The Presence

by Shady Grim

  With Byron and Gerald gone, they would have the privacy to acclimate the special child to her new family. Training Rachel proved to be a much more daunting task than Lizbet could’ve possibly imagined. The girl was loud, ill-mannered, defiant, and crude. She was the complete opposite of Royal. The boy was quiet, intelligent, docile, and passive. It was difficult to tell just how intelligent Rachel was. She was definitely cunning, but her ability to learn new things was hampered by an extremely high level of unruliness. The first few hours after Rachel woke made it abundantly clear to Lizbet that she and Herbert were ill-equipped to deal with this child.

  Rachel was sitting up in bed with her hands tied behind her back, or so Herbert thought. There wasn’t a knot in existence that Rachel couldn’t untie, and she had yet to find a lock she couldn’t pick. Herbert entered the room with a plate of food and a glass of lemonade, which he placed on the oak desk that he and Royal had made when Royal was a small boy.

  “Baby fucker.”

  Herbert had never heard such foul language. His eyes widened, and he sharply drew in breath. “I won’t tolerate that sort of language, young lady.”

  “Don’t pretend to be all innocent with me. I know why I’m here...baby fucker.”

  “I said that’s enough!”

  “Does it bother yeh when I say baby fucker?”

  “Stop saying that!”

  “Baby fucker...baby fucker...baby fucker...”

  “Enough!” shouted Lizbet.

  “Or what, huh? Whatcha gonna do to me?”

  Lizbet’s jaw set. “Hold her down, Herbert.” Herbert reached for Rachel. She darted off the bed leaving the twine that had held her hands, and made for the desk. She took the fork from the plate and plunged it into Herbert’s upper thigh. The pain excited Herbert and quickened his step rather than slowed it. Rachel managed to dodge him and evade Lizbet’s stick as she swung it at Rachel’s legs. Rachel bolted toward the door which slammed shut, seemingly of its own accord. Rachel was confused long enough for Herbert to catch her. He roughly flung her face down on the bed. He flipped her onto her back and held her legs still. Lizbet grabbed a handful of Rachel’s hair and pulled just enough to make Rachel wince. Rachel knew when she was bested. She stopped struggling. Lizbet held up a vial of a noxious-looking liquid. “Drink it.” Rachel opened her mouth and Lizbet tipped the vial into it. It was a lot of liquid for a child-sized mouth to hold, but Rachel managed to avoid swallowing most of it. “Good girl,” said Lizbet and relaxed her grip on Rachel’s hair. “Now that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” Rachel spit the liquid in Lizbet’s face. Herbert was furious. He raised his fist and lurched forward. A very large cold hand caught Herbert’s arm. Rachel’s eyes widened and she stilled.

  “Leave her with me.” Without a word, Herbert and Lizbet rose and scurried out of the room. “Do you know why you are here?”

  “Yeah, ‘cause that guy out there is a perv.”

  The Lord chuckled, a low, rumbling, mirthless chuckle. “Herbert will not harm you.”

  “Ha, ha–Herbert–what a shitty name. Okay, I’ll bite, so why am I here?”

  “You are very special. You are unique. I have been watching, and I have been waiting. And now you have come to me.”

  Rachel loved being told that she was special, but she wasn’t stupid enough to be pacified by empty flattery. “What the fuck did all that mean?”

  “It means that I need your help.”

  Rachel eyed the enormous shadowy form standing before her. Instinct told her that a deal could be struck, but she was unsure how to proceed and unwilling to show weakness. She opted for information gathering. “What the fuck are yeh?” Rachel spit on the floor at the Lord’s feet to rid herself of the bad taste in her mouth.

  The Lord extended His arm with His hand facing palm-up. A small column of flame appeared in His hand. It flickered and fluttered as He moved His hand back and forth. “This is what I am.” Rachel was mesmerized. The flame in the Lord’s hand grew and grew until only flame was left. The Lord’s body wasn’t engulfed in flame; it had become flame. Rachel reached out to touch the flame, and it didn’t burn her. The Lord’s heat warmed her face and she smiled. When the Lord returned to His shadowy form, all that was left of the flame were scorch marks on the floor. Rachel loved them; they were beautiful. Rachel studied the shadow-man.

  “I ain’t never seen nothin’ like yeh. Are yeh God?”

  “I am a god, yes.”

  Rachel frowned. “Well...what do yeh want with me?” The Lord extended his hand and placed it on Rachel’s forehead. Her head tipped back, and her eyes rolled leaving only the whites exposed. Her mind swam with images and unfamiliar smells. She saw a man hanging on a cross, and knew that it was supposed to be Christ’s crucifixion. Rachel scoffed at such nonsense. She felt herself being moved closer to the hanging man. She could smell the blood and the sweat on him. She could smell his fear. She liked that smell. Rachel inhaled deeply, and the Lord filled her mind with other images. Strange sights and colors and landscapes raced through her mind. Human history passed before her eyes. She found herself standing in the middle of a battlefield as two sides raced toward each other with weapons raised. Men were shouting and screaming at each other. The losers ended up impaled on a sword or a spear. The images in her mind shuffled again, and Rachel stood in a mud-filled foxhole. She looked down and saw uniformed men wearing helmets lying in a pile at her feet. Rachel giggled at the silly expressions on the dead men’s faces. She heard a shrill whistle above her head. A bomb flew past and the whistle stopped just before it hit the ground. Body parts flew into the air and reminded her of the scattering of pigeons. They hovered gracefully in the air for a few seconds and returned to the ground with a muddy flop. Rachel couldn’t stop inhaling the aromas. She found the smell of human decay, of exposed entrails, to be intoxicating. She felt giddy. Her senses went wild from all the stimuli. The Lord drew His hand away and stepped back. Rachel felt both exhausted and invigorated.

  “Was it not beautiful?”

  Of course it was beautiful, but Rachel was no fool. She eyed the Shadow-God warily. She didn’t share her fantasies with anyone. There were so many things that she longed to do, but she wasn’t stupid enough to invite a partner to help her. A partner was a liability. An ally can too easily become an enemy. As a nine-year-old girl, she was incapable of securing the kind of victim that she preferred. Animals were not good substitutes for her. For all her malicious tendencies, she had a mild affection for animals and drew no pleasure from harming them. Their pain didn’t satisfy her. She once babysat a neighbor’s infant daughter and spent part of the time sticking pins in the baby’s legs and arms. She liked hearing the baby scream, and she liked having a helpless victim; but she would’ve preferred a person who could speak, someone who could beg and plead. Her mother caught her and beat her with a belt. Rachel discovered something about herself and her needs that day. The lesson she learned about herself was worth the beating.

  “I can give it to you–all the beauty, and that wonderful fragrance. It can all be yours.”

  The temptation was too great, and the offer too generous to refuse. “What do I have to do?”

  “Kill her.”

  “Kill who?”

  “You know.”

  An image of Heather popped into Rachel’s mind. She smiled broadly, exposing her teeth. A vicious gleam twinkled in her eyes. “Tell me how. I’ve never been able to hurt her. She’s too smart.”

  “You will learn in time.”

  Rachel spent four years in the attic bedroom before the Fitzgerald’s introduced her to the town as their foster child. She was permitted outside only in the evenings, which suited her as she was a night-prowler by nature. Byron and Gerald stayed in boarding school while their parents attempted to train Rachel, who was now known as Persephone Dougall. The Lord had permitted her to choose her own name. After four years with the Fitzgeralds, Persephone was just as unruly as the first day she’d arrived. Lizbet and Herbert thought it appro
priate to bring home Byron and Gerald to get them acquainted with their foster sister. Byron chose to go from boarding school straight into the Navy, bypassing his childhood home altogether. Gerald was fourteen when he returned home, and was fifteen when he was sent back to boarding school. Herbert caught Gerald and Persephone in bed together and cruelly beat both of them. Lizbet wanted Persephone sent away too, but the Lord sided with the girl.

  Persephone was homeschooled just as Royal had been, but proved to be a poor student until she neared college age. She was kept segregated from the townsfolk in an attempt to control her. The Fitzgeralds managed to keep her reined in until her mid-teens when she began to sneak out of the house in the evenings. The Lord encouraged Persephone’s independence and creativity. He accompanied her on her night treks and prevented her from getting into too much trouble. The Fitzgeralds were not permitted to punish Persephone, and her lack of discipline vexed Lizbet.

  Herbert attempted to develop Persephone’s hunting skills, and teach her the art of butchery, but she wasn’t interested. She disliked the intensive physical labor involved in chasing an animal and dragging its carcass home. She didn’t like all the dirt, or the bugs, or the sweating, and she had no interest whatsoever in making things from animal parts. It was just too unsophisticated. She did develop an interest in human anatomy because the Lord explained to her that torture was a high art form that required a great amount of skill; much more skill than the rudimentary abilities that Herbert possessed. She learned that it was possible to keep a victim alive for days, or even weeks, despite inflicting tremendous injury and pain.

  Lizbet tried to teach Persephone about herbs, but she had little interest beyond recreational drug use. Lizbet’s specialty was poisons, but they were too fast-acting and didn’t inflict the lingering pain that Persephone preferred. Others were too slow-acting and didn’t cause enough visible suffering. In short, poisons were boring. As for the medicinal side of herbal uses, Persephone had no interest in treating illnesses or alleviating suffering. What would be the point of that? Despite her best efforts, Lizbet found the girl to be completely lacking in religious dedication. Persephone found Lizbet’s religiously based servility awkward and distasteful, and so did the Lord. He talked with Persephone privately in her bedroom. He told her things and showed her things that she could never have learned anywhere else. Sometimes He brought others with Him and they would laugh, and talk, and sing songs, and make a great deal of noise.

  Persephone was very intelligent and a fast study when she was able to focus. Her frequent inability to focus her mind was her greatest weakness. She disliked, and had great difficulty, formulating plans and following them through. She was impulsive and preferred spontaneity. Lizbet tried to turn her into a groveling fool like she was, but Persephone would have none of it. She was too special for that, and the Lord often told her so. By her third year in high school, the Lord was able to convince her that she needed to produce much better grades. He did so by encouraging her competitive streak. He showed her images of that bitch, Heather, who was already in college and doing exceptionally well. Persephone could do anything that Heather did, and she did her best to prove it. She chose not to pursue a medical degree for the same reason she didn’t want to learn herbal medicine. Instead, Persephone studied dual masters’ degrees in educational psychology and counseling, and focused her career on children. Children were easy to manipulate and required little effort on Persephone’s part, which suited her naturally lazy disposition.

  Lizbet grew to loathe Persephone. She’d waited so long for the special child she’d been promised. She had been delighted to finally have a daughter to raise, but her hopes were dashed only days after meeting the Lord’s chosen child. The thing the Lord brought to her was such a disappointment that she couldn’t even bring herself to voice her anguish. She secretly harbored a festering hatred for this ribald child. The girl spoke to the Lord as if she were an equal, and the Lord permitted her to do so. Lizbet, for all her service and devotion, was not permitted such familiarity. But it was not her place to question the Lord. She did as He commanded. It was her duty to obey.

  Gradually, Persephone and Herbert became good friends, much to Lizbet’s despair. Their similar interests brought them together, although Herbert was very frustrated that he couldn’t teach the girl very much. Persephone’s high intelligence and extraordinary cunning gave her more control over Herbert than a young girl should have. It was the source of many battles between Lizbet and Persephone. They had a deeply contentious relationship. Both were intelligent and had dominant personalities, but Lizbet believed in, and practiced, strict personal discipline. Persephone was disorderly and reckless. She moved from one caprice to the next without any concern for repercussions. At seventeen, she convinced Herbert to buy her a car without first consulting Lizbet. The Lord took Persephone’s side in the subsequent dispute.

  Lizbet dealt with the stress of Persephone’s presence by sewing in the evenings. Her home was no longer hers. It felt crowded to bursting. Footsteps could be heard all over the house and there was never anyone to produce them. The footfalls of variously weighted bodies could be heard tromping up and down the stairs at all hours of the day and night. Persephone was always talking to someone that Lizbet couldn’t see. Voices calling Persephone’s name rang throughout the house and had no visible origin; some were loud shrieks, others were soft whispers; some sounded like men, and others like women. Shadows creeped and crawled around every corner and behind every door. Invisible children giggled maniacally as they ran throughout the house. Shouting, screeching, and cackling laughter erupted from Persephone’s bedroom from dusk until dawn. As Persephone advanced into her teens, the playful childlike sounds coming from her bedroom changed to more adult noises. The sounds of vigorous, obscene, and sometimes violent copulation echoed from her bedroom at all hours, and the girl was entirely shameless about it. Herbert was sickened by the noises and spent most evenings in his workshop. Lizbet stoically bore the shame. She was gleeful when the girl went off to college and took the Lord and His angels with her.

  Chapter Nine

  Emmy’s night of dinner and ice cream with the Zee’s turned into a week-long visit with an extra set of grandparents. By day three, Ethan was missing Emily so much that he invited himself to dinner at the Zee residence. I had the dubious honor of being his companion for the evening.

  “What do yeh think?” Ethan held a scarlet-red suit jacket in one hand and a black silk shirt trimmed in gold in the other. “I’m gonna wear that set of crystal button studs I got.”

  Fashion was a complicated issue for Ethan. His style choices were as haphazard and extreme as his life choices. I’d have to choose my words carefully or else my dinner companion would wear clothes bright enough to attract insects. “It’s only dinner with the Zees and some kids, Ethan. It doesn’t really call for something so...formal.”

  “Somethin’ more subtle then?”

  “Yes, there’s no point in overdressing for a casual dinner.” Ten minutes later, Ethan emerged from his bedroom smelling strongly of bay rum. I was already dressed and waiting for him. His dinner ensemble consisted of an iridescent dark-purple shirt, a belt in the most garish shade of light purple I’d ever seen, plum-colored dress pants, and leopard-print dress shoes. I sorely regretted talking him out of wearing the red suit.

  “Yeh forgot to wear perfume.” The delicate scent of the English rose perfume I was wearing became entirely undetectable as it cowered under the brutal assault of Ethan’s bay rum.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Ethan leaned in closer and sniffed my hair. “Don’t smell nothin’.”

  “That’s because your aftershave has incinerated your sinuses.”

  “Yer not supposed to let a man out-smell yeh.”

  “I didn’t know it was a contest.”

  Ethan dragged me back to my bedroom. He ignored my assortment of perfumes and flung open the closet door. “Wow! Yeh got all the colors; black, white, and grey.” />
  “I don’t have much time for shopping. Why are you inspecting my clothes?”

  “Because yeh need to get changed, that outfit is drab.”

  “This is business casual, which is entirely appropriate for the evening.”

  “It’s drab. Take that grey blouse off, and put this pink one on. Would it kill yeh to wear a skirt?”

  “I’m not wearing a skirt and heels when I have to climb in and out of a rowboat.”

  “Fair enough.” Ethan acquiesced regarding the skirt and began spritzing my hair with perfume. “Are yeh sure this is perfume, I can barely smell it?”

  Ten minutes later we were gliding along the lake’s still water on the way to the Zee’s. Ethan rowed while I held both a lantern and a flashlight. Full evening hadn’t set yet, but Ethan insisted that I turn on the lantern to ward off any negative spirits. It was easier to comply than to argue.

  “I fuckin’ hate this place at night.” Ethan’s head looked like it was on a swivel. His eyes were darting everywhere, and I was amazed that he was still able to row the boat in an almost straight line. “What was that?”

  “It was just a bat.”

  “We got vampires livin’ here too?”

  “It’s just chasing the bugs that are attracted to the light.”

  “Don’t look in its eyes. It’s a good thing I’m wearin’ my cross.”

  “Where does one find leopard-print dress shoes?”

  “The same place one finds pink, orange, and lime-green dress shoes. I dress in style when I go out.”

  “Is that what you call it?”

  “Yeh need to work on yer wardrobe. Girls are supposed to be colorful like me. Yeh got the drabbest wardrobe of any girl I know...except for my sisters, but they don’t really count.”