Dark Thread

by Crymsyn Hart

  Rory and Marie were both speechless. Hades wavered in and out as he spoke. Lina grew paler the more he talked. Darria understood that it was more than power that they siphoned off from the objects; the tokens contained a piece of their essence. Without the objects going on to the next person, they began to fade away. Legba had given her and Marie a rose, not to mention who else he might have shown some favor for, so he had his spread out. Hekate drew strength from her and probably from the others who worshipped her. Darria wasn’t exactly sure how it all worked out, but she knew the importance of the relics.

  “I’m working on that. Can you tell me who is behind Ankou, giving him the power to stitch souls together and resurrect them from ashes? You’re a god of the dead and the underworld.”

  Hades snickered. “We’re all gods of death in our own way. Gods that got too jealous.”

  He tried to say more, but he dwindled away. Lina’s color returned. Rory caught her and led her back over to the bench. Darria shook her head and turned back to Marie, Mercury, and Gabbie.

  “What do you think about what Hades said?”

  “He speaks the truth,” Merc declared.

  “You’re saying that because you work for him,” Gabbie grumbled.

  “You know nothing of it, stone creature.”

  “I served the last undertaker because it was my calling to do so. I’m not tied to them the way you are.”

  “And you serve this one because you had no place else to go and didn’t want to be lonely,” Mercury taunted.

  Darria put up her hands. “Enough. Both of you. This is not the time to fight. We all need to be working together on this.”

  “You were told to find the others who were to take over the undertaking with the other objects,” Mercury growled.

  Darria wished she could send him back to whatever dimension he had come from. “I am, but to do all of this, I have to have help. You need to protect Rory and Lina. Can you do that?”

  Gabbie raked her claws through the dirt. “Of course. Whatever you need me to do, I am here for you.”

  “Thank you. Mercury?”

  The bull snorted, and his horns blazed with fire. “I’m only here to support Lina, and that’s all. Rory is none of my concern.”

  “Fine. Do what you have to do. Marie, want to come with me?” Darria asked the other necromancer.

  “If it lets me go with you this time, then sure. If I can’t pass through the barrier, I’ll hold down the fort.”

  Darria stroked the key on her arm until it emerged. She gazed over her left arm, and the arrow lit up silver. It spun within her skin. Legba had told her about the arrowhead. It was connected to Ankou. Nevertheless, that didn’t mean that the person on the other end had any idea of what had been transpiring. She had to be prepared for anything. Darria went to the closed door in the garage that led up to the apartment. She slid the key into the lock. It worked into the tumblers easily. The energy of the arrowhead touched her fingertips. She opened the door with her left hand. When she pulled the door open, a hot, musty scent she associated with a basement hit her.

  “Wonderful.”

  “Don’t like dark and dank places?” Marie asked.

  “Not especially. Anything could be lurking there. I really don’t want to die today.” Darria settled the key back into her arm. She stepped through the portal into the other place and wondered who she was looking for. Marie joined her. She stared back through the doorway at her backyard; it faded away, so she was left looking at a curtain of ivy covering an arched doorway. Sunlight streamed in through shattered, stained-glass windows. A broken coffin had been shoved into the corner. The inhabitant of the box was in pieces, and dust scattered across the floor. They had stepped into some kind of tomb. There were no other doorways for her to go through. She glanced down at the arrow, and it pointed toward the opening.

  “Guess we go this way.” Darria pushed her way through the ivy and emerged in an abandoned graveyard. The rows were overgrown, and the headstones were made from slate, with the inscriptions nearly rubbed off. Trees grew around several of the markers, absorbing them back into their bark.

  “We’re somewhere in New England.”

  “I think you’re right. It’s been a while since I’ve been up here. I avoided it after the witch trials, and....”

  “How old are you?” Darria asked.

  “Older than you care to know. I was an undertaker for a long time, and when I stepped down, I traveled a lot, too. Do you really want to hear about me when we have to find this other being?”

  “Sorry. All you hear about is the great Marie Laveau in New Orleans being the voodoo queen.” Darria walked toward the direction the arrowhead pointed. It led them further back into the overgrown boneyard. They passed a couple more necropolises until they came to an old, stone church. The windows were intact. It shouldn’t have been this deep into the woods. Something about it felt wrong and pinged all of her senses. The arrowhead alerted her that she had to go inside.

  She walked up the steps slowly, making sure nothing was going to jump out at her. The power radiating from it left her breathless as she crossed the threshold. Inside, numerous cascading waterfalls of white and yellowed wax hung everywhere. A few pews were lined up around the perimeter of the church, leaving the center wide open. At the altar was a sleeping bag along with food and leftover containers. Leaves crackled underneath her feet. The closer she got, the more the energy from the outside of the church dissipated. Darria glanced at her hand. The arrow pointed straight ahead.

  “Do you see anyone?” Marie asked.

  “Go away!” someone shouted. The sound of fluttering wings shattered the silence.

  “We can’t go away,” Darria responded. “We came here looking for you. I’m Darria, and this is Marie. We’re here to give you something and bring you back to my house, where it’s safe.”

  “Nowhere is safe,” the woman whispered.

  Darria caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She walked in that direction. “What do you mean, nowhere is safe?”

  The woman shuffled back toward the wall. Darria could make out her red hair; it was covered in leaves and debris. It was matted, and dreadlocks had started to form. The woman needed a hot meal and a place to get cleaned up. She held her hand out to ward Darria off. Five poppies decorated her arm. One of them was open.

  Darria knelt down beside her.

  “Not safe. Not safe. All dead. Not safe.”

  She touched her hand, and the woman jerked back. “Hey ... I’m not going to hurt you. See, we have the same flowers. The poppies.”

  The woman stared at her through her hair. Her green eyes pierced Darria’s, and she felt something push against her mind. “Dead. All dead. You deal with the dead.”

  “Yes. That’s right. Who’s all dead?”

  “Shut up!” She jerked her head and spoke to someone in the other direction. “She’s the undertaker? Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?”

  “Who are you talking to?” Marie asked.

  “Can’t tell. Don’t tell her. All dead.”

  “Did someone hurt you?” Marie tried to talk to her.

  The other woman curled into a ball away from Darria and Marie. “Let me talk to her. Can you sit back for a bit?”

  “Sure. That’s what I came along for.” Marie shrugged and sat on one of the pews.

  “Please. I don’t want to. All dead.” The woman was spooked.

  “Shh ... who are you talking about? You can tell me,” Darria tried to entice her.

  “Can I talk to her? She’s the one, right?”

  Darria realized that the woman was talking to either someone in her mind, someone who wasn’t there at all, or something else altogether. Darria reached out her senses but didn’t feel anything.

  The woman stared directly at someone and then looked at her. “He says that you’re the one who’s going to change everything. You’re going to put him back together. He says that I can talk to you. You have something for me.
Is that right?”

  Darria nodded. “Yes. I have something for you. Can you tell me your name first and who you’re talking to?”

  “S-Sonia.”

  “I’m Darria. Who is talking to you?”

  “N-not important. All dead. Hurry, before they come back. They can’t get into the church.”

  Her arm burned, and the arrowhead fell to the floor. The tattoo of it remained. Darria touched it, still feeling the power within her arm. The physical arrow spun around in a fast circle, and it stopped, pointing at Sonia. Darria held it out to Sonia. “This is what I came here to give you. Do you know what it means?”

  Sonia took the arrowhead and examined it in the light. A smile spread across her face. “For me.”

  “Yes.”

  The arrowhead lifted off her hand and spun until it shot straight at Sonia and hit her directly in the chest. Sonia arched her back and convulsed for a few seconds. Darria didn’t dare touch her. After a few moments, she opened her eyes, and they were clear. “You’re real.”

  “Yeah. I’m real. So are you. Do you know what happened to you? What does the arrowhead that hit you mean?”

  Sonia met her gaze and looked around the church. Her eyes flicked to Marie. She inched closer to Darria. “She’s not right. She’s dead inside. I can see it.”

  Darria touched her arm. “It’s okay. Marie’s a necromancer. She was an undertaker. I’m a necromancer, too. She’s helping me. Do I look like I’m dead inside?”

  “N-no. You’re light and dark. She’s all dead.”

  Darria didn’t say anything else because Sonia had to be picking up on the necromancer within Marie. She understood because she had seen herself being all dark, too. “Okay. Do you know what the arrow means, hun?”

  “Undertaker. Dead bodies. Collecting things. That’s you. That’s me. That’s us now.”

  “Who is us? You said they can’t come into the church. Who? Why have you been here for so long?”

  “They chased me in here. Cornered me. Nasty little shits. I couldn’t get them to go away. They’re outside chattering away. Can’t you hear them?”

  Darria listened, but all she heard were the clacking of dried limbs as the wind blew through them. “Sorry. I don’t hear anything.”

  “She doesn’t hear anything. I heard her,” Sonia snapped to whoever was talking to her on the left.

  She’s battier than any belfry. This is who the Fates chose to become an undertaker? Darria tried to push the thought away, but it stuck to her. If Sonia thought that something was lurking outside the chapel, then it would be an issue bringing her back to the house. “It’s okay. I’m sure there’s something there, but I can make it so you don’t have to leave the church. We can use the door. When you step through, we’ll be back at my house, where we can get you cleaned up. How does that sound?”

  “Doesn’t believe. They want me to show you, so you can see them. The ones who are good.” Sonia held out her hands.

  Before Darria could get away from her, Sonia touched her temples. The world changed in a flash of light. Darria rubbed her eyes a few times after the starbursts faded. A creature sat on top of Sonia’s head, weaving flowers into her hair. The creature appeared human. It was a foot tall with thin, pale limbs and not dressed in anything except moss and blossoms. It waved at her. Its iridescent wings caught the fading light. It plopped on Darria’s head, beginning to play with her hair. She almost touched it, but she saw another one hovering close to Sonia. It whizzed by her face. Darria followed its direction, and along the ring of pews on the outside of it, little creatures the same size were floating in the shadows and muttering.

  “What are they?”

  The light beings burst into flickers of giggles. When they flew, it sounded like cicadas or hummingbirds. They spoke to one another in hushed tones of clicks and whistles. Sonia cocked her head to listen to them and laughed.

  “They adore you,” Sonia commented.

  “What are you?” Darria asked.

  “Sprites. They’ve been with me since I was a child, taking care of me after my father left and my mom wasn’t so good at watching me. They brought me into the woods and showed me the places to live. Sometimes, they led me into their world, but they told me I had to come out and wait for someone because things were changing. The dark ones hate it. They’re waiting for something else to happen. Do you know what’s happening?” Sonia asked Darria.

  Another sprite sat on her arm with the tattoos of all the flowers on it. As its four-toed feet danced across the garden on her flesh, the blooms shifted. They rearranged and moved until the vine holding the morning glories was smaller and the blossoms were slightly larger. Even the poppies increased in size. The ravens flew up until they settled at the top of her shoulder at her collarbone. The places where the needle, the coin, and the key were embedded into her arm lined up from her wrist to her elbow so that the key came first, a place for the coin Oliver gave her, if he ever gave it back to her, and then the needle she used for a weapon. When the sprite was done dancing, pale, white flowers sprouted between the morning glories. All of the blossoms glowed, and she felt supercharged like she had been jolted with electricity.

  “Um ... what just happened?” Darria asked Sonia and the sprite.

  The one who was dancing flitted back over to Sonia. “Heffla said she made it so you could always see them, and they could see you. That’s what the flowers are for, and you can also see into their world. Look.” Sonia stuck out her right arm. It was decorated with the same small, white flowers.

  “But she did something else; I’m positively buzzing.”

  “They wanted to fill them with magic. They said you don’t know how to channel and store your power. All you have to do is open up to nature and be you. Stop fighting what you are. They want to thank you for helping me. People don’t normally talk to me. They think I’m a homeless or crazy person because they see me talking to thin air. Now you can see them, and they can see you.”

  Great. All I need now is to see fairies. “Will you come with me now?”

  “The dark pixies won’t let me leave here. They work for him,” Sonia whispered.

  Marie got up and stood by them. “Is everything okay?”

  The pixies squealed and drew away from Marie. “Everything’s fine. Sonia was telling me that her guardians are sprites, and they were introducing themselves. They aren’t too fond of you. Is there something you need to tell me, Marie?”

  “We might want to talk about that some other time.” Marie flashed her a small smile.

  “No. I think we need to talk about this now.”

  Marie pulled Darria away from Sonia. “Can we really talk about this later?”

  “No. Now.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Uncomplicate it, please.” Darria’s frustration level turned up a notch. Another sprite flew over and began to twist her hair again.

  Marie glanced at Sonia and then back at Darria. “I’m dying.”

  “You’re an undertaker, or you were, at least. You should be able to live forever unless you gave it all up.”

  “I’ve run my course. It’s time for me to move on to my next incarnation. It’s the original deal I made with Legba many centuries ago. I live as one Marie, and then, I’m born again. Legba gave me more time because you needed training when it came to being an undertaker and a necromancer. Although Hekate squished you together, you do need to know more. Then, I will be reborn.”

  “So, you’re reincarnated. Do you keep the knowledge you had from before?”

  “Some of it. I won’t remember being an undertaker because that’s something that only stays with the line, but my power as a necromancer grows. I normally find the life I left behind. You never know; I might come back and bug you.”

  “I’d like that. How long do you have?” Darria asked.

  Marie glanced at her arm where the poppies were. Two had withered away. “Until the last one drops its last petal. After that, I die. One of the harveste
rs will take my soul. I’d hoped you could process me and ask Oliver to deliver me over to the other side.”

  “I’m sure we can accommodate that. Do you know when?”

  “The more I use my magic, the shorter my life span. Even with the undertaking,” Marie explained.

  “I had no idea.”

  “Dead. She’s dark because she’s dead,” Sonia said to them.

  Marie nodded. “The light doesn’t like the dead. Sprites are made of pure light and abhor death.”

  “They’ve been telling me about what was to come. And here you are.” Sonia wrapped her arms around Darria, squeezing her into a hug.

  She returned the hug and pulled away from Sonia. “Are you ready to leave? The dark ones won’t be able to come into the house. You’re welcome to stay until we can figure all this out.”

  “The dark ones will follow. They always find a way in.”

  “You can’t stay here,” Marie reiterated.

  “No. I can’t stay here.”

  “You should have the memories from your undertaker line. Normally, the memories come when you’re ready for them, but it seems the Fates are working faster in lieu of the circumstances.” Darria sighed. The others were out there waiting for her to find them. There was no way that light was ever going to completely eclipse darkness. “Sonia, there will always be light and dark. You can’t stamp out the shadows. Marie asked if you knew about the other undertakers and what your relic does. Maybe it can help you.”

  Sonia took a deep breath and stepped back. “It’s a test,” she whispered. “I know, but it’s what I have to do.”

  The other sprites chattered: hoots, whistles, and some clicks all mixed together. It was rather melodious, but she understood why others would see Sonia as an outcast. Sonia walked to the edge of the circle and stared at the darkness in the church. Darria stood behind her. Little flits of darkness like dark flames with arms and legs zoomed around. They had triangular heads with slits for mouths. When they moved, they skittered and cackled at the edge of the circle. As each one touched the ring of leaves, their fingertips burned orange. They waved their hands and hopped around, trying to put out the fire. They reminded her of little gremlins. Maybe they were.