by Fiore, L. A.
It was a new emotion for me, jealousy. I wasn’t a fan, but it didn’t stop me from feeling it. I was standing right there, Bain’s heavily muscled arm was around my shoulders, but this woman was openly flirting with him. I had no experience in the world of dating, but even I knew that was rude.
He didn’t take her hand. He didn’t even say hi. He studied her like she had me. She blushed, turned, and walked away.
“What? That’s it? You just had to stare at her.” I glanced up into his impassive face, hard as stone, and gulped. “Never mind.” I missed the weight of his arm when he removed it.
“I made a discovery,” I announced.
He said nothing, but I knew I had his attention. I showed him the symbol. “It’s down the street on another old building. I drew this symbol; the sheriff has it inked on his arm.”
He was intrigued. “But you don’t know what it is?” He sought to clarify.
“No. I was on my way to St. Louis cemetery. Seems the older places in the city are marked with it.”
He touched the small of my back, his way of saying he was coming, but the heat that burned from his touch distracted me. On some level, I knew him; on some level, he was mine, but not anymore and still my body remembered.
We walked in silence; I was fascinated by the people’s reactions to Bain. He didn’t give off any otherworldly vibes. Outside of being unusually tall and muscled, he didn’t shout supernatural, but people gave him a wide berth. I supposed they could sense a predator was among them. How had he become what he was now because the man from that lifetime so long ago had been human? Of course I hadn’t been human, and I was now. Too many questions and not enough answers.
We reached the cemetery; we didn’t even have to enter because etched on the gates was the symbol.
“All right. We have to figure out what that symbol means.” Bain was a man of few words, but he was absolutely right.
Esther lived right down the bayou from Bain’s place. Her shack was built between two large bald cypress trees. Magic surrounded it. Esther opened the door before we knocked.
“I’ve put on tea.”
Her place was small. A living area, most of which was taken up by an altar. There was a stove in the corner that was used to cook and heat her home, a small icebox, a sink and a table. A decorative screen blocked off what I assumed were the bedroom and bathroom.
Esther gestured to the table as she brought over the tea. Once settled, she answered the question we hadn’t even asked.
“In 1693, there were the witch trials in Massachusetts. History would say the girls had made it all up, but the truth was that some of the girls had a bit of the gift.”
“The gift?”
“Once, a very long time ago, humans had the ability to see those who lived in the world with them, and there are still those who are able to see past the veil. There are those who are imposters, preying on people at their most vulnerable, but there are many who are truly gifted. Some use their gift to help others, and for some, it drives them mad. Those girls in Salem, it drove them a little mad. They incited chaos, brewed hatred and hysteria. A coven of witches managed to escape Massachusetts and fled south. The bayou has always been a draw for the mystical, but the water table also played a factor. When a witch is buried in the ground, her powers are released back into Mother Earth, where our powers stem, but when a burial is above ground, an echo of the witch lingers. The original coven of New Orleans built their protection spells tapping into that extra power.”
“But why New Orleans? There are other towns along the bayou with a similar water table,” Bain asked.
Esther moved to her altar, to a symbol I hadn’t noticed stitched into the cloth. “Because of this.” It was the symbol.
“What is it?” Bain asked.
“An ancient script. It means everlasting life.” She traced the etching. “Not in the sense of individual longevity but continuity. This symbol predates the Ancestors.”
“How is that possible?” Bain asked.
“The earth is very old, older than scholars even know. Species have come and gone, and with them, their gods. This symbol is for one of the primordial gods.”
I felt Bain’s eyes on me “I’m not a primordial god.”
“No.” But before I could exhale in relief, she added, “But you could be born of one.”
I was pretty open-minded about all of this, and I knew I was different and that I had lived a long life a very long time ago, but I wasn’t ready to go there. Esther continued, “This symbol is throughout New Orleans. It is what I believe draws the supernatural here, a safe haven for those who are different. I believe whoever created this symbol did so for the purpose of making New Orleans an epicenter for the supernatural.”
“For what purpose?” Bain asked.
A deliberate pause before she said, “Perhaps they foresaw what was coming long before it came.”
It was studying the symbol that I saw something I hadn’t before. I pulled the tiger’s eye from my pocket. Bain tensed at my side. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
He lifted something from under his shirt, pulled it over his head. My hand shook when I took it from him. It wasn’t a tiger’s eye, his stone was orange, polished and looked as if it glowed from within; he also had an etching, different than mine, but definitely similar. Their shapes were irregular, but they fit together and completed part of a pattern, the symbol stitched on Esther’s altar cloth.
Her hands shook when she reached for the stones. “Tiger’s eye and fire agate.” Her old eyes lifted. “Powerful stones. Where did you get these?”
“I’ve had it for as long as I can remember, but I don’t know where it came from,” Bain said.
“The same for me.” That wasn’t entirely true, but since I didn’t really know if the woman I dreamt about was real, I didn’t mention it.
Esther’s soft voice carried. “You are both linked to this.” Her gaze lingered on me. “Whatever you were, whatever happened to you, I think this symbol is the key. I also think if you find the remaining pieces what was lost will be found.”
Silence met that answer for a minute before Bain said, “Then let’s find those pieces.”
He couldn’t make it stop. His nightmares crossed over into his waking hours and haunted him. He sought counsel, researched every illness of the mind and the accompanying treatments, both mainstream and those considered less conventional—even treatments thought to be nothing more than witchcraft—but nothing worked. He couldn’t shut it off; he couldn’t make it go away. Every waking moment became torture. Reality and fantasy blurred, and his sanity hung in the balance.
Was it madness that terrorized him, or was he gifted with the knowledge of the next evolution of man? Perhaps the treatment he sought was the very thing he feared. Maybe instead of denying that which plagued him, he needed to embrace it, understand it…become it.
I woke, my heart hammering even as it ached. Dr. Nelson’s torment, I understood it all too well, and now I understood why his ghost lingered and what it was tethering him to this world.
Josiah brought me to the morgue. It was on lockdown, two police officers stood at the door. A woman worked behind a microscope; she glanced up when we entered.
“Ivy, this is the medical examiner, Jasmine Wallace.”
She extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Ivy.”
“And you.”
“Is she here to see...?” Jasmine looked uncomfortable.
“Yes.”
She walked to one of the drawers, her hand shook a bit before she yanked it open. “It’s enchanted. Esther boosted the spell this morning.”
Esther? Before I could ask, she pulled off the sheet. It was a creature, just like Dr. Ellis and Bart. It was my hand that shook when I pulled it through my hair. “How do you have this?”
“He was one of my murder victims.”
My head snapped to Josiah. “I’m sorry?”
“Henry Werth. He and his girlfriend went to the LeBlanc Planta
tion, a famous haunted house around here, but I suspect there’s more going on there than ghosts. Anyway, he went into the house. His body showed up an hour later, claw marks across his throat. During autopsy, Jasmine discovered his blood was changing.”
My eyes drifted back to Henry. “And he turned into this?”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Ellis is one of these.”
I felt the air still at that announcement. “Ellis isn’t human.” Josiah was freaked. I couldn’t blame him because I was too.
“I think he was once.” My heart twisted, and my eyes burned because now his comment about his life’s work made sense. Seeking Josiah, I said, “I think he might be the one who created these.”
“What are these?” he asked.
“I don’t know, some kind of human and supernatural hybrid.” I had a terrible feeling I knew what game it was he was playing now. He truly meant to end the world, to end humanity, and he had created the destruction of humanity using that which he sought to destroy as the vessel. What had happened to him to twist him so?
“But if he was human, why would he do this?” I understood Jasmine’s need for answers. Esther had been right. Some who had the gift, it drove them mad but not before it stirred fear.
“My guess is fear that was twisted into something more.”
“We never found anything on Dr. Ellis. He didn’t exist until 1985. If he was responsible for creating this…” Josiah gestured to Henry. “…there should be something documented.”
That wasn’t a coincidence. “He didn’t exist before 1985? I was born in 1985.”
“I know.”
It was another piece to the puzzle. I glanced at the creature. “Why are you holding on to this?”
“I’m trying to isolate the contagion that turns the blood,” Jasmine offered.
“For what purpose?”
“To create a vaccine.”
I went numb. “You think he means to unleash them.”
“I think he thought we would learn too late with Henry here. Infect the police, law and order, and chaos reigns.”
Was that why Dr. Ellis had been smug and eager to talk to the sheriff? Had he been delighting in playing with Josiah like a cat might do to a mouse? But Ellis didn’t realize the sheriff was linked, and not just another helpless human. “If he learns that you’re working on reversing his life’s work…” I didn’t need to finish the sentence. Josiah did.
“Jasmine becomes a target.”
“Where I’m staying is protected by very powerful magic. She needs to work there,” I suggested.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, okay.”
“I’ll call Bain. His crew will help with the transfer.”
“Wait, where am I going?”
“A house on the bayou. You’ll be safe there.”
She looked from Josiah to me. I could feel her fear. “How do you know I’ll be safe?”
“Because the ones who will be protecting you aren’t human either.”
She paled then gulped. “I need a drink.”
“You’re a…” Jasmine looked ill. “And you’re…” She dropped down to the table and put her head in her hands. “I heard the stories growing up. Who didn’t, but I never knew.”
Aine put a bottle of Jack in front of her, pouring her three fingers. Jasmine didn’t hesitate to drink the whole thing.
“It’s all real.” There was wonder in her expression when she looked over at me. “Shit, it’s all real.”
Brock was pacing. “I’m still on the first part. Those things start out as humans?”
“Henry Werth was attacked by one of those creatures. I discovered in the autopsy that his blood was changing. This is what he changed into.”
“Ellis created that?” Brock looked disgusted. “What the hell? Playing fucking Frankenstein.”
“They look supernatural, but they don’t have the strength of the supernatural,” Bain said then added, “I think the sheriff is right. Their purpose isn’t fighting; it’s infecting, though I was scratched and I didn’t change.”
“Ivy too when she was younger,” Josiah added.
“So only humans are targets?” Brock asked.
“If their purpose is to infect, where the hell are they? There were hundreds at Misty Vale,” Bain said.
“Good question. Outside of the McKinnons who didn’t change, only Henry here was infected.”
“So they’re waiting for something,” Bain theorized.
“That’s my guess too,” Josiah replied.
“Waiting for what?” Brock asked. “And why did they hold onto Ivy for so long only to release her so easily? And no offense, why didn’t they just kill her?”
“They can’t.”
Bain’s head snapped to me. “What do you mean they can’t?”
“That’s what Dr. Ellis said. He wanted to kill me, but he couldn’t. He said I was part of it.”
He was thinking something, but he kept his thoughts to himself.
“And you can isolate this component?” Brock asked Jasmine.
“Yes. I’d like a vial of each of your blood.” That earned Jasmine a look from everyone. She clarified, “It appears to only infect humans, so I’m guessing there is something in your blood that inhibits it. If I can isolate that component—”
“Done,” Bain said before she could finish.
“You said you couldn’t find anything on Dr. Ellis,” I asked.
“Yeah, he doesn’t exist prior to 1985. In fact, I think he only came out of the woodwork for you.”
That was a thoroughly unnerving statement. “What do you mean?”
“He was present for every birth on the summer solstice, which stopped when he found you. He missed yours because you went missing from the hospital, but ten years later he brought you to Misty Vale.”
Found me because I had conjured fire, my mystical signature. I was missing something. The pieces were there but out of order. I moved on. “Can you look into a Dr. Theodore Nelson?” I suspected my latest dream, explained Dr. Nelson’s involvement in all of this.
“Who’s that?” Jasmine started to ask then said, “Another time.” This time, she poured the whiskey into her glass.
“I used to visit Dr. Nelson every day. He reminded me a lot of Dr. Ellis. When I read him, I saw horrific things. I assumed they were experiments conducted on him, but what if he was the one conducting them?”
“I don’t understand.” Josiah rubbed the area between his brows. “I thought we thought it was Dr. Ellis behind the creatures?”
“I do think Dr. Ellis created them.”
“You lost me.”
“Dr. Nelson is a ghost, but I think Dr. Nelson is Dr. Ellis.”
He pulled a hand through his hair, his voice a little strangled when he said, “I’ll look into him.”
Josiah
Ivy and I were on our way to see Dahlia. After the discussion from earlier, I was grateful for something so normal. There was still a part of me convinced I was dreaming all of this, the world’s longest and twisted dream filled with hybrids, ghosts, and zombies. Considering all that had been dropped on me, I was doing well keeping my shit together.
Dahlia hadn’t hesitated to offer Ivy a job. That was my wife. She was a good woman. Ivy’s attention was outside, one hand pressed against the glass. She was taking it all in, every nuance. I couldn’t imagine how it felt to have her life changed so radically so quickly. Well, I could in that I had been dropped into an episode of Supernatural. She was taking it all in stride, but what struck me was there wasn’t bitterness or anger coming from her. She was wide-eyed and enthusiastic, eager to learn and see, but she didn’t dwell. She had every reason to dwell, but she let it go. If only we all could be a bit like that the world would be a far nicer place.
My phone rang. I grinned when I saw who was calling. “I have to get this.”
Ivy looked fascinated with the idea of me talking while driving. I hit the Bluetooth.
“What do you want?”
I teased.
“Nice. Am I still coming in April?”
My heart dropped. I needed to see her, but with all the shit going on, it wasn’t safe. “I want you to, but you know there has been some crazy stuff going on.”
“Please. I don’t want to stay with her.”
My blood burned. “What did she do?”
“Nothing. She does nothing. Always out with her boyfriends. I hate it here. Can’t I live with you?”
“I want that. Dahlia does too, but you know it isn’t that easy.”
“I know. I’m coming in April, even if I have to hitchhike.”
“Over my dead body. Seriously, there’s a lot going on. I’ve already talked to your mom. We might have to wait a bit longer.”
“No, Dad.”
“Aria, I want you with me more than anything, but your safety is my first priority.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, Aria. We’ll figure it out.”
“Okay. Talk soon.” Hope in her voice.
“Absolutely.”
“Bye.” She disconnected. Fucking Rebecca, always looking for the angle that worked in her favor and she wasn’t opposed to using her daughter to get what she wanted. She demanded monetary payment when I’d asked her to keep Aria longer than our agreement. Fucking money to keep her own kid. I counted to ten.
Ivy was looking out the window, giving me privacy I was sure. “My daughter.”
Her expression was one of surprise. “You have a daughter?”
“Yeah. She lives with her mother. We share custody, but with Mardi Gras, I don’t want Aria here during the crazy months, so she stays with her mom until April then lives with me until August.” Rebecca had been a big fucking mistake. I hated saying that because I got my daughter, but the woman was a bitch…self-serving and self-centered. She didn’t want Aria; she just didn’t want me to have her. I wanted full custody, but Rebecca was a lawyer and a damn good one.
“How old is your daughter?”
“Thirteen going on forty.”