by J. Z. Foster
It would have been the easiest thing in the world then to stay quiet and watch the wight finish Ted off. Men like Ted had stepped on Richard his entire life.
The spell’s effects drew out the worst parts of you. Beth was afraid—of what, Richard didn’t know. But Ted was clearly just an insane asshole when his inhibitions were stripped away. Richard’s face was slick with blood to prove it.
No, that’s not true. He’s possessed. It wasn’t Ted. He doesn’t deserve this. It’s the ghost.
The wight thrashed Ted into a wall and pinned him against it. Its head reeled back and the sharp, inch-long, yellow teeth extended from brown gums. It wrenched Ted’s head to the side to expose his neck.
“Hey.” It was a struggle for Richard to get the words out, to even find the air to fill his lungs. “Hey! Let him go. Don’t kill him!”
The wight bellowed in anger and then looked back at Richard. “This male would seal your fate. Cast death upon you! I shall fill the void within my stomach with his flesh!”
Richard couldn’t find the strength to get any more words out. With cold and pained eyes, he stared at the wight and shook his head. His neck ached and his eyes were heavy; he thought of closing them and letting what happened next come without his interference. But his eyes were drawn to the sharp movements Beth was making—she sucked in air loudly and convulsed like she was stuck in seizure.
He rolled onto his hands and crawled to her. His limbs were unsteady beneath him and threatened to fail him at any moment. The way the room seemed to swirl around him made him think he might also have a concussion. He reached up to touch the top of his head and came away with wet, bloody fingers. His eyes stayed locked on the redness as it rolled down his fingers. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever bled like that before.
Beth was no longer screaming, only gasping. She looked up at Richard, scared. He reached a hand out to her and held it still. Beth’s eyes didn’t hold thought or reason, but there was a flash there. Richard knew she was strong though; her resolve pushed her even in the throes of hysteria. Her lips trembled as she strained to reach out and take his hand. Richard could see the witching effect visibly drain from her, and the first breath she took after their hands met told Richard she was going to be fine.
“Oh my God, Richard.” Together they came to their feet and embraced. Richard began to cry as he hugged her tightly. He felt her also give way, and the two held each other, sobbing.
“Delightful.” The wight cut in. “You both live. Mayhap now we revisit my request to consume him?”
Chapter 8
“Quite the story we’ve got here, son. Got yourself some witches, got yourself a ghost possessin’, got yourself a wight that’s apparently one of the hungriest sonsabitches out there. Then we got you, the reporter-brain-smasher.” Minges’s smile oozed with as much arrogance as it did sweat. He fanned himself, apparently tormented by a heat that Richard couldn’t feel.
I bet he was drinking right before he got here.
“Why do you even care then, if you don’t believe?” Richard fought back the sneer his lips threatened. “Why do you even want to hear it if you don’t think it’s real?”
“Real? What is ‘real,’ son? Real is a perception. What’s ‘real’ to you is bullshit to me. But I can tell you, I can spin shit like it’s silk and get you what you need from the jury. So I like to hear everything I can from what my client has to say ‘bout what happened. Makes sense, yeah?”
“I guess.” Slumped in exhaustion, Richard reached up to feel where his head had been struck. He rubbed the spot and pulled his fingers back to find flakes of dried blood. It was sore, but he felt mostly fine now.
“Got a booboo there on your head, eh? Good, we’ll use that. We’ll say them boys in blue were beating your ass real good when they were bringing you in, eh? Yeah, yeah, I can work with that.” Minges rubbed his thick beard. “So. Where were we? You got the bigger boy beaten near death and ya’ll did what with him?”
“The wight held him as I went through the ritual. We exorcised the ghost.”
“Exorcised a ghost? You make it sound like it ain’t no thang, just another day at the office.”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t the strangest thing that happened today.”
“Sure enough.” Minges continued to fan himself before falling into another fit of coughing. He hacked up something into his hand, and inspected it before wiping it beneath the table. “Seems like I’m coming down with something. You ain’t got them AIDS or nothing, right?” He looked Richard over with eyes full of suspicion.
With a tired sigh, Richard shook his head and continued with his story. “But, uh, when we were exorcising the ghost? We had a bit of a mishap. Kinda, uh, burned the whole house down.”
“What?” Minges seemed almost angry as he pulled out a handkerchief and coughed into it. “You burned the house down? How in the hell did that happen?”
“I’ve never done an exorcism before! It was my first time!” Richard shot back. “We had everything set up. The candles, the incense; I got my book back. It wasn’t too bad, just had a little blood and rain on it. Everything was how it was supposed to be. But, you know, things got a little out of hand…” He barked out an uncomfortable laugh. “We all got out in time.”
“We all got out in time.” Minges puckered his lips and mocked Richard with a whiny voice. “You know what this’ll do son? It’s gonna look like you were destroying evidence!”
“I don’t even know what to say.” Richard grabbed his hair and started to pull, nearly tearing it out from the stress. “You have to believe me, Mr. Minges. There is a witch out there and he’s manipulating people. I’m not crazy. Maybe I just...” Something caught in Richard’s mind. He pulled his hands back down and stared at them. “My necklace. My sanctified necklace—that must have been when…” The necklace was absent from his neck.
“Ain’t no jewelry making you more hardy, son. It’s all in your head. Don’t need no fancy charm bracelet to keep your shit together. Just take a deep breath. Tell me what happened next, yeah?”
Richard nodded. Talking about what happened helped bring him out of the painful memories, and he desperately wanted to be anywhere else but here. “All right. Well, the wight held him down while we fed him holy water and I began the chant. It all went ass-up after that.”
Ted hovered nearly a foot from the ground, held by phantom forces, as he thrashed in the air. Flickering candles surrounded him, providing the energy needed to expel the spirit. Ted took in long, desperate breaths before words spilled out of his mouth, all backward and chaotic. Richard tried to chant loud enough to drown him out, loud enough to ignore those ghastly deaths promised to him in reverse through Ted’s mouth.
Did it just promise to eat my spleen?
Ted kicked and whipped his limbs around violently, trying to find something to hold. Richard was thankful to have enough distance to not catch a foot in the mouth. One of Ted’s boots dipped a little too low, though, and kicked a candle into a wall and beneath a curtain; an old, moldy, decrepit thing that burned quickly.
Oh. Yeah, I guess I should have put those candles a little farther out.
Richard did not stop chanting. Beth’s hand pulled tight against his; he spared her only a half-second glance. Clearly, she wanted to get away and put the fire out, but couldn’t without letting go of him. And he couldn’t move closer without breaking the chant.
Richard sat on the ground, the book laid out in front of him and trying hard to focus. “Idcirco præcipio exeatis hinc!”
Ted began to whirl in the air, turning over on himself. His eyes rolled around while he gave a low hiss. His mouth stretched wide enough that Richard thought his jaw might break. Two white, ghastly fingers slowly stretched out of Ted’s mouth and started to pull their way free. Richard spoke louder and faster still, using the ancient words to force the spirit from Ted’s chest.
The ghostly arm stretched farther out from its captive. The head finally emerged, dragged out by the myst
ic strength of the chant. It turned to look at Richard with hollow eyes before shrieking. The wight, hunching down like a panther ready to pounce, watched from a few feet away.
“Richard, hurry! It’s lighting up!” Beth’s screams broke his concentration; he turned to look at the fire. The ghost started to flow back into Ted the moment Richard stopped.
“No, keep going!” Beth screamed again. Richard resumed the chant, and the ghost shifted direction again.
Slowly, inch by painful inch, the creature was ripping free. Ted’s jaw was stretched to the limit; his eyes turned red and looked ready to burst from his skull. With half its body loose, the ghost shrieked from behind the candles and sunk its fingers into the floorboards.
Hmm. I didn’t know it could do that.
When its foot came loose, it jolted up and shot to the edge of the candlelight. Richard cut the chanting, and Ted fell flat to the ground and groaned.
“Now! While it’s weak!”
Beth hurled a cup of holy water at the ghost. It splashed across its face, leaving dark crevices where the water burned. The ghost melted in agony down to a puddle, crying out in tortured moans as it sizzled away, until there was nothing left to scream.
“That won’t stop it.” Richard couldn’t stop the anxiety in his voice. “It’ll be back when it regains itself.”
“Grab Ted,” Beth yelled at the wight. “And don’t eat him!” The creature reluctantly obeyed, grabbing the unconscious man and following them toward the door. The fire crept up the walls and to the ceiling, too far gone for any hope of stopping it. The old, dry house, with its peeling wallpaper and brittle walls, seemed to be too well-suited as tinder for fire to do anything to stop it.
Richard grabbed Ted’s camera from the ground. The weight of it strained his forearms. Groaning, he pulled it up and was led out by Beth.
Richard planted his foot in the mud and turned around to see that the flame had gotten to the second floor in dizzying speed, as if the sins and dread of the house ached to be burned.
Beth pulled at his hand, but he couldn’t help but watch quietly and think of the irony that the rain had stopped now that the fire was catching. He was starting to turn away, to join the others in the van when he heard the sobbing. His gaze was drawn to the second-floor window where he first saw the ghost. She cried out for her home and the harm Richard had done to her. Despite all that had happened, Richard felt a tinge of sadness and sorrow for her. The woman who had lived in this home for countless years, now forced to remain as it burned.
Rest, now…
Whatever the reason for her tortured existence, her cage was alight, and if that would free her or push her into the afterlife, Richard didn’t know. He turned and ran toward the van, without any real desire to find out.
Calmness washed over Richard. How exactly he couldn’t say, but he knew they were going to be all right. “I think you can let go now, Beth. I think it’s done.” She released his grip and rubbed the palm of her own hand for a minute before refocusing.
The wight set Ted’s unconscious body in the back of the van next to his camera. It then crouched over him with a blank look of bewilderment. Beth fished the keys out of his pocket and started the van. Before Richard had quite closed the door, the van was already turning around. Beth slammed the gas, spitting pieces of gravel into the air as they raced down the road.
Those dark trees, the ones that had been so threatening before, now raced by his window and into the rearview mirror. “H-how do you feel?”
“I’m okay.” Beth’s grip tightened on the steering wheel hard enough to turn her knuckles white.
Richard let out a deep breath and looked into the back of the van. The wight was still hunched over Ted, staring, mere inches away from his face.
“Hey,” Richard laughed uncomfortably. “Let me see how he’s doing.” He climbed into the back and sprinkled a little of the water from his flask onto Ted’s face. Ted stirred. “Hey buddy, how you doing?”
Ted blinked several times and was greeted with Richard’s battered, bruised, and bleeding face. He wiped a hand through his red hair and took in a breath as the wight leaned in and showed a monstrous, toothy smile.
Ted screamed. “What the hell is that?”
Richard held his hands up to try and calm Ted. “It’s a wight. Don’t worry, he’s cool. He nipped at you before, but when I told him not to eat you anymore he quit, so nothing to be too concerned about. Everything is under control.” The wight nodded in agreement with Richard.
“He what? He fucking bit me?” Ted crawled back and pressed against the side of the van, his eyes fixed on the wight. He spared only a slight glance down to his still-bleeding arm.
“Yeah.” Richard nodded. “Maybe you should hold something against that? It doesn’t look too deep, though. More like a pretty good scratch, right?”
“Why the hell are we riding with it?” Ted shot back.
“Human! It was I who stopped—”
“Wait, wait, let me take care of this,” interrupted Richard. “We humans are a little sensitive about things trying to eat us and all.” Richard said with sincerity as he turned back to Ted. “In all fairness, you were being kind of a dick when you were possessed. You did shoot him in the head first.”
“Yes! Be glad I took so little of your flesh, male!” the wight piped in again. It pointed a hooked finger at a single leaking black hole where its brain should be, thick tar dribbling down.
Richard motioned for the wight to calm down. “So yeah, you shot him in the head, but apparently that’s not such a big deal for him, I guess?” Richard shrugged and gave a confused smile. “Anyway, yeah, you shot him and were chasing us. Mr. Wight here was pretty instrumental in exorcising that ghost. So you kinda owe him, man.” Richard grimaced. “He’s due a solid.”
“He did kind of save you, Ted,” Beth said from the front seat. The wight looked deeply irritated and started aggressively nodding with everything that was said.
“A solid is due!” the wight spat.
“This is insane!” Ted snatched up an old jacket that was lying in the back of the van and pressed it to his wound.
“Well, you were possessed, man. You were running around shooting people and trying to rip our heads off. We had to exorcise the ghost from you.”
Ted’s eyes faltered. “I can remember pieces of it. God, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry Beth.” He held a hand up to his head and squinted his eyes in pain. “I remember going in… the rest of it I just get in pieces.”
“Yeah, well, the wight helped,” Richard said as he let his head fall flat against the headrest.
Whatever forgiveness Ted had, it dripped away almost as fast as it came. “We got away from the ghost and now we’re riding around with this scaly ugly son of a bitch that crawled out of hell and eats people?”
“Ugly?” The wight shook in frustration. “Such a hideous man would call me ugly? You have the hair of fire! The abyss is rife with the likes of your kind, the red-headed devils! Such soulless men fill the halls of hell!”
“Ted,” Richard cut in again, trying to calm the situation. “I’m just going to put it out there, but you’re being kind of a dick right now. You were trying to kill us, and he helped us. Frankly, I think without his help, you would have killed us and still be stuck in that house for who knows how long.”
“This is insane,” Ted repeated, shaking his head in disbelief.
The wight looked like it might cut in again before Richard waved it off. He whispered to it, “Just give him some space. We really don’t like it when things try to eat us.”
The van went quiet as Ted held his head in his hands, trying to come to grips with what was happening. The wight stared out the window with what looked like a grin, happy to be out of the basement.
Richard crawled back into the front seat. “So now what? You guys heading back into the city?”
“I’m just going to need a minute, Richard.” Beth shook her head and focused on the road.
“O
kay.” Richard glanced around, at a loss for what to do next. He pulled up his bag to check and make sure everything was still there. He pulled out his cell phone; it had eaten up a good chunk of his monthly bill for the last few months. Now it just seemed like a brick.
Man, I’m hungry. Maybe I can talk them into pulling over somewhere?
The thought hadn’t struck him as strange until he looked back at Beth, who stared out the window while Ted quietly rocked himself. He looked to the wight, who returned the glance with a wide grin. Something else crossed his mind then, and not for the first time—why was he so calm? Why was he so able to put this all aside?
Why am I always so damn strange?
Richard stared out the window and considered the night, the knife that pointed him to the house, the name, the ghost, and the wight.
What am I going to do now?
Richard wasn’t sure how long he was lost in his own thoughts, but he was pulled from them when Beth parked on the side of the road.
“Guys.” Beth shifted to look into the back of the van to include everyone. “I’m going to keep going.”
Ted raised his head to look at her. “What do you mean, ‘keep going’? Keep going with what?”
“This, Ted.” She hit the steering wheel. “This story. This is our story. This is what I’m supposed to do! Witches are real and they’re hurting people. I can’t stop. I have to keep going.” She brushed the hair from her eyes and turned to Richard. “But I can’t ask any of you to come with me.”
“Beth…” It was all Richard could murmur before going silent again.
“Richard.” She reached out and grabbed his hands. “I was so scared there. Scared that I got you killed, that I dragged you into something.” She bit her thin lip and pulled her hair back to tie it into a ponytail. “I don’t want you to come or put yourself in danger for me. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”