by Brian Rella
Frank put on his friendliest face. “Yes,” he said. “I’m looking for my friends. Karen Hailey and Steve Trevers. I was told I could find them here.”
“Are you immediate family?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
“I’ll need to see some identification please. Visiting hours aren’t for another hour and a half. Then you can go see them,” she said firmly.
Frank looked into her eyes, staring at her irises. “I’d like to see them now please,” he said without blinking.
Her face softened, the sternness left her eyes, her eyelids drooped, and her irises expanded.
“What room are they in?” Frank asked.
“Mr. Trevers is in room 207. Ms. Hailey is in room 205,” she said in a monotone, drugged voice. She blinked slowly, her eyes closing dramatically.
“Thank you,” Frank said. “You won’t remember this conversation when I leave you. You won’t remember what I look like or that I came and asked you for their rooms.”
“Okay,” she replied sleepily.
Frank looked at her name tag. “Excellent, Ana. When I leave you, you will go back to your day feeling refreshed and energetic.”
She blinked in response and Frank left her. He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure she was okay. Sometimes people didn’t take the hypnosis spell well and accidentally fell when they came out of it. He’d seen it happen too many times and didn’t want to harm the young nurse.
He watched her wobble a bit, catch her footing, look confused momentarily, and then remember what she had been doing. She left swiftly, her white shoes squeaking on the shiny tile floor. Frank turned back down the hall, a small smile across his lips, and made for the stairwell at the end. He pushed through the door and walked up two flights to the second floor. When he came out of the stairwell, room 207 was right in front of him.
He peered in the square window and saw the head of a pale man, the sheets pulled up to his neck, asleep in a bed. Bags hung from an intravenous infusion pole, and tubes ran from the bags and under the blanket that covered him. No reason to disturb him yet. He left and moved down a door to room 205.
Peering in the window, he saw the privacy shade pulled all around the bed, hiding the person lying there. He pushed open the door. Beeps and bleeps from the equipment running in the room greeted him. He heard a moan from behind the curtain.
“Mrs. Hailey?” he whispered, shutting the door behind him.
Another moan from behind the curtain.
“Mrs. Hailey, may I speak with you?”
More moaning. Frank slid the curtain aside and walked around the other side of the bed, which was open to the window. The sunlight streamed in through the window, bathing the bed in the warm morning light of the day.
Flower arrangements sat on the sill and the smell of pollen mixed with industrial cleaner tickled his sinuses. He came around the curtain, calling her name, but she didn’t respond. She was facing the window and he moved further around the bed to see if she was asleep.
Frank immediately noticed her misshapen head. As he took in the rest of her, he saw how hideously deformed she was from the attack.
Somehow her left eye had been relocated to her forehead and it blinked eerily there. Her ears were drastically uneven. The side of her face had been horribly burned and melted. A large bump, horn-like, poked out from the top of her head. She stared out the window, her eyes glassy, drool hanging from her cheek and wetting the pillow. Frank had to consciously control his reaction so as not to offend her.
“Mrs. Hailey?” he asked again, trying to be gentle. She didn’t acknowledge him. She just kept staring out the window, catatonic, and unresponsive.
Her hands lay on either side of her as she stared. Frank touched her right hand, closed his eyes, and focused on connecting with her mind. As her memories came into focus, Frank’s breath caught.
He saw the girl, Jessie, her daughter, and felt what she had done to Karen. Waves of pain and terror flooded his senses. He saw the demon Arraziel in the window into Karen’s mind, and relived what had happened to her as if the memories were his own.
A girl was with her in Jessie’s room. Arraziel had both of them in its grasp, holding them in the air in front of him. Frank flipped forward, through Karen’s memories like turning the pages of a picture book, trying to find the girl that commanded the demon.
He saw her by the bed. Jessie. She’s just a girl, no older than fourteen or fifteen. He watched the Hailey woman’s memories, and what the demon had done to her at Jessie’s commands.
“Your turn Karen,” Jessie said.
Frank felt Karen’s horror as she pleaded with her daughter for forgiveness.
“…Arraziel, my mother is too pretty. Fix that,” Jessie said.
Frank released her mind and jerked his hand away from Karen’s. He gasped and winced as images of the demon’s work played like a movie in his head. Karen’s pain and transformation touched the nerves in his head and face as if it were happening to him. His breathing was deep and rapid. He bent over, placing his hands on his thighs, trying to steady himself and unsee what he had seen, but it was imprinted on his mind, the images and feelings of her agony like a ghost inside of him.
Shaken, he turned away from her, walked out the door, and leaned against the wall. Fuck. Make it stop…
A few moments passed and the images faded. He looked apprehensively at the door to the other room. He had to speak to the man as well. He headed across the hall to room 207.
Frank pushed open the door and walked over to the bed, avoiding the web of tubes connected to Steve. A hospital blanket covered his body, but Frank could tell he was in bad shape from the irregular lumps and the curve of his lower frame. He moved closer to the bed and stared at the man, debating whether to wake him. The man’s eyes opened.
“What the hell do you want?” the man growled.
“To talk,” Frank said.
“About what? My broken spine? The leg you cut off? Can’t you doctors just leave me the hell alone?” he asked, his voice cracking at the end.
“Do I look like a doctor?” Frank asked.
He looked away. “Then who the hell are you and whadayou want?”
“Answers.”
“Get the fuck outta here!”
Frank noticed that even though he got excited when Frank spoke, only his head moved. Paralysis. Frank stood there.
“Where’s the girl?”
The man turned slowly to meet Frank’s eyes and a dark cloud came over his face.
“I know. Tell me. Where’s the girl that did this to you and Mrs. Hailey?”
The man’s head twisted slowly back and away from Frank. “You know shit,” he said.
“I know a lot. Now tell me what happened and where the girl is.”
Frank thought he heard a whimper. Steve closed his eyes and a tear traced down his cheek. “My little girl. Did you find my little girl?”
“I can’t find her if you don’t talk to me,” Frank said.
“That bitch,” he choked. “She turned my little girl into a pig with that…that…fucking demon…whatever it was.” He sobbed as he inhaled. “And look what she did to me! Look! I can’t move my arms or legs. She fucking crippled me. That bitch! Look what she did!”
He was getting hysterical, and it wasn’t helping Frank get the information he needed.
“Look at me,” Frank said.
Steve slowly turned his head, and Frank looked deep into his eyes, putting him in a trance. He immediately calmed and his eyelids drooped. He became placid and pliable, exactly what Frank needed.
“Now start from the beginning,” Frank said.
The man’s voice was flat and monotone as he spoke.
“Karen and me was gonna get married. We told the kids. Marie was happy. Jessie was…was…”
“Who’s Marie?”
“My daughter.”
The other girl in Karen’s memories…
“What happened to Marie?”
&nb
sp; “That bitch turned her into a pig with her demon.”
The man was calm but tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke.
“Why? Why did she do this?”
“I was just trying to scare her. I wasn’t going to hurt her, really.”
Frank frowned. “What did you do?”
“I was drunk and she wasn’t cooperating with… You know, she… Karen and I were gonna get married and she wasn’t going along with the plan. She was gonna screw everything up. She was fighting with Marie all the time, but it was just, ya know, what do they call it? Sibling rivalry.”
“Jessie was screwing things up for you, Marie and Karen?”
“Yeah, so I went into her room to scare her. I told her she’d learn to like me and I thought she was kinda pretty, like her mom.”
“Is that all you did? Tell me exactly as you remember.”
“I sat on her bed next to her. I was drunk. I don’t remember exactly. We had been celebratin’ all night. I touched her leg. I told her she was pretty and she’d learn to like me…like her mom liked me. That’s all…I think.”
Frank got the picture. This man and his daughter were moving in with the Hailey woman and these two lowlifes were abusing Jessie. No wonder she attacked them.
But it didn’t explain where she had gone or why she had killed Olga.
“Where is Jessie?”
“I don’t fucking know. That demon almost killed me. I was passed out. Maybe she’s with him…”
“What else can you tell me? Did she go to a friend’s house? Does Jessie have any family close by?”
“She’s got no friends. She’s a damn loser and Karen’s her only family I know of.”
Frank wasn’t going to get any more information out of this guy, and he had enough from these two bastards to figure out his next move. He knew who he was looking for. He dropped his gaze back to Steve, and all sympathy he felt for him and the Hailey woman faded.
“You’ve been very helpful, Mr. Trevers. Thank you. I’m going to leave you now and you won’t remember this conversation or what I look like. But you will know that you deserve what happened to you and you will live in this hell for the rest of your life.”
Fucking child molester. She went easy on you. Frank left the room and headed back down the stairs and out of the hospital.
He had to find Jessie and the Arraziel book. He had to tell Brennan that a girl was on the loose, that she commanded the powerful demon.
And she was angry.
There was one more stop to make that might give him a clue where to start looking. Jessie’s house.
17
JESSIE
October 17, 2015
Chicago, Illinois
The doors opened with a soft whoosh and a ding. Jessie stepped through them and into a world never before seen by her country-girl eyes.
A man dressed in a tuxedo stood in front of her. Next to him, a woman dressed in a sparkling blue gown, with diamonds dangling from her ears and neck. They brushed past her and entered the elevator as she exited. Jessie noticed them sneak a peek at her. The man had lust in his eyes, while the woman wore judgment on her brow. Jessie snorted at them, causing them to pause and lift their noses at her. She stared them down and shook her head as the doors closed. A-holes.
The lobby was classy and elegant, and made Jessie feel out of place. The only hotel she had ever stayed in was a Motel 6 when her mom and dad had taken her to a theme park in Baton Rouge. There, the motel had had a single counter, a single floor, and an old man handing out room keys with a cautious eye.
Here she couldn’t even identify where the front desk was. Tables with elaborate lamps and vases filled with extravagant flowers surrounded a grand sitting area with leather chairs and ornate furniture. Chandeliers draped the high ceiling, their crystals reflecting light throughout the room. The floor glistened with fresh polish. Light classical music played in the background. Jessie felt odd and lost in this glittering world.
Where do I check in?
She gazed around the room for anything resembling a front desk. People came and went dressed in designer clothes, talking on cell phones, or gabbing with each other. In the sitting area, Jessie saw a housekeeper clear some cocktail glasses from a side table. Jessie walked over to her.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Could you please tell me where the front desk is?”
The woman glanced up and pointed to the other side of the room, where there was a long, wood-paneled counter with brass lamps and attractive-looking women in business suits behind it.
“Thank you,” Jessie said and walked to the counter.
As she approached, she heard the clattering of hidden keyboards from underneath the counter. A brunette woman with smoky eyes, her hair in a bun, and a headset on her head, glanced up from a flat panel screen and smiled at Jessie.
“Ms. Hailey,” she said. “I can help you here.”
Jessie was confused. She had never seen this woman before, but she walked to the counter nonetheless.
“Do I… Do I know you?” she asked.
The woman grinned and dropped her eyes back down at her screen as her fingers pecked away. “This will take just one moment, Ms. Hailey. Sorry for the wait,” she said without looking up.
What the heck is going on? Who are all these people helping me?
For a split second, Jessie thought about leaving. She thought about turning right around, walking to the elevator, and figuring out a way to get back to Louisiana. This was crazy, all these people she’d never seen before somehow knew her and were helping her? Giving her clothes, and what now? A hotel room in the nicest hotel she had ever stepped foot inside? This was too much.
They are friends, princess. Friends of mine…and friends of yours, the deep dark voice in her head said.
Jessie looked around nervously. The voice in her head was soothing and frightening at the same time. It was not Arraziel’s voice, it was another voice. Who was able to speak to her mind? Who? Who was this man in her head? Why was he helping her?
“There you are,” the woman behind the counter said. “You’ll be in the penthouse suite. Room 3209. Everything is ready for your stay. Can I send up anything for you?” the woman said, tucking key cards in an envelope and pushing them toward Jessie.
Jessie looked at the envelope on the desk and then back at the woman. The woman’s smile faltered and she motioned toward the elevator with her eyes.
“Here is your key. Room 3209. Elevators are just around the corner,” she said.
Take the key, Jessie. I will explain all in time.
Jessie took the key and the woman’s eyes brightened. Trance-like and unsure what was happening to her, she turned toward the elevator, the key card in her hand out in front of her.
Good, princess. You need to rest.
“Rest,” Jessie said, blank-faced, and pressed the up button for the elevator.
18
FRANK
October 20, 2015
Beauchamp, Louisiana
The Mach 1 idled to a stop down the street from the Hailey house. Ranch houses lined the dead-end street on both sides of the road. The houses sat on small plots of land and looked unkempt and in need of repair. An old, rusted-out car with no tires sat on cinder blocks in the driveway of one, junk spilled out of the garage of another, and a broken pool was on the side of the house of still another. The water had turned green and plants were growing in it. This was not the ritzy part of Beauchamp, if there was one. This was the low-rent part of town; the part where a young girl would struggle to thrive, especially with an abusive family.
Frank cut the engine, opened the door, and stepped out into the mid-morning air. He walked up the driveway toward the front door, over broken bricks, and up the steps to the front door. Police tape sealed the front door. He peered in the window, but the room was too dark to see anything.
Something rustled in the trees at the side of the house. Frank stopped to listen, but the sound stopped. He went around back to check the
back door and see if it was open. It was also sealed with police tape.
He whispered the spell to open the door, ripped the tape, and stepped in.
The kitchen was in disarray. Plates of unfinished food lay out on the table. Empty bottles of beer and whiskey were strewn about and the garbage looked like it hadn’t been taken out in days.
Chips decorated the Formica counter, which matched the linoleum tiles on the floor. Frank walked through the kitchen, avoiding the mess, to explore the rest of the house. His feet smacked on the tacky floor.
Off the kitchen was the living room. An old plasma TV and worn-out furniture that looked like it would fetch twenty bucks at the Salvation Army accessorized the room. Cheap lamps and frayed carpet completed the decor. Credit card statements, a water bill, and an electric bill lay scattered across the coffee table.
Frank’s spine and the base of his head prickled as something drew his attention to his right. A single hall led straight back through the house. Back there. That’s where it happened.
Frank passed a bathroom and glanced inside. Makeup cases cluttered the counter. After the bathroom, he passed what must have been the master bedroom and finally the back room. There. The last room. That’s hers.
The walls were pink and girlie, but what grabbed Frank’s attention were the pictures from horror movies he recognized. Pinhead from Hellraiser, Jack Nicholson with an axe next to his face in the classic shot from The Shining. A teddy bear and some other stuffed animals lay on the bed, which had the sheets pulled down and looked like someone had slept in it recently. The whole scene was schizophrenic and bizarre.
The smell of blood hung in the air. This was where Jessie had conjured Arraziel and took revenge against her family. If the bloodstains on the floor weren’t telling enough, the spray and splatter of gore against the wall were a dead giveaway.
Frank had seen enough. Certain this was where the attack had happened, he searched for clues to fill in the holes of what he knew.