Shaman

by Chloe Garner

  “A little less than eight months ago,” the man said. Jason tried to remember what they had been doing, back then. Charleston? Macon? Raleigh?

  “Where? What state?” Jason asked.

  “Indiana.”

  Bingo.

  “Greg,” Jason said. “This is Jason.”

  “What? Oh.” There was a long pause.

  “What’s going on, Greg?”

  “Jenny’s pregnant,” he said.

  “Congratulations,” Jason said.

  “No. She just went into labor.”

  Jason blinked a couple of times, trying to figure out if that meant what he thought it meant.

  “Where are you now?”

  “Illinois.”

  <><><>

  Carson had excused them with good grace.

  “You have a job to do. We have this covered,” he said. Krista had hugged him for a long time, then did the same to Sam. Family. Tanner helped Sam load the Cruiser, then Doris had stood on the front driveway with them.

  “We’ll be back soon,” Sam had said. She shook her head.

  “You go do your job,” she said. “Send me a picture of the ash. That’s what would have made him happiest.”

  “You’ve got it,” Jason said, hugging her. Samantha had blended back into the background so much that at one point on the drive, he had had to check to make sure they hadn’t left her behind by mistake.

  Greg and Jenny were about five hours away for a normal driver.

  Jason really wasn’t a normal driver.

  <><><>

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Jason asked. Jenny was laying on the couch, curled up around her stomach, crying.

  “We were embarrassed,” Greg said. “It was… awful. We just wanted it to be over. Would it have changed anything?”

  Jason glanced at Samantha. She shook her head. They had fought over this in the car. He said they should have killed it when they first knew. She insisted that a heartbeat was a heartbeat. It had no greater chances of being born hellspawn than being conceived hellspawn.

  “I would have told you to terminate,” he said.

  “We want a baby,” Greg said. “We got married when we got here, so that we could have a family and start our lives.”

  “Then why did you call?” Jason asked, angry.

  “What’s in me?” Jenny asked, half-scream, from the couch. Samantha went and sat with her.

  “There’s no way to know. There are no tests that will say for sure before it’s born.”

  She looked up.

  “Do you guys have any contacts around here that could get us an… enlightened doctor?”

  Jason looked at Sam.

  “I’ll call Peter,” Sam said, stepping out of the room. Jenny cried out, grabbing hold of Samantha’s hands.

  “He’s not going to like it,” Jason called after him.

  Hellspawn were one of the great debates, among the Rangers. It sounded as though it was a settled issue among Samantha’s people. It was a simple rule. Not all sociopaths are hellspawn, but all hellspawn are sociopaths. They were testable; every twelve-year-old Ranger knew how to test for hellspawn, but after that came the debate: what do you do with one? Do you kill it, or do you let it live to make itself guilty enough to deserve death?

  Early termination was the easy way out. Kill it before it has eyelids and toes.

  “Creating hellspawn destroys the soul,” Samantha had said in the car. “It does it at such a formative level, though, that life continues. It’s messed up, but you have to kill them. They will kill people.”

  “Have you ever killed one?” Jason had challenged her. She sat back in her seat, troubled.

  “No.”

  “I bet Carter always did it, didn’t he?” he asked. She nodded.

  “Didn’t blink.”

  “I’ll be he didn’t even always test,” Jason had said. She looked out the window furiously.

  “He did when I was there.”

  “Peter is sending someone over. He’s an hour away.”

  Jenny cried.

  “What’s in me?” she asked. Sam put his cell phone away.

  “It’s possible that the demons that possessed you managed to hurt your baby,” Sam said, sitting down by her feet and looking up at Greg. Samantha looked like she was willing Jenny to pull her feet away. “They didn’t get a lot of time, so it’s not impossible that your baby will be normal, but… It’s really good that you called.”

  “They’re called hellspawn,” Jason said. “And there’s nothing to do with them but kill them.”

  Spare them the hard part. It was the only thing he could do for them.

  “Will it be deformed?” Jenny asked. Sam shook his head.

  “They look normal. They just grow up to kill people.”

  “I’ve never heard of them,” Greg said, stepping over to Jenny and taking her hand. Samantha moved out of the way.

  “Did you believe in demon possession before he took your body to work?”

  Greg looked down at Jenny.

  “Maybe this was a mistake.”

  “No,” Jenny said, gritting her teeth against another contraction. “No, we needed to know. Greg, I need to know that my baby is okay.”

  “But they want to kill it, Jen,” Greg said, kneeling.

  “If it tests positive, I’ll do it,” Jason said softly to Samantha. “If they don’t kick us out, first.”

  She leaned against him.

  “Thank you.”

  “Explain to me why demons don’t do this all the time?” Jason asked. “Seems like the twisted kind of thing they’d really get off on.”

  “Destroying a soul without destroying the body is hard. Expensive. And they don’t get anything out of it but the glee of creating a destructive human. There’s no motivation. Sometimes they do it because they lost a bet, and a few demons consider it a personal project, but there aren’t many, and it takes them a long time to plan it and pull it off.”

  “That’s comforting,” he said. “I’d just always wondered.”

  She nodded.

  “It takes a lot more than possessed sex with a pregnant woman to pull it off, and even then, it isn’t always successful… And the demon we pulled out of him wasn’t really anything to write home about… They have every chance of having a normal baby. Most of them will be normal,” she said, looking at him meaningfully.

  “But, on the other hand, I get to kill a baby. Easier to just take a pill and try again.”

  “It has a heartbeat,” she said.

  “Yeah, yeah. I remember that stuff with the angel. Was he really not wearing a shirt?”

  She smiled.

  “I’d forgotten that they were just bright light, on the hellplane. White linen sarong.”

  “Is that a skirt?”

  “Yup.”

  “The angel of death wears a skirt.”

  “And nothing else.”

  “Wings?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like cupid?”

  “Like a dove.”

  “Huh.”

  “I hope you get to meet him again. When you actually remember. He’s kind of a big deal, to me.”

  “The angel of death.”

  “Yup.”

  They stood for a few more seconds.

  “This is going to suck,” Jason said.

  “Yeah. Can you come up with a way to make Sam move? He’s creeping me out, but if I say anything, he’ll know.”

  “Hey, Sam. Come here.”

  “Subtle,” Samantha said.

  “What’s up?” Sam asked softly.

  “Sam doesn’t want you touching the baby,” Jason said. “Nothing personal.”

  Samantha glared at him, then went back to sit with Jenny. Jason sighed.

  “I hate these,” he said. Sam nodded.

  “Me, too.”

  <><><>

  Greg didn’t kick them out.

  He kept threatening to, but Jenny seemed to be too afraid to let them go. Jason wasn�
�t sure they were going to let him kill the baby, if it was hellspawn, but they were at least going to let Samantha test it. The doctor was predictably short-tempered to discover that he was going to be delivering a potential hellspawn.

  “I thought the agreement was that we ended these early,” he said, pulling Jason aside at one point. Jason shrugged.

  “They didn’t tell us. You found out four hours after we did.”

  “Are you taking responsibility for it?” the man asked. Jason nodded.

  “I am.”

  The anger abated and he looked Jason up and down.

  “Good,” he said. Approval. Like that helped.

  <><><>

  Samantha sat with Jenny the whole time. Jason thought several times that Greg would have thrown them all out, if it weren’t for Samantha sitting on the floor with Jenny’s head in her lap. He and Sam stayed clear as much as they could, being out of the way as much as avoiding Jenny’s screams. Greg vacillated between hiding with them and being with his wife. Jason tried desperately not to think about what he had to do.

  <><><>

  “Easy,” Samantha said. Twelve hours of labor. The sun had gone down and the moon made half a revolution through the sky, and Samantha still held Jenny’s hands, cooing to her and encouraging her, then raising her voice, yelling, coaching. “Take another breath,” she said. Jason sat against a wall in the dining room with Sam. They could just see Samantha in the next room, holding Jenny in her lap, sitting up now, with her head against Samantha’s chest. Samantha braced with her through the next contraction.

  “It’s time,” the doctor said. “Push.”

  Greg paced behind them, looking occasionally up at Jason. Jason looked away.

  “Either way,” Sam said. “It’s almost over.”

  Jason nodded.

  <><><>

  Samantha was exhausted. Her arms, her back, her legs were all sore, and she wanted to get up and stretch, then go lay down somewhere and sleep for a day, but Jenny wasn’t done yet.

  “Push,” the doctor said.

  “Please, please, I can’t. I can’t. Please,” Jenny said. Her teeth ground against each other and she pushed against Samantha.

  “This is it, babe,” Samantha said. “This is it. It’s almost over. You’ve made it. You made it all the way. Now you just have to finish it. Push. Push now.”

  “I can’t,” Jenny screamed, drawing breath.

  “Push,” Samantha yelled, pulling her hands up so that Jenny could get better levers on them. “Push now. Do it.”

  Jenny screamed, and then her child did. Jenny sobbed one more scream and collapsed against Samantha, who put her arms around the young woman and rocked her.

  “That’s it,” she said. “You did it.”

  Jenny curled her head against Samantha’s shoulder and wept.

  “I don’t want to see him. Don’t let me see him until he’s mine.”

  Samantha nodded and carefully stood, letting Greg sit in her place, and walked stiffly over to where the doctor was cleaning up the baby.

  “She’s right,” he said. “It’s a boy.”

  Samantha nodded, and the man handed her the baby.

  “Healthy. Go do what you have to do. I’ll look after her.”

  Samantha felt bad that she had never even known the man’s name. She carried the squirming infant into the dining room and sat on the floor, holding him to her chest as he screamed his tiny baby screams.

  “Hi, baby,” she whispered, baptizing him with tears. “The world is a terrible place, and for you, that starts today. I’m sorry.”

  She heard Jenny sobbing in Greg’s arms behind her. She looked up at Jason and Sam.

  “Do you want me to do it?” Jason asked. She shook her head. She dipped her fingers in the bowl of oil that she had left on the floor and made the sign on the infant’s still-red chest. They waited.

  “Damn,” Jason said.

  Samantha sobbed once, holding the child tighter against her chest, then stood.

  “You take a picture of him, Jason, and you send it to Doris. You tell her that this was our today.”

  She went back into the living room and knelt next to Jenny. There was no mark on its chest, no response to the darkness her mark had asked about. She handed her the baby.

  “Your son.”

  <><><>

  She stumbled back into the dining room and hung herself around Jason’s neck. He held her up for a long time, rocking back and forth. She turned her head to one side and looked at Sam. He smiled, leaning back against a wall, his hands behind him.

  Behind her, Greg cleared his throat.

  “I’d offer you a place to stay here tonight, but I honestly don’t want you in my house. Can we put you up at a hotel, instead?”

  “No need. We’ll find a place, fine,” Jason said.

  “You’re sure he’s okay?” Greg asked. Samantha wiped her nose and turned.

  “Perfectly normal. It’s all over. I hope we never see you again,” she said. He nodded.

  “Me, too.”

  He walked over to the front door and opened it. Samantha quickly packed up her supplies, passing the doctor in the hallway.

  “I’ve just called an ambulance,” he said. “She should be in a hospital, just to be safe. You shouldn’t be here when they get here.”

  She nodded and he touched her shoulder.

  “You would make an excellent midwife, if you didn’t already have a higher calling.”

  She laughed.

  “Thank you.”

  “Sam,” Jenny called. Sam and Samantha looked at each other, then Samantha went in to see Jenny.

  “Thank you,” Jenny said, looking down at her son with a tired smile.

  “Be happy,” Samantha said. “Just, be happy.”

  Jenny looked up at her and nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  Jason had her backpack when she came back to the front hallway. She nodded at him and they walked past Greg wordlessly. He loaded it into the trunk of the Cruiser and opened her door for her. She reached up and touched his face.

  “They call it sin-eating,” she said. “May it never scorch your soul, and may I never take it for granted.”

  His eyes softened slightly, then he jerked his head for her to get into the car. She climbed in and lay down on her blanket. She hadn’t found a pillow yet, so she pushed her backpack against the far door and tried to find a spot that wasn’t shaped like a knife to lay her head on.

  “Don’t let me sleep,” she said. “I need to do Sam again tonight.”

  “If only it were that simple, Sweetheart,” Jason said, starting the car. She was snoring by the time they hit the street.

  “We really should wake her up,” Jason said as an ambulance passed them. Sam nodded, looking up at the sky.

  “We’ll at least get checked in, first,” he said. Jason nodded. She deserved that much.

  <><><>

  They drove through to New Mexico, leaving early and getting in late, but Samantha’s sense of urgency was growing. Nothing had so much as budged whatever pall Sam was under, and Sam was growing quieter again. Jason wasn’t sure if it was Arthur’s death or the demon spit. They checked in at a motel off the interstate after midnight and he sat outside while Samantha did her thing. All three of them seemed to be happier that way. After all of the contact there had been in the ceremony Jason had witnessed, he wondered how she was coping without being able to touch Sam at all. Seeds of worry were starting to sprout in his mind, but he pushed them away. They had a task. That’s what he was good at.

  Samantha came out of the room, rubbing her hands hard on her jeans.

  “I was just wondering about that,” Jason said.

  “Mmm?” she said absently, wiping the backs of her hands. She looked at him, then sniffed her hands, and wiped them on her pants again.

  “Water doesn’t work?” he asked.

  “Oil either,” she said. “Just makes it squidgier.”

  “Here,” he said, pullin
g off his button-up. He wiped her hands in it, one then the other, then tossed it crumpled in his lap. “Better?”

  She smelled her hands again, then patted them against her face.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s only in your head,” he said.

  “I’m pretty sure it is, too, but not the way you’re suggesting.”

  “He go to bed?”

  “He can feel the spiderweb. It’s pulling him in, and resisting is hard. He’s tired.”

  “So, tomorrow?”

  “Yup.”

  “He’s getting worse.”

  She looked over at him.

  “You want the truth, or reassurance?” she asked. “I can’t decide.”

  “Truth.”

  “I can hear his hands stick to things, when he lets go of them. Like he’s leaving gummy strings sticking to chairs and things. It’s burning him alive, and that’s the dead pieces rotting off.”

  “You break the spell by killing the caster. Even I know that,” Jason said. She nodded, sitting back in the chair to stare up at the sky.

  “It will help, but he’s soulburnt bad. And demons don’t die. They just cross back over and their spells get weaker.”

  “You sound worried,” he said.

  “I am.”

  “You want the truth, or reassurance?”

  “Truth.”

  “I am, too. I figured you’d have this knocked out in a day or so. You cured Allison. You brought yourself basically back from the dead. I thought you worried too much.”

  “It doesn’t always work,” she said. “I don’t control that stuff.”

  “Is it painful?” Jason asked after a minute.

  “Not physically. Not until the very end. Soulburn manifests as paranoia, coldness, and darkness.”

  “As long as it isn’t anything permanent,” Jason said. “You’ll figure it out.”

  “They can be permanent. They’re just mental scars, instead of physical ones. It depends on how well you heal.”

  Jason smiled at the darkness.

  “You look at the life Sam has lived and you tell me how well he recovers from mental scars.”

  “Yeah. Better than either one of us,” she said.

  He started to argue, but found himself unmotivated. She was right.

  “I’m glad you’re not crazy,” he said, standing.

  “I’m not so sure I’m not, but thanks anyway,” she said, taking his offered hand and pulling to her feet.