The Unseen

by Bryan, JL

“We have to go,” Peyton whispered. He grabbed Reese’s hand.

  “Don’t you dare,” she hissed back. “Look, another one.”

  Peyton didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t help it. A second figure draped in black, as dark and still as the first, stood by an ornate marble obelisk on the other side of them, right on the path that Peyton had intended to use for his escape.

  “And there.” Reese pointed to a third shrouded figure, which stood on a crypt pediment on top of Corinthian columns, watching them from above.

  Reese’s hand trembled inside Peyton’s, and her palm grew clammy and sweaty. She no longer had the strange supernatural look to her or the unnatural glow to her eye. She was clearly afraid, no longer confidently in control, and that only fed his fear.

  The bride ghost had vanished, as though she were afraid of the dark figures, too. This did not comfort Peyton, either.

  “Three of them,” Reese whispered, sounding as though she were in awe. “Maybe’s it’s true.”

  “What?”

  Reese looked back at him. She whispered very softly: “Ever since I got involved with First Light, part of me has thought, you know, maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the one they’re looking for. Maybe I’m their messiah. My life would make so much more sense then, all that I’ve suffered...and now three of them are here watching me. I must be important to them.”

  “What are they?”

  “The angels,” Reese said. Her entire body was trembling.

  Peyton didn’t think they looked like angels—if anything, they looked just the opposite. He wouldn’t mind some actual angels dropping down about now to balance things out.

  “We have to show respect.” Reese took his arm. Bewildered, he stood with her. She dropped slowly to her knees on the brick walkway and bowed her head at the unmoving dark figure on top of the mausoleum. She nudged Peyton, clearly expecting him to do the same.

  Peyton took her word for it and knelt alongside her as if praying.

  “Great celestial beings,” Reese whispered. “We are your humble servants. We are prepared to do as you wish.”

  Peyton wasn’t sure he agreed with that, but he was ready to go along with whatever kept them safe until they got the hell out of this graveyard. He forced himself to look down at the bricks in front of him.

  No response came from the dark figures, as far as he could tell. After a few seconds of waiting, Peyton looked up again.

  All three of them were gone. The cemetery suddenly felt warm again, as it should have on a July night in Georgia. Peyton could still hear the whispering voices rising from here and there, but he wasn’t quite as scared of those anymore.

  Beside him, Reese continued to kneel with her eye closed. He touched her shoulder.

  “They left.”

  “Sh! Wait, what?” Reese opened her eye, then stood up with him. “Why did they go?”

  “We should just be glad they did.”

  “I thought they were reaching out to me.” She chewed her lip in thought. “Maybe they just wanted to show themselves to me. Maybe they’ll only tell me a little at a time, right? They want to prepare me so it’s not such a shock that I’m the messiah.” Reese nodded her head, as though everything she’d said made perfect sense. “That must be it. They’re getting me ready.”

  “How obsessed are you with this messiah thing?” he asked.

  “It could be any of us, Peyton. It could even be you.” She looked up at him with new interest, touching his face. “Maybe you’re the messiah. Maybe they were here for you. If I’m not the messiah, I could be his consort.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with that. Maybe they’re just creepy ghosts.”

  “Don’t say that!” she snapped. “Don’t offend them.”

  “I thought they left,” Peyton said. “Can we leave now? I want to be somewhere with lots of light and loud music. I wouldn’t even mind going to some cheesy sports bar if it’s full of people.”

  “Let’s wait. Maybe they’ll come back.” Reese sounded like she hoped for that, while Peyton felt just the opposite.

  “They’ve probably got better things to do. Come on.”

  “Just another minute. Just in case.”

  They stood together by the fountain. After a few very long minutes, Peyton decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to get out of there.

  “I don’t think—” Peyton began.

  “Maybe it’s a sign about us.” Reese turned to him again. “Maybe together we’re part of the big picture. Maybe they’re showing their approval, they want us together.”

  “Maybe...” Peyton said, not convinced and also not really caring what the dark things wanted, as long as it didn’t involve maiming or killing him.

  Reese kissed him, a move he didn’t expect. He went along with it, though, and they kissed for a few minutes. His hands slid up to her breasts, and then under her shirt, his fingers just teasing her stiff nipples.

  She backed away from him, gasping for air.

  “We can’t have sex,” she said. “That’s sacred. You’re not even an initiated disciple.”

  “I’m not any kind of disciple. I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  “I showed you all of this so you would understand,” Reese told him. “Now you know there’s an unseen world all around us. Don’t you?”

  “It looks like it. Or we’re both insane.”

  “We’re not.” She took his hands and pulled close, as if for another kiss. “I want you to come to church with me tomorrow. I want you to begin your discipleship.”

  “Whoa, wait,” Peyton said.

  “Don’t decide right now.” She leaned her cheek against his chest as though to listen to his heart. “Now I just want to go and spend the night in your bed. There are lots of non-sacred things we could do together, aren’t there?”

  “I can think of some very non-sacred things. Profane things, even.” Peyton kissed her again. The voices of the unquiet dead seemed to settle around them, replaced by hooting owls in the sprawling old trees and rabbits sneaking their way through the flowers.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Cassidy was in no mood for a Sunday morning workout. She grudgingly put on shorts and a t-shirt, plus her least-grungy pair of sneakers. She drew her hair into a ponytail and was still lingering in the bathroom, fine-tuning her makeup, when Ibis knocked at her front door. It was ten in the morning.

  She dashed out to the second-floor landing, then made herself slow down and look calm as she descended the stairs to the front door. She glanced through the window to see him outside, dressed casually in khaki shorts and a faded shirt, which made her feel relieved. She’d been half-scared he would turn up in some cheesy all-Spandex workout clothes.

  “Hey, you’re early,” Cassidy said.

  “I’m doing you a favor. It’ll be ninety-five degrees by noon. No clouds.” Ibis held up his phone. “You can ask the Weather Channel. You should have gone with my early-morning offer instead, but that offer has expired.”

  “Okay, let’s do it. You want to come in for a minute? Have some coffee?”

  “I want to get you walking without those crutches.” He pointed to the grassy lawn of the small park across the street. “That looks like a good soft spot to fall on your ass a few times.”

  “I can’t wait.” Cassidy eased her way down the stairs and hopped out to the sidewalk. Cars passed in both directions. “Crap. I usually just wait for an opening and run across.”

  “I could carry you.”

  “You’re not carrying me. Let’s go down to the stupid crosswalk.” Cassidy hopped towards the nearest red light, which was annoyingly far away.

  “You aren’t putting much weight on Old Righty,” Ibis observed from behind her.

  “Stop pretending you’re just looking at my leg back there.”

  “Believe me, I’m watching your whole body. All your weight’s on the left leg and the crutches. You have to stop using those crutches as a crutch.”

&nbs
p; Cassidy laughed and shook her head.

  “Will there be lots of dorky jokes today?” she said.

  “Only if you earn them.”

  The park wasn’t crowded, just a few dog-walkers, joggers, and some kids on the distant playground. Ibis led her to a stretch of lawn shaded by a row of old pines.

  “Look at me,” he said, and she did. The sunlight was golden on his muscular arms. His dark eyes gazed back at her. “Drop the crutches,” he said.

  “Already? I’ll fall over.”

  “Only if you don’t let your right leg help you out. You don’t need them, Cassidy. It’s all in your head.”

  “Right. It had nothing to do with my actual broken leg.”

  “Your leg isn’t broken anymore,” Ibis said. “I told you, it’s made of steel.”

  Cassidy sighed, then let go of her crutches. She tried putting the weight on her right leg, felt waves of pain from the stiff muscles, and toppled sideways.

  Ibis moved lightning-fast, catching her in his arms. His scent reminded her of sandalwood. He set her on her feet, keeping her steady with a hand on her waist.

  “I have to let you go,” he said.

  “No!”

  “I’m going to do it slowly this time. Get yourself balanced. One, two, three...”

  His hand moved away from her, but she could still feel its warmth, as though it remained close, almost touching her.

  She let her right leg take the weight, as she grunted in pain.

  “Goddammit,” she snarled, but she didn’t fall.

  “See? I knew you could stand. You’re a strong woman.”

  “I don’t feel strong.”

  “You will when you start walking.” Ibis clapped his hands. “All right, now you know you can stand. Let’s get started.”

  “We haven’t started yet?”

  “We start with some light stretching. Let’s get down in the grass.” He held out an arm to help her.

  “Let’s do that,” she said.

  The stretching didn’t seem particularly light to Cassidy, unless he’d meant red-hot pain as opposed to white-hot pain. She lay on her stomach while he bent her right foot toward her as far as it would go, and then a little farther. Cassidy screeched and pounded her fist into the dirt.

  “There you go,” he said, as if approving of her scream.

  The quadricep stretches went on for a thousand years of interminable suffering, and then he helped her turn over onto her back. Ibis stretched her hamstrings, bending her knee toward her chin. For a moment, she wished she’d worn longer shorts, and then fiery pain wiped the thoughts from her mind.

  “Admit it,” she breathed when he was done. She lay uselessly in the grass. “You’re just doing that to torture me.”

  “You did all this to yourself,” Ibis said. “You didn’t do the stretching I told you about. You just lay back and let it get stiff.”

  “It doesn’t feel stiff now,” she said. “It feels like a noodle. One that fell out of the boiling water and landed on the eye of the stove and burned up.”

  “So you’re ready to walk on it?” he asked, reaching out a hand.

  “I can’t.”

  “Don’t be a wimp.”

  “When I’m jabbing needles into your back, I’ll remember you said that.” Cassidy let him help her up, and she leaned on him, holding his arm against her. “Whatever you do to me, I’ll do twice as hard to The Count.”

  “The Count can take it. Let’s walk. You can lean on me.”

  “Okay.” She didn’t mind leaning on him at all. Her leg throbbed as she took slow, hesitant steps, but she kept moving.

  “Have you noticed anything unusual since the accident?” Ibis asked.

  Cassidy thought of everything that had happened—the vastly increased and diversified population of transparent beasts and parasites, the out-of-body travel, her brother’s interest in the weird cult, Peyton cheating on her with Reese from high school—and she burst out laughing.

  “What?”

  “Where do I start, Ibis? Are we just talking about my leg?”

  “Any symptoms, any strange experiences?” he asked.

  “Not anything you would believe.”

  “I’ve seen a few strange things,” Ibis said. “Try me.”

  “It’s just weird dreams.” Cassidy stopped to watch a couple of kids flying kites—one shaped like a ladybug, the other a clown with a long, flapping ribbon of a striped necktie. “I’ve always had nightmares. Since the crash, I dream I’m flying around outside my body. Just out there somehow. And I’ll look down and see my body and feel glad to be free of it. I hope that’s not a sign of being suicidal or something.”

  “See, I’ve heard of that before,” Ibis said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Everybody’s heard of that. Astral projection.”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re all New Agey like that.”

  “Me? I just said I’ve heard of it. You’re saying you’re doing it. If one of us is being New Agey, it ain’t me.”

  “Anyway, so I thought they were just dreams. Then I tested it out with my friend Barb, and I could see what she was doing in the next room. And then...” Cassidy hesitated, then decided to tell him. “Then I caught my boyfriend cheating on me. And it turned out that was real, too.”

  “I bet he didn’t see that coming.” Ibis shook his head. “So that must have just happened this week.”

  “Couple days ago. So don’t ever lie to me, Ibis, or I’ll figure it out.”

  “I’ll tell you as much truth as you’re willing to accept.”

  Cassidy stopped walking. “What does that mean?”

  “You can take a stroll outside your body,” he said. “What else? Anything unusual? Before the accident or after it?”

  Cassidy shrugged. “I see things. Little monsters in the air. Bugs, worms...”

  “You see how they feed on people?” he asked.

  “Yeah. What? You see them, too?” Cassidy stopped walking and gaped at him, suddenly more interested in him than ever.

  “I’ve come across them before,” Ibis said.

  “What are they?”

  “Just what they look like. Little parasitic uglies that feed on us.”

  “What exactly are they feeding on?”

  “Leakage from our souls. A little bit at a time.”

  “That sounds serious,” Cassidy said. They reached the chain-link fence around the park pool. Inside, kids were splashing and adults lounged on the chairs. Cassidy could see a number of the transparent vermin in the air, large ones feeding on the adults, small ones circling the kids as though looking for a chance to bite.

  “Imagine each soul is a well of energy,” Ibis told her. “When we subordinate the soul to our lower urges and desires, we’re giving up power. Energy leaks and they feed on it. They prey on us. Once you’ve got one feeding on you, it will invisibly push you to leak more energy.”

  “Not sure I’m following this, thanks.” Cassidy leaned her shoulder on the fence, happy for a short break.

  “People have weaknesses,” Ibis said. “Drug addiction, sex addiction...some people are addicted to greed or power. Some are addicted to anger—they relish the false feelings of clarity and certainty that come with it. Whatever it is, when you lower yourself to be guided by these things instead of by the light of your soul, power leaks out. They gobble it up.”

  “Where do they come from?”

  “I’ve seen them described as ‘vermin that breed in the dark crevices of Hell, that claw up through the cracks in the world to feast upon live souls,’” Ibis told her. “The source was an excommunicated priest who died in a lunatic asylum in 1738, though, so I’m not sure how scientifically sound his information might have been.”

  “Hellbugs, then.”

  Ibis laughed a little. “Hellbugs.”

  “Where did you learn all this?” Cassidy looked up at him, which still felt odd. With her height, she rarely looked up to anyone.

  “Just from
reading books.”

  “That’s an odd way to learn things.”

  “I’m old-fashioned in some ways, and very old-fashioned in others,” Ibis said.

  “Does that mean you’re offended by the sight of a woman’s bare ankle?”

  “It depends on the ankle. Who said we were stopping? Let’s keep that leg moving.” Ibis let her hold onto his arm as he began walking.

  “We’d better turn back here, or we could get hit by golf balls,” she said. “Are all physical therapists also students of the occult?”

  Ibis laughed. “I don’t think so.”

  “I’m lucky I got you, then.”

  “Not everything in the universe is luck,” Ibis said. “But most things are.”

  “I don’t like thinking all of this is real,” Cassidy said. “I liked the old way, when they were just dreams and hallucinations, and I could blot them out.”

  “Do you really know nothing about any of this?” He’d stopped walking under a large old magnolia and turned her to look at him.

  “What? Why should I?” Cassidy asked.

  “You’ve never encountered anything unusual like this in your life? Not until this month?”

  “No...well, not since I was sixteen. And I don’t want to talk about that. Now can we have a conversation that doesn’t involve Hell or demons or invisible bugs?”

  “Of course. This is just one subject I’ve studied.”

  “What are some others?”

  “It’s a long list. Cooking, for example. There’s a skill that can never be perfected, only improved. Like any art form.”

  “What do you cook?”

  “I dabble everywhere, I remix food,” he said. “But my own personal prejudice is that Moroccan cuisine is the best in the world.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Moroccans know how to blend sweet and spicy and take it out to the very edge of the palate,” Ibis said. “We’re talking about saffron, cinnamon, garlic, orange-flower water—”

  “No, I meant why is that personal prejudice? Are you from Morocco?”

  “I lived there for a while,” Ibis said. “The cities were beautiful, right on the ocean.”

  “Where are you from originally, then?”

  “A small place in Mali.”