by David Wood
The biker accosted the cheerleader girls near the bathroom entrance. Three male jock-types hounded the Japanophiles, sarcastically cooing over their revealing denim bikini-pants.
Tension flung all over the room with wild abandonment. Tolerance had reached the tipping point.
Kelly sighed. The two piercers she had spotted earlier approached, wearing grisly smiles that announced their bad intent.
“Nice septum piercing,” the one nearest Kelly said. She recoiled at the wet dog smell that seemed to radiate off most Portlanders during the rainy season. His Sex Pistols shirt showed splotches from the downpour outside. “20 gauge?”
“Good eye. You and your buddy are fairly pierced up yourselves.”
The other piercer, a foot shorter and leaner than his paunch bellied companion draped his arm over the back of Trish’s chair. She squirmed.
The pot bellied boy kept his focus on Kelly. He reached out and flicked one of the chains dangling from her breast area. “Nice touch. Never seen such style before. So what are you doing hanging with her?”
The disdain in which he referred to Trish made Kelly cover up the Ouroboros tat with her opposing hand.
“Come on Kelly, let’s ditch this place.” Trish tried to stand but the guy behind her pushed her back down. Kelly saw Trish’s eyes flash concern. Her pink shirt with V patterned eyelets caught on the corner of the chair, lifting it and exposing the brown skin of her back and her white bra strap. So much for not wearing crack pants.
It was the tattoo that drew the shorter boy’s attention, not her bare skin. “What is this? We have a princess among us. How special. No wonder you’re hanging out with this Mexicana.”
“She’s not Mexican you racist pig. She’s from Honduras, but you’re probably too stupid to know the difference. Right, Wonder Bread?”
The one with the Sex Pistols shirt chuckled. “Wonder Bread? Haven’t heard that in a long while. Real funny.”
Kelly’s Ouroboros tat started to itch with a fury. It felt as if the dragon worm dragged its claws across the surface of her skin. She twitched her arm, but the irritation would not go away. She kept her hand clamped over the ink.
The pot bellied boy noticed. “What’s you hiding there?” He reached out and pulled Kelly’s hand off her forearm. His eyes widened. “Didn’t think you were the type? Thought you were a purist, like Eddie and I. Everybody’s a compromising piece of crap these days, right Eddie? Isn’t that what I’ve been saying all night?”
“Yep,” Eddie said like a simpleton.
Now that it had been revealed, Kelly brazenly lifted her arm for them to get a good look. “I know lots of people who get pierced and tattooed. What’s the big deal?” Those spoken words betrayed every principle she stood for, but she uttered them in the hope of defusing the charged atmosphere.
A series of crashes sounded from the main floor below; coffee mugs and plates breaking on the floor. Screams erupted, followed by the sounds of a flock in panic.
Kelly wanted to look over the railing, but kept her attention on the unpredictable piercers. The scratching on her forearm intensified. She rubbed her skin on the edge of the Redwood table, desperate for relief.
She heard a click and saw the pot bellied boy holding a blade aloft.
“Looks like the party’s started,” he said with a sneer. The blade danced the jitterbug in his trembling grip.
Staring ahead, terrified, Kelly fumbled for a course of action. Trish, more often the tentative one, did not falter. She grabbed her ceramic mug and flung the cocoa into the knife wielder’s face. The hot liquid forced him backwards, his hands flying up to his eyes. The blade dropped to the ground.
Seeing the knife on the floor jolted Kelly from her fear induced inertia. She scooted off the chair, landing on her knees. Before she could reach for the weapon a clamoring din exploded in her head. It brought immediate tears to her eyes.
She knew this feeling. Static in her mind; overpowering, debilitating.
No. They wouldn’t dare. Trish’s blood curdling shriek reinforced her suspicions.
From her position on the floor she saw the pierced wraiths floating up and over the railing, the black dots in their oval eyes dancing like a million ants crawling over an anthill. The hooks, teeming with rotting meat, sent out their stomach wrenching wave of stench. Their bodies emanated ghostly radiance while the hundreds of piercings glared like omens; frightening sights that would send the most stable minds plummeting into madness.
Kelly could hear people on the lower level scrambling for the exit, the arrival of the floating aberrations plunging Puddle Town Coffee into chaos.
Trish shared their panic, immobilized by fear. Her earlier bravery had vanished in an instant. Her mind could make sense of knife wielding punks, but these floating demons rattled all preconceived notions of reality.
The two piercer boys managed to keep enough of their sanity to flee. They forgot about the two girls and bolted for the stairs, knocking over tables in their haste. The biker forsook his advances on the suburbia girls as all four dashed for the exits. The Japanophile boys hitched up their bikini-pants and ran past Kelly and Trish, shrieking like little pansies.
Mayhem abounded as everybody on the upper floor fled from the incandescent wraiths. Only Trish remained fixed to the spot, looking like a lamb helpless to prevent the coming slaughter. Kelly could see the uprising of madness in Trish’s eyes.
“What. Are. Those. Things?” Trish stammered.
Kelly gripped Trish’s arm and dragged her down the stairs. She ignored the fiery burn from her agitated Ouroboros tat and the roaring static in her head. Halfway down the steps a burst of static so intense it felt as if it would fry her brain caused her to stumble. She released her hold on Trish’s arms as her mind shut off like a power grid hit by a massive electromagnetic pulse.
“Kelly!”
The alarmed voice reached her through a swirling fog. She opened her eyes and the ceiling lights rammed an invisible spike through her skull. It felt as if somebody squeezed her head in a vice.
“Kelly. Run.”
Trish tried to pull her to her feet, but she remained in a heap at the foot of the staircase. Confused, she looked up, wondering if she had fallen. The ache in her ribs and arms confirmed it.
“You blacked out, Kelly. You can’t just sit on your ass. Get up and run.”
She sensed the hysterics in Trish’s voice and pushed past the pain. She used the large pole at the beginning of the banister to lift her bruised body into an upright position. The fog in her head cleared enough for her to realize the hunt was still in progress. The sensation of bugs crawling across her skin intensified.
“Where?” Her voice cracked, her words sticking in her throat.
Trish pointed to the top of the staircase where the pierced demons made their methodical approach, floating like ghosts down the Redwood steps.
Kelly felt the thrumming noise that indicated another burst was about to be released. She needed to distance herself before the next wave of static shut off her mind permanently.
She hobbled towards the exit, her damaged legs from the fall not allowing her to run. With Trish’s assistance she made it to the door. The muscles in her legs relaxed enough for her to pull free of Trish’s grip as she bolted into the rainy night.
A few brave souls lingered outside Puddle Town Coffee, huddling beneath a flickering streetlamp. When they spotted the two girls kicking up their heels in full flight mode their curiosity evaporated. They sprinted down 10th avenue, taking frenetic glances over their shoulder as if they expected to see Godzilla stomping through the converted warehouses and factories of the Pearl District.
Streams of rain ran off Kelly’s cropped hair, blurring her vision. She ran into a street. Tires skidded on the wet pavement and horns honked as she made a blind dash through the angry drivers.
“Kelly, slow down. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
Trish’s grip on her shoulder forced Kelly to lighten her pace. Sh
e noticed the static in her head and the itching from her tattoo had ceased. She had created enough space to take a little breather. She bent over, resting her hands on her knees.
“My god, Kelly. Those things-those demons-were after you, weren’t they?”
Kelly sucked in the wet air, trying to calm her straining lungs. She could only nod her reply.
“Jesus, that’s what I thought.” Trish drew silent for a few moments then erupted. “You lied to me. You lied. I know you pierced through. Why did you tell me you didn’t? Those things. They’re involved somehow, right? Am I right?”
A man, sheltering his female companion with an umbrella, looked at them as he passed.
Embarrassed, Kelly tried to calm her screaming friend. “Yes. I lied. Trish, I didn’t want you to worry is all. I didn’t even think you’d come meet me tonight if I told you the truth. I really needed someone to talk to. I’m so tired of lying low in the streets, trying to confuse them.”
“By them you mean the demons?”
“For lack of a better word, yeah, demons.”
Trish’s anger converted to tears. She wept and leaned into Kelly’s shoulder. “I don’t know what you’ve done, but I can’t get involved. I just can’t. This is too much.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. She knew tonight’s events were more than Trish’s cushioned mind could handle. For that matter, it was more than Kelly herself could take.
Trish sighed. “I’ve got to go. Forgive me, but I can’t be around you right now. You understand don’t you?”
Kelly struggled for composure. She feared being alone once more, but knew she needed to set her friend free. She looked up at Trish through the driving rain, but she avoided eye contact.
“That’s okay. I understand. I’ll walk you to the bus stop.”
“No. I can manage on my own.” Trish still wouldn’t look her in the eyes.
“Sure.” Kelly swallowed the rising grief in her throat. “Thanks for coming. I really needed to see you.”
Trish lifted her hand in a half-hearted wave and walked away. Kelly watched her slosh through the puddles on the sidewalk.
“I’ll look you up when things get better, okay?”
Trish kept walking, becoming a blur in the sheets of pouring rain. Kelly leaned against a building. The street lights kept the night’s darkness at bay, but it did nothing to prevent the dark pit of despair rising from her stomach.
She had lost Trish, and she couldn’t justify involving William anymore than she already had. She cared for him too much.
She turned her face upwards, hoping the cold raindrops pounding her cheeks would drive the agony away. It didn’t. Left all alone, she would have to figure out how to thwart further pursuit. She already knew from experience what a daunting task that would prove to be.
Chapter 18: White Magic
William flipped the collar of his jean jacket up to ward off the brisk wind. The rain had stopped but a smear of gray still tainted the sky. The neutral weather matched his mood; neither sunny nor stormy.
He felt unenthusiastic as he meandered towards the China Town gates. His tattoos strict code of silence continued to bother him. His hopes had been raised high after the Ouroboros on his arm chased the Perforators from his ink parlor. That moment had been inspiring, offering a moment of validity. After that brief encounter, though, the Ouroboros returned to its hibernation alongside the other useless ink.
At least he felt more rested of late. After several attacks by the Sleep Crusher he had decided to spend more nights at the apartment on 21st and Glisan. The Sleep Crusher left him alone at his apartment. He didn’t know why. He only knew that the fitful, troubled sleep there was better than the lack of any at Inkenstein.
He breathed in a lungful of crisp November air, clearing his senses. He passed by a young boy, perhaps a photography student, snapping pictures of the ornate dragon designs on the Chinatown gate. William walked between the red pillars and again felt a subtle response from his inked flesh, a gentle warming with a slight itch.
This time, he passed it off with hardly a thought. The bizarre events of the past few weeks led him to one simple fact. Portland abounded with strange mysteries.
However, only one mystery germinated in his head to the point of blossoming; that of Kelly’s disappearance. Since inking her skin with the Ouroboros there had been no contact, not even a courtesy phone call.
There had to be a connection to all the strange activity and Kelly’s plight. The extraction rituals, the black magic, the Sleep Crusher; it all couldn’t be random coincidence. Only one man might have the answers; Mister Chung.
Brushing the tapestries aside, William rapped on the hidden door on the brick wall. Chung poked his head out, his rheumy eyes scouring the tight passageway, making sure nobody had followed William. “My friend, what brings you today? I’ve nothing new to offer.” He started to shut the door.
William stopped the closing door by thrusting a foot over the threshold. “Not even a Chinese demon? I was thinking a nice Yaoguai black magic tat would complement my Grim Reaper. What do you think?”
Chung’s already wrinkled face scrunched up in disapproval. “You shouldn’t even know about that. You shouldn’t have witnessed the extraction ritual in the first place.”
“But I did,” William said, forcing his way into the smoky shop. The burning incense filled the air with flowery aromatics. The heated interior embraced him, a welcome contrast to the autumn chill. “Since I did see it, I feel entitled to some answers.”
“Entitled? Hah!” Mister Chung waved his hand in disregard. “Why are you so entitled? You think it’s any of your business?”
William sat down on the solitary stool in the center of the room. The flickering candle light from the candelabras made his eyes ache. He let out a huge breath of air, releasing some built up tension.
“So again I ask, what brings you here today?”
“I just need some answers, that’s all.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” the herbalist straightened his black tunic and leaned against the makeshift aquarium display case towards the rear of the shop. “So. What’s on your mind?”
“Man, so much has happened I don’t even know where to start.”
“No story has a true start or a true finish when you consider that time is infinite and everything is interconnected. So any part of the story in which you choose to begin will suffice.”
William cringed. More rambling Eastern philosophy.
Putting his cynicism aside, William got to the point. “I have a friend, this girl, who pierced through. She actually did it. Have you heard of it, piercing through?”
Chung rubbed his sweaty bald head. “No.”
“Well it started as a rumor in the piercing subculture. They believed that if they performed an extreme ritual they could pierce through to another dimension. You sure you haven’t heard of this?”
“There are many rumors, many legends, and many beliefs. You think I know all of them?”
“Maybe this will help. Your friend Klahan was there. He told Kelly she was in the Shadowed Forest. Does that ring a bell?”
“Ah, the Shadowed Forest. The place where spirits of the dead wander. Yes, I know of it.”
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned it to me before. I never really thought anything of it until my friend ended up there. You say it’s where the dead go. My friend, Kelly, she’s not dead. She escaped. Klahan helped her.”
“She may be alive now, but if she walked in the Shadowed Forest she’s as good as dead.”
“So is Klahan as good as dead too?”
“He is protected. He has defenses.”
“The glowing tats? Kelly said there were glowing marks on his face that fought the pierced demons. I don't recall any ink on his skin when I saw him in your shop.”
Chung placed an elbow on the glass top of the aquarium and rested his chin in his cupped hand. His eyes widened. “That’s because he uses white magic.”<
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William paused, rubbing his reddish brown goatee. He wiped steam from his French spectacles, the room as humid as a sauna. “I didn’t know white magic was an option. I mean I’ve heard of white magic versus black magic, but didn’t know it applied to the tattooing field.”
“It doesn’t. Not in the way people are used to thinking about black and white. People think in terms of good versus evil, light versus dark. Not so with magic tattoos. Black magic tattoos are the ones you have, visible tattoos made with blood and visible ink. White magic tattoos are made with spirit and invisible ink. The ink can only be seen in the presence of the Shadowed Forest.”
William’s eyes narrowed and he leaned forward. “How are they made?”
“Similar to the extraction ritual, but it takes an extremely strong person. You summon the spirit of choice and host it in your body. No blood is drawn. Instead, you must keep the spirit in you forever. The invisible palm oil we use to mark the skin actually ties the spirit to the flesh.”
“Incredible,” William said, his voice hushed in a reverential tone. As impossible as it seemed, he knew it to be true. Chung’s words brought back fragments of Kelly’s story. She had seen the glowing tattoos on Klahan’s skin and talked of a spirit-like essence rising from the monk’s face. She claimed a gossamer cord, wispy and delicate, kept the spirit tethered like a dog on a leash to its human host.
“Man, there’s so much I don’t know,” he said, ringing his hands in exasperation. “What about the tower of chained bodies? If this Shadowed Forest is the afterlife then that tower Kelly was trapped on is Hell, isn’t it?”
“Hell is a Christian concept which is about as reliable as Buddhist terminology. All of it falls short. Really, all religion is just a poor attempt at explaining the unexplainable.”
“Amen to that. So how do you see it? Give it your best shot.”
Chung cleared his throat. “Okay. You know I’m part of a secret society of monks sworn to protect people. In part, we protect people from the Shadowed Forest. Some gain access when it’s not their time, either by chance or deliberately. They are still flesh and blood, like your friend Kelly. When she pierced through she opened a door and walked into a realm not ready to receive her. Physical creatures that wander into the realm are imprisoned on the wall, or tower, as you call it.”