Darkling

by R. B. Chesterton

  With two exceptions.

  When it smiled, it revealed tiny teeth sharpened into dangerous points.

  Instead of feet, it stood upon the paws of a dog.

  It gave a soft giggle before it spun and bounded away. The claws dug into the dirt, raking hard and sending a spray of loam that struck me in the face.

  And then it was gone.

  28

  It took only a few seconds for me to react. I bolted forward and gave chase. Ahead of me, the creature giggled and darted through the woods. It required no trail. With the feet of a beast, it dashed always ahead of me. I had no intention of giving up. I would catch this creature and force it to tell me what master it served, for I had no doubt it did the bidding of someone.

  I didn’t bother calling out. It wouldn’t heed me, and I didn’t have the breath to waste. The creature was fast. It could have easily outdistanced me, but it didn’t. I caught glimpses of it waiting, almost letting me draw abreast before it jumped into action again.

  My pure hatred of it gave me the energy to keep running. I had no idea where I was or how I would get home. Nothing mattered except that I capture this thing and force it to tell me its intention. Why was it at Belle Fleur? Why did it look like Donald, a child so sweet and innocent that it was a sick mockery? I would make it tell me.

  Up ahead the creature paused, waiting. Smiling at me. The little giggle came again, as if we were playing a game. My legs throbbed with pain and my breath was ragged. Not so for the creature. It looked as fresh as when we’d started.

  It stopped beneath a live oak. The dense leaves of the tree prevented the natural undergrowth. Leaning against the trunk, the creature waited for me.

  When I stepped into the clearing, I sensed danger. It lounged, that’s the only word. I stepped forward, and it held its ground. I took several more steps. It looked so much like Donald.

  With a wild giggle, it bolted and disappeared.

  I couldn’t chase anymore. My body refused to obey my command to run. I stumbled toward the tree and sank against it, slumping to the ground. It had beaten me. There was no chance I could catch it. Whatever it was, it had supernatural energy and strength.

  As I pressed my back into the rough bark, I saw something. At first, I didn’t want to believe it. I wouldn’t. It wasn’t possible. Out here in the middle of the Belle Fleur wilderness, there was no way that Margo could have lost her shoe. But there it was, the slender navy flat, one half of her favorite pair of shoes.

  I picked it up. The canvas shoe was covered in mud. Margo had been wearing these shoes the day she disappeared.

  The creature had led me. It had lured and terrified me, slyly baiting me here, and for one purpose: it wanted me to find Margo’s shoe.

  29

  The excited shrieks of teenagers echoed around the architectural bones of the Paradise Inn. It was the perfect night for a party, and forty or so kids in a variety of costumes, most of them from Erin’s class, ran around the premises searching for the scavenger-hunt clues the children had so carefully hidden. The guests had been divided into groups and given Polaroid cameras to document each successful element they’d found or acquired in the quest for the grand prize. The hunt, as far as I could tell, was a huge success.

  Donald had no friends his own age, and Annie had no friends at all. I had invited Mark, but he was working. My guest was Cora, who manned the table where Bob had put out grilled burgers and hot dogs. Berta had returned to Belle Fleur with the cake, which was hidden in the back seat of her car.

  I’d told no one about Margo’s shoe. I couldn’t. Not in the middle of Erin’s party preparations. I didn’t know how to tell them. Their first reaction would be horror and pain. They’d view the shoe as a sign that Margo was hiding in or lost in the woods, so close but unwilling to come home. Then they’d imagine her barefoot for months and realize that circumstances were dire. Then they would ask why I was in that place in the woods and there was no logical answer to that. I couldn’t say I was chasing Donald’s evil twin. So I held my peace, knowing that tomorrow I would shatter Berta and Bob’s world, and I tried to determine what role Annie had played in Margo’s disappearance. She was always slipping around the woods and overgrown gardens, mooning over the Paradise and Bob’s plans to resuscitate the place. I had no doubt she knew more than she’d told.

  A moon, full and strong, cast shadows and edged the gentle waves of the Sound with silver. Sitting on the marble steps that now led to the hull of what was once a thriving resort—and would be again if Bob had his way—I tried to relax my shoulders. My body ached from the strain of the secret I kept.

  Come daylight tomorrow I’d have to take the sheriff into the woods. I’d marked the path to the shoe with broken branches.

  It had taken me a good half hour to find my way out of the woods where the wight had led me. What was this creature and what did it want? It looked like Donald, almost a perfect replica, except the imitator was pure evil. I knew it. And it was somehow connected to the strange dark girl who lurked on the grounds of Belle Fleur. A girl who looked like Annie. I could not piece it together, and I dared not tell my wild thoughts to anyone. If I spoke, the bitter irony was that I would be viewed as a madwoman, someone dangerous who had to be locked away. If this was my imagination at work, then I needed confinement, but then how did I explain the shoe?

  A squeal of pleasure came from the old swimming pool, empty except for rain water and leaves, and I knew one of the teams had found the Barbie doll I’d so carefully hung from the diving board with the next clue taped to her perfect body. It was a riddle. I’d worked really hard on the game, and though Donald and Erin seemed withdrawn when I’d joined them to plant the clues, we’d worked through the awkwardness. Now Erin was reaping the reward of our efforts.

  Down at the food table, Cora laughed, and I shifted so I could see her. As I suspected, she was thick as thieves with Annie. Somehow, Annie had worked both Cora and Berta. All afternoon she’d been in the kitchen with Berta, mixing up the hamburger meat, preparing trays of condiments, laughing and giggling, sharing secrets. And now, she was pulling the same act with Cora. They worked at the food table side by side, putting patties on buns for the kids who would be ravenous once the scavenger hunt was complete.

  Annie said something and Cora put an arm around her shoulders. My grandmother, normally astute with human nature, had been completely taken in by the orphan girl with no memory. Everyone loved Annie. To them, she was the perfect child, always on hand to help with a chore or offer a funny story. Little did they know.

  Berta returned with the cake and Annie helped her set up. Even I had to admit that Berta looked better than she had in weeks. She’d convinced herself that Margo had chosen to leave Coden and her family. She’d woven a fantasy where Margo and Andrew had driven to the sunny California coast and were living in a cottage, playing house, until such time as Margo got homesick enough to come back.

  The shoe I’d tucked into the fork of a tree told a different story. One not nearly so pleasant.

  Annie left the women and wandered toward the grill where Bob worked. She’d chosen a ballerina costume. The pale pink leotard with the flowing tulle skirt showed off her curves. Living with the Hendersons, she’d put on at least fifteen pounds, all in the right places. She wasn’t a child any longer, at least not physically. She was a woman.

  She meant for Bob to see that.

  Berta and Cora worked with the food, while not thirty yards away, Annie moved in on Bob. I was helpless to stop it. All I could do was clench my fists and watch from my vantage point high on the marble steps as Annie touched Bob’s arm and laughed up into his face. Her body was supple, and she moved sensuously, pretending to dance. He said something she obviously enjoyed.

  Rage, fed by the fear that she would ultimately destroy this good family, made me stand up. Movement at the edge of the water caught my attention.

  Donald, dressed in his pirate costume, stood on a narrow band of sandy dirt that marked low tide.
He stared out into the water. Not so long ago, I’d told Donald about Moonraker, the old fisherman who came out on nights of the full moon and skimmed the silver from the tops of the waves. While Annie held the title of premier storyteller, I had a few good ones. Donald loved the story.

  I wondered why he wasn’t participating in the scavenger hunt. He’d been assigned to the group of kids with Erin. Likely he felt like a fifth wheel. The age difference between Erin and Donald made it difficult for him. Erin had become a teen and he was still a child. I dreaded the time when he, too, would grow up and move to independence.

  Dusting my hands on my jeans—I’d dressed as a hobo for the party—I started down the steps. Donald’s stance told me he was pensive. It was hard being odd man out. I’d collect him and get him to help me with something.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move far down the shore. A small figure sprinted along the sandy margin of land between marsh grass and water. The young boy moved very quickly. Too quickly … to be human.

  The creature had joined the outskirts of the party. It moved amongst us.

  And it was dressed in a pirate costume that duplicated what Donald wore. It stopped on the beach and looked directly at me, separated from Donald only by a jut of marsh grass that hid it from Donald’s view. It lifted its hand and waved, exactly as Donald would do. Then it opened its mouth wide and moonlight struck the pointed white teeth. It snapped its jaw shut with a force I felt rather than heard.

  The wildest, most excited giggle burst from it. Donald turned toward it, took a step or two and then stopped. He couldn’t see the creature, but intuition told him danger hovered. Instead of going toward the giggle, he backed away.

  The creature giggled again. Donald’s face shifted from curiosity to panic. He was too far away for me to yell at him.

  I looked for Bob, but he and Annie had disappeared. The grill was unattended and they had vanished.

  Donald’s future was in my hands.

  I flew down the steps, moving with speed I never knew I possessed. My hobo hat flopped behind me. I dropped the stick with a bandanna full of socks tied to the end. I ran out of the big floppy shoes I’d borrowed from Bob. Ignoring the rocks and sticks that jabbed my bare feet, I ran toward Donald.

  “Donald!” I cried his name. Behind me, the teens squealed and laughed, blocking out my frantic cries. Surely someone would see me rushing to the water and realize something was wrong.

  “Donald! Run!” The creature intended harm. “Donald!”

  The susurration of the water against the shore blocked out my cries. Donald sensed danger, but he stood without moving, scanning the shoreline in either direction and behind him, unable to determine from which direction the menace came.

  My position was slightly elevated, and I could see over the top of the marsh grass that the creature was moving steadily closer to Donald. It didn’t hurry or rush. Confident in its superior speed and stamina, it seemed to glide. Donald was no match for it, but it hadn’t reckoned on me.

  I angled so that I would intersect the strip of beach between the two. A part of me was aware that my feet bled from numerous cuts, but I didn’t feel them. I couldn’t allow myself to. I ran.

  “Donald!” I screamed his name, and at last he heard me. He looked up and terror filled his face. “Run!” I pointed east, down the shore. “Run!”

  He hesitated only a moment then stumbled toward the east. He ran awkwardly, looking back over his shoulder, his face a mixture of fear and confusion.

  When I made it to the slip of beach, I ran west, toward the creature. I would confront it once and for all. Little bastard. It would pay.

  I rounded the outcropping of marsh grass and stopped. The beach was empty. The water slushed against the shore and the tall grass rippled in the breeze. The creature was gone. Vanished.

  Except for the marks in the sand made by sharp and deadly claws.

  30

  Donald shivered and I bundled him in the blanket as we sat in front of the bonfire Bob had lit. The flames jumped merrily into the starry sky, and the teenagers, plates heaped with food, sat cross-legged on the ground, basking in the warmth of the blaze as rock music blared from a radio Bob set up.

  “You scared me, Mimi. That wasn’t very nice.” Donald refused to look at me. I’d caught up with him, panicked and fleeing along the beach, and I’d brought him back to the party. He didn’t understand what I’d seen or why I’d sent him running along the tidal line.

  “I saw something and I was afraid.…” How to explain to a young boy? “I thought it would hurt you.”

  “What was it?” Curiosity won out over aggravation.

  “I’m not sure.” I couldn’t tell him it was a creature that looked like him.

  “Probably a big ol’ nutria.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment, remembering the creature. “Not a nutria, but something like that, with strange, sharp teeth.”

  Donald poked me in the ribs. “You’re trying to scare me. Like Annie does.”

  “Annie tells you about a creature with sharp teeth?”

  Like a summer storm, Donald’s anger at me had blown away. “Sometimes. She says there are dangerous things in the woods around the house.”

  “What does she call them?”

  He thought a moment. “She’s never given them a name. May I have something to drink?”

  “Stay here. I’ll get you a cola.” I pushed off the ground, all too aware that my feet needed medical attention. I hobbled to the drink table and poured cola over ice.

  “Mimi, what happened to your feet?” Cora was at my side. “They’re bleeding.”

  “I lost my shoes and had to … get back here. It’s okay.”

  She pointed to several chairs Bob had brought over for her and Berta and Annie. “Sit down and let me look.” She waved at Bob. “Do you have a flashlight? Mimi’s hurt her feet.”

  “Stop it.” I tried to push her away, but Cora could be hardheaded. “Let it go, Cora. I’ll tend my feet later.”

  “Lord, child, those cuts will take stitches.” She gently held my foot. “Annie! Bring me some water.”

  “Keep her away from me.” I spoke without thinking.

  Cora rocked back on her heels. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Again, the fault came squarely back to me. The unfairness almost choked me. “I just want to be left alone.” The whole mess boiled inside me. Margo’s shoe and the implications of that, the creature that no one else troubled to see, Annie’s obvious desire for Bob—it was too much. Cora and Berta clung to their blindness. It was easier to pretend that I was somehow at fault than to address the source of the real problem. Annie.

  “You need medical attention.” Cora sounded so cold.

  Annie brought a pitcher of water and Cora poured it over my hot and throbbing feet. She washed them with care, tut, tutting as she worked.

  Berta came over to check out what was going on. “My goodness, Mimi. What have you done to your feet?”

  When I looked, I saw that the wounds were far more serious than I’d thought. “It was an accident. I lost Bob’s shoes in the marsh.”

  “Don’t worry about his old shoes. It’s your poor feet.”

  “I think we should take her home,” Cora said. “Can you drive her?”

  Berta nodded. “Absolutely. Will you cut the cake? I think the partiers are ready for that and then we can start pushing them back to Belle Fleur. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired.”

  “Can Bob take me?” I asked. “I don’t want you to miss cutting the cake, Berta.” Mostly I wanted to get Bob away from Annie.

  Berta hesitated only a moment. “If that’s what you’d like.”

  “I think it would be best.”

  Annie stepped forward. “I’ll go, too.”

  It was, of course, the one thing I didn’t want.

  31

  Bob tried to insist that I go to the hospital, and I would have if we could have left Annie at home. She shadowed every mov
e Bob made, reminding me of the dark-haired girl who lurked on the fringes of the yard. As it was, I put on my brakes and refused. Bob brought me antibiotic salve and bandages and left me in the second-floor bathroom to doctor my wounds. He was slightly aggravated because I wouldn’t go to the emergency room.

  Annie had offered to wash up the dishes in the kitchen, and for a while I heard the rattle of pans and plates. When the kitchen fell silent, I was acutely aware that the house seemed to hold its breath. I pulled the last strip of tape tight and hobbled to my feet. Pain bloomed around and ran down my calves and ankles to my toes. Perhaps the doctor might not have been a bad option.

  My room was down the hallway, and I doubted my ability to get there. I had no choice. Bob and Annie had disappeared. Grasping the wall and various pieces of antique furniture, I made my way slowly toward my room.

  The second-floor hallway was covered in a long, plush Persian rug. Dark burgundy, navy, and gold, the jewel tones of the pattern seemed warm in the sunlight, but at night the carpet was dark. The color of old blood. The thick pad muted my steps, but beneath the carpet a floor-board here and there creaked. Those were the only sounds in the house.

  When I reached the door to my room, I was panting from pain. With my hand on the knob, I hesitated. A sound from the third floor stopped me cold. Giggling. The evil little bastard child that looked like Donald was in the house. The creature had entered Belle Fleur while we were at the Paradise Inn. It had come into the heart of this family with god knew what intent.

  My first thought centered on a weapon. Bob kept a gun in the closet of his bedroom, a semi-automatic and a box of bullets. Living this far from a city, Bob had told us all, except for Donald, where the gun could be found in case of an emergency. With my feet burning with pain, I didn’t know if I could get downstairs and back up to the third floor.

  In my bedroom was a flashlight. Not a real weapon.

  Annie had a set of croquet mallets in her bedroom, a far more effective weapon than a lightweight flashlight. I started up the stairs to the third floor.