by Dorian Dawes
* * *
Helena pulled in front of the old Blackerly house about twenty minutes after getting off the phone with Kara. Dayabir had been leaning against the porch with his arms folded over his chest. He waved as she pulled into view.
As soon as Helena stepped out of the car she felt it, a swirling miasma of evil that radiated from the house. It was not an alien sensation to her, but it made her reflexively summon her familiars.
Gloria nodded in her direction, taking notice of the scarlet butterflies darting about her head. "Good evening, witch. I take it you know a bit about what we're getting into then."
Helena scanned the house quickly, fingers outstretched as if feeling the air while she mumbled a cantrip under her breath. It allowed her to peel back the layer of the natural realm to see beyond. The auras of those around her became faintly visible. Gloria's was faded and small, clinging to her frame, and had something foul leeching from it. The thing had a hard time piercing the protective shell she'd formed around herself. Dayabir's aura provided a protective sphere around him, radiant and pure and beautiful.
The aura of the house was shielded from her at first. With a bit more effort, she was able to pierce further to see the sticky, grotesque evil clinging to every floorboard, every nook, every cranny. There was a brief, terrifying moment when the house almost pulsed with its own evil, rapaciously reaching from the walls in a sudden lunge. She gasped, stumbling backwards. The spell faded as her concentration broke. She was somewhat grateful for that.
"I've got a vague idea," Helena said, voice shaking. She had her hand clutched around her throat. "Any reason we're not torching the place and moving on?"
"Besides the possible brush fire that'd start?" Dayabir asked, raising an eyebrow. "There's definitely one other person still inside, maybe two."
"Maybe?"
"We're not sure what happened to them yet." Gloria's eyes never left the house, her gnarled hands clutched tightly around her cane. "If they're still alive, we need to save them."
"What happened here? Kara seemed freaked out."
Dayabir explained what he'd told Kara and Veronika in as few words as possible. When he finished stammering over the story, Helena closed her eyes and groaned in frustration. It was like turning on the news only to see yet another story about some innocent black man gunned down by the cops; the barrage of brutality with no end in sight was exhausting but it felt wrong to ignore, like she had a responsibility to keep looking at the horror until she could do something to fix it. She didn't know how to fix it, and so she swore and groaned and felt like curling up into a ball to cry.
"I'm done …" she whispered after a moment's silence. "Just … fucking done."
Gloria slammed her cane against the porch. "We have waited long enough. My ritual's complete. It'll keep anything nasty from clinging to us, but it's little protection from anything that might manifest physically. I'm assuming that's why you're here, kiddo?"
Helena stared back up at the house, eyes bulging with fear. "Maybe? Fuck."
Dayabir helped Gloria shuffle her way inside the house. Helena clenched her fist and marched slowly up the stairs after them. The screen door slammed sharply behind her, causing her to let out a startled shriek.
She clamped a hand over her mouth as Dayabir and Gloria turned to look at her. "Sorry. Sorry."
Gloria's eyes moved slowly about the room, her upper lip curling into a snarl. She left the front room and stared down the darkened hall. It seemed to stretch on infinitely while she, and only she, heard the malevolent whispers, like a constant hum of white noise. She'd been hearing those whispers for so long it'd become almost second-nature to be able to pick out the other malevolent voices in the dark. Without waiting on either of the students behind her, Gloria hobbled forwards, clutching her shawl tighter about herself.
Without thinking, Helena grabbed Dayabir's hand. He gave her a surprised look and clasped it firmly. They walked like that a few paces behind Gloria, their path barely illuminated by the crimson glow of Helena's familiars.
Dayabir caught a glance through the open bathroom door as they passed by. He turned his head from it quickly, squeezing his eyes closed. He pulled Helena along with him, trying to keep her pace in line with his own.
"What is it?" Helena asked.
"Don't look," he insisted. "Just keep walking."
The easiest way to bury something is to pretend it doesn't exist. Tell someone to look away, and you'll have their rapt attention. Helena looked anyway. She almost screamed.
The door opened into a grimy green bathroom. Blood splattered against the gunk-covered tiles and the mildew-encrusted shower curtain. Barbed wire spilled out over the bathtub like grasping tentacles. Suspended over the tub by more wire pierced through his shoulders was a small boy with that same wire jutting through his ears and forced out his empty eye sockets.
The boy's head jerked upwards, suddenly animated. He grinned, revealing a mouth full of bloody, rotten teeth. Arms outstretched, the barbed wire carried him rushing through the air towards her. Helena raised her hands and shrieked out a defensive spell. The corpse-child was sent flying back against the grungy bathroom wall and the door slammed shut by the force of her power.
She panted heavily, shoulders heaving up and down while her hands stayed frozen in her casting stance. Tears formed in her wide, fearful eyes. She turned towards Gloria and Dayabir, hands closing into fists.
"You didn't tell me a kid died here," she said.
Gloria said nothing. She continued moving forwards, eyes fixed on the darkened hallway beyond. Dayabir took Helena's hand in his own and give it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," he whispered quietly and quickly.
Her voice shook. "Me too."
At the end of the hall was a ladder leading up to the attic. Gloria stopped about three feet away from it, her eyes widening and then narrowing with disgust. She swore loudly before smacking the ladder with her cane. The next minute and a half was a rant delivered entirely in Spanish while she glared at the impassible obstacle before her.
Helena leaned next to Dayabir and whispered, "Any idea what she's saying?"
"Some profanity," he said. "But mostly stuff about being old, and ladders. Mostly ladders. Ladders and profanity."
Gloria clasped both hands on the knob of her cane and turned around to face the two youngsters. "Find whatever's up there, and then bring it down here so I can smite it. Got it?"
"Are you gonna be all right?" Helena asked.
Gloria glowered at her. "I have nothing to fear from evil. It has everything to fear from me." She pointed sharply at her chest for emphasis.
Dayabir and Helena exchanged nervous looks before ascending the ladder. Gloria watched. It almost looked as if they were being swallowed by the dark. The attic door slammed shut behind them.
Behind her, each door in the hallway was thrown open, one by one, by a mighty invisible force. Gloria clutched her shawl about her with one hand and turned around quickly. It was difficult to see in the dark, but it almost looked like barbed wire slithering out of each door on the ground. The pieces of rusted wire coiled as they met, forming together to make a great eel-shaped thing swirling in front of her. The air about the house grew cold.
"Old woman," the Voice whispered to her, in all its sickening familiarity. "A wonderful opportunity presents itself; all your pain and suffering can end here."
Gloria laughed hoarsely, brandishing her cane like a weapon. "You must be desperate, thinking I'd go in a dump like this. When I die, there will be flowers and songs, not this horrible filth."
The barbed-wire creature lunged at her. She roared out the words to a spell and held her cane out before her. Red lights emerged to wrap around the tentacles and grapple with them. She held fiercely. She would not be prey.
* * *
Dayabir pulled at the latch of the door with all his strength. Try as he might, it wouldn't budge. The sounds of combat downstairs caused his heartbeat to
race and his breathing to accelerate. His tugging on the door became more fervent and frantic.
Helena noticed the beads of sweat appearing along his temples. "Dayabir, back away."
He ignored her. "We have to get to her! We have to get out of here!"
She grabbed him by both shoulders and pressed his forehead to hers.
"Breathe, Dayabir," she instructed. "You need to breathe."
His face looked panicked and pleading. He closed his eyes and followed her instructions. He counted to ten each time before inhaling and exhaling. It always worked for at least a little bit, even if all it did was normalize his heart rate for a brief second.
"You all right?" Helena asked, placing a worried hand on his cheek.
He nodded tearfully and pulled away. "Yeah. Kind of embarrassed, but I'll get over it. Anxiety sucks."
Mean-spirited laughter could be heard from the corner of the attic. Helena and Dayabir slowly turned to see a tawny-haired, shirtless young man sitting with bloodied hands over his knees. Helena recognized him immediately.
"Rick …" she said in a soft voice.
"Helena." He rose to his feet. "Glad you could join the party."
Dayabir glared at him, taking two steps forwards, then stopping abruptly. "You did this. You brought everyone here and woke this house up. You used their torment. That was unkind."
Rick doubled over laughing, his hands on his knees. "Unkind? Who talks like that? Where'd you dig up this goofball? He's fantastic."
Helena folded her arms over her chest. "Where's Jeffrey? What did you do with him?"
Rick laughed, circling them in Helena found herself inching protectively between him and Dayabir.
"All the other kids forgot," Rick said. "I didn't. Mom wouldn't let me. Every day it was always something about the 'great work' our mothers were part of. They really wanted to make something out of us. If this party was anything to go by, they fuckin' failed, wouldn't you say?"
"Your mothers …" Dayabir whispered. "Your mothers - your mothers did these horrible things to you?!" His voice rose into a pained shout, startling Helena.
"Some of them were overzealous, I admit," Rick said as he nodded; he was still grinning from ear to ear. "That's what happened to little Freddy down there in the bathroom. His mommy wasn't pleased with his progress and went overboard one day, but her heart was in the right place.
"They quit when he died, you know. So weak, all of them. Kara's mom was one of the few who tried to keep the project going, but they turned on her while my mommy was out. By that time, it was too late for her to set the wheels in motion and get the flock back under control.
"I found out all the dark energy they poured into this house was nearly enough. They'd miscalculated, didn't realize that this place already had a history of violence and murder. All the boiling hate just necessary to fuel our Ein Sof into something kickass."
"Jeffrey …" Helena repeated. "What did you do with Jeffrey?"
"Shhh!" Rick raised a palm to silence her. "It's rude to interrupt. Don't fuck up my big moment, all right. A lot of work went into this, and the least you can do is fucking shut up."
Coils of barbed wire slithered from the darkness. They crawled up his pant-legs and dug into his skin. Wire forced its way into his ears and out of his mouth and eye sockets. More barbed wire appeared, this time bringing with it a mess of severed appendages, arms and legs and hands, to wrap around Rick's body and lift him off the ground. Helena stared in open-mouthed horror at the twitching and torn limbs, all held together by a confusing ball of rust, gradually forming into a giant face that stared down at her with a burning malice.
She opened her palm, producing a small sphere of flame that floated at the edge of her fingertips. With the other hand positioned over the flames, she hastily whispered an incantation; the fire grew, and took on a lurid violent color.
Coils of barbed wire reached across the attic to grab at her ankles. She turned just in time to see it inches in front of her. A shimmering wall of light appeared in front her face, blocking the coils from reaching her.
Dayabir stood beside her, his hands open out before him, eyes wide in shock, sweating profusely. It'd been his spell. It'd been his fucking spell. He'd cast that shit.
"I can do magic …?" he said, voice cracking in disbelief.
Helena nodded at him, her eyes just as wide. "Yup."
The barbed wire curved upwards, then rapidly darted around the wall to strike from the side. Helena and Dayabir dove out the way, narrowly dodging it. Helena called out the final words to her incantation, sending the purple flames directly to Rick's giant face. Wires flew in front of his face creating a makeshift shield to deflect the blow. Some of the flames managed to still get through, scorching the writhing body parts.
"You. Bitch." Rick's voice had changed, becoming hollowed and layered with a multitude of other voices, a chorus of evil to taunt them. "Can't you see that you're hurting me?"
Helena back-flipped out of the way of another mass of wires. "A kid died here. You all got abused, and now you're lashing out and hurting more people."
"We weren't abused!" Rick's voice grew louder. His barrage of attacks grew as more wires shot around the walls, climbing up and down them until nearly the entire attic was covered. "We were loved! It was only to make us stronger!"
It was all Dayabir could do to keep throwing up barrier after barrier. They were holding, but he felt weaker with each blow pushing him further and further into the wall. He managed to enclose himself into a shimmering sphere of light, but huge chunks of wire pounded away at the barrier, causing it to vanish almost instantly.
Helena conjured a second fiery orb and combined the flames to shoot a beam in front the lunging wires and flesh to scare them away, giving Dayabir just enough time to change positions and conjure up another protective barrier. It was a powerful attack, and it had drained her visibly. Her reserves of magic had never been the strongest, and she was feeling close to tapped out. If something didn't change soon, they'd both die.
"If you can't acknowledge the pain that was done to you," Dayabir pleaded, struggling beneath his barrier as the barrage of attacks increased, "you'll just keep on hurting others. You'll never heal."
For a moment, the attacks ceased. The room darkened as the coils retreated and the face looked down on them, its unnatural mouth full of bloodied stumps and wriggling fingers frozen in contemplation. Helena and Dayabir looked up, both exhausted and on the verge of collapse. A second passed where they dared to hope that they'd survive this.
"I want to hurt."
There was no way for them to dodge or deflect the attack. Wires wrapped around their ankles and legs and yanked them into the air. They felt their bodies squeezed as the barbs dug into their skin.
Behind them, the attic door exploded off its hinges. More barbed wire shot into the room, crawling along the walls like ivy and covering the floor. Helena closed her eyes, unwilling to look at that horrible giant face licking its lips hungrily at her.
Gloria's voice broke into Dayabir's thoughts. "Let me drive for a bit, kiddo."
Dayabir released his consciousness and felt all his anxiety and fear slip away as another broke through. It was a new sensation, acerbic yet comforting. There was a power here and the confidence to use it. Years of experience and memories rushed into him. He was a little girl lighting candles next to two older women, and whispering the chants to the Saints to work their will. They were Gloria's memories, the knowledge of magic passed down through the generations.
His eyes glowed with an otherworldly fire. The coils of barbed wire around him started to loosen as a familiar laugh came out of his mouth. Gloria was laughing her ass off.
"Typical gringo, think their pain is so much more important than everyone else's, like you're the star of the story." Dayabir and Gloria's voices melded into one.
Flames poured forth from his body. The wires loosened and fell away. Helena fell to the ground, clutching her throat where she'd been squeezed parti
cularly hard. Dayabir remained aloft, the fires rising from his body as Spanish chanting let loose from his lips. Rick writhed and screamed, the body parts and wires losing their ability to keep making the same shape, twitching in and out of form, like he was about to come undone.
Helena quickly cast the cantrip that allowed her to perceive auras. Rick was covered in the filthy aura of the house, inside and out. Dayabir was another thing entirely. His aura had been magnified ten-fold, a blinding light of healing warmth and purity.
"I knew your mother," Dayabir/Gloria continued, taunting the howling creature. "She was a creepy little gringo like yourself, had eyes like the devil. Always entitled, and cared little for the feelings of others. She worked a real number on you. I almost feel sorry for you.
"You'll not harm another again. With the spirits from beyond I bind you, and by your human name, I bind you, Rick Billinghast. By the names of the great host, I bind you. Irizen, Arkhoumen, and Shazbat! I cast you and your unnatural form from this plane to torment these children no longer!"
Dayabir stretched both arms on either side of himself. Light poured from every inch of his body. He was like an angel hovering there with great shining wings. Rick's face contorted as the painful wails grew and light began bleeding out from every crack in the grotesque amalgamation.
And then he was gone, and there was silence.
Dayabir's head fell forwards and his eyes closed as he slumped, nearly fainting from the experience. He drifted downwards until he collapsed gently against the dusty wooden floorboards. Helena rushed over to him. He was barely conscious. His eyelids fluttered open.