dart back in.
"This is place." The driver said, bringing the car to a stop. Dylan collected their things and paid the fare.
There they stood, in front of a small blue house abutting two other small houses, in similar disrepair. Two long windows sat on either side of a tall, slender door. The roof was red, but spots of missing material revealed a black paper underneath. Harris took it in, then rushed up to the door and knocked.