“Sure, Sylvia,” I said, taking her trembling hand. “We’ll go wherever you’re most comfortable.”
As soon as we stepped into the living room, I understood why all the cats had left the kitchen. It was late enough in the morning that the sunlight had become bright and hot, filling the living room with intense patches of sunshine that were ideal for napping in. Cats were draped on sunbleached furniture, spread across the threadbare rugs, and curled up on every cushion available.
Beside me, Logan looked at his watch and bounced his knee impatiently. That’s what he got for not going on a run earlier. But I understood his frustration. I wanted to ask Sylvia more questions, but was afraid that if I pushed too hard she’d close herself off to me. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing her cry again. There was something so gut-wrenching about seeing an old woman sobbing.
“Right . . . ” she eventually said, taking a seat on the couch across from us.
Between us on the floor was the spot of the previous night’s remote viewing session. For a split-second, I imagined her body on the floor as she screamed in horror. Then I pushed the thought out of my mind and looked up into her face. She was forcing herself to smile, but I could see her eyes were glossy.
“Are you ready?” Logan gently asked.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Her hands shook again as she clenched her fingers around the hem of her skirt, fiddling with loose pieces of thread.
“I don’t know where to start,” she said, her eyes burning holes in the carpet.
“Hell,” I prompted her. “You said you hadn’t seen anything like it since you saw Hell.”
“That’s right . . . ”
Her eyes remained fixed on the carpet, her fingers gripping her skirt tighter. I watched as she tugged on a piece of thread so hard it dug into her skin before snapping.
“It’s okay,” I tried to reassure her. “We’re here with you. You’re safe.”
“I don’t feel safe. Sometimes digging into your memory makes you feel like you’ve traveled back to a place . . . like it could suck you down a rabbit hole of feelings that you tried to forget.”
Logan nudged me gently and nodded towards Sylvia. I took the hint and moved across the room to sit beside her.
“Memories can’t hurt you,” I told her, resting my hand on her back. But I knew that was a lie. Memories could hurt you more than a bullet wound. Or at least it felt that way sometimes.
“I mean they can’t hurt you physically,” I said. Taking her hand away from the hem of her skirt, I squeezed it tight. “The sooner you tell us, the sooner you can forget about it for good. And the sooner we can help find the children.”
“Yes . . . Of course. The children.”
She sucked in a deep breath and quivered as she exhaled.
“I saw them down there,” she began, clenching her eyes shut.
“Down where?” Logan immediately asked. He leaned forward in his seat, making a steeple with his hands. “Are they okay? Are they alive?”
Raising a hand towards him, I shot him a steely look to shut him up. It worked like a charm.
“Sorry,” he said, leaning back and quieting his voice. “In your own time, Sylvia.”
Her eyes were still focused on the floor as she continued.
“I said it was like Hell,” she said. “I saw it once before. When I was younger and I didn’t know how to control my psychic power. If you could call it that. Sometimes it feels like such a burden.”
She paused, lifted her gaze from the carpet, and looked up to a photograph of her husband as though she was seeking strength from his face.
“It wasn’t long after I lost him,” she said. “I couldn’t handle the grief. I missed him so terribly. All I thought of was seeing him again, just one last time. Of hearing his voice telling me he was alright. That I was going to be alright.”
Her hand slipped out of mine and began scratching at the upholstery of the couch.
“So I did something I knew was wrong. I tried to contact him. Tried to reach the other side.”
“But you said you had a psychic power,” I replied. “Hadn’t you ever done that before?”
“Not like this. This wasn’t as simple as looking for information from the other side. This was reaching far, far into the underworld to seek out death itself. To envision that very essence of death, to understand it. It was wrong, of course. I had this warped idea that somehow I could not only speak to my husband but that I might be able to bring him back.”
She looked back up at his photograph with a sorrowful expression.
“But that’s not what happened,” she said. “I didn’t know what I was doing back then. Not really. Not like now. I wasn’t experienced enough, and I was arrogant. Thought I could control my power enough to reach into the other side and be safe.”
The look in her eyes darkened as she shook her head regretfully.
“Did you reach your husband?” I asked her softly.
“No. No, I never reached him at all. Instead, I made contact with an entity who masqueraded as him, who pretended to be him. The thing I met, I suppose you could call it a demon. It was evil anyway. So evil.”
Her hands shook as she raised them to her face and wept.
“I remember reaching out to it, thinking it was my husband, but as soon as I made contact, he changed. He moved like he was melting. Then the damn thing was laughing at me. It shrieked and then it wasn’t my husband’s face I was looking at anymore. It was this black thing with hollow eyes and a tongue that lashed out like a fiery flame. The next thing I knew I was so hot . . . ”
I looked down at Logan and saw the disbelief on his face. Or was it fear? Either way, I could tell he didn’t want to hear what she was saying. For some people, knowing another side exists is too much to handle. But learning of other dimensions, especially ones most people have heard about, like Heaven and Hell? To know these places really exist? It’s another step into the abyss of the unknown. It’s the kind of thing that can turn a person crazy.
“I was so hot,” she continued. “Everything around me was humid, dark, damp and decaying. I could barely see anything, but I could tell there were figures moving around in the dark. Creatures that climbed over each other, grabbing at the last bits of light that leaked down from Earth. There was screaming all around me. So much screaming that came from the kind of pain no one could ever feel up here in this world. It was the kind of pain that could only come from Satan himself.”
Tears sprung from her eyes as she held a hand to her mouth and silently jerked forward as though she was about to vomit.
“And then there was the smell,” she said. “It was the stench of death and sulfur, of rotten bodies and burning flesh. It was the smell of the worst of humanity.”
She began rocking back and forth as she spoke, all the while fighting the urge to be sick.
“It was Hell I saw. I know it,” she said. “I saw it with my own eyes. I felt the pain, the despair, the sheer desperation. There was a pit. Like a hole in existence that was filled with the screaming dead. It looked like the naked bodies of every single person sent to Hell had been thrown down in there. They stayed there for eternity. There was never a way out. I don’t know how I knew that—it was just made clear. I remember looking at all the people, and I couldn’t wrap my head around how big this pit was. It wasn’t just miles deep. It went on forever and ever.”
At last, she stopped rocking and lowered her hand. The tears fell freely from her cheeks, but she paid them no attention.
“The thing that took me down there just kept laughing. And all I could do was pray that I could be brought back to my life up on Earth. I prayed to know what goodness and light felt like.”
Across the room, Logan stopped bouncing his knee. He just sat there, wide-eyed and silent. It might’ve been the description Sylvia was giving us, or it might’ve been the fact that Lafayette was in his lap, kneading his thigh with his paws. One quick movement of a startled cat could be di
sastrous for his balls.
“So how did you make it back?” I asked her.
“I was released eventually. The demon let me go. Brought me back to Earth. I’d never been so grateful for anything in my whole life.”
“Why do you think it took you down there? Why did it pretend to be your husband?”
“It was a trickster demon,” she said with an air of authority. “That’s the only explanation I can give. All of my terror gave him quite a show. He got what he wanted. It’s as simple as that. I took my experience in Hell as a warning. That I had somehow trespassed into the other side without permission.”
She wiped the tears from her face with the hem of her skirt and leaned over to the coffee table for her mug. She took a long gulp of the hot drink and sighed with relief. It was all out now. All those memories she’d kept locked up in her mind were now out in the open for a sympathetic ear to listen.
“So after that,” said Logan, his voice barely audible above Lafayette’s purring. “After that, did you give up on psychic work?”
“Agent Hawthorne, you know fine well that’s not the case.”
At last, she gave a smile. It was weak, but it was still a smile.
“I’ll admit that I pushed the idea of using my psychic power to the back of my mind. I was simply too scared to use it. So I tried to forget I even had it. It took a long time, almost a decade to raise the courage to enter that realm again. And that was only because of the sightings.”
“The sightings on your property?” I asked.
“Exactly. It felt like things were happening all around me outside of my control. Things that were tied to the land. I wanted to learn more, felt as though it was my duty as a citizen of Yarbrough to follow this path of knowledge to learn all I could about what was happening. That was when I set out to become a student of remote viewing. I liked how other strict psychic techniques had rules that you have to follow for your own safety. I couldn’t make the same mistake again of summoning up any old demon that was just passing by. I had to be protected psychically and have full control of my consciousness. It took years of practice. The more I learned how to protect myself and learned the rules, the less afraid I was. At least, that was the case until . . . ”
She set her coffee cup down and looked straight at me.
“That was until you came along.”
Her shaky hand moved across to a plate of cookies on the table. She took one, the edges crumbling between her fingers leaving dusty pieces of chocolate on her tear-stained skirt.
“When you came I thought I could handle it,” she said “After all, I’m not a novice anymore, but then . . . ”
The tension returned to her voice. She tried to distract herself by biting into her cookie, but it made no difference.
“What I saw down there with those missing children . . . I could spend a lifetime learning to protect myself psychically but it wouldn’t do nothing to stop the terrible misery I felt when I saw them.”
“Was it really Hell you saw?” asked Logan.
“It certainly felt that way. It filled me with terror in exactly the same way.”
“So was it Hell or was it something like Hell?”
“It wasn’t Hell itself. But the resemblance was too much. Where those children are is a perfect replica of Hell. You know how those casinos in Las Vegas try to recreate Italian canals or the Eiffel Tower? It’s like that. It’s close, but you know it ain’t the real thing.”
The energy in the room once again grew thick. The bright sunlight cast rays of heat across the room. All around the room, dozens of cats lay semi-comatose.
“They were all being held there,” she said, looking down at her lap. “All the children.”
“They’re alive?” asked Logan.
“Most of them are.”
It was a sentence that gave both grief and hope.
“Most of them?” I asked.
“There’s dozens of them held in a pit underground within the fairy realm. They’re screaming, crying, begging for their parents. They’re terrified. Some are too young to understand what they’re seeing, while the ones old enough to see what surrounds them are paralyzed with fear.”
She swallowed hard and pressed on, eager to finish what she had started.
“They’re all desperate to get out. All crying. All trying to get back to the surface world.”
“Who are they down there with?”
“Creatures. Goblins. Guardians of the underworld. Like the ones you saw last night, Agent Hawthorne.”
Logan said nothing, just maintained his poker face and nodded while petting Lafayette.
“Then there’s the queen,” she said. “An evil woman who has ordered they all be brought to her. I could see her leaning over the pit of children, tossing rotten food at them.”
“Does she look like this?” Careful not to disturb the black cat in his lap, Logan took out his phone and showed Sylvia the picture Rylee had drawn of Solana. Sylvia’s eyes widened and she nodded her head.
“That’s her. Queen Solana.”
“Do you know why she took the kids?” I begged to know. “Why would she kidnap so many in such a short period of time?”
But at the back of my mind, the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. I could have guessed what she wanted them for.
“Power,” said Sylvia. “She’s going to sacrifice them so she can be the most powerful queen in The Hollows.”
“Let me guess,” said Logan from across the room. “She’s going to sacrifice them to Moloch so she can gain power through him.”
Sylvia raised her head to Logan and frowned.
“That’s exactly what she’s going to do!” she gasped. “She’s made a deal with that demon.”
“You said most of the kids are alive,” continued Logan. “How do you know?”
“I can see them all in that pit. Most of them are alive, but there are so many and they’re all piled one on top of the other. It’s like an endless fight to get out of the pit, and it’s impossible to escape. They’ll never get out.”
Silence hung heavy in the room. The sun was higher in the sky now that it was noon. Sylvia stood up, stepped over her cats and opened a window to let in some of the warm summer air.
“I never want to see anything like that as long as I live,” she said. “The sound of them all crying, the fear of impending death . . . And then the queen’s face. She thrives off their pain and misery just like that damned demon does. She loves every second of seeing them suffer.”
She walked back to the couch but didn’t sit down. Instead, she stood, unable to keep still as she fiddled with the sleeve of her blouse.
“If the children are being sacrificed,” said Logan. “Then why are they all down there together? Why not kill them one by one?”
“I can’t say for sure,” replied Sylvia. “But my guess is that the sacrifice that’s awaiting them is part of a bigger ceremony. And if it’s to Moloch . . . Then it won’t be just any ceremony. Think of the way the Aztecs sacrificed people. They didn’t just beat them in the head with a rock. It was a big to-do.”
“It sounds like Solana is waiting for the right day,” Logan said while running his hand along Lafayette’s rumpled, uneven fur.
“I believe so.”
Sylvia walked over to the window and looked out towards the forest where the rock was found.
“I could hear her voice,” she said, pressing a hand to the glass. “She said the most unspeakable things. She has no soul, no morality. All she desires is power.”
I knew that more than anyone. What Sylvia had said churned my stomach, but at the same time, it motivated me. At least now we knew what was happening. Even if what was happening was awful, we knew what we were dealing with.
“What is her objective besides power?” asked Logan.
“Her objective?” laughed Sylvia, still staring out the window. “For her, there is only power.”
She lowered her hand from the window and turned back around, leani
ng against the window ledge. Her face was pale and drawn, her whole body slumping with exhaustion. I could see the toll it had all taken on both her body and mind.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But I can’t tell you anymore. I told you everything I saw.”
“We appreciate it,” I told her. “What you saw was awful. Evil.”
“I’ll never forget it.”
She looked ready to collapse on the spot, her whole body weighing heavily against the window ledge.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “But that knocked the bejesus outta me. I need to lie down for a bit.”
“Of course. We’ll be back soon.”
“I’d like that,” she said, trying her best to smile at us both. “I don’t often get the pleasure of company. I’ve enjoyed having y’all around, even if it ain’t all been good.”
I reached out a hand for her to shake and she pushed it away.
“A handshake, Agent Rivera? I think we’re a little beyond that.”
Leaning in for a hug, she squeezed me tight.
“Come back soon,” she said, kissing my cheek. “And make sure you bring that hunk with you. Lafayette’s taken a liking to him.”
“Well that was fucking awful,” Logan groaned as we climbed back in the car. “I’d say that was probably the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”
He let out a long breath and sagged his body against the seat while I rolled down the windows. Sylvia was a crazy, sweet woman, but her house left me gasping for fresh air. I took a deep lungful of air, then turned to see how my partner was doing. He was staring out the window until he felt my eyes on him. Then he turned and gave me the most pitiful look.
“Have you ever heard anything as bad as what Sylvia just told us?”
“Yeah.”
“Of course you have.” He narrowed his eyes and went back to looking out the windshield. “I don’t even know why I asked you.”
He folded his arms over his broad chest and sat there, sulking in silence. I glanced towards the rear of the Navigator so I wouldn’t start laughing at him.
That’s when I saw it.
Orange, sweet, bubbly nectar of the gods. The fucking mother lode. And it was sitting on the floor of the back seat behind my fucking chair.
Wiretaps & Whiskers (The Faerie Files Book 1) Page 23