Tonight, though, he was grateful that he’d given in to his prying nature. He parked on a street corner and walked slowly and carefully up the darkened street until he spotted her car in a driveway. Carefully, and so, so quietly, he slipped into the property and opened up his jar of powder. For this to work, he’d need to make a full circle without waking Anthea or leaving any trace of his visit. He knew she would believe his explanation, but he didn’t want to frighten her. He stepped slowly around the house, blowing his powder every few strides, whispering sweet promises to the wind, and praying that Anthea didn’t wake up. As he finished, he felt the quiet power settle over her home at the same time that he felt the heat on the back of his neck. Someone was watching him. Ignoring it, he closed his plastic tub and walked the longest way he could back to his car and drove away.
Back in the present, Anthea was struggling to get through her work day. The usually bustling office was quiet today, as about half of her coworkers had called in sick. It struck Anthea as very unusual, but no one else seemed to agree. “Must be that thing that’s been going around,” they’d all agreed, and then shared a story about their kid, neighbor, or friend who had also recently been ill. Mind-numbingly typical office conversation.
As the afternoon wore on, Anthea grew more and more restless. She got up often to pace the halls and stare out at the parking lot and the limits of the office park property. As she was staring again, a movement made her go very still. She backed slightly away from the window, but maintained her gaze on the shadowy figure that was now bent over behind Anthea’s own car, almost out of sight. Her breathing slowed and time seemed to stand still as the figure straightened up. The person in the parking lot stared across the distance straight at the tinted window where Anthea was standing. She was dressed in a shapeless, dark material like a macabre sundress, and her long black hair was falling in thin cascades around her shoulders. Even from this distance, Anthea would recognize the malice in those eyes anywhere. Agatha had found her again.
Anthea backed away from the window further still and calmly walked to the nearest stairwell. When she entered, she raced up the concrete stairs two at a time until she reached a higher floor rented by a different company. Quietly, she explained to the receptionist, Berethy, that she was having trouble with her phone, and could she just please call the repair man quickly? She and the receptionist knew one another fairly well from having worked in the same building for quite some time now, and from helping one another out with similar problems in the past. Anthea realized suddenly that Berethy might actually be considered a friend. It calmed her somewhat.
She punched in Cyrus’ number with shaking fingers. He answered before the first ring had faded away.
“Anthea,” he breathed, sounding frantic, “I tried to call your house but the line is cut off. What’s happening? What’s wrong?”
Anthea wondered at this greeting but continued professionally as Berethy sat within earshot, “Yes, hello, it’s Anthea Menzies with Corporate International, we’re having the mother of all problems with our phones today. Could you come right away to 3307 North Glenoaks? Next to the big Armenian Church. Yep, that’s the one. There’s a service bay in the parking garage for your repair van. I’ll meet you down there and buzz you in.”
“Got it, I’m on my way, just stay hidden and stay calm. I’m going to help you, Anthea. You’re not alone anymore,” he finished.
“You bet,” she smiled, “See you soon, thanks so much.”
The receptionist smiled sympathetically and she took the receiver, “This old building can be such a nightmare sometimes,” she said conversationally, “but you can’t beat it for location!”
“Yes, that’s true,” Anthea said, “Hey, do you mind if I use your toilet before I head back down? It’s so nice to stretch the legs for once.”
“Sure,” answered Berethy, “It’s in the… well, it’s in the same place as yours!” she chuckled congenially, “Let’s get a coffee and catch up some time soon! Hill Street Cafe is doing gluten-free brownies now and they’re amazing. Call me when you get this phone thing fixed.”
“I will, thanks,” answered Anthea, as she moved further into the office floor. She stopped to look out another window at the carpark, but her mother was gone. Unnerved but determined, she walked steadily to a central stairwell that would take her all the way down to the parking garage, and could not be entered from the outside without an ID badge. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was the safest choice for now. When she reached the bottom without encountering anyone, she waited behind the locked door until she heard the rumble of Cyrus’ engine in the garage.
Carefully, she opened the door and slipped into the echoing space. Cyrus spotted her immediately and his truck lumbered in her direction. With a quick look around, she darted over and jumped in.
Cyrus was silent as they drove back to his house in Burbank and Anthea was grateful. She knew she needed to explain a few things to him, but it seemed like he already knew a fair amount. How had he known she was calling? And how had he known right away that something was wrong? She now believed that he was telling the truth about summoning and exorcising spirits, but what other powers did he have?
When they pulled in to the driveway, Anthea felt a palpable rush of calm and relief.
“What was that?” she asked.
“Protective barrier,” he answered tersely.
“To protect against what?” she asked.
He killed the engine and turned to look pointedly at her. “I think you have an idea, my friend, but I’ll tell you what I know. Last night, something arrived in the city. Something that I’ve met before and do not wish to meet again. Something that I believe you have also met.”
She sat quietly, not sure if she should say anything yet or just wait for him to continue. Just a few moments in the full afternoon sun without the air-conditioning was already forming a line of sweat down the small of her back and around her hairline. He looked at her kindly and continued.
“Now, my instincts tell me that the smart thing to do is run,” he said. Anthea began to feel small and afraid at the thought of facing her mother alone, but he took her hand. “My instinct also tells me that you need help, and I promise on my life that I am going to help you. It’s time to disappear. Can you trust me?”
Conflicting thoughts warred within Anthea’s heart as she considered his strange speech. But, she looked gratefully at her friend, nodded and said, “I can trust you.”
“Good,” he smiled and finally opened the car door, “Now let’s go vitalize a golem.”
“Let’s go what a what?” she laughed tightly as she followed him into the garage.
Chapter 15
Hello
A little while later, they were standing in Cyrus’ kitchen and Anthea was fizzling with nervous energy and constantly eyeing the door. He was puttering around with more determination than usual, trying to put her at ease with his seriousness and his haste. Finally, he placed his ingredients on the counter top and looked at her directly in the face. She still hadn’t found the words to explain her situation to him.
“On my property, we are safe from the outside. The spirits of a thousand thousand’s ancestors stand guard around us,” he smiled, “Well, at least until the next hard rain.”
Anthea stood still and raised an eyebrow at him. “I believe you,” she said.
He shuddered softly and said, “Someday soon I am going to show you how to work your own earth magic, and you won’t have to take anything I say on faith. I don’t want you to believe me. I want you to believe yourself.”
He turned away with the jars and bowls but then whipped back around suddenly. “In fact, let’s start right now. You are going to vitalize this golem.”
She hesitated and made a pained face, “Cyrus, we can’t wait for a lesson. She… she’s out there. She’s going to find me, I can feel it.” The last words tumbled out in an increasing wave of panic.
Cyrus stepped over to her and put a hand on
her shoulder. “I know she is, but she doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know where we are. And she doesn’t know that you have help now. We have the upper hand, my friend. We will set a trap that will make her so angry she won’t notice our escape.”
“Do… do you know who I mean?” Anthea asked, trembling.
“Yes, I think I do,” he answered seriously, “and even if I didn’t, I know that you’re afraid and you believe you are in danger. That’s enough for me.”
Anthea took a deep, steady breath and let it out slowly.
“Alright,” she said, “what is a golem?”
Cyrus laughed. “You are stronger than all the fears of the world,” he smiled. “A golem is a shambleman. Have you heard of those? No? Alright, it’s basically a robot made of dirt, spit, and magic. You are going to use some dirt to create a doll representing yourself. I am going to ask you exactly one personal question and you must answer it as precisely as you can.”
“Ok,” said Anthea, “I will try.”
“Do you know where you were born? If not where you were born, then, can you tell me somewhere that you spent a lot of time in your childhood?” said Cyrus carefully, giving her options.
“No. At least, I don’t think I know where I was born,” she smiled ruefully, “but I grew up in Las Vegas.”
Cyrus looked surprised but immediately began rummaging through his jars of dirt.
“New Mexico,” she cut in.
“Ah,” he answered, “that makes more sense. Rocky Mountain clay should be sufficient. It’ll smell enough like you to work, anyway.”
He poured a jar of dirt into a bowl, sat Anthea at the table, and place the bowl in front of her.
“Now spit,” he directed, “a lot. And I’ll explain while you do. You need to work the dirt into a thick mud, a dough really. Inside, in the heart of the doll, you must put something with your essence- but not too much. I suggest an eyebrow or eyelash hair- they haven’t had a long life and won’t retain much of your memories, just enough to keep the golem vital for a week or two.”
Anthea began pulling on her eyebrows to loosen a hair, set a few aside and then plunged her hands into her spit and dirt bowl. The mixture pilled and crumbled in her hands and she spit into it again.
“Then,” continued Cyrus, “I am going to teach you a spell to give that doll an intention and a piece of your living vitality to give it your form. Don’t worry, it will be a bit of your emotional vitality, nothing that will interfere with your life. The easiest and most successful gift is love, keeps you both safe at the same time.”
She looked up at him quietly but didn’t interrupt.
“Finally, I’m going to drive your vitalized golem over to your house, kiss it goodnight like I’m dropping you off from a date, and then I’m going to leave it there, where it will putter around your house exactly like you do for the next few weeks. She won’t know that it isn’t you, and she won’t be able to enter the property to confirm.”
“Why not?” Anthea interrupted, dirty hands poised above her bowl of dirt and spit.
“Oh,” Cyrus said, looking embarrassed. “I concocted an ancestral protection powder when I felt… whatever that was last night. It’s what I put all around this house. But, I was worried about you so…”
“So you… protected me too?” Her realization dawned slowly.
“You came to my house… so, you know where I live. You, you followed me?” Anthea was more than a little hurt.
“Yes. Once. To your street. And I’m sorry. I’d never seen your house before last night, I swear it, I only knew the street,” he said quickly, “I gave in to my curiosity, and I felt terrible about it afterwards and swore I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize our friendship ever again. I’m sorry.”
“You knew my street, and you came over in the middle of the night and what? Walked around in the dark until you found my car?” asked Anthea slowly.
“Yes,” he answered carefully, “That’s pretty much exactly it. I didn’t want my car to wake anyone up or give any indication of my intention. I stayed perfectly hidden, I swear it.”
Anthea’s anxiety had billowed in her chest, but she sighed and released a small part of it. If he’d ever meant any harm, he would have known precisely where she lived. He was thoughtless, perhaps, but not malicious. And he was not the dangerous one; it was whoever could have followed him. She reached up to swipe away a loose hair with the back of her hand. She saw him tense.
“Forget it,” she said. “Thank you. Let’s keep going. I’ll think about this later.”
Cyrus looked visibly relieved as he turned back to their project.
“This is looking spitty enough,” he declared, “Does it feel like you can mold it into a doll form now?”
She nodded and began to work the clay into something resembling a human figure. After a few moments, she held it up to Cyrus for approval.
“Just gorgeous,” he said, handing her a feather “use this to give her a few freckles and moles, like yours. Add any scars too, if you have them,” he added carefully.
Anthea did as instructed and then reached toward her small pile of eyebrow hairs. She took one of the hairs and pressed it into the clay around her doll’s heart.
“Good,” Cyrus said, “Now look carefully at what you have made. Understand that you have created it, and it owes its existence to you. Allow yourself to feel the love and responsibility you owe toward this creature.”
Anthea looked at the clay doll in her hands and tried to listen to Cyrus. I made you, she thought to it. And I love you. And I will be responsible for you. She marveled at how easy it was. Why hadn’t her own mother ever said these word words to her? Had Anthea not deserved love? To be taken care of like the child she was? Or was her mother incapable of it for some other reason? A tear glinted in the corner of Anthea’s eye, surprising her when it dripped down onto her small simulacrum.
Cyrus waited a moment before saying, “Now you’ll need to vitalize it with word and deed. I’ll tell you the spell, you just repeat after me, ok? Can you do that?”
She nodded and took a deep breath.
My earth, my fire, my air, my tears,
I lend you my hopes, I lend you my fears.
I command you in love, creature with my face,
Protect me now and walk in my place.
As Cyrus rattled off some meaningless nonsense for Anthea to repeat, he felt the waves of sadness emanating off of her and didn’t understand. The words didn’t matter, they were just a focus for her intentions. If she’d wanted to, she could vitalize her golem with the iron strength of her own will. But this ritual was touching a deep part of her, and he wasn’t sure why. Or whether this was damaging or healing her heart.
If he ever had the chance, he would ask her about it. But first, he reminded himself, they had to escape.
“Alright,” he said, “Now put your doll in the opposite chair and close your eyes. When you open them, you must believe that you will see yourself sitting in that chair. Are you ready to do that?”
Anthea nodded and Cyrus closed his own eyes, waiting for direction from her. He listened as she took several steady breaths and then when she stopped, gasping quietly.
“Hello,” Anthea whispered. Cyrus opened his eyes.
“Hello,” responded her golem slowly. It was an exact copy of Anthea, sitting quietly in the chair opposite. It was naked, and her hair fell around her shoulders in waves. It was smiling sweetly and looking at Anthea with empty, blank eyes.
“Holy shit,” Anthea turned to look at Cyrus, “I did this?”
He laughed quietly and nodded to Anthea almost reverently, “Yes, you did this.”
The air in the room had taken on an unsteady jaggedness, like the ragged breathing of a priest after an exorcism, two lovers meeting for the first time, a mother after expelling a child from her womb. Cyrus searched for an excuse to leave Anthea alone with the sacred, raw realization of creation.
“We do need to hurry, but you should spend some t
ime with her first. Would you like some tea?” he offered.
“Tea?” Anthea asked her golem gently.
The golem blinked and slowly responded, “Hello,” with another sleepy smile.
“Does she understand?” Anthea asked Cyrus. They both stared at the identical Anthea sitting at his kitchen table.
“I believe so, but I don’t create them often enough to know as much as I should,” he answered as he moved off to putter around the kitchen.
“She needs clothes,” said Anthea, looking around for a spare set of her own ceremonial robes, “And… I’d like to braid her hair. Do you mind?” she asked her golem.
“Hello,” it responded sweetly.
Cyrus kept his back turned while Anthea helped her golem to dress and then sat it back down to braid its hair. She ran her long fingers through the golem’s hair, gently scraping the scalp and separating its hair into sections.
“Hello,” the golem sighed sleepily, contentedly. Cyrus glanced over, surprised at its unprompted utterance. Anthea was standing erect behind the chair, but she was crying as she gently pulled strands of the golem’s hair into a tidy braid. She seemed to have forgotten Cyrus’ existence as she carefully plaited and crooned quietly to her golem, as if the sinking well of her sadness was pulling her away from him.
A little later, when Anthea had dressed and groomed her golem, Cyrus took her aside to ask how she was doing and if she was ready to leave. He had told her that loving the golem was the strongest way to vitalize it, but he hadn’t been expecting how fiercely Anthea’s heart would attach itself.
“I know this is hard,” he began, “But remember that you created her to protect you. She is you. A part of you anyway.”
“Is she alive?” Anthea hadn’t stopped staring at her golem, who was slowly learning to master bringing a teacup to its mouth. “I mean, will she die? Will she know that she’s dead? Does she have a spirit?”
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