The Man Who Vanishes_a gripping horror thriller spanning 3 timelines_One Man. Everywhere.

by J M Gonzalez Riley

  Kayn stared at her, feeling his hands and legs warming as the blood circulated and his fear subsided.

  ‘You do not have memories,’ she said.

  He nodded, flexing his hands, disturbed by the strange look on her face.

  ‘And yet you have many secrets,’ she said, her eyes narrowing.

  You are the master of time.

  ‘Do you know me?’ he asked her feebly.

  Serapia shook her head, making her long dreads dance around her head.

  He felt confused.

  ‘You really don't remember who you are?’ she said in wonder.

  He shook his head, relieved to see that she appeared stable, at least for now.

  ‘Can you read my mind?’ he asked her.

  Serapia's unnatural gaze pierced him like a dart, as if she were reading him there and then.

  ‘I am an Incantatrix,’ she said finally, standing up.

  ‘Will you read my mind to me?’ Kayn pleaded, reaching forward with his hands as if to touch her.

  Serapia shrugged and turned, walking away toward the flat stone with the dried vegetables.

  ‘Please,’ Kayn begged. ‘Please read my mind.’

  The witch turned to look at him.

  ‘First you shall fetch fruits from the forest. And then, when the moon is high, I will read your mind to you.’

  Kayn stood up and at once, a rush of adrenalin flowed through his veins, filling him with a mixture of hope and dread at whatever secrets the Incantatrix might unbury from his dormant mind.

  The Incantatrix seemed pensive as he walked carefully around her, sweat dripping off him like skin from a leper. Kayn moved slowly, careful not to touch her. Her presence was electrifying, making his hairs stand on end. When reached the entrance, he looked at her, as if waiting for permission to leave, but she was staring at the floor and he dared not disturb her thoughts. Instead, he ran outside and back into the forest, where he began a frantic search for fruits of any kind.

  By late noon he returned, laden with berries and other fruits. The Incantatrix appeared not to have moved at all from when he last saw her, but now, upon seeing him, she looked up and took the berries.

  His fingers brushed against hers and he felt a shock pass through him, as if he had plunged his hand into an ice-cold river.

  He thought of Dayna, of the cold inside her.

  Serapia set the berries on the floor and began eating. Kayn sat down on the ground, a little distance away, watching her. She ate slowly, paying him no heed.

  He found himself staring at her breast, which now lay bare as her worn rags shifted when she leaned forward. Her breast was heavy, full, the nipple hard and dark.

  When she finished eating, she looked up at him and he looked away quickly, then back at her eyes, as if suddenly summoned by her.

  ‘There are many questions in your mind,’ Serapia said, breaking the silence, standing up. Kayn nodded, watching her robe fall back over her breast, his brow drenched sweat.

  ‘How can you be Serapia when I've heard tales about you stretching back so long?’ he asked.

  She eyed him curiously.

  ‘I am an Incantatrix.’

  ‘You can appear young at will?’ he asked incredulously, instantly regretting it when her eyes flashed dangerously.

  But she let it pass.

  They didn’t speak after that, for a long time. Sitting back down, the witch had closed her eyes and, once again, Kayn dare not disturb her, fearful that he may anger her. He sat still for what seemed an eternity, his sweat drying cold, his limbs aching as he felt his weariness creeping back into his bones. His eyes kept straying toward her breasts, but her robes covered them, hid them from his eyes.

  He shifted, ever so slightly, and her eyes opened, looking straight at him. He held his breath as she watched him for what seemed like an eternity. Outside, the sun was setting, tainting the last of the daylight with strands of darkness. Kayn watched the shadows grow longer, keenly aware of the passing of time, thinking only about her promise to read his mind when the moon was high.

  ‘The gypsies told me a little about you,’ he said, growing bold. ‘I’d like to know more.’

  He shook, cold, uncomfortable and fearful, but determined to press on, her promise reassuring him that he would be spared, at least until night.

  Just for a moment, Serapia looked weary. Then, she shrugged. ‘Very well,’ she conceded. ‘I was found in the hamlet as a babe and taken care of by some of the more sympathetic women in the community. Ah, but their tender hearts soon turned to stone when they recognised the power in me. And I, in all my innocence, why, I would as good as put on a show for them.’

  Kayn thought back to the ornaments on the walls.

  ‘Soon enough, the women were in conflict amongst themselves. Most would have handed me over to the Witchfinder immediately, but for one - possibly the most influential woman in the colony - whose own barrenness made me the only child she might ever have to care for. And her strong will saved me on that occasion, and kept the others at bay, for a little while.’

  The Incantatrix paused for a moment.

  ‘Irma - that was her name - would beg me repeatedly not to test the power in me, but if I must, then do so away from prying eyes. But how to stop a dog from barking? Or a bird from flying?’

  Kayn was silent, transfixed.

  ‘I practised my dark art in the outskirts of the hamlet, up on the hill where they used to burn my kind. But soon enough they were back on to me, those wretched women who would have me drown in the river at the hands of the General. And so finally the bastard himself was alerted and a messenger sent to Irma's home to demand she bring me to trial of her own free will lest she rather suffer the consequences. It was the General's mistake to send a messenger to the poor desperate woman that had saved me. Cursing me for my stupidity and at the same time grieving for her imminent loss, Irma fled into the forest and set me loose, making me promise never to return to that hateful place. She even gave me a silver piece to remember her by, upon which I could feel the heat of her love for me. But not long after we parted, the piece grew cold as winter in my hand and I knew that Irma was dead.’

  Kayn lowered his gaze.

  ‘A small band of gypsies found me and cared for me for some time after that,’ she continued, ‘and I was careful this time not to let them see anything that might upset them, for I had learned a hard lesson. Ah, but they have talented folk amongst them, the gypsies, and one or two of the elders could smell my taint and were weary of me at once. They begged constantly of their leader to send me on my way and leave me be, for they are the most superstitious of people and would never dare kill a witch. But the gypsy king would have none of it.’

  The Incantatrix’s eyes darkened.

  ‘When the General and his army realised I wasn't coming back, he and his men came after me. They eventually found the gypsy camp and questioned the leader. But I had sensed them coming, felt their loathing minds approach, and so made provisions of my own: rather than run away and be caught, I revealed myself to the gypsies. I made all manner of things fly and crash into one another, such was my anger. Pots and pans flew and spilled their stews upon the fires that steamed them, animals were scared senseless and the folk who had taken me under their wing without so much as a question feared me greatly. I then demanded that they hide me, telling them of the General's coming. I swore to them great harm and misery if they betrayed me. My part of the deal, they begged, was that I must leave them as soon as the witch army was gone, which I had intended on doing anyway.’

  ‘What happened then?’ Kayn pressed her.

  ‘They kept their part of the bargain and sent the General and his men on a false trail. Thankful, I left their camp, promising them and their kind no harm should our paths ever cross again.’

  ‘And this place?’ Kayn motioned around him.

  ‘I picked my way alongside the river and chose the thickest part of the forest - all the better for hiding in - to build my home in.
Since when many a brave fool has come to fetch me back... and paid dearly.’

  Kayn watched her, entranced by both her beauty and her tale. When she finished her tale, he said: ‘They found the General dead in the river.’

  She shrugged.

  ‘If not, he would be dead now anyhow,’ she told him flatly.

  ‘You mean you didn't know?’

  ‘Why should I? I haven't set foot in the hamlet since, and the few gypsies who have stumbled upon my domain I have let go unharmed, and unquestioned, for they did me right, upon a time.’

  ‘But I was told you put a death curse on the General,’ said Kayn.

  The witch laughed a dry laugh.

  ‘More fools them, then. I cannot will death unto people.’

  Kayn felt relieved to hear that.

  Serapia eyed him curiously, then snorted. ‘If a babe or a chicken or a hundred of each had died upon my leaving, why, if it further blackened my name then they would have soon convinced themselves that such was my doing.’

  Kayn nodded, understanding.

  ‘More fools them,’ he smiled.

  Once again, Serapia eyed him curiously.

  Kayn lost track of time. The night seemed to have descended as fast as it could whilst he had been distracted, listening to the Incantatrix. With the half moon up high and bright, Serapia lit candles made of bark and turned to face him. In the gloom, her yellow dreads cast shadows all around them that appeared to move along the walls even when her hair was still. Her stone-grey eyes glinted unnaturally in the dark.

  ‘Come,’ she said, ‘and I will read your mind.’

  The words chilled him and he wondered fleetingly whether, in the moment of truth, he would not dare to open up his mind, despite all his longing. He moved slowly, almost sullenly, and sat down upon the flat stone before her.

  From his seat, he could see the sky beyond the open entrance and he saw that the night was tinged red, as if a strange gathering of forces was taking place high above. Then the clouds swallowed up the moon and all about him was plunged into a deep darkness, offset only by the flickering flames of the candles.

  Standing behind him, Serapia placed her hands on the back of Kayn's head and immediately the skin around the back of his neck tightened painfully, making every hair on his body stand erect, as if electrified.

  She began humming a strange verse, just out of earshot. Her humming was musical, hauntingly beautiful, and he strained his hearing in the hope of catching words and meaning. He focused on the musical tones, felt as if he was weightless, travelling within the notes, almost but not quite able to touch them with his hands. He stopped straining, relaxing instead and letting himself flow with the music, rising and twisting gently like the smoke from the candles, wondering if the candles were the instruments, and the smoke was the sound.

  Serapia gasped, her hands pulling away suddenly, and he came crashing down, his eyes wide open as he fell forward.

  He turned, slowly, on his knees, fearful, and was surprised to find Serapia by the entrance, looking up at the night sky and the half moon.

  He sat up, his arms shaking tiredly, and watched her, unsure of what to do next. After a while, he decided to break the silence.

  ‘What – what did you see?’

  Serapia said nothing. She just stared at the night. When she finally turned to face him, she looked demented and dangerous.

  ‘I was right!’ she gasped, as though she had doubted her instincts.

  ‘What?’ Kayn croaked, leaning back, away from her, his arms aching under his weight.

  ‘You don't belong.’

  Kayn felt nauseous. Those simple words seemed like sharp knives when spoken, seeking to cut him off from the rest of the world.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asked, anxiously.

  ‘You don't belong here,’ she repeated.

  ‘Where then?’ he mumbled, desperate for an answer.

  The Incantatrix watched him from the entrance, bathed in the dim light of the half moon.

  Was that pity he saw in her expression?

  ‘Nowhere,’ she answered. ‘You just don't belong.’

  Kayn’s arms gave, folding beneath him. He lay on the cold floor, feeling nauseous, freezing and lost.

  ‘But… my past,’ he whined. ‘Where is my past?’

  Serapia stepped across the room toward him, then squatted in front of him, her eyes fixed on him.

  Kayn was shaking, hugging himself, trying to warm up.

  ‘Your past hasn’t happened yet,’ she told him. ‘It lies ahead of you, in the future.’

  He could not comprehend what she was telling him. His mind felt numb with cold.

  ‘Somebody awaits your return. There is fear in them. Fear of failure. Fear of death.’

  ‘Dayna!’ he gasped. ‘Dayna sent me and is waiting for me!’

  Serapia cast her eyes back toward the entrance, at the night sky beyond.

  ‘Your time is nearly over, Kayn,’ she said, her gaze still fixed on the night sky.

  Kayn toppled over, slowly, pressing his face against the cold stone floor. He made fists, trying to feel his hands, trying to drown the fear in him.

  ‘There will be a great storm,’ he heard her voice, dancing above him, ‘with lightning such as has never been seen before. And the lightning will claim you.’

  Kayn shut his eyes tightly. The words of the brute Fürgos came back to him, like an echo from that first night. He came from thunder! he had screamed, but nobody had believed him.

  Sudden thoughts of Tiffany and Titch made his heart ache with longing and loneliness. His memory of them seemed somewhat hazy, but he missed them dearly right now. When he opened his eyes again, he found Serapia pacing the room silently. Kayn watched her bare feet, the left side of his face numbed by the cold stone, his breathing slowing down. The cold soothed him, made him think of the musical hum, of him turning to smoke, drifting peacefully between the notes. He welcomed the cold, and the darkness that came with the cold.

  Kayn awoke and found himself in a heap in the far corner. He had no idea how long had passed. He sat up, confused and disoriented, and found Serapia entering the room. She was drenched, her hair matted, plastered to her hair. Her garments pressed hard against her, revealing her full breasts, her nipples piercing through the material, long and hard. He grew hard immediately, his eyes transfixed by her breasts, lusting after them.

  Serapia caught the fire in his eyes. She turned her back on him, started shivering, convulsing as if about to vomit.

  Kayn rose on unsteady feet, confused, wondering if he should go to her aid, when suddenly she struck her arms out, her garments pulling back across her forearms… which were thin and withered like the wasted branches of an old willow tree. And her hands too: old skin stretched across wasted, cadaverous bones.

  The transformation was sickening.

  Kayn fell back, aghast, lost his balance and hit the stone floor wit a thud. He watched as Serapia's hair turned the colour of ash, her shoulders rounding as if worn away by a strong current, eroding with time and age, her voice an old whisper, dry with the dust of a lifetime, weak, hardly threatening, when she said:

  ‘You must never think of me in that way. I belong to no man. Don't you forget that, Kayn.’

  Kayn reeled back, gulping. He felt sick and dizzy. Whatever lustful thoughts he might have entertained mere moments ago were driven out like demons from his mind. And then, he felt a rush of hot bile erupt into his mouth, burning as he turned on his side, vomiting violently as if his own thoughts had poisoned him, finally passing out.

  Serapia watched him intently as he lay crumpled in a heap, her strange mind filled with questions. The man before her had never existed. He simply could not be.

  And yet, he was.

  24

  Middle Ages

  The next morning, Kayn awoke to the foul stench of dry vomit. He sat up, tentatively. His face ached, from jaw to temple, where he had slept against the hard floor. His whole body ached, tired and
worn. He stood wearily, his hair matted and plastered to his head.

  Serapia sat on the flat stone, watching him. She looked every bit as striking as when he had first met her, but he remembered her transformation all too well, and he was loath to fall under her spell again.

  Beyond her lay the entrance. The day outside was bleak and overcast.

  ‘I must return to the hamlet,’ he said, finally.

  The Incantatrix nodded gravely.

  ‘The great storm gathers outside,’ she said.

  Kayn watched her a moment, and then remembered her prediction.

  He gasped.

  ‘When? Now?’

  Serapia nodded.

  ‘The storm will come in the eve,’ she told him.

  ‘No,’ said Kayn, shaking his head. ‘It can’t be. Not just yet.’ He needed time to think. He needed to see Tiffany, to love her one last time, to say goodbye.

  ‘Take me with you,’ said the Incantatrix suddenly.

  Kayn was stunned.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I want to go with you,’ Serapia said.

  Kayn’s mouth fell open.

  ‘But I don’t – I don’t understand…’

  ‘You will return to your own time,’ the witch said. ‘The storm will take you.’

  Kayn reeled, gasping. This changed everything. His mind raced. This meant he could take Tiffany with him.

  ‘You may need me when you get there,’ Serapia told him, breaking into his thoughts.

  ‘I - I don’t know,’ he began to say.

  A clay ornament flew off the wall and smashed itself just over Kayn's head. Serapia eyed him coldly, a dangerous fire behind her eyes.

  ‘Will you take me with you?’ this time she asked him, and Kayn found it harder to deny her. At once, he wondered if she might be influencing him.

  ‘Serapia,’ he began, bracing himself. ‘There is another woman who I must take back with me first.’

  Serapia watched him, said nothing. Kayn shifted uncomfortably.

  ‘If I can return, then I will take you also,’ he hastened.There followed a long pause. Kayn clenched his fists, trying to stop his hands from shaking, from giving away his lie. He looked beyond the Incantatrix, at the forest beyond the entrance, longing to see Tiffany again, wondering if he would be allowed to leave, or even to live beyond today.