by Trinity Crow
"It's fine." The words came out a bit sharper than I had intended. "You can leave if you want."
"Great!" Nikki said with an air of relief, ignoring our disapproval. Without even a goodbye, she turned and hurried down the driveway. Lena shook her head as she watched her leave.
"Don't take that little show personally," the woman said, turning to me with a companionable smile. "Nikki is a girl trying to separate herself from her own nature. It can't be done and keeping up the pretense will only make her miserable."
"Should she not be able to choose her own life?" I asked, feeling I could understand Nikki's point of view even if her attitude was so poor.
Lena's expressive eyebrows rose. "Of course. I'm not suggesting she be pushed into any one way of life. I am talking about what she is. Genetically or spiritually, or however you believe the gifted among us are created. She can choose not to live a public life as a sensitive but not acknowledging it and properly caring for herself is a huge mistake."
"Somehow I don't think you mean personal hygiene," I said slowly.
Lena laughed, throwing back her head. Her hair fell away from her temples, revealing the fine silver hairs that only emphasized her handsome looks. There was something besides her looks that struck me. The lack of information that had come with Nikki's brief introduction. What did I know I know about the woman who wanted entrance to my home? Did she want money . . . or maybe a taste of the power that ran through these lands?
As if she caught the drift of my thoughts, she tilted her head towards me, her laughter tapering off.
"Hygiene of her spirit," she said, amused, "is a very good way to put it.” She studied me a moment and I made no move to look away from that calculating gaze. Lena offered me a warm smile. “But Nikki will have to come to this on her own terms. Let's talk instead about what you are experiencing. What can I do to help you, Abby?"
My words to that disturbing coyote man came back to me. I had asked him whether I needed help because things were going so well. And now, things had gone from well to amazing, the garden flourishing, a steady income, a real possibility. And yet, I was more unsure about my future than ever. If that man was not Nikki's cousin, who was he? A shiver stole through me, like fingers of cool fog stroking my spine. What was he?
I'd accepted him without a second thought and it made me uneasy. I was too alone and too ignorant of these matters to trust my own judgment. There were things that walked around this house and maybe . . . in this house. That much I knew. My childhood had twisted good with evil until I doubted which was which. How then could I trust myself to find a safe path through this foggy maze of spirits, gods and unnamed powers?
Playing with the ends of my shawl self-consciously, I spoke of some of these things to Lena. Guilt from holding back important details tugged at me, but the need to protect the revelations of Rickrack House rose up like a tidal wave, and the words died unspoken. And for all that my secrets seemed to me so startling, Lena merely nodded, her black eyes growing even darker as she absorbed it all.
"I sense a great power struggle here," she said finally. "We stand in the domain of a land spirit. Though he delights in trickery, he means you no harm. Like all of his kind, he loves praise and adoration. You would do well to give him his due. But the house. . ." She frowned as she squinted upwards at the looming building, her eyes ghosting across the windows of the once locked room. "Something else dwells in that house. Something ancient and hungry. Those intentions are not clear, but they stand in opposition to each other." Lena shook her head, her mouth thinning into a straight line. "I would need to go inside to know more."
My thoughts warred with each other. The memory of that muscular man, beautiful and untamed, and that knowing smile he had given me made me flush. How much did Lena know? Or was she the trickster, come to deceive me?
"Perhaps," she said, measuring her words, "I can help you find a way to trust your own instincts while we clear some of the mist surrounding the other beings who dwell here."
I bowed my head and nodded, feeling the weight of indecision slip away. I needed help, I did. How could I know the correct thing to do without someone wiser than me showing me the way?
Scolding myself for my unwarranted doubts, I gave her a grateful smile and waved a hand towards the door. Lena stepped forward and then paused at the threshold, bending her head. I could see her lips moving, but heard no words. Looking up, she caught my questioning glance.
"I'm merely asking permission,” she told me with a soft smile.
It did not comfort me that Lena felt she needed someone's permission other than my own to enter this house safely. It was my house, after all. The land was shared space, but this, I was determined to claim as mine.
Stop, I told myself firmly. She is right to show respect to forces greater than either of you.
But I could feel that my lip had taken on the stubborn thrust that had earned me so many punishments at the Fellowship for harboring a rebellious spirit. My chin came up, further evidence of a rebellious will that had helped me survive years of oppression.
And it might just save me now, I thought grimly. Taking a deep breath, I followed the unknown woman inside.
***
Lena stood, just inside the door, looking admiringly around the room.
“I love your house,” she said in that throaty, resonant voice.
The pleasure in her words warmed me, easing the hackles raised by my fears. She was not just being polite, she truly saw the charm and beauty that I did. After Adam's apparent disdain, it was a balm to my ego. Lena examined the old-fashioned furnishings, the ones that Tasmyn had called vintage, made Cassie wrinkle her nose, and left Nikki unimpressed. “I think you have a really good thing here,” she enthused. “The aura is very feminine, powerful, intuitive, protective.”
Lena stroked the wooden base of a candlestick carved to resemble a doe balancing on hind legs, to feed on a leafy branch overhead. If you looked closely, a woman's face was the merest suggestion in the bark of the wood. It was one of my favorites out of the elaborately carved pieces throughout the house. All of them were skillfully detailed with tiny animals and people, both real and mythical. I had wondered if Felicite had created them after she gained her freedom or to while away long hours in captivity.
"These are very nice," she said. Her full brows drew down thoughtfully. "I bet they are worth something, too. And some of this furniture is antique. People pay good money for a bit of history."
"Oh, no." I shook my head, the thought disturbing me. "I wouldn't feel right selling them."
Lena nodded, but her smile seemed a little forced. "No? Well,that's up to you." She took a seat on the divan and a slight, clinking noise came from her bag as she set it down. I took a seat opposite on the camelback love seat.
“I don't know how much you know about people who can touch the unseen world,” Lena began, looking over at me inquiringly.
I gave a small, mirthless laugh. “I was raised in an extremely religious setting,” I told her briefly. “They believed anything of that nature was evil, either Satanic or witchcraft.”
Lena's dark eyes were hooded, but she bobbed her head understandingly. “We get that a lot. The supernatural in most cultures is a subject of derision. From the time we are children, they tell us it's not real." Her voice held a deep tinge of bitterness. "They tell us those uneasy feelings are childish fancies. We are taught to deny our senses. Sounds, noises, even things we see with our own eyes are all explained away and dismissed. Am I right?”
She didn't wait for me to reply but went on. “And if you persist in believing, you are mocked, shamed or laughed at. They call you crazy, psycho or on the darker side, witch or devil worshiper.” She shrugged and smiled tightly. “Evil.”
I stared at her, caught almost hypnotically by her words.
“When you think of it, most people reach adulthood, intent on denying, the supernatural exists. No matter the evidence, no matter what our eyes, ears, or mind is telling us, we de
ny it. Maybe deep down, we think if we ignore it or deny it, it will go away. We want to believe that denying our nightmares will deny them life.”
I found myself nodding. I wanted things to just be okay. I wanted to believe I was safe here. At New Eden, I dreamed of living a normal life and I was prepared to ignore any amount of evidence that said things were otherwise.
Lena reached forward to patted my arm as if she knew what I was thinking. “What they are teaching us as children is to never speak the monster's name. Never draw attention to yourself. Never invite the darkness in. And what we hope is that whatever it is that walks unseen among us will slip back into the shadows and leave us unharmed.”
She laughed mockingly, her expressive eyes filled with confidence as she sat at ease in a house Nikki had run from. “For all that we have come so far and advanced so much in technology and in society, we are still just cavemen crouched around a fire. Those who speak the monster's name, who give him life by acknowledging he is real, must be shunned. Forced out the village, away from the fire's light and sacrificed to the dark. . .lest we invite it in. So they mock us. They call us evil and exclude us from the mainstream of society while denying their own senses.”
Lena turned to look straight at me and I flinched from the depths in those black eyes. “But the monsters are real, Abby. And when they can no longer be denied, when looking away no longer works, when you are alone and desperate, we are the people you call. We are the people who face the darkness and hold it back.”
I sat stunned by the force of her words. As I took a moment to gather myself, a high, warning yip sounded from outside. I flinched, my gaze darting towards the unblocked window frames, as it came again. What was Mekka warning me against? I drew in a deep breath.
"And do you . . . Do you think there is evil here?” I asked hesitantly.
Lena's face became shadowed. "Almost all of the true evil I have encountered has been in people, Abby. But I sense power here. Ancient and hungry.” She studied my uneasy movement at her words.
From outside, a bird called, the high, keening sound of a hunting hawk and a strong wind gusted against the house. The eerie feeling of deja-vu swept over me. Had I angered the land spirits by letting Lena in?
That same clinking sound pulled my attention back to the room. For a moment, I thought I heard a second sound, that of water lapping against stone. But it was only Lena, unpacking candles and jars from her bag.
"You need to be brave now, Abby," she told me solemnly. I shivered, not from her words, but something that lay unspoken in the air. "We will meet this power together and find a way through the smoke that surrounds you."
I sat, unnerved, as she lit black and red candles with a strong, musky incense, laying them in a pattern on the table. The scent rose and surrounded me, fogging my head. From the bag, she took a deck of cards and began shuffling them. The snap of the cards set up an eerie echo in my head of moonlight and branches, snapping and popping.
Her dark eyes seemed depthless as she met mine and held them. Sharp yips came in rapid succession just below the window and I jerked back from her gaze.
Lena laid out the cards, appearing not to have heard. My eyes fastened on a square of white cloth next to her arm, beside it, a small amber-tinted bottle, the source of the clinking sound.
Again, the hawk called in my head and I saw him soaring overhead, searching for unsuspecting prey. The rabbit, brown fur tipped in white feeding quietly. Shadows wheeling overhead. Fear beat at me and my lungs closed against the air. What was happening? I had not felt afraid when I walked with the goddess, nor when I danced with the spirit tribe. Sweat beaded my brow.
That bottle. . .
The scent became overpowering, growing deeper. . .muskier, the smell of men and sweat, forcing me to remember that day. My wedding day. . .
They had pushed me down and one . . . one poured a sharp-smelling liquid from a small bottle. Brother Jabez grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled my head, fighting to press the cloth against my face. The fumes made me reel and grow dizzy.
No, no!
From my position on the floor, I could not see their faces, only hands and legs. Only the plackets on their pants. Covering their maleness, their weakness . . .
I wrenched myself upwards on the couch, my fist punching downward as I had punched that day, forcing myself upward and into the present. I stared wildly from the bottle to Lena's shadowed face, turned downward over the cards.
The hunting hawk, I thought, terror ripping through the web of memories. My eyes fastened on the shadow her bowed head cast over the cards.
. . .and I, the rabbit.
"There is one thing I would like your opinion on," I said abruptly, the words crashed out of me.
Lena looked up sharply, her black eyes no longer seemed confident but shrewd and predatory.
"Hmmm?" she asked. "What's that, my dear?"
“There is a place in the kitchen. . .” I started slowly, hoping I sounded believable. “An old well that brings water into the house. Much of the . . . activity seems to take place there. ”
Lena's forehead wrinkled as she took this in. “An actual well? In your kitchen? How primal."
"May I show you?" I asked, keeping my voice light, innocent.
"Of course." Her mouth curved into a slow smile as she stood. "Lead the way."
I made as if to turn away, but from the corner of my eye, I saw her gather up the bottle and cloth. My breath came shorter. The pungent reek of the candles began to overwhelm me. Nausea churned in my stomach.
You can do this, I rebuked myself sternly as I led the way on trembling legs. My muscles tensed, expecting any minute to feel an arm snake around my neck and a cloth saturated with chloroform pressed to my face.
Shhhh . . . be the rabbit. Lead her in and lock her in. Use the herb room as a distraction. Stay calm and she will not suspect you. Be the rabbit . . .
Chapter 26
Heart beating wildly, I led her through the swinging kitchen door and then to the pantry.
“It's just through the cold room door.”
Pushing open the narrow door, I stepped aside, bowing my head as if deferring to her greater knowledge.
Be the rabbit . . . No, be the hare. The hare who is cunning and wise, who delights in outwitting those with longer claws and sharper teeth.
Lena smiled at me as she passed. I did not see it, but I felt it, her pleasure at my submission. She stopped just inside the door, fumbling with the amber-tinted bottle as she did so. Thoughts of cunning and trickery fled as my mouth went dry. I needed her to take one more step before I could shut and lock the door.
Push her! Push her! a sudden frantic voice inside me urged.
But I hesitated, doubting my own judgment. What if I was mistaken. Was I about to lock an innocent woman in my pantry? What would the police say to that?
While I stood frozen in indecision, Lena had completed her motions and the sharp, hateful smell of chloroform filled the air. Panicked, I leaned forward, raising my hands to push her when the cold room door swung slowly open. Blue lights danced across the walls and ceiling, spilling out from the depths of the well. My mouth fell open at the mesmerizing play of heavenly blue light and inky, black shadows that gathered beyond.
"What in the world is that?" Lena breathed, her tone reverent and amazed.
“It . . . it . . .” The words stuttered across my tongue. Closeted in my own little world, I had thought this phenomena was mine and mine alone. Or maybe some secret part of me had truly believed I was mad and that I only I could see it. But now, Lena saw it too and I could not find the words to say what had been in my mind. What the presence in the well invoked inside me.
Goddess.
The word would not leave my lips, but as I watched the colors shift and shimmer. The Song of Sisterhood sang in my heart.
I watched mesmerized as Lena stepped closer . . . closer . . .
A flush of relief swept through me as the water rose up to meet her, clearing all
my doubts away. The woman in the well would judge Lena and if she was found wanting, only then would I act. The weight of the decision fell away and my eyes narrowed in concentration knowing I would need to move quickly.
She has the chloroform, an inner voice muttered angrily, is that not crime enough?
But still, but still, my fears whispered back, we could be wrong.
Lena laughed, a high, delighted sound and stretched out a hand to the lights. The colors flowed up her arm and then across her body, dancing in arcs of opalescent indigo and azure. Ribbons became bands and tightened around her. I heard her gasp as the bright sapphire bled to gray and turquoise deepened to black. Something from the depths of the well laughed back, a predatory sound.
Lena whipped her head towards me, eyes bulging. She stretched out a hand and the bottle of chloroform tumbled to the slate floor and shattered.
The low, cold chuckle rose from the water again. Terror swelled inside me.
What was happening?
The door slammed shut with a loud bang making me jump. I stumbled back as the pantry door swung abruptly closed in my face. The distinct sound of a lock clicking shut jolted me. My eyes dropped to the simple knob with no keyhole. A knob that had no lock.
What had I done?
“Lena?” I said. The croaking sound of my voice making me flinch. There was no sound. “Lena?”
I leaned my head against the door, only to flinch as a huge splash exploded on the other side. From outside, a hawk screamed, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Then the drums began, low and insistent. From behind the closed doors, a choking cry. . .
“Please, please no. . .”
It was Lena . . . begging.
A tear made its way down my cheek as I huddled there in horror. Another splash, like an explosion, and gurgling.
I pressed my hands to my ears, but the howl of the coyotes filled the room, making my ear bones throb, and behind the howls, the drums . . . the drums . . .
“Hekates, I call on you!” Lena's scream sliced through the howls and I dug my nails into my skin as I backed away. “Save me…” Her words cut off in a splash.