“She’s in here, Drew, at the very back, up against the far side! She fucking in here with us!” Unaware he was blindly groping for the Billy club in his back pocket. As scared as he was, all he was managing to do tug on the outside of his soaked jacket.
“Wha -?” began Drew, but a deep, rumbling growl silenced him.
Both boys froze in place, looking at one another, realizing at the same time, the menacing sound hadn’t come from the back of the doghouse. It had come from outside, in the clearing.
To Anthony’s chagrin, Andrew had somehow already drawn his small club, was holding it out before him in his right hand. Anthony forsook his attempts completely. His clothes were preventing him from pulling forth his own in time. Now, it was too late.
They tottered in unison, at the threshold of the doorway. Their breathing was ragged and quick. Together, they let their vision extend outside, into the rain.
Again, the lightning flashed and the thunder pounded the air above them, making them cringe and squint. But they hardy heard, their reactions muted. They saw it, both of them, at the same time. If they’d been little boys in that terrible twinkling of an eye, they would’ve screamed and would’ve tried to run. Instead, they stood side by side, glued in place, petrified, making absolutely no sound at all.
Frankly, it was huge. Its’ fur was as white as any dress Nixy had ever worn. Though now, it plastered down by the rain, water splashing in huge quantities to the ground on either side of it. It stood nearly five feet at the shoulder, on four heavily muscled legs, culminating in broad, cruel feet. Its’ claws were three-inches long. Its’ mouth was impossibly huge and made even greater by a huge row of sharp, yellowed teeth and fangs. Through the downpour, both boys could see they were splotched here and there with dark, gooey masses, looking more like bits of flesh than stains. Though distance and the inclement weather made it difficult to discern, it really didn’t matter whether it was blood or gore – both were equally terrible.
Its’ eyes shown red and burned like coals deep in a smoldering fire. They glowed in the dim light of the stormy day, seething and hot, without depth or life. They burned with hate, death and hunger. It lowered its’ head closer toward the sodden earth, bearing its’ horrible teeth. Another deep resounding growl emanated from its chest. Its’ eyes were trained on them, pulsating with a sickly glimmer both boys knew was in concert with its’ huge, malignant heart.
The boys cringed, leaning into one another, preparing for the terrible creature to pounce on them.
Half-heartedly, it sniffed at a mangled jumble upon the ground. It was unrecognizable. They couldn’t tell precisely what it was, only that it bled. Yes, the beast did have bits of flesh in between its’ teeth. It had been eating.
“So, I see you have met my Isighünd,” said the tiny girl from deep within the doghouse.
Both Anthony and Andrew nearly jumped out of their shoes. They’d totally forgotten Nixy had been standing behind them all along. They each chanced a glance back toward the girl somewhat dumbfounded. She hadn’t only managed to retrieve a torch, she had lit it as well. All in the time they’d been engrossed in the terrifying sight of the wolf-like creature outside.
How had she been able to do that?
She took a few steps toward them, and then glared anew at Andrew. Her eyes betrayed the bottomless hatred she’d been able to conceal until then.
Isighünd, where have I heard that word before? Anthony asked himself, feeling a slight tingle of recognition in his brain, before his thoughts were scattered by fright.
“So, you have chosen to include him this early into the game, eh, Anthony Herrera. He wasn’t supposed to be a part of it at this juncture,” she said accusingly, her chin jutting forward as if she meant to stab Andrew with it. “Well, I guess in the grander scheme of things, it matters little.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” shot back Anthony, trying to put sarcasm in his tone, but only half succeeded. His fear was threatening to overwhelm him.
Nixy considered his reply for a moment or two, looking out at the creature she’d termed an Isighünd. She spoke, suddenly, in an extremely guttural voice, “Slavik Chûk, Gnä Sõk!”
Both boys looked at each other in confusion. It was unlike any language they’d ever heard before.
Nixy looked back at Anthony, her expression hardening as she did so. “It will not matter in the long run, because, Kring-Hël, all will bend to the will of the Lord of the Storm. Eventually… after centuries, even millennia, all do come under the dominion of the Great Maelstrom. In time, you will see, the both of you will come to know this as fact you cannot escape.”
Kring-Hël, where had Anthony heard that before? Why did it sound so familiar to him? Had he dreamed about it? Had someone mentioned it to him in the past? The answer was right there at the very edge of his comprehension, dangling, ever so tantalizing, but it was just beyond reach.
“Ant, look,” muttered a wildly nervous Drew at his side.
Anthony looked from Nixy to where Andrew was pointing. Outside the Isighünd had moved to one side. The large chunk of meat now firmly clasped within its’ jaws. It was no longer blocking their path to the dirt road beyond. The way to their respective homes was wide open. The beast had moved off to the right, almost perpendicular to the route they’d need to traverse in order return to Milbur Street proper, and escape.
“The decision you have made today, Kring-Hël, to invade my private sanctum should very well have cost your life and that of your friend as well, if I had deemed it such. Believe me, I most certainly would’ve killed you if it were, in fact, up to me. Alas, it is not for me to decide your fate on this day. Oh, how I wish it were otherwise!” she rasped with surprising force “It is prudent that you leave at this time,” concluded Nixy as she walked toward them. Her flickering torch illuminating her pallid face in such a way, at times, she looked no more than an animated corpse, talking and moving unnaturally, and not alive at all.
It made Anthony’s skill crawl.
“My Lord Nihhûs wishes for you to survive the Rending, to taste the beginnings of your full potential before he snatches it from you, in the very moment the dawn of your powers are realized. Then, he will take everything that you are. In what might’ve been your greatest triumph, he would turn it to your greatest failure.
“This is why we will not attack the two of you today. It has been ordained. You both shall remain unmolested, unspoiled, so the Lord of the Storm can taste your defeat for himself. That is why my poor Jätung and I must forebear the tearing of your flesh and the devouring of all your juicy, meaty parts. No matter how exotic you might have tasted in our throats.” She flashed them a brief glimpse of her teeth - teeth that had somehow grown and sharpened to points in a matter of minutes. “Go now, and know! You will not have much longer to live!”
Suddenly, they were plunged into darkness. Nixy had somehow extinguished the torch, light-blindness overtook them, and, for a moment or two, they could do nothing, but wait until their eyes adjusted.
Eventually, their vision returned. They could partially see through the dim illumination provided by the storm still raging outside. Neither of them so much as glanced back to where the demon-girl had been standing.
Ever so carefully, they edged their way out of the doghouse and onto the muddy clearing. The Isighünd growled and clawed at the ground, but didn’t move, other than to swallow the last of its’ meal. It seemed rooted in place, despite no evidence to the contrary.
Again, the wind and rain pounded them, drenching them further, cold seeping into the deepest recesses of their bodies. The boys crab-walked toward the muddy road, which was now a river of mud, pebbles and other debris. All of it was flowing toward Milbur Street and the city beyond. When they finally reached it, they both glanced back. In the doorway of the giant doghouse stood Nixy, her dress ever white and unblemished by the tempest about them. She had thumbs and forefingers upon its’ hem, an impossible leer upon her face as she hiked up
the garment, taunting them with the prospect of revealing her womanhood.
The Isighünd was gone.
The boys peered at each other through the downpour, sickened, simultaneously blurting, “Let’s go!”
Without a second thought, they were off. They bounded down the hill and back toward some semblance of reality.
*****
At the same time, just over the ridge separating the two communities of Highland Park and Eagle Rock, Joaquin had a foreign thought enter his brain…
…Isighünd - a beast, usually a pack hunter, but sometimes a familiar of individuals strong in the arts of Vyche; a terrible four-legged, wolf-like creature made from the darkest, cruelest of magics, birthed from the rotting flesh of the tortured…
…a moment followed, a sharp pain pierced the front of his skull. He grabbed his head, his car swerving slightly before he caught a hold of the steering column, righting it. He forced himself to think through the agony, praying he could make his way safely back to his parents’ house.
Then more words began to pour into his brain, words that were not his, words describing horror and terror, death and desolation.
*****
While, a second after that, back on the other side of the ridge, Elena sat playing on the rug in the room she shared with Mikalah. Her younger sister, sat up from her bed. Without warning, she tossed aside the book she’d been reading.
“Owww!” screeched Mikalah, holding both sides of her head.
Elena was going to ask her what was wrong when a similar pain hit her as well – sharp and powerful, in the middle of the frontal recesses of her brain.
Both sisters clutched at their heads for a few seconds, twisting and turning, when, just as abruptly as it appeared, the pain vanished. The girls were left panting, their eyes tearing up. Their breathing was labored. They looked exhausted, like they hadn’t slept in two days.
They stared at one another, looks of terror shared between them. Their fright palatable in their small bedroom, it mired the atmosphere, soupy, thick.
“What is happening, Elena?” asked Mikalah, her voice small and trembling.
Elena gazed back at her sister, just as scared. “I don’t know what is going on, but whatever is… it’s not good,” concluded the older girl. She stood all of sudden, joining her sister on the bed, reaching for her. They came together in a rush. She hugged Mikalah tightly, while her younger, though bigger, sister hugged her back, fiercely.
“Yeah, it’s not good… at all,” mumbled Mikalah from Elena’s shoulder.
~~~~~~~~<<<<<<{ ☼ }>>>>>>~~~~~~~~
~ 27 ~
Conclusions
Monday, November 22nd, 7:31 pm…
Anthony had come home immediately following his encounter with Nixy and her Hound-from-Hell, after a rushed - if not frantic - good-bye to Andrew. He was so flushed, he was near feverish. He knew if his parents had seen him in such a state, they would’ve figured he was on drugs or else in dire need of medical attention. To prevent this inevitable misunderstanding, he’d hid from them for a while, letting time pass. He needed to get his head around what he’d just experienced. He needed to get his feet back under him. He had to give his mind time to slow down, had to let the fear seeped from the center of his soul. However long it took, however lingering were those notions, he had to stay away from his family.
He had quickly changed out of his sopping wet clothing, leaving the entire outfit, jacket included, hanging in the bathroom to dry. He put on some sweats, underwear and fresh socks with a plain t-shirt under a matching sweatshirt. He barricaded himself in his bedroom, lying on his bed listening to music on his Mp3 player, not really hearing it. He was too busy trying to regain his calm, his center of being, but could barely contain the raging emotions coursing through his brain.
He’d kept replaying the entire sequence of events in his head, over and over again. The clearing, the over-sized doghouse, the storm breaking almost directly overhead, the mad stumbling dash to the wooden building, Nixy and finally the horrid beast, the Isighünd, the creature the wicked little girl had called Jätung. He could still see every detail of the giant canine – its’ incredible size, its’ massive jaw and teeth, its’ claws, and, of course, the thing he couldn’t get out of his mind. It was the one feature that made his thoughts scrabble in his head every time he saw them – its’ eyes. There had been no irises within, pupils absent, nothing other than a uniform red luminance. A sight that sliced through the thick of him, as if every thought, every memory and every event in his life could be easily read by the monstrous mind of the beast. Those dead orbs had seen right through him.
He remained upon his bed, still trembling with fear, for a long while. He tried to shake free of the vile memories. Tried to make himself think or do something else, something more constructive than lying there like an invalid. It was a good idea, but it helped little. He couldn’t stop himself from reliving the experience all over again. He had lost the ability to control his own mind. He would see it again from the beginning, in vivid detail. Every time, it was like seeing it all for first time. The terror so raw, so powerful, he couldn’t escape it.
This went on and on.
After a while, when he was sure he’d be capable of putting two sentences together, without sounding like a complete idiot. Just when he felt he was able to function like a normal human being and not drool all over himself - his thoughts more or less his own again - his mother had announced it was time for dinner.
The timing couldn’t have been any more perfect.
He would have to go along for the ride. He would have to try and stay as calm as humanly possible. Hoping he could cope with the visions of the Isighünd, the awful, evil thing that had looked insane for a taste of his flesh. He had to keep the memory from creeping into his brain, scattering his thoughts, causing him to forget where was or what he was doing. He had to be cool.
Now, from across the dinner table, he could sense Elena’s eyes on him, boring into the top of his downturned head. Her stare was like a deep-sea oilrig, drilling for information in the confused grey matter of his brain. He knew she’d already figured out something significant had happened when he’d gone outside and had come back soaked, in a fright, looking like he had just seen a ghost. Elena was too smart not to notice the tiniest of details. The girl never missed anything. Her scrutiny of him now, left little doubt she’d hound him the rest of his days until he told her what he’d promised he would tell.
Next to her, Mikalah sat was watching Elena almost as intently as Elena was watching him, aware something was amiss, but not certain of the cause or the effects. At the same time, though, he could sense something had happened between them, while he’d been out in the storm, running for his life down the hill, sloshing through the thick mud and rivulets of cascading water. He could tell by the way they stared at each other, longer than usual, no snide remarks from either of them - the norm when one of them felt the other was staring for too long.
Something was up.
All three of them ate their food slowly, quietly, while their parents were babbling on about another issue in a long, long string of issues that were multiplying at his mother’s store. Anthony had long since put them out of his mind as he tried to grapple with what had happened. How he was going tell his sisters without them freaking out about monsters and the like? It was the last thing he needed right now. Yet, he had to tell them, he had to, because the longer he dwelt on the matter, the more he was convinced - they were in danger. There was no getting around it now. They were put in this position by some unknown, unseen entity (so the girls’ demonic friend had said). She had said something about the Lord of the Storm, a man or a monster, something she’d named Nihhûs. There was also something about this “Lord” who had “major” plans for all of them in the coming days or weeks.
They were all going to pay… Nixy has said that as well.
And… what had she said was coming?
Anthony wanted to say she had said something
about tearing, but that wasn’t the way she’d phrased it. It was close, but it didn’t sound right. It didn’t even seem to have the same meaning.
He glanced up and found Elena staring back, right into his face, frowning, because she could easily read the fear written there. Maybe she could actually see the ever-growing sense of foreboding building in brain too.
Something was coming, and soon.
Elena had muttered something similar on Friday morning. The morning after he’d had his nightmare. Had she not? Hadn’t she said something was coming and there was not a single thing anyone could do about it? Anthony was almost certain she’d mentioned something along those lines in between her sobbing and snuffling. He’d heard it as his father held her and tried to make her feel better.
He realized he’d been staring back at Elena the entire time, lost in thought. Now, Mikalah was staring at him with a questioning frown. He smiled at them both, in a twitchy, sort of nervous manner. He was sure it didn’t reach his eyes. If he looked in a mirror, he’d most likely see Charles Manson staring back.
This was too much!
Unable to stand it anymore, Anthony shoveled the last few bites in his mouth in quick succession, chewing massively, swallowing huge gulps of food. After a few breaths, he said: “Hey Dad, Mom, I’m done. Can I get up early from the table? I have an Algebra II test to study for tomorrow.”
His parents, so engrossed in their own conversation, stammered over the next few words they were about to say to each other.
Wiping her mouth with her napkin, his mother replied, “What did you say, dear?”
The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves Page 24