by Jack Wallen
Dizzy pointed. “G-g-grog, what was that?”
I grabbed Dizz’ arm and pulled him to me, “Our cue to run.”
Together, Dizzy and I sped off, in the opposite direction of the demonic mob.
“Where are we going?” Dizzy shouted over another chorus of “Boom!”
A menacing flash of purple rained down from above, this time illuminating the house that hate built. I pointed. “That way!”
Together, Dizzy and I raced toward our new target, not bothering to glance back, in fear the death mob would be breathing down our necks. Within a block of the house, the bleat of a goat echoed from every direction, just before the screeching of tires warned us of oncoming pain.
The car slammed into Dizzy and me, sending us flying—asses over elbows—some twenty yards. Our bodies hung in the air, as if caught in some unseen net; my eyes locked on the old, rusting Honda that mowed us down—or up, as it were. The driver’s side door creaked open. A towering image emerged, haloed by the flickering purple lightning.
Dizzy held tight to the camera, pointing it out into the darkness. “Oh my God,” Dizzy cried out, upon spying the goat man I once knew as Jonah.
The malformed beast stood on its hind legs, looking as human as possible, while still retaining some of the goat-like qualities—fur, hooves, horns, snout, tail. The hoof at the end of its right arm had grown into a club, which it swung before itself in wide arcs. With each dangerous swing, the goat-man cried out, it’s tongue lolling out of its mouth every time.
I tugged at my hands, doing my best to get into a position so that I might perform an offensive mudra; to no avail. No matter how hard I tugged and strained, my arms were held fast in the air.
A purple flash lit up the beast as it raised the hooven club above its head and cried out a baleful song.
And the chorus sang, “Boom!”
“Jonah,” I cried out. “It’s me, Grog. Remember?”
The goat-man continued drawing near.
I could only think of one way out of this existential nightmare. I sang.
“I can’t stand the question written on your face; I don’t have the answer but I feel your pain. You could have everything, have it all your way. How much loss does it take to make you pray?”
The serenade had the effect of loosening my bonds. As I continued singing, I brought my arms before me and let instinct take over—by way of forming a Prana mudra with both hands. The second my thumbs connected with pinkies and fingers, a bolt of white energy shot from my hands and connected with Jonah, knocking him to the ground as the lightning soundtrack rang out with a mighty, vocalized “Boom!”.
The kick of the mudra sent me tumbling to the ground. I rolled to a stop and hopped to my feet.
“Get me down,” Dizzy cried out.
After a quick tug at his pants leg, Dizzy dropped, landing on his feet, Spectral in hand. We sprinted off, toward the house.
“Are you sure this is safe?” Dizzy asked, winded.
I picked up the pace, feeling as though I could run a marathon. “Not even remotely.”
Dizzy caught up, his twenty-something legs pumping furiously to pass me by. I let him go ahead, knowing I would be his best line of defense, should goat-man attack a second time.
The house of Jonah drew near; from behind the bleating cries of the disfigured man begged me stop and play. Just before launching myself over the threshold of the dilapidated house, I spun on my heels, formed the Prana once more, and sent a bolt of energy into the chest of our furry foe.
Goat-man stumbled to his knees, faceplant averted with the help of his hoof bat. As the creature stood, I formed the Ganesha mudra and focused all of my mental energy on the bastard. A faint halo of white energy formed around the goat-man, until it was completely encased. The glowing ball shrunk until, with an audible pop, it vanished, taking Jonah with it.
I dropped to my knees, exhausted.
“You okay?” Dizzy’s soft and smooth voice rose from behind; his hand gently patting my shoulder.
I nodded. “Barely, but yeah.”
On shaking legs, I stood, turned to Dizzy, and gestured for him to enter the house.
Dizzy’s face twisted. “Seriously? You want me to…”
My expression changed not one whit.
“Fine.” After his monosyllabic complaint, Dizzy turned and re-entered the house. I followed suit and inhaled the musty, familiar stink.
Dizzy took in the room, his body following his head following his eyes, following the Spectral … until the lens landed in my direction. “Is this finally the moment when you explain to me what we’re doing here?”
“Looking for me.”
From the other side of the room, Thessia hovered, cross legged, her face serene. One by one she uncrossed her legs and touched down onto the floor. With a confident stride, Thessia made her way to me and engulfed me in a tight embrace.
“I knew you’d come, Grog.”
Reunion complete, I pulled from the hug and addressed Thessia with a measure of concern. “We need your help.”
Thessia nodded. “I have helped you escape The Seduction—”
I cut my mentor short. “No. We need you back in The Planar Mortalis. Something has attached itself to me.”
“I was afraid of this.” Thessia’s tone was grave. “When you exited The Seduction, the smallest fragment of your energy was left behind. I did my best to claim the force but failed. It was rumored that Vau-eal captured the energy and used it to create a doppelgänger.” Thessia fell silent.
“I call her my dead twin sister. That is why we are here.”
Thessia wrapped her hand in mine and stared deep into the pit of my existence.
“What is it, Thess?”
“You’ve seen the doppelgänger?”
“Not so much me as everyone else. She managed to pierce the veil between The Shallow and The Mortalis to trade places with me.”
Upon mention of The Shallow, Thessia’s face paled. “She cannot have been inside that realm.”
“According to her, she was. Why? What is that place?”
Thessia’s eyes darkened and her lips drew tight.
“Thess, what is it?”
“The Shallow is a shadow realm, something tucked away between realities. Only those on the darker side of the veil call it The Shallow. To those that normally have access, it is known as the Splinter. Reapers use it to travel through time and space.”
This was one of those moments where my suspension of disbelief donned a leather jacket and jumped the shark. “That’s not possible, Thess, that’s where I was banished when she took my place.”
Thessia glanced between me and Dizzy. The Spectral’s lens irised wide to draw in close. I spotted an arc of concern race across Dizzy’s face. “What is it?”
Dizzy glanced my way and handed me the Spectral. “See for yourself.”
I focused my vision into the camera’s display to see Thessia fading in and out—her entire body shifting between corporeal and incorporeal.
“Thess, what’s going on?” I offered the camera back to Dizzy. “And don’t hand me some bullshit story; you know we’re above lies.”
“I’m dead, Grog. You know that. You simply don’t want to accept it. I cannot make the journey from The Seduction.”
A wall of defeat crashed down upon me. Thessia was my last, best hope at defeating the doppelgänger. Without her, I had no chance of surviving. That, of course, took a backseat to the friendship we shared. I’d lost enough; watching another beloved friend fade into the bleak midwinter of death was too much for me to handle at the moment.
“What if you tricked the lich—or whatever she is—into this place?” Dizzy suggested with enough confidence to snag both Thessia’s and my attention. “If she can’t make the journey to the other side of life—and you need her to defeat the bitch—why not change the narrative up a bit. Instead of fighting on your own territory, have the battle wherever fate will allow. Seems like the two of you had something go
od going at one time. Why not make the most of it and use that power to take down the doppelgänger?”
Dizzy’s grandstanding had the much-needed effect of making precisely the right sense at exactly the right time. I looked to Thessia—who had, upon being outed as dead—took on her less-than corporeal self. We shared a knowing glance and drew a much-needed collective conclusion.
“Right,” I interjected. “How do you suppose we go about luring my dead twin sister into The Dark Seduction? The bitch always seems to be a step ahead of me.”
“With that, I cannot help,” Thessia bemoaned. “I can say, however, once you have trapped the doppelgänger here, I can take care of her in such a way that she’ll never return to endanger you or anyone you care about again.”
“What do you mean by that, Thess?”
Thessia tossed a bit of side-eye my way. “What I mean is destroying the beast for good. You bring her to me, by whatever means possible, and I will rip the bitch to shreds.”
“How do you plan on tricking the lich here?”
I gave Dizzy a pat on the back. “By any means possible, my dear.”
“Grog,” Thessia’s hollow voice grabbed my attention. The second I looked her way, she formed a mudra I had never before seen—one that punched a bolt of energy directly into my chest to send me hurtling backward. I bounced and rolled to a stop. On trembling, unsteady legs, I carefully made my way to standing.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, woman?” Dizzy shouted. “You trying to kill her, when she’s the only one on the damn planet that can save it from an undead disaster?”
On shaky legs, I remained standing, hardly capable of holding myself upright for any number of seconds. Before Dizzy could attack a second time, I collected as much power as I could muster and addressed the man with the camera by forming the one mudra I could never fully attain; until now. With the added power gifted to me by my mentor, there seemed to be nothing I couldn’t do. A glowing ball of brilliant blue energy opened up before my hands.
Thessia drew near to me, leaned in, and whispered, “This may sound cliché, but I have named this after you—the Grog mudra. It has taken me over a year to ritualize it, but the power it offers will give you everything you need to fend off the doppelgänger’s onslaught. Whatever you have to do, bring that thing to me.”
How could I question or argue with the woman who blessed me with my mantra and now my mudra?
“Go. Find the doppelgänger and return here.” Thessia pulled me into a tight embrace and whispered, “Draw a line and cross it.”
I pulled away from Thess and sang softly, “Demons in your closet, find the key that locked it. You must pay a forfeit. Draw a line and cross it. Once you could be trusted; influenced, corrupted. What began in vain must now be interrupted.”
Thessia nodded once. “That’s my girl.”
I grabbed Dizzy’s hand and held tight. “It’s time to kick some doppelgänger ass.”
TWELVE
Give me a gun
I wanna test Darwin’s theory
The kitchen smelled of pizza and beer. After shaking off the trans-dimensional jet lag, I saw Drew seated nearby, going to town on a sizable slice of ‘za. “While I’m out slaying dragons, you’re dining as if nothing’s going down?”
Drew dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, as though our flat rated three Michelin stars. “Quite the opposite, luv. I’ve been standing sentinel, ensuring nothing untoward happens to your vulnerable selves. I can’t exactly help it that hunger got the best of me.”
Without warning, I snatched a slice from the box and devoured it as if it were my last meal on Earth. Dizzy followed suit.
“Hey, now,” Drew exclaimed, “that’s my pie!”
“And it’s fucking delicious,” Dizzy responded with a wink my way. “You better order a second, dahling. Traveling back and forth to The Seduction kicks my appetite into a previously unknown gear.”
Dizzy took a break from wolfing down crust. “Where’s Bella?”
Drew nodded toward the kitchen door. “Fast asleep; probably dreaming of your scrawny arse. Speaking of which, where’s Thessia?”
“Dead.”
“Fuck,” Drew slammed his hand onto the table. “Now what?”
“We—I—drag the lich into The Seduction and Thess takes it down.”
Drew nodded slowly. “I like what I’m hearing. However, there’s a slight hitch or two in that plan’s get-along.”
“And what would that be, dear?”
“First off, how do you reach the doppelgänger. Second … how to transport it to The Seduction.”
I grabbed one of Drew’s brews, popped it open and guzzled to slake my thirst. “I don’t know and I don’t know.”
What I did know, however, was the sister was trapped in The Shallow, waiting for another shot at being me. The very idea that I was the bitch’s target brought my ire to a boil. I’d been warned, by so many that came before, there’d be those fans who took things a bit too far. I met that fan in Jonah—the raving psychopath who wanted to claim me as his inter-dimensional property. As the memories of The Dark Seduction threatened to worm their way back to the surface, my mind re-centered itself on the here and the very much now. I couldn’t allow the past to shock-block me from the only thing that mattered in the moment—ending my doppelgänger.
Therein lay the rub. She knew I could break free of her prison, so a simple switching of places with me wouldn’t serve her purpose. Either that, or the doppelgänger wasn’t nearly as clever as the real deal. No matter; my wits would beget a scheme.
“You have an idea,” Drew’s lips cocked a knowing smile. “It’s written all over that gorgeous face. I like it when you have ideas. Grog ideas are the most wicked.”
“I’m going to let the bitch trade places with me. When she does, I’ll escape The Shallow—only this time it won’t be to drag her back into prison. Our next dance will be in the dark and deadly recesses of The Seduction.”
Drew held his hand aloft. “I like how you think, mate.”
I slapped the palm of the proffered hand hard enough to send a cracking sound echoing through the kitchen. Drew whinged. “That’s my playing hand, girlfriend.”
“Your money maker is fine, nancy boy.” I teased. “Go watch an episode or two of Buffy and you’ll get plenty of exercise in those fingers and wrist.”
Drew pointed my way. “That was … a good one. You got me there.”
I spun on my bare feet to take my leave of the kitchen before Drew stopped me in my tracks.
“Not so fast, luv. I can’t say I’m a big fan of you embarking on yet another trip to The Seduction—especially one that involves a battle royale between you and your evil twin.”
“I’ve learned a trick or two since last I went to war.” I stood from the table and called out to everyone. “Time for beddy bye, kiddies. Tomorrow is business as usual—until all hell breaks loose.”
With a quick kiss to Drew’s forehead, I exited the kitchen and made my way to the bed. I didn’t even bother to strip the clothes from my body; instead, I dropped, face first, onto the mattress and let that glorious host of angels, fly me to sleep.
***
I stood on a stage, lights speckling my vision with sunspots until I couldn’t see the crowd spread out before me. The bass hung heavy on my shoulder, its strings vibrating enough to send tremors of anticipation up my arms and through my barely beating heart. To my right, I could hear Drew ripping through a song I didn’t know. From behind, the sound of drums beat at my backside—only in reverse. Each strike of stick and pedal carried with it a disturbing, yet effective tonality. My world, in backward masking, a chiasma of my own making.
My concentration drifted back to center—ignoring the unknown drummer. I stepped up to the mic and realized the song was unfamiliar; there were no words, no melody I could pull from my ass that might gel with the music.
The musician’s nightmare.
The crowd grew restless and shot beams of punishing
light at us. The first wave of energy took out the faceless, nameless drummer. With the beat gone, Drew’s guitar work continued, unfettered from any given time signature. Notes rang out with a level of severity I’d never heard the man play. The light show thrashed at the stage with a relentless insistence, until Drew’s notes took form; two-dimensional letters floated from the fretboard of his guitar. B-flat. C-sharp. D. G-sharp. F. Random notes, unhinged from any certain key, drifted over the audience and exploded, one by one, in a wash of brilliant white light.
A rave gone horribly awry. Writhing bodies, sweat slick and undulating like a seductive sea of snakes and worms. Or so the shadows would make me believe. As the waterfall of light illuminated the audience, I could finally make them out; they were me—or rather, thousands of me, hands shaping an unfamiliar mudra, ready to attack.
Before I could warn Drew, a wave of dark energy blasted from the crowd, every beam focused on the guitarist. Within seconds, he and his music were gone.
I stood, alone on the stage, silent and frightened. I could think of only one thing to do; I spun my bass behind me and formed the Grog mudra. A glowing blue ball of mist formed at my hands, thrumming and humming a perfect A-sharp. When the ball reached a fever pitch, I thrust my hands forward to send it out over the crowd of clones. The energy slowly hovered, making its way to the epicenter of the audience. Once over the heart of the gathering, it released a delicate—if not anticlimactic—pop.
In the butterfly blink of an eyelash, the gathering of Grogs vanished, leaving me alone in the unknown venue.
“Grog,” an all-too-familiar voice tore at my heart, threatened to undermine what little sanity remained within my mind. I knew if I turned around, I’d see him and lose control. “Come on, luv.”
From behind me, a kick drum heartbeat sounded. That steady rhythm was soon followed by a snare on the off beat.
“It’s you and me, remember?” The voice teased.
I nodded. “I miss you … Al.”
A soft kiss of high hat joined the beat. “Been here all along, doll.”