Harris
Page 14
She could hear someone taking the stairs down to the first floor. No insulation in here, she thought. Floorboards creaked as the man approached. The door slowly opened and Harris could make out a weathered face and long gray beard.
"Hi. I'm Harris Haim. This is my fiance Dylan Reed. We were sent to you by our friend Pearl back in the United States. She said that you could help me. I think you spoke to her?" Harris said.
The man opened the door more. He wore a tattered dress shirt with brown dress slacks. The buttons were coming loose from his shirt and it was dingy from many wears. A tan housecoat draped around him like a cloak. He gestured for them to come inside.
"Please sit. I am Petr. I did speak to Pearl." Petr said, as he took a seat across from Harris and Dylan. They sat on a small, floral printed loveseat that was worn and unable to hide its age. Petr relaxed on a dining chair. The room was modest. There was little space between the sofa and the chair, and no room for other furniture. A small, old television sat on top of what could have been a nightstand, in the corner of the room.
Petr continued, "Pearl tells me that you have a haunted soul. Not just that, but these poltergeists and demons are able to harm you and others."
Harris nodded. Dylan laced his fingers into hers and wrapped his other hand around top. She squeezed his hand.
"There is a tale of Božena Prazan, a young woman with a similar affliction, many years ago. She was beaten and tortured by spirits and a wise čaroděj, a warlock, healed her. It is possible," Petr said.
"How did he do that?" Dylan asked.
"He killed her."
Chapter Forty-One
"Sorry but are you insane?" Dylan stood from his seat. "We are not killing her. That isn't healing her. Harris, I think this was a mistake."
"Dylan, calm down. Maybe we misunderstood," Harris tried to soothe him.
"She was killed, but not permanently. Her soul had to be removed from her body. It was the only way. Once the spirits see that her soul is gone, they will leave. Harris's soul is loosely connected to both worlds, ours and theirs. Think of it sort of like a dual citizenship. She lives with the living, but also has a home in the afterlife," Petr explained coolly.
Dylan sat again, temporarily pacified while he tried to understand. Harris sat quietly. She pieced together bits of her past to try and relate her experience with Petr's description.
"You ever been visited by someone in your dreams?" Petr asked, seeing her doubt.
Harris nodded.
"Just because you see the dead in your dreams, doesn't mean they are visiting you. Did you ever consider that you are visiting them?" Petr said, holding his hands out. “After these visits, you may be bringing back some unwanted guests.”
Harris felt a shock in her chest. Suddenly the tiny room felt even smaller. Air left her lungs faster than she could replenish it. A fog surrounded her and she became super focused on every detail around her as her eyes zoomed in on everything she looked at. She stood and hurried out the door, into the cobble street, trying to escape this information overload. Anxiety gripped her nervous system as it went haywire. The houses moved and swayed. Harris felt dizzy. Thinking that she had been leaving her body and going to the afterlife to see dead people was more than jarring. A man walked by, looked at Harris in her frantic state, then hurried by faster.
"Harris, come inside. Just listen to him. This has to work," Dylan said, with his head popping out the door frame. He took her by the hand and gently guided her back into the house.
They had migrated to Petr's quaint kitchen. A table to seat four took up a majority of the floor. A rustic sink made a clunking noise when he filled the kettle. Harris had calmed down enough to hear Petr's plan for freeing her soul, and returning it. It was dangerous, but so was leaving her open for every demon and ghost to hitch a ride to the living world, continue to kill everyone around her, and possibly her.
"So we will stay at our hotel tonight. Then, tomorrow, we will meet in Vyšehrad, at the Devil's Columns?" Dylan confirmed.
Petr nodded and pointed to Harris. "You mustn't touch the stones. If I am not there, wait for me, but do not touch the stones."
Harris breathed in deep and nodded, exhaling loudly. "No stones. Got it."
* * *
Dylan called for a cab to take them to their hotel, but no one would come out to them. Petr said it was typical of the taxi drivers, especially for the area. They would have to walk.
It was getting dark when they left Petr's. Some people were still walking about, but many had gone in for dinner. Street lamps provided some light and a few houses had lights on the front that added to it. It was almost romantic, if you could look past the impending soul separation Harris was scheduled for. There was something magical about Prague. The buildings, the streets, the sky, even the air radiated a feeling of mystic energy. It made Harris's insides buzz.
"This is really beautiful. I wish we came here before things escalated to this crazy place we are at," Harris said.
"Yeah, it is. We can come back after things are better. What do you think?" Dylan said, smiling at Harris.
Harris smirked back, but inside she couldn't quiet the voice that told her there may be no after for her. Petr made it sound like things would be fine, but she knew there was a risk. It was a risk she had to take. She studied Dylan's face. The street lights put a soft, warm glow on him. He has done so much for her. She didn't want to leave him. Harris decided she would make it back, no matter what, so there could be an after for her. For her and Dylan.
The glow from the lights played with the shadows on the streets. Shadows moved and swayed in and out of alleys along their path. Harris looked nervously at Dylan. Could he see these shadows? Were they bad shadows? She wondered to herself. The clouds parted revealing the moon. Its light added a blue glow to everything around them, illuminating dark corners and alleys, as well. Thank God, Harris thought.
More shadows danced along buildings. "Those shadows kind of look like people, don't they?" Dylan said, lifting his chin toward the shadows.
"Yeah. Yeah they really do," Harris said, watching them. The shadows danced more. Arms and legs seemed to sprout from the shadows as they danced back and forth along the buildings and into the street. "Dylan?"
Dylan's eyes were wide. He watched the shadows take the forms of creatures as they grew. Harris pulled his arm as he slowed his pace.
"Dylan, let's go," Harris urged.
Harris dragged him along until he snapped to and picked up his pace. Harris's ears thumped as adrenaline pulsed through her body. A fast walk turned into a jog, then a run. Dylan was now pulling Harris in a sprint as the shadows leapt from their buildings and into the street, closing in on the pair.
"What are they?" Dylan huffed.
"I don't know. Demons? Shadow people? Just run!" Harris panted.
The pair flew through the street, dodging parked cars, sign posts, and debris in the road. They made it to a more populated part of the area and slowed down, hoping the shadows had fallen back to the street they came from. They were right. Harris looked back and saw the shadows sinking back into the narrow street they had come off of.
"Tomorrow can't come soon enough," Dylan said between breaths.
A man in a long coat crossed the street towards them. Harris pulled back on Dylan's arm, sensing something was off. The man threw up his arms, tossing his coat back to the ground. It turned to dust. The coat falling away revealed another shadowy demon-creature, like the one that attacked Harris in her bedroom that night. It lifted its long black claws over Dylan, and sliced down with both hands, tearing through Dylan's face, neck, and down into his chest. It pulled its hands from Dylan's gut and pointed one claw at Harris, then dissolved into swirl of smoke.
"Oh God, no. NO! Dylan. HELP!" Harris screamed like she had never screamed before. She knelt down and grabbed onto Dylan's hand, screaming towards the crowds, begging and pleading. Blood pooled around them both as Harris cried and called for help.
Strangers began to gather around
them. Ambulance lights lit up the intersection as the emergency workers darted from their vehicle to the scene. The sound of sirens wailed up into the magical night air that hung over Prague.
Chapter Forty-Two
Numb. That was the only way to describe how she felt. There were no more tears. No fear. Nothing. Harris sprawled out on the hotel bed. She stared into space, her mind both humming and quiet, somehow. The phone rang, but she didn't hear it.
Dylan was dead. Gone. Her fiance, murdered in front of her, and it was her fault. She thought he was safe from her demons. It doesn't matter now. Nothing matters. Everyone is gone.
Dylan's body would be released after the investigation was closed in a day or two. He would go to his parents to be buried. Buried. Harris thought of the stupid jar. She thought of the stupid priest, the stupid crystals, the stupid medium, the stupid witch. All for nothing, now.
The phone rang again. Harris rolled over and picked up the phone from the side table. It was a number she didn't recognize.
"Yeah," she answered, reluctantly.
"Harris?" A familiar woman's voice was on the other end. "It's Pearl."
"Oh, hi Pearl," Harris said flatly.
"Oh thank goodness. I was worried something had happened. Petr called to say you never showed for the ritual and he didn’t have a number for you and I couldn't stop thinking about you."
"Dylan's dead."
Pearl paused. "What?"
"He's dead Pearl. The shadow demon attacked him in the street, in public. That's it." Harris felt her throat tighten.
Pearl was silent for a while. "Harris, I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say."
"I'm going home as soon as his body is released. I don't care anymore. Let them kill me."
Pearl objected. "You can't leave. Please meet Petr at the park. Please. You don't have to give up. Just let him help you, then you can go home or to Norway or France, or wherever. Just please let him help."
Harris sighed. "Pearl, I don't care anymore. Sorry."
Pearl was quiet. "I understand. Remember it's not just you who is affected by the spirits, though. Just consider it once more before you go home."
Harris did consider it. She could keep living with the hauntings, alone, possibly hurting someone else. Or she could meet with Petr and let him attempt to free her. Or, she thought, she could end it all herself and leave this world behind.
Harris rolled herself out of bed. She threw her shoes on and walked out of her hotel, leaving her phone and wallet behind. Harris walked through the street aimlessly, numbly. She walked for an hour, arriving in a new neighborhood, bustling with activity, despite the late hour.
Harris watched the people coming out of bars laughing and enjoying their lives. That could never be her, she thought to herself. It WOULD never be her. Harris walked more, until she reached a bridge. Looking out over the water, the sky seemed endless.
Cars roared behind her as she stood on the narrow walkway. She thought about Marco walking in front of the bus. The image replayed in her head. A truck flew by her, the wind nearly sucking her into the roadway.
Harris turned and gripped the rail, leaning over to see the water below. It was a far drop. She thought of Becca. The shock of the water hitting her must have been terrifying. Or maybe it was serene. There was only one way to know for sure.
Harris pulled herself up on to the rail, her back facing the water. She tried to listen to the water below but the traffic was too loud. She let go of the rail, balancing on the backs of her thighs. Her heart raced.
It could be so easy. She felt dizzy suddenly. Her head spun and it was hard to breathe. All it would take is a simple lean and it'd be done. Harris put her arms out in the air and squeezed her eyes shut.
"You can't get home this way," a voice whispered in her ear, startling her. Her eyes popped open and she gripped the rail. She looked but no one was around, only passing cars.
Carefully she lowered herself to the ground. Her legs shook and wobbled. Without a second look, Harris trudged over an hour back to the hotel. Morning was on its way, but Harris didn't stop at the hotel. She walked past the hotel, through the business block, down dark alleys, and down a colorful cobblestone street.
She stood in front of Petr's house, staring. She hadn't slept and had walked for hours but she was so tired that instead of being bleary, everything was hyper-focused. The details of the wooden door we're incredible and sharp. She was startled when the door opened.
"Come in," Petr said, appearing in the doorway.
* * *
Harris told Petr everything. About Dylan, about the bridge, about the voice. She was lost. There was no place for her anymore, so what could she do?
"My dear, it is not simple, of course. You were given an unfair gift, but that does not mean you have to give up. If we can rid you of these bad spirits, you can live your life however you want. You can find purpose again. And as for your place, it is wherever you roam. Back to your town, to another, another country, here, it doesn't matter. The world is yours. You will always carry the pain of loss, but you can still find fulfillment," Petr told her.
Petr walked into the kitchen to make tea for them. Harris curled up on the loveseat as gravity pulled at her body and eyelids. As the night finally caught up with her, she fell asleep.
Chapter Forty-Three
Candles were scattered about the ground. Under the cover of night, Petr and Harris had snuck into Vyšehrad, a historic fort in Prague, with all of the supplies they'd need. Harris wore a traditional Pagan ritual dress, which was a long tunic with flowy sleeves, a fitted bodice, and flowing skirt.
Petr drew a circle around the Devil's Columns, three ancient stone columns jutting from the ground, with salt, leaving a large empty space on one side. Harris brought over more candles, these ones black. She handed them to Petr and he walked around the circle, laying them in their appropriate places, and lighting them. Petr stood back and surveyed his work. Nodding with satisfaction, he moved to the next step.
"Grab the book from my bag, would you?" he asked.
Harris took the book out. The cover was a strange leathery texture. Words had been burned into the cover, in a language Harris didn't recognize. She handed it to Petr. He opened the book and looked at Harris.
"Remember my instructions. Don't wander far and listen for me."
Harris nodded, nervously chewing her lip. She stepped over the circle and faced him. Petr pulled a small dagger out from his belt, and held open the book. Harris held her hand, palm down over the book. She looked down and saw layer upon layer of blood stains spattering the pages. She winced as Petr used one hand to drag the blade down the length of Harris's forearm. Blood dripped down her arm, over the backs of her hands, and between her fingers, landing onto the pages of the book. She took the book from Petr and held it out.
Petr pulled up his sleeve, revealing a thick band of scars tracing down the back of his forearm. He drew the knife down the side of the scars, widening them more. Blood trickled down his arms and hands onto the pages, as well. Petr took the book and closed it, whispering another language to it. Harris began to feel faint, but she wasn't sure if it was her nerves, the blood, or something happening to her.
Harris waited for the signal, and when Petr nodded, she laid down near the columns. She rested her hands on her stomach, her fingers intertwined. Petr placed herbs between her laced fingers and said another phrase in some language. Harris closed her eyes and repeated a chant with Petr.
"Pluma quasi levis, rigida sicut tabula
Pluma quasi levis, rigida sicut tabula
Pluma quasi levis, rigida sicut tabula"
Harris opened her eyes and looked at the columns leaning next to her. They looked like they were moving. A column appeared to crack loose from the others, and leaned away from its original position, looming over her.
"Petr?" Harris called out nervously.
Swiftly, the column fell over on Harris, crushing her head.
Chapter Forty-Four
Harris walked a little, wishing to see anything. A shadow moved towards her. She ducked down again, but the shadow continued toward her. She started walking backwards, then turned to run, but as she turned, she was face to face with a spirit.
"Harris," the woman said. Her skin was sallow and her eyes sunken in, but she looked human. "Where are you going?"
Harris couldn't identify the woman, but something about her felt familiar. Then, like in a dream, she knew who she was by some mystic force.
"Sam," Harris said in a whisper.
Sam smiled, lifting her chin with pride, happy to be recognized. An empty wound hung open across her neck, revealing the nothing that was inside her.
"Where are we?" Harris asked.
"The Middle. Demons and spirits wander if they have nowhere to go, or if they are looking for a way to get somewhere, like hitching a ride with you, or grabbing a seance, or something."
"What about Heaven? Or Hell?"
Sam snorted. "What about them?"
Harris looked around nervously, as shadows moved in and out of her view.
"Don't worry. The only bad thing is if you get stuck here. Demons could eat your soul, but they don't usually bother. It's living souls they want. They love mortal pain and suffering. Looks like you're either already dead or got lost heading to one of your visits." Sam explained.