A Cosmology of Monsters

by Shaun Hamill

  I squatted next to her. “I understand. It was easier to let us slip away and pretend that there was nothing missing, nothing wrong. It was easier than fighting and hoping and hanging on. But you held us together through sickness and poverty and disappearances and suicide attempts. You made The Wandering Dark, a place in our world that taught me to navigate this world. It’s because of you that I get to bring everyone home. That means you, too, Mom.”

  She let me hug her then, leaned into my embrace and wrapped her arms around me. “I miss you all so much,” she said. “I miss your father.”

  “I know,” I said. “But the bad dream is almost over and the lights are about to come back on. I can’t give you Dad back, but I can give you almost everyone else. I just need you to come out to the living room with me.”

  4

  I went to Eunice third. Of those I freed, she was the only one I needed Leannon’s help to extricate. She’d been stabbed by the black vines, strapped to the desk, ordered to write until her transfiguration, and Leannon had to seal the wounds so Eunice wouldn’t bleed out. After Leannon rubbed in her special salve and left, Eunice sat at the desk, swaying slightly and staring into the middle distance.

  I touched her arm, and she shrieked. I withdrew my hand. “I’m sorry,” I said.

  She continued to bob and list like a buoy on choppy waters. A tear ran down one of her cheeks.

  “I have something for you,” I said. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the paper with Brin’s number on it. She took it almost mechanically, but it pulled her gaze from the middle distance and focused her eyes.

  “Brin,” she said, voice flat.

  “She’s working as a pharmacy tech in town,” I said. “She always wanted to get in touch and make it up to you, but she didn’t know the way back.”

  “Brin,” she said again, sounding more herself. She smiled a little. “You always hated Brin.”

  “I also wanted to make things right with you, and I never knew how.” I touched her arm again, and this time she allowed it, let me take her hand in mine. “Call Brin, or don’t,” I said. “But you deserve to be happy.” I squeezed her hand. “And Caroline and Dennis miss you.”

  “Caroline. Dennis.” The names had power, drew her a little closer to waking. She let me lead her down to the living room and accepted her mug of tea, but gave it a critical look before she drank.

  “What’s in this?” she said.

  “It’s an extract from a flower that only grows in this world. I call it the ebon kindness. It can put you into a trance, heighten suggestibility, and even alter your memories.”

  She slowed her drinking. “I’m not going to remember any of this,” she said.

  “It’ll all fade like a bad dream,” I said.

  “Why? Why ask me to drink this?”

  “It’s part of the deal I made,” I said. “You get to go home, but the memory stays here. Once you finish the tea, I’ll help you forget.”

  “And what about you?” she said. “Who will make you forget?”

  When I didn’t answer, she seemed to understand the full import of what I wasn’t saying. She grabbed my hand so hard it hurt.

  “Hey,” I said. “Who do I love most?”

  “Little prince,” she said. She set the mug down and grabbed my other hand, too. “Let me enjoy this moment with you,” she said. “One more moment, please.”

  5

  The sky in Vandergriff had turned pink at the edges when Eunice came staggering up the street to her own house. Her work clothes were torn where the desk had pierced her, crusted with dried blood and dirt. Her face was slack and pale in the predawn light, and although she would live, she still lacked most of her strength. She winced with each footfall, and hissed through gritted teeth.

  Caroline and Dennis must have been looking out the window, alert in that way children sometimes are, knowing a thing before it’s possible to know, because the front door flew open and they barreled across the lawn, faces red. They collided with Eunice so hard that she lost her balance and tumbled into a neighbor’s yard, the grass still wet with yesterday’s rain. They clung to her, faces buried against her body, voices muffled. Hubert followed soon after. He skidded in the grass, fell to his knees, and hit his family like a bowling ball.

  “I can’t believe it,” he kept saying. “I can’t believe it.” He took Eunice’s face in his hands, kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her eyelids. She wore an embarrassed, guilty look, enduring rather than enjoying her husband’s attention. His euphoria would be short-lived. The Eunice who’d come home was not the same one who had left.

  6

  On the outskirts of Vandergriff, Kyle Ransom’s Prius pulled into the driveway of his father’s trailer. He walk-jogged up the path, in a hurry. He’d promised to come look in on his dad before work, but he was already running late.

  He rapped “shave and a haircut” on the front door and waited. It usually took the old man a minute to get up and come to the door. Kyle checked the clock on his phone. When thirty seconds had passed with no answer and no sound from inside, he knocked again. Still no answer. Figuring that his father might be stuck on the toilet, Kyle pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the front door. He pushed inside.

  “Dad?” he said, looking back and forth in the darkened trailer. “Everything all right?”

  There was a strange smell in the air—something thick and pungent. It was somehow familiar, although he couldn’t place it. It certainly wasn’t anything he’d ever smelled in here before. He stood in the quiet for several more moments, breathing the heavy air, chasing the scent down the rabbit hole of his memory. It reminded him for some reason of Donna, and high school, and guilt at kissing her when she was still dating Noah.

  Still trying to figure out what the scent was, he turned around, walked out of the empty mobile home, locked the door, got back into his car, and drove away. In the coming days, he would sound the alarm about his father’s disappearance, and start a police investigation. But the police wouldn’t look very hard, or find anything of value, and no one (including Kyle) would be able to muster much sorrow about any of it.

  7

  Across town, Sydney Turner woke in a strange, neatly kept room with books stacked on every surface. She sat up and caught sight of her reflection in the mirror on the back of the door: a middle-aged woman with streaks of white in her hair, her formerly perfect skin now lined around the mouth and eyes. She touched her face and saw pink welts around her wrists like bracelets of pain.

  She lurched to her feet and hobbled out of the room. She walked down a hallway, then down some stairs, gripping the railing for balance.

  “Hello?” she called. Her voice was rough and scratchy. She heard a thump from somewhere downstairs and hurried her pace to an empty living room. She called out again. “Hello?”

  A door clicked open, and an old woman staggered out, eyes bleary. Her gaze sharpened as it landed on Sydney. The two women stared at one another, each trying to place the other. Sydney got there first.

  “Mom?”

  Margaret blinked a few more times. “Oh my god. Sydney?”

  She rushed forward and pulled Sydney into a tight hug. Sydney tried to remember the last time her mother had hugged her. It must have been sometime around her father’s funeral. Who was this aged stranger, squeezing her and crying? Surely not Margaret Turner. Maybe this was a dream, too. If so, it was a good one, where her permanent, lifelong anger began to dissolve under the deluge of her mother’s weeping apologies. Sydney hugged her mother back. She had so many questions: How long had she been gone? What year was it? But for now, it was enough to be home, and alive, and crying with her mother.

  I could almost leave the story here, at one of Eunice’s favored “stopping places”: the family reunited, safe and sound, even if their future appeared a bit ambiguous. And a
part of me, so taken with the warmth and relief of the moment, is tempted to write “the end” and leave it. But I still have a little story left to tell. A little more happiness, a little more heartbreak, a few more questions to answer and loose ends to tie up. I’m not sure I have enough material to make a bow, but I’ll do my best.

  8

  A little less than a year after my family came home, I snuck into a small ceremony at a hotel ballroom in Fort Worth. There weren’t many guests, and most were people I didn’t recognize, but there were a few Wandering Dark alums clumped near the back, along with Sally White and her husband. Their energy was so palpably warm and happy that I almost felt a part of it myself.

  A moment after the groom and justice of the peace took their places at the altar, the string quartet near the front of the room began to play, the doors to the ballroom opened, and the bridesmaids emerged. Sydney and Caroline sailed up the aisle, as solemn and lovely as Tolkien’s elves on the march to the Grey Havens. Sydney wore a long-sleeve dress and a blank expression and seemed to notice nothing as she stopped at her designated spot and turned to face the crowd. Caroline, though—as she turned toward the guests, our gazes locked across the room. She could see me. She shouldn’t have been able to, but she could.

  The quartet changed melodies, and Eunice emerged, arm in arm with Mom. Their walk up the aisle was a slow one for Mom, age sixty-six and still slightly limping after her tenure as an inhabitant of the City. I had a feeling she would limp a little for the rest of her life. She paused near the back aisle to smile at Sally. Sally, who didn’t know what to make of this newly open version of Margaret Turner, smiled back and gave Mom a little shooing gesture. On with the show. The pause gave me plenty of time to study Eunice, stunning in a strapless seafoam green gown, her red hair gathered into a pile atop her head. She looked healthier than I’d seen her in years, her gentle glow somehow rendering the scars on her arms and face invisible. I wished for a way to stop time, to stretch the moment forever. As far as moments in which to get eternally entangled, I’d seen many worse.

  Brin started sniffling about halfway through Eunice’s procession. Dennis, at her side as the best man, offered her a pack of tissues, which she took gratefully. And then, much sooner than I would have ordained it, Eunice stood at the arch, beaming at her new spouse-to-be.

  9

  I lingered in the shadows at the reception, but Caroline kept shooting puzzled glances at me throughout the evening. I pretended not to notice. Instead, I watched Eunice and Brin dance, more or less hugging in the middle of the ballroom. I watched the way Brin cradled the back of my sister’s head with one hand, the look of desperate love that crossed Eunice’s face as she did it. I watched Sydney dance with Caroline and Dennis; she smiled when they looked at her, but frowned when she was left alone. Almost a year later and although she was home, she still wasn’t quite whole. I wondered if she ever would be again.

  I watched Eunice and Brin cut and serve cake. I watched Mom sitting at a table with Sally White and her husband. I could tell by the way Mom kept squeezing Sally’s arm that it would be tough for Mom when this visit ended. She’d missed her best friend and had an almost compulsive need to make up for all the lost time.

  I wished I could have joined my family in the center of the ballroom. I wish I could have told them that their days of being haunted and hunted were over. But I think they got the sense anyway, their evening full of laughter, drinking, music, and dancing. The Turners were a family again. My family, and I’d only had to nudge them a little to knit them back together.

  Instead of interfering, I contented myself by breathing in the atmosphere from the edges of the room, and, as the evening wound down and the guests dispersed, and the newlyweds retired to their quarters, I tried not to be too disappointed, or afraid. I still couldn’t help shuddering a little when Leannon appeared at my shoulder, wearing her human face, her red robe replaced by a blood-red dress.

  “It was a beautiful ceremony,” she said.

  “Do you think it will work?” I said.

  “Will what work?”

  “The marriage. My family. Will they still be happy after tonight?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But you’ve given them time, and a second chance. That’s more than most anyone else gets. It will have to be enough.”

  I knew it was true even if I didn’t like it.

  “It’s time to go,” she said.

  “Wait!”

  Caroline must have sensed her window of opportunity closing, because she came running across the courtyard now, bridesmaid’s gown fluttering around her.

  Leannon and I traded a glance. She stepped back and gestured with a hand. If you must. Caroline stopped right in front of me, breathing hard. “I know you,” she said. And then, as if doubting the proclamation, “Don’t I?”

  “Do you?” I said.

  “It’s like there’s a fog in my head,” she said. “But I remember Mom and Grandma were missing…” She put a hand to her temple and hissed. “And I remember your face. Noah.” She continued rubbing her temple, as though teasing out the information. “Uncle Noah. You were there. Then Mom and Grandma were back. And Aunt Sydney, too. And you were gone. And sometimes I remember you, but then it’s like I forget again.” She squinted her eyes shut and then opened them wide. “You did something, didn’t you? You saved us.”

  Her words startled me. Leannon and I had dosed all of my family with the ebon kindness. It didn’t erase me, exactly, but it should have made it nearly impossible for them to think about me for very long.

  “Try to forget you ever saw me,” I said. “It’ll keep you safe.”

  “What did you do, though?” she said. She pointed at Leannon. “And who is she?”

  She was still asking questions as I took Leannon’s hand, but the words faded as we crossed over.

  10

  I’ve waited until the end to tell this part because if I’m ever going to lose your sympathy, it will be here. I wanted you to see the other scenes with my family, to understand that I had good reasons.

  Before I freed my family, I came back from the City to Mom’s house alone. Megan and the Fellowship were still gathered in the living room, shouting at one another in their fevered excitement. I’d been gone for more than an hour, but, to my relief, they had waited. As soon as I reappeared, they quieted and regarded me with a sort of awe. I felt like Moses, descending Mount Sinai. Well, until Megan punched me in the jaw and I fell on the floor.

  “You son of a bitch,” she said. “You rotten motherfucker.”

  I didn’t protest. I deserved any abuse—verbal or physical—that she wanted to heap on me.

  “Obviously it worked,” Eli said. He sounded a little excited, and also a little ashamed of how excited he felt. “Did you find your family?”

  “Yes,” I said, “but I can’t get them free by myself. I’m still going to need your help.”

  “Why in hell would we help you?” Josh said, fiddling with the brim of his hat.

  I rolled up onto my knees, rubbing my jaw. “I’m sorry if I gave you the impression you had a choice in the matter.” I gestured over my shoulder as the monsters appeared.

  There wasn’t any blood, but there was plenty of screaming. I won’t describe it here, but I’ll remind you of the night I first saw Megan at Inferno. Picture the moment at the very end of that attraction, as the demons emerged from the walls and dragged all the howling, begging sinners to Hell.

  When it was over, only Megan, Leannon, and I remained. Megan had dropped to her knees and covered her face with her hands. I wanted to comfort her, but that was no longer my place. Instead I waited until she got hold of herself again. She blinked a few times and seemed surprised to see herself still in Mom’s living room.

  “Why am I still here?” she said.

  “I made a deal wit
h them,” I said, jerking a thumb at Leannon. “My family for the Fellowship. And you’re my family, too.”

  Leannon made an impatient noise and stepped up beside me. She held out a mug of the ebon kindness tea. I took it and handed it to Megan. “All you have to do is drink this, and when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll be back in our apartment, and you won’t remember any of this.”

  Megan stared into the mug and ran one thumb along the rim. “I’ll remember, and I’ll come for them. I’ll stop you. I’ll find a way.”

  “You won’t,” I said, as gently as I could.

  For a moment I thought she might make a scene or try to fight. That she might throw the tea in my face. Instead, she started to cry. I almost broke then. I might have told her that I was sorry. That of all the people I’d ever known, she deserved all this awfulness the least. I might have said that I still loved her, because I did. I just loved the rest of my family, Leannon, and the City more.

  “I hate you,” she said.

  “Drink your tea,” I said, amazed at the coldness in my own voice.

  When she fell asleep, Leannon took her back to our apartment in Oregon. She passes out of my tale here, and I hope she finds some measure of peace away from me, my family, and the City. I hope, for both our sakes, that she doesn’t penetrate the brain fog I’ve gifted her, and that our paths don’t cross again.

  In their lives, the Fellowship had only one another, and along with Mr. Ransom (an extra sacrifice made for Megan’s freedom), they’re still together now, held fast in beds of black vines. They got the answers they wanted, in the end, and paid for them. They’re servants of the City, and toil in dark dreams, unable to wake.

  I don’t reject the choices I’ve made, or the cost. It’s not so surprising, I guess. My monster suit always fit better than my regular skin. I was never a guardian, or a hero, but a creator and harvester of fear.