What Lay in the Dark

by Casey L. Nash

  Chapter Eight: Part of You

  I nearly tripped over a pile of metal and wires on the floor as I entered Egan’s house after work. Egan was leaning over it with a screwdriver in hand. “Hey Ailia,” he greeted me as I carefully stepped over the junk.

  I was a bit worried that living with Egan might be awkward, but it turned out to seem perfectly natural for both of us. The nightmares and fears bothering me at my own home disappeared. I felt safer with Egan than I had with anyone for a very long time. As we settled into the idea of living with one another, I noticed Egan’s peculiar pastimes. They became more common as the school holidays neared an end and Egan found less to do.

  “Egan, is that a guitar?” I referred to the electronic mess he was working on.

  “Yep,” he confirmed, carefully picking through the object’s wires.

  “You pulled it apart.”

  “No, I am pulling it apart,” he smiled.

  “Why?” I had to ask.

  “I got bored,” Egan explained, “And it was buzzing,” he said the last word as if it were the most disgusting thing in the universe. “So I decided to fix it.”

  “And how’s that going for you?” I surveyed the area where electronic bits and tools were spread all over the place.

  “Excellent!” Egan cried gleefully. “I found the problem.” There was a childish grin on his face, which I couldn’t help but smile at. Egan quickly began putting the guitar back together.

  A knock at the door threw me off guard and I looked up surprised. People seemed to just walk into Egan’s house without announcing themselves, so a knock at the door was a rare thing.

  “Can you get that?” Egan asked me without looking up from his project. If he was surprised he didn’t show it.

  I carefully stepped around Egan and over his stuff to the door. Opening it revealed dark blue eyes and dark brown hair that stuck out in every direction possible, and then some. My breath caught in my throat.

  “Hello, Ailia,” he whispered.

  I couldn’t respond. I stared at him for a moment before throwing my arms around him. When I broke away, I found Egan staring at me with a very confused look on his face. “Um, Egan, this is my brother,” I introduced. “Michael, Egan.”

  Egan’s eyebrows rose. He shrugged and greeted Michael with a soft “Hello,” before turning back to the guitar.

  Michael, however, was staring at me with very obvious confusion. “What?” I asked.

  “You live with a guy,” he spoke cautiously.

  I smiled, “Yeah.”

  “You live with a guy,” he repeated, “Who is pulling apart a guitar.”

  “Actually, he’s putting it back together right now,” I corrected, earning a smile from Egan. “Come in,” I told Michael, leading him over the guitar and wires into the lounge room.

  “I’m sorry, but, who is he?” Michael pointed to Egan.

  “He’s a friend.”

  “How did you wind up living with your,” Michael hesitated, “Friend.”

  “I found her in a castle and then saved her from a burning building,” Egan replied, without any thought. I laughed.

  Michael gave me a strange look. “What really happened?”

  “I thought that was pretty accurate,” Egan mused.

  “Okay then,” Michael said carefully.

  “So what are you doing here?” I asked, dropping onto the couch.

  “That’s a really weird story, actually.”

  “Well?”

  “I was here on a business trip. The idea was, get in and get out in a couple of days. Then this guy comes up to me and gives me this address.”

  “This guy?”

  “I don’t know,” Michael shrugged. “Some shady character with a scar on his forehead. Found me in the pub.”

  “Samuel?”

  “He never told me his name.”

  “Sounds like the kind of thing Samuel would do,” Egan spoke.

  Michael’s eyes moved to Egan for a second, and then back to me. “Another friend of yours?”

  I nodded. I looked back toward Egan and noticed he was inspecting Michael very closely.

  “What were you doing in the pub on a business trip?” Egan asked.

  Michael shrugged. “Always time for a bit of leisure isn’t there?”

  “You don’t drink!” I exclaimed. Michael refused to drink after spending most of his teenage years raising and protecting me from my drunken mother. I looked at Egan.

  “When you say you’re here on business,” Egan began. “What exactly do you mean?”

  Michael hesitated. “I’m working here.”

  “And what sort of work would that be?”

  Michael looked at me. “Just work.”

  “Wouldn’t have anything to do with the pentacle on your wrist, would it?” Egan asked with a smile, turning back to his guitar in order to replace the final pieces.

  Michael slowly turned his gaze to his wrist. Then he openly stared at Egan.

  I checked Michael’s wrist. Egan was right; Michael was wearing a leather bracelet adorned with a silver pentacle, the same as my necklace.

  “A pentacle is a religious symbol,” Michael tried to explain.

  “Yes it is,” Egan agreed. “But it’s more than that for you, isn’t it?”

  Michael turned to me. “Your friend is a bit odd.”

  “Don’t avoid the question,” Egan started to clear the floor.

  “Who are you?” Michael asked.

  “I could ask you the same question,” Egan replied. “But I already know the answer.”

  I attempted to grasp the conversation. I could tell what Egan was suggesting, but I couldn’t think it was possible. “Egan, do you mean…” my voice trailed off.

  “Your brother’s a hunter, Ailia.”

  I turned to Michael, who had a dark look in his eyes.

  “And why would you think that?” Michael challenged.

  “Because you smell of sage, you jump at every shadow, and I’m pretty sure that your average witch doesn’t carry their ritual tools in their back pocket – 68 squared is 4,624,” Egan concluded.

  Michael looked shocked, but asked, “Where does the maths come into it?”

  Egan shrugged. “Two and two makes four didn’t seem intricate enough for the situation.”

  “So you memorised 68 squared in case this situation ever arose?”

  “I worked it out just then,” Egan replied, packing his tools away in a box.

  Michael looked doubtful. “What’s the square root of 285?”

  Egan thought about it for a few seconds, “Around 16.9.”

  Michael turned to me. “What is the square root of 285?”

  I shrugged. “I’d just take his word for it.”

  Egan sorted through his box and threw Michael a calculator. Michael looked at Egan doubtfully before typing the sum into the instrument.

  “16.881943.” Michael looked at Egan. Egan smiled.

  “Okay, well you’ve proved you can do maths. Still doesn’t tell me how you know about this hunting stuff?”

  “How do you think?” Egan asked.

  Michael smiled. “You’re not a hunter.”

  Egan raised an eyebrow.

  “Michael,” I spoke softly to get his attention and nodded.

  “He’s...” Michael stopped.

  “Yes?” Egan smiled.

  “You can’t be a hunter.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re a nerd!” Michael exclaimed. “You have to be alert, agile. You need to be able to defend yourself.”

  “So you’re saying that I’m too smart to be a hunter?”

  “You can’t protect yourself with numbers,” Michael insisted.

  “Yes, you can,” Egan argued.

  “How?” Michael challenged.

  Egan checked his toolbox again and grabbed a small knife.

  “See that dent in the wall?” Egan asked, nodding his head toward the wall behind us.

&n
bsp; Michael smiled, “Yeah.”

  “That is at a…,” Egan stopped to think for a second, “I’d say, an 80 degree angle to my right. I’m also looking up at it, that’d be around 20 degrees. The distance from me to the wall is around 10 metres.”

  “So?”

  “Well, account for gravity, which is 9.8 metres per second squared, and then I can work out the direction and force I’d need to do this,” Egan threw the knife, which landed exactly in the dent.

  “That,” Michael said with raised eyebrows, “Is madness.”

  “That is physics,” Egan replied, standing up and walking out of the room with his guitar.

  “Is he for real?” Michael asked as soon as Egan left the room.

  “I’ve been asking myself that every day since I met him,” I sighed.

  “Ailia, why are you living with a demon hunter?”

  I stared at Michael. “I’ve lived with you for half my life and it wasn’t a problem.”

  “I kept it from you. I made sure you didn’t know a thing. He can get you caught up in this without even thinking. Ailia, what if he does?”

  I bit my lip. “I got myself caught up in it, Michael. He tried to stop me.”

  Michael sighed. “I’m missing something, aren’t I?”

  My fingers absentmindedly traced the necklace Egan gave me. My mind turned to the demon which was haunting me even now, and I nodded.

  “What are you doing with this?” Michael asked, resting his finger on the pentacle.

  “Egan gave it to me,” I confessed.

  “Why not a cross?” The question caught me off guard.

  It was Egan who answered. “She can shield.”

  Michael looked at him. “How do you know?” Michael moved his digit off my necklace and leaned back.

  “She got herself involved in a hunt; demon showed up before I could get rid of her.”

  “And she shielded herself?”

  “She shielded all of us.”

  “Us?” Michael seemed surprised.

  “There were two others there,” Egan explained.

  “So you figured she was a witch?”

  Egan nodded and moved to sit down next to me.

  “Most people can shield,” Michael lifted his head to look at Egan. “The ability to shield doesn’t make her a witch.”

  “It doesn’t,” Egan agreed. “She can also feel energies. And, word from the resident psychic says she’s a witch.”

  “And you trust the resident psychic?”

  “He’s accurate,” Egan confirmed. “He did send you here.”

  “Oh, creepy pub guy is the resident psychic.”

  “Samuel’s not that bad once you get to know him,” Egan replied. “Only a little bit freaky.”

  “You should not trust a psychic with eyes that dark,” Michael murmured.

  “If it wasn’t for the psychic, your sister would’ve been charred,” Egan spoke firmly.

  I nodded, “Samuel was the one who sent Egan to my house when it started burning down.”

  Michael looked back at me. “How much do you know about witchcraft?”

  “Nothing,” I replied.

  Michael sighed. “Give me a couple of months. Stay out of trouble. I’ll come back to teach you as soon as I can.”

  I smiled.

  “That’s not permission to take up hunting,” Michael enforced.

  “Don’t worry,” Egan said. “She’s not becoming a hunter if I can help it.”

  Michael nodded. “If you’re the local hunter,” Michael began, looking at Egan. “You should probably know that teenagers in Ireland started bringing back séances.”

  “Oh dear,” Egan sighed.

  “Yeah. It’s not a problem most of the time, but it’s not great either. And the more kids that get into it…”

  “The worse it gets,” Egan finished.

  Michael nodded. “I figured it probably won’t be long before it makes its way here.”

  Egan nodded. “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” Michael replied, before turning to me. “I should go, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  I nodded.

  “Be careful,” he hugged me and muttered in my ear, gazing at Egan before walking out the door.

  “You don’t seem surprised,” he commented.

  “At what?”

  “You just found out your brother is a demon hunter. You’re not surprised. You should be.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know if anything can surprise me anymore.”

  Egan sighed. “You sound like a hunter.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” I asked, looking across at him.

  “Hunting isn’t easy, Ailia. It’s never good for anyone to get involved. The hunt consumes you. The lines between reality and fantasy blur. It’s hard to keep track of anything. It never leaves your mind. You can’t stop it and you can never stop hunting once you start. It’s so easy to make yourself insane. And there is no one that you can talk to about any of it,” by the end Egan’s voice was little more than a whisper.

  “You can though. You talk to Mikayla about this stuff, don’t you?”

  Egan smiled. “I don’t really talk to her about hunting.”

  This surprised me. I believed Egan had a lot of discussions with Mikayla revolving around hunting. “What do you talk to her about then?”

  “You,” Egan’s smile widened.

  “What is there to say about me?” I asked, completely shocked.

  His smile faltered. “I don’t think I should tell you that.”

  I looked down. “How did you get involved in this?”

  “What do you mean?” he inquired.

  “Demon hunting. How did you get involved in it?”

  “That was a long time ago,” Egan had a distant look in his eyes. “I can’t even remember properly. There was barely a life for me before hunting. “It doesn’t even matter anymore.”

  “I thought your past was a part of you.”

  Egan smiled. “I was attacked by a demon when I was six.”

  I said before that nothing could surprise me anymore. I was wrong. “You were six?”

  Egan nodded. “At first I thought it was the boogie monster.”

  I laughed, causing Egan to smile a little.

  “Everyone told me the boogie monster wasn’t real, but I knew what happened. I knew the difference between reality and imagination. I was only six, but I was smart. So I worked it out for myself.”

  “Worked out that it was a demon?”

  “And I worked out how to banish it.”

  “You’ve been hunting demons since you were six?” The number seemed so small. It was incredible that anyone could be fighting evil at all, but the age Egan began hunting just seemed impossible.

  “Yeah.”

  “Didn’t your parents figure out that something was up?”

  There was a flicker of sadness in Egan’s eyes. “My parents died when I was four.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  Egan shrugged. “That’s the way the world works. We live, do our duty, then we die. Time just runs out before we have a chance to figure it out.”

  “Do you have any other family?”

  Egan shook his head. “There were a couple of aunts, but nobody wanted to take me. They all thought I was too much to handle. I lived in an orphanage until I was old enough to get my own place.”

  I was lost for words. What do you say to someone who lost their whole family? In the end I settled for hugging him. Egan put his head on my shoulder and breathed deeply.

  I always saw Egan as someone who was so strong and never needed anyone. He definitely didn’t need me – he wanted me gone. I thought maybe he didn’t have the problems most people had or the emotional needs. I realised I was wrong. Egan needed to be comforted and loved as much as anyone else. If not more.