by J-F. Dubeau
As soon as he hung up, Dan went back to the chest and grabbed the subpoena, along with copies of the Saint-Ferdinand Killer case files. Quickly, he leafed through them, looking for something he’d seen not moments ago. He pulled one file out of the stack, staring down at the photo of a suspect. He placed it next to the picture he’d been obsessing over for the past few days, putting two more pieces of the puzzle together.
“Nathaniel Joseph Cicero,” he murmured, reading the name of a suspect from the case file. “Cicero’s Circus. Ex-member of the Saint-Ferdinand Craftsmen’s Association.”
VENUS
“DO YOU TRUST ME?” the god asked.
Venus had spent the last two days taking care of Penny and staring at her computer monitor. Whenever her friend left the house to meet with Dr. Hazelwood, Venus would look at the images the camera sent her from the shed. When they were both supposed to be asleep, Venus would stay up and spy on her prisoner instead.
There wasn’t that much to see. For the most part, the creature kept to the shadows. Not once had she been able to see it in its true form. Somehow it knew when it was being watched and did something to pull and tease at the light, making itself disappear into the folds of darkness.
She could see that its mural was getting bigger. It was more complex and, though she was loathe to admit it, more beautiful. The grainy picture from the cheap camera hid the true nature of the materials used, leaving only the exotic intricacies of the curves and spirals that seemed to bend in on themselves forever. The pattern was like music tossed onto a wall. Each part led into the next, combining in a symphony of shapes. So long as she didn’t think about where the paint for the canvas was coming from, she could enjoy the art.
For two days she’d observed the thing in this way. Studying and watching, hoping that it would slip and reveal itself. You’ll be back, it had whispered, and she’d agreed without hesitation. Despite the certainty that she would indeed return, Venus was hesitant to do so. Distance and time had allowed her cooler instincts to prevail.
When the girl had first seen the self-proclaimed god, she had known, with absolute certainty, that she was facing a predator. A monster that could annihilate and devour her. Whether a primal memory was warning her or she was simply terrified, she could tell where the balance of power lay between them. And it did not favor her.
Still, she was alive. She had danced with a god, allowed it to touch her soul, and she had lived. The feeling had been intoxicating and otherworldly. Whatever the monster was, and she had no doubt of its malevolence, the embrace she’d experienced had given her unparalleled comfort. The god had known her deepest wish, her need for security, and it had delivered. Even now, knowing she had been in the arms of death, she longed to return.
So of course, she did.
It was long past midnight, after Penny was sound asleep, that Venus crept from her room. Her parents always slept like the dead, so she wasn’t worried about waking them. Not that they’d care much if she did. Sherbet was the only annoyance. The furry little pest weaved between her legs like a shadow as she walked through the house. Once they reached the back door, Venus shooed him away. This was her time now.
Her time, and her god.
Venus padded barefoot through the dewy yard. A low-hanging fog hid most of the ground, and she was careful not to step on the myriad garden tools she had pulled from the shed. She opened the door to the building, finding herself before a towering mass of shadows, wearing nothing but a T-shirt and pajama pants covered with cartoon characters.
“Do you trust me?”
These were the words it chose to greet her with.
“No,” she said, her voice cracking despite her best effort. It wasn’t out of fear, though, but rather an unfamiliar shyness.
The dancing darkness crashed at her feet, bouncing off the invisible barrier that kept it prisoner. A mist of moisture, like the spray from the ocean, hit her face with a gentle caress.
“Free me.” The voice encroached into her mind once more. Needles in her thoughts.
“But you’ll leave,” she said.
Speaking the words crystallized her fear. The creature had demonstrated that, while it wasn’t harmless, it had no ill intentions toward her. Venus was too tough to be impressed by the spectacle of blood and shadows, but she was afraid. Afraid that the monster would escape. She had wanted to study a bird’s nest but had stumbled upon so much more. She couldn’t allow it to slip away. This was her god.
“My gratitude would be the stuff of legends.”
It would, wouldn’t it?
Venus lifted her foot, again in the thrall of her prisoner. She may have caged a god, but it held her mind in its grasp. The smell of blood was what snapped her out of the sudden trance. Before she’d completed the first step, the metallic tang in the air reminded her of exactly what kind of deity she was dealing with.
This was a god of hate and death.
“I can’t let you go,” Venus said.
“Can you keep me here?”
She couldn’t. Not for long. How long before someone else entered the shed? The god might be trapped, but anyone with a hammer could break the padlock and walk in. Then what? Would the creature be so kind to them? There was so much blood on the ground . . .
Venus closed her eyes and took a step forward. Shoving the smells and sights out of her mind, she tentatively crossed the barrier that separated her from the god. The simple act of pushing through that boundary was worth it for the adrenaline rush alone. Abandoning morality and safety in favor of a thrill no one else could possibly experience. All for the promise of something beyond the reach of human sense. Again, the voice in her mind turned to a smooth caress. Realms of possibility opened to her as she allowed her mind to be touched by the god. For a brief moment, she felt the embrace of security that her parents had never offered. Here she was safe from the world. All she had to do to make the feeling last was agree to one simple covenant.
“You trust me.”
“I don’t . . . ,” she said, clinging to her own strength.
Again, inscrutable darkness danced around her. Even with her eyes closed, she could see how the light was devoured by the shadows. Her flesh shivered at the touch of whatever it was that possessed such immense power but cowered from the light and could not escape a camera’s gaze. Every sense was on high alert, the prey ready to bolt at the first sign of a threat. Every sense was in turn rewarded. Her skin enjoyed sensations she had only dreamed of as guilty pleasures. Comfort and intimacy holding hands with her. The voice whispered wordless promises and kindness while her smell picked up on the wet grass from outside the shed. Even her sense of taste, though it could perceive nothing but the tangy bite of blood, learned to enjoy the flavor in a new and unsettling way.
These weren’t her senses. These weren’t her feelings but the god’s imposed perceptions upon her own. It longed for its freedom, to be back in the wild and revel in the still, dark night. More unsettling was how it hungered for blood and the lives that gave it. She felt the echoes of countless victims who had died, either at the monster’s hands or not, but whose souls it had consumed.
When Venus opened her eyes again, the god had receded to the corner.
“You . . . eat them?” she said, emotionless.
“Not the body. The soul, or essence, or whatever you wish to call such things, is drawn to me, bright and sweet. It offers sustenance beyond enjoyment. Without it, I cannot starve, but with it, I can remake the world.”
Dazed, Venus walked back to the shed’s door. She couldn’t look at the shadow-creature. She knew what she’d see, and the impossible lack of light had lost its sense of wonder and mystery.
“My honesty disturbs you,” the god said, then echoed its words from their first meeting. “You’ll be back.”
“I . . . I don’t know that I will.”
Venus walked out of the shed. She took a few steps in the wet grass then remembered to double back and secure the door properly. There was a faint gl
ow of sunrise on the horizon, turning the sky from pitch black into a bruised purple.
She made a point to wipe her feet thoroughly before walking into the house, and tiptoed with unusual care back to the second floor. It was later than she’d thought, and she did not relish the prospect of explaining to Penny what she had been doing.
In the bathroom, she looked at herself in the mirror. Pinpricks of blood covered her face. Venus reached for the faucet and noticed that her fingers were stained red too, though she couldn’t remember touching anything.
She washed her face and scrubbed her hands. The warm water felt good and helped Venus distance herself from the night’s events. What was she doing?
Looking into the mirror, she was disappointed to see that despite her skin being spotless, the god had left a scar on her soul.
“You look exhausted.”
Venus glanced up from her cereal, a sweet but fruit-filled granola her parents bought in the health food aisle of the grocery store. On a normal day, she could devour a couple of bowls of the stuff, but today she had no appetite for food.
Meeting Penny’s eyes, she could only imagine what the other girl saw. Disheveled and haggard, with all the symptoms of someone who had not had enough sleep and who had too much on her mind. How was it that Venus was getting sympathy from someone who’d just lost her mother?
“You don’t look so hot yourself,” was the best she could reply.
It was a lie. Her best friend looked better than anyone could expect. Her hair was brushed, her back was straight, and while her eyes were still puffy and red, they were focused. If Venus had been paying better attention, she’d have noticed the signs of anger lurking underneath, but at the moment she was simply trying to keep herself from falling asleep in her cereal.
“Thanks?” Penny’s answer was peppered with sarcasm. “I don’t want to make this all about me, but I do think I have a pretty good excuse.”
Venus dropped her eyes back to her cereal. She was right, of course. Venus wanted to tell her best friend about her discovery, but she didn’t know how to begin. There’s a god in the backyard shed sounded ridiculous, even if Venus had all the proof she needed locked up right outside. In fact, all she had to do was crane her neck a little to see the god’s prison through the kitchen windows.
Plus, she couldn’t put her friend through another life-altering event. Penny might be putting on a brave face, but she had a tough day ahead. There was another meeting with Dr. Hazelwood and some questions from the inspector. She was also supposed to have a preliminary phone call with a lawyer from Sherbrooke so they could get the paperwork started to decide if she would be allowed to live on her own before becoming an adult in the eyes of the law. She didn’t need the existence of a supernatural entity piled on top of all that.
“Venus?” Penny poked her friend in the forehead. “What’s up with you?”
“Hmm,” Venus growled. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”
The noncommittal answer didn’t impress her friend, but Venus shoved a spoonful of cereal into her mouth to avoid more talking.
“Maybe if you got off your computer and went to bed at a reasonable time.”
“I always browse the Web before I go to sleep. I mean, do you know how much you snore?”
The words weren’t done spilling out before Venus wanted to swallow them back in.
Penny bit her lip before coming back with an answer. They both knew how important it was that she stayed with the McKenzies, but Penny was a proud young woman. If it weren’t for the pain and isolation, she’d be more than happy to stop being a burden and go back to her empty home.
“Maybe I should just sleep on the couch?” she said stiffly.
“No, Penny. That’s not what I meant.” The last thing Venus wanted was for her friend to feel guilty about her grief. “This isn’t about you. Or your snoring.”
It’s that thing in the shed. She wanted to say it, but the words simply wouldn’t come out. It wasn’t only about putting more weight on Penny’s shoulders, though. Even through the haze of exhaustion, Venus could recognize that. As far as she knew, no one had done what she was doing. She’d stumbled upon something that made her unique. This was her god, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to share it. What need did she even have to be like everyone else anymore?
“Listen, I might not be in the best position to assess other people’s mental well-being, but I can tell it’s not just lack of sleep.” Penny pointed her spoon at her host. “I’ve seen you go without sleep, Aphrodite—”
“Don’t call me that!” Venus snapped.
Penny frowned. She carefully put her spoon down next to her bowl. She picked up her napkin, a folded piece of paper towel, and wiped her mouth. Finally she took a deep breath.
Venus could tell that she’d made a mistake. Again, she’d let her own problems take precedence over her friend.
“Penny—” she began, but stopped at a look from the older girl.
“One last time.” The tremble in her voice betrayed that Penny was on the cusp of either anger or a breakdown. “What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry.”
Venus quickly got up from her chair and snatched the half-empty bowls from the table. Emptying, rinsing, and setting them to dry—every move was meant as a way to avoid further conversation.
She’d invited her friend to move in so that she could cheer her up, not weigh her down with drama. Her mind raced to find another topic of conversation, perhaps an activity they could do together that might distract Penny. However, every turn her thoughts took brought her face-to-face with the swirling vortex of blood and shadows. The only thing on her mind was the seductive creature that she had tucked away all for herself. She had a god in her power. More than anything, she wanted to go back and see it again.
She was about to suggest they visit Abraham at the farm. Fresh air would do Penelope good. Also, it would get Venus away from the shed. Before she could voice her suggestion, however, Penny sniffled.
“I found a message on my cell phone.”
“You don’t have a cell phone,” Venus said.
“I do. I just never use it.”
Venus looked at her friend. The rising sun had finally crested over the tree line in the backyard, pouring in through the kitchen window and onto Penny’s back. The only shadow cast was that of the shed.
“The message said: ‘I know you won’t get this, but if you do, can you come pick me up?’”
The meaning of the message hit Venus in the gut with the force of a moving train. She moved her lips, mouthing the words that would soothe her friend, but no sound came out.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Venus finally managed to say, unable to bear the silence any longer.
“’Cause I’m tired, Veen. I’m so tired of being the victim. I’m not good at it. Every time your mom shoots me that look of pity, I just want to punch her in the face. Oh my God . . . I’m sorry. I don’t mean that.”
Venus smiled. Every time a little crack in the shell of her friend’s sadness would appear, she could see Penny as she used to be.
“It’s sad, Venus. To find a message like that? I just don’t want to deal with it.” Finally she looked up at her friend, her blue eyes dry but angry. “But I also don’t want to deal with your bullshit. Just tell me. Distract me. Give me something else to think about. I don’t care what it is.”
The young McKenzie girl’s eyes darted around the kitchen before settling onto the shadow of the shed on the table. She struggled to articulate what she wanted to say. Iterations of her confession came and went in her head as the seconds ticked away. Again, before she could formulate her thoughts and voice her situation, Penny took the initiative.
Pushing her chair away from the table with a loud sigh, the older girl got to her feet. She walked passed a petrified Venus, stopping for a second before going upstairs.
“Forget it. I’m going to the shrink. I need to go shower.”
VENUS
YOU’LL BE BACK. It was a promise and a threat. The god had spoken to her this simple prophecy, and Venus hadn’t doubted it the first time.
There was a god trapped in the backyard shed. It filled her head with promises, but Venus was no fool. She could sense the toll behind the offer. If only for that, she’d have avoided the shed from then on. But she couldn’t just leave the thing in there indefinitely. If such a creature was real, what else was out there?
After Penny walked out of the kitchen, Venus didn’t see her again that morning. Her best friend had left for the village and was now at the station, talking to Dr. Hazelwood. Venus wondered if would they talk about her. About her selfishness and callous behavior. What would the doctor think of her?
Venus shook the thoughts away. She had no time to waste on them. Her parents had also left the house, taking their cream-colored VW bus to run errands. They wouldn’t return for a few hours. Plenty of time to visit her god. To get answers and to maybe see what the creature was truly capable of.
The shed padlock yielded without effort after she entered the numbers. As soon as she pulled it out from the door handle, she heard a soft rustling from within.
The door creaked open, releasing a foul odor into the backyard. The smell was enough to make her eyes burn.
Through watery eyes, she examined the shed. Immediately Venus could see signs of her presence there from the night before. Dried blood in the shape of her foot, tracked from the door and back into the shed. Streaks of dull brown testified to her struggle to get up, slipping in the red liquid that had oozed from the shadows.
Against her better judgment, Venus pulled the door closed behind her, the desire for privacy outweighing the need for a quick escape route. It was foolish. It was dangerous. It was her god.
“Again, you return.” The voice was soothing this time, a caress on every sense. “More like Neil every time we meet.”
The shadows moved to hide the creature as Venus looked at it. Sunlight seeping in from the open door fought against the swirling darkness, revealing, for the span of a thought, the shape of the god.