Black Bells

by Dawn Napier

  Black Bells

  Dawn Napier

  Chapter One

  Megan went to bed without brushing her teeth. Her mouth felt furry and sick, as if she'd been licking a dog, but she didn't care. She wanted to wake up with a dozen cavities. Maybe even need a root canal. She felt the need to punish herself, hurt herself, feel enough physical pain that maybe the pain in her heart would go away.

  None of this was her fault. Everyone said so, and she believed them. But still, she felt wrong. And bad.

  The house she trudged through was clean and uncluttered. Through her haze of grief she noticed this, simply because it was so out of character for the home of a family of four with two small children. Brian had cleaned the house at some point. He'd done it for her, and he would want her to rest and relax after the stress of the last few days.

  The girls disappeared upstairs and into Jenna's room. They’d been quiet all day, speaking to nobody but each other, and then in hushed tones. They would probably stay in their rooms until they were called down, and if nobody called they would play quietly until they fell asleep on the floor. It was that kind of a day.

  Megan followed them upstairs and crawled into bed. It was that kind of a day for her, too.

  Brian followed her to bed and lay down beside her. He kept his clothes on and lay on top of the covers, signifying that he intended to leave her alone after a bit. Megan wished that he'd go to bed with her, to hold her and keep her warm. She knew it was silly, of course. It was barely six in the evening. There had been a buffet after the funeral, but the girls still needed baths and bedtime stories. The world did not revolve around Megan Campbell, much as she might wish that it did.

  "Do you want me to bring you anything?" Brian asked quietly.

  My sister back, Megan thought, but instead she said, "No, I'm fine. Just tired."

  "Okay." Brian squeezed her gently, kissed her cheek, and got up. She heard the door close and Brian's low voice as he spoke to the girls. She couldn’t make out the words, but she could guess at them. We're going to be very quiet, Mommy is resting. You can have a snack before dinner: cheese and crackers, (or apples if he was feeling health-conscious) and then play quietly upstairs until bed time. Leave Mommy alone and let her rest.

  Megan closed her eyes and burrowed her face in her pillow. She'd thought she was out of tears at the funeral. She'd stood dry-eyed through the whole thing, even when they'd lowered her baby sister into the ground. Her face had been dry and gritty, and she'd thought that she was finally all cried out.

  Turned out she was wrong.

  Megan awoke in the dark. Her eyes felt hot and sore, and she tasted salty snot. Her brain was fuzzy, as though stuffed with cotton, and she vaguely remembered heavy, sad dreams. Dreams about Debbie, of course. Talking to her, asking questions, maybe wanting something from her? Megan couldn't remember. But the dreams made her feel sad and afraid. That much she remembered.

  A familiar voice spoke in the darkness. "Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the awesomest princess of all?"

  "Megan Megan on the wall, Princess Megan's queen of the ball." Megan spoke the words automatically, like someone had pulled a string in her back. She felt like a doll, stuffed and fake.

  "I knew you'd remember." Her bedside lamp flicked on.

  Megan thought she ought to feel afraid. A man's voice had spoken in the night, and now there he was in her room, looking down at her with a cocky grin. But she wasn't afraid. Her heart was sick, and her body was heavy, but maybe she was too tired to be afraid.

  Or maybe it was because she knew this man. Though he hadn't been a man the last time they’d met.

  She looked over at Brian, who slept like a lump on the other side of the bed. She poked at his shoulder, but he didn't move. She prodded a little harder.

  "Oh, don't do that." The stranger spoke with a faint accent. Scottish? English? Elvish, perhaps? He certainly looked like he could be any of those things. His hair was thick and black, and his teeth were enormously white. His hair covered his ears, so she couldn't tell if they were pointed. She thought they were. If he was who she suspected he was.

  He was clad all in black, which was wrong. Black bells hung from his ankle cuffs and shirt sleeves, and their jingle was muted, as though the bells were being held in a fist.

  "You're different," Megan said. "You don't look like how we thought."

  The stranger sat down on her bed and patted her leg. "I thought black would be more appropriate, given the circumstances. You're not really in a rainbows-and-sparkles mood, are you?"

  "No." Megan yawned. God, she was tired. "Why are you here? I'm all grown up now. And Debbie—"

  "I know. She's gone and left you. That's part of why I'm here. You've got a hole in you—right there." The stranger touched her chest gently. "I think that's how I slipped through."

  Megan lay back on her pillow and regarded her imaginary friend. She could almost remember his name. Jack something. Every boy hero of the fairy tales she'd loved had been named Jack. Jack the Giant-Slayer. Jack and the Beanstalk. Jack—

  "Jack Benimble," she said.

  Jack grinned. His teeth were like new-fallen snow. "I knew you'd remember." He leaned over and kissed her on the nose. "Now, what else do you remember?"

  "I made up stories about you for Debbie. We drew pictures. I think we even made up a song. How could I have forgotten?"

  Jack shook his head. "You didn't forget. You just locked it all away in storage. When—" He hesitated.

  "When the bad thing happened," Megan whispered.

  "The bad thing." Jack's face was pale and solemn. Then he shook his head. "But enough about that! Water under the bridge. Forgive and forget. Live in the now. All that crap. So now, what do you want to do?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I'm back. You're alone. We have all night to do what you please. So what would please you?"

  "Can you take me back in time?"

  "Megan, I can do whatever you say I can do. That's how this works."

  "Then I want to see Debbie again."

  "Excellent!" Jack put his hands on her cheeks. His hands were warm, and so was the kiss he planted on her forehead.

  Megan closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them her bedroom was gone. So was the earth beneath her feet. Megan hung motionless in black space, dangling like a marionette. The stars above were sharp like diamonds, and their cold glare hurt her eyes.

  She heard two voices, children chattering to each other. Little girls, maybe. Sisters.

  "We're going to Jupiter!"

  "No, we're going to Pluto!"

  "Pluto's boring. It's just a little cold rock. Jupiter has liquid and chemicals and a big scary storm that looks like an eye!"

  Zipping past her through space were two space ships, side by side. They were tiny, no bigger than Megan's car. One was bright pink, the other sky blue. They were completely impossible, like cartoon ships or a child's drawings. Also, they were talking to each other.

  "I don't want to go to the big scary storm," the pink ship said. "I'll get squished."

  "We'll stay away from it. But don't you at least want to go see it?"

  "I want to go to Pluto! You said we could go far far away!"

  "How about Jupiter first and then Pluto?"

  "Okay!"

  The two impossible ships zipped on, chattering on about the "satellites and rocks and cool space junk" they would see on the way. Megan grinned.

  "Do you want to go to Jupiter too?" Jack asked.

  "Can I?" Megan looked down at her middle-aged self. Watching the little girls play in their make-believe universe made her feel old and self-conscious.

  "If you believe you can." Jack jingled one sleeve, and his bells rang. There was something off about them; they still sounded muted
and far away. But the sound still made her smile.

  "Then let's go." Megan's smile felt strange and foreign on her face. When had she last smiled and meant it? It felt like years.

  Jack took her hand, and just like that, she was zooming through cold, black space. It was getting hard to breathe, so with a little effort she imagined herself in a jet-propelled space suit. Now Jack was riding on her back instead of guiding her. Up ahead, the enormous gas giant loomed like a glowing eye.

  She heard screams and giggles and realized that she was catching up to the space ships. The blue one cried, "Whee, we're getting sucked in by its gravity!"

  Megan felt it too. She tried to slow down, but the planet had a tight hold and was pulling her down, down past the thick toxic clouds and into its liquid surface. Her breath came faster, and she heard her heart thudding in her ears. With a syrupy splash, she was inside the planet and still going down. Her suit was collapsing, squeezing her lungs. And still she descended.

  "No, no, this isn't fun anymore! Jack, help!" she screamed.

  There was no answer. Where was Jack? Had the planet's poisonous atmosphere killed him?

  She was alone and sinking in heavy darkness.

  No, she wasn't alone. Something slithered past her face plate.

  "Jack!" she screamed.

  Something twisted and wrapped around her legs. Now she was falling faster, pulled along by her feet. She kicked her legs, but they wouldn't move.

  "Jack!"

  And then she was back in her own bed. Her legs were tangled up in her blankets, wrapped so tightly that she couldn't move. Her face was damp with sweat, and no wonder; her face was buried in her pillow and she could barely breathe.

  "Jesus, what a dream." Slowly, so as not to disturb Brian, she extricated herself from her overly affectionate bedclothes and sat up.

  "Sorry about that." Jack Benimble sat on the bed next to her and shrugged.

  "What happened?" Megan was surprised at how normal and natural the imaginary man's presence felt. In a book or a movie, she thought, she'd constantly be asking herself if she was dreaming. Or she'd be calling the hospital. But she didn't feel crazy. It was as though he'd always been around, and it was only now that he'd decided to show himself. For the first time in four days, she actually felt pretty much okay.

  "You know too much about Jupiter, and it's damaged your imagination," he said. "When you were eight, you didn't know all the ways that the planet could kill you. Now that you do—maybe you'd better not go back there."

  "Good plan." Megan got up and went to the bathroom, where she splashed cold water on her gritty face. Then she headed downstairs to the kitchen. She was actually hungry for the first time in days.

  Jack followed and watched quietly while she microwaved three hot dogs and scarfed them down without bothering with buns or ketchup. There were a few inches of lemonade in the pitcher on the table, and she drank it down without bothering with a glass. Kid food, comfort food. Megan almost felt good now. Jack's bells jingled, and they still sounded distant and strange. Like Christmas music through a brick wall. But Christmas was months away; she had plenty of shopping days left. Why was she thinking about Christmas shopping in late summer? Megan laughed, then she belched. Then she laughed again. Too bad Debbie wasn't here. Debbie had always found burps hilarious, even as a grown woman.

  "Are you ready to go now?" Jack asked.

  "Go where?" Megan was thinking about a fourth hot dog.

  "With me. You asked me to take you away. That's why I'm here."

  "What?" Megan looked hard at Jack. "You already took me on a trip to Jupiter. That’s enough adventuring for an old lady like me. "

  Jack bared his teeth in a fierce grin. He looked like a wolf. Then he recited, "Jack Benimble, time for play. Take us to a land far far away." As Megan's eyes widened, he added, "You said the words, I heard them, and now I'm here. So let's go."

  "I didn't say those words. I haven't said those words since—" Megan swallowed.

  "Time doesn't matter to someone like me. I don't care when you said them. You said them, you meant them, I came. Now let's go." Jack stepped close to her, and his bells jingled a warning.

  "I said them with Debbie. She's the one who meant it. Because of—the bad thing. Why didn't you take her? Why are you here for me, after it's too late for her?"

  "I don't understand what you mean." Jack's bells stopped jingling with a curious ting. "I already came for your sister."

  Megan's skin went cold. The hot dogs in her stomach roiled. "Did my sister actually commit suicide?"

  "Do you want to see her? I can take you. For real this time."

  "No." Megan put a chair between herself and Jack Benimble. "I'm not going anywhere. I can't leave my family."

  "Your family." Jack said the words carefully, as though tasting them. "Well, this puts me in a bit of a pickle. I was supposed to come for one sister. I can't leave without at least one sister. I wonder if anyone else in this house would want to come away with me to a magical land of candy and unicorns and fluffy princess crap?"

  "You leave them alone!" Megan shrieked, and there was a rush of darkness and then nothing.

  Chapter Two

  Megan fell through the dark. Not Jupiter, please not Jupiter, she thought, but she didn't think she was near Jupiter or anywhere else that was real. There were no stars or space ships, not even the pink cartoony kind. She was alone in the dark, and she was falling. Down the rabbit hole, she thought vacantly.

  Debbie was nearby and calling her name. She sounded anxious but not afraid. Megan was afraid enough for both of them. Where was she? Was she asleep again? She didn't remember going back to sleep after Jack—

  Jack! What about Jack? He'd wanted something from her, and she'd told him no. Then he'd gotten angry. His bells—their loud, angry jingle. She could still hear his jingling black bells.

  She shook her head and felt something soft but firm pressed against her face. She smelled sour milk and familiar home. Her face was pressed into the fabric of the family room couch.

  Megan sat up and instantly lay back down again. She was dizzy and sick. She burped and tasted old hot dogs. Bleah.

  The family room was dim, the curtains closed. It was no longer night, but she wasn't sure how early it was. She listened but heard nobody stirring. There were no clanks or rustles from the kitchen and no giggles from the girls' rooms upstairs. It must be pretty early then. Jenna and Paige were usually up with the sun. Sometimes on the weekends Brian would let them stay up as late as they physically could so that they'd sleep in the next day. This sometimes gave him and Megan an extra half hour of sleep.

  Megan sat up again, slower this time. God, what a night. She felt hung over, though she hadn't taken a single drink at the funeral dinner. She still tasted hot dogs in her mouth. She didn't usually eat that kind of crap; hot dogs were a treat Brian bought for the kids once a month or so.

  She thought about her fucked-up dream. Jack Benimble, her old playmate, had returned. It didn't take a brilliant psychologist to figure out the meaning of that. She'd just lost a real childhood friend: her beautiful, clever baby sister. Her mind had conjured a long-gone imaginary friend to either compensate for her loss or to reconnect her with Debbie. She'd amused Debbie for hours as a child with stories about Jack. "Jack Be Nimble" had been the first nursery rhyme Debbie ever learned, and they’d both loved the image of the mischievous little boy who jumped fearlessly over a lit candle. Megan's mind had brought him back last night to try to re-live those memories.

  But Jupiter. And Jack's implied threat to take her children... Easy enough. Megan had just lost a family member. She was hyper-aware of the fragility of life, and she was scared of losing someone else.

  There. The world had been put back in order, and life made sense again. She ought to call Debbie and tell her about this dream. Weird dreams were right up Debbie's alley. If she could get a hold of her, and if she was sober enough to understand…

  Megan covered her face with both
hands and wept. She couldn't call Debbie, and she would never talk to her or tell her about another weird dream. Her sister was gone, and she wasn't coming back.

  Brian came downstairs and took her in his arms without a word. She buried her face in his sweat-scented undershirt and cried herself to exhaustion. Again.

  "What do you want for breakfast?" he asked when she'd finally settled down a bit.

  "I'm not hungry." Megan licked her lips. Her eyes ached from crying and from broken sleep. Her stomach was still uneasy.

  "You're going to eat something. What should I make?"

  Megan knew that tone. Brian had inherited his mother's unshakable faith in the healing power of food. It would be useless to tell him that she'd recently eaten three hot dogs and currently was fighting to keep them down. He would only say, "You need to eat something to settle your stomach."

  "Hard-boiled egg," she said. "And some fruit cocktail if there's any left." Nothing starchy or fatty. A heavy meal might make her barf, and that would hurt Brian's feelings.

  "That's it?"

  "I might have something else a little later. I just woke up."

  "Okay." Brian went into the kitchen, and Megan lay back down. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be soothed by the familiar clatter of pots and pans. Brian would boil her egg and then fry pancakes and bacon for himself and the girls. Then he'd make gravy out of the bacon grease, pour it over half a dozen pieces of toast, and eat it all in front of the TV. The healing power of comfort food.

  She must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing she knew Brian was hunkered down in front of her face with a plate and a bowl in his hands. "I made pancakes for Jenna and Paige," he said. "Should I go wake them up or let them sleep?"

  Megan blinked. It was fully light now; the sun streamed boldly through the sheer curtains. She felt a cold thread of unease and didn't know why. "I'll get them," she said. "You dip their plates."

  "Will do." Brian put her breakfast on the end table and went back to the kitchen. Megan slowly pushed herself to her feet. She didn't want to go up there. Waking a sleeping child went against every mothering instinct in her body.