by Sara Clancy
***
Louis couldn’t move. It was as if he had been encased in concrete and could barely force his lungs to take more than a desperate gasp. Struggling not to panic, he quickly took in the room. Marigold’s cabin stood around him, the same as it ever was and yet different. Cold and dark. The candle had burnt itself out, leaving the room to the mercy of the foggy orange glow. He struggled to get up but a weight against his chest kept him pinned in place.
Then came the tapping. Soft and quick, rattled against the wood at the end of the bed. He couldn’t lift his head. The muscles of his eyes strained as he tried to catch sight of what was down there, what was hidden in the gloom. A barely audible cackled sound rose over his panted breaths. It was a high-pitched, demented sound that drove him to panic. He thrashed and struggled but his body held as firm as stone.
As graceful as a spider rearing up to strike, long pitch-black fingers fanned out from behind his feet. The bony digits, void of any joints, folded over his shoes. He felt the pressure of the touch and his gasped breaths became broken whines. Without a sound, the creature rose up into view. Its skin was a thin sheet that molded to bones and tendons, leaving it as a bulging, misshapen skull. He watched Louis with eyes of polished silver that reflected the orange light and dark shadow. It rose higher still and the sharp lines of its cheekbones almost severed its head in two. Louis tried to scream as it peeled back its leathery lips, exposing rows of erratic fangs in a mangled smile.
It looked down at him with that mocking, victorious grin and Louis knew that this was the creature that had reached in through the porthole. The same fear as before thrilled him, driving him to hyperventilation as his jaw refused to open, his head spinning with the lack of oxygen. It moved as smoothly as a snake uncoiling, rising up to loom over him. Despite its brittle form, its body blocked out the light like a goliath. Its shadow fell over Louis, cold and oppressing, forcing the last traces of air out of his lungs. Without taking a step, it drew closer, its smile still in place, the silver discs of its unseeing eyes fixed on him with startling intensity.
Louis struggled against the unseen force that held him down. It didn’t matter. His body wasn’t his own anymore. This thing had taken it from him. Had claimed him. It hovered closer until its grotesque face filled Louis’ vision. The smile widened. Its breath fell over him with the putrid stench of spoiled blood. Louis screamed but his jaw was locked in place, muffling the noise into a pathetic mewl. Louis squeezed his eyes shut against the sight. The pain in his chest grew. Louis was sure that his ribs couldn’t take much more. That they would crack under the pressure. Its twisted hands latched onto his chin, pushing it up, forcing Louis to expose his neck. Louis’ eyes rolled at the lack of oxygen and his body trembled with the force. He couldn’t see it, but he knew it had opened its jaws and waited for the strike of fangs.
Chapter 10
The bed shook as Louis bolted upright, a blood-curdling scream ripping out of his throat. Marigold had never heard someone scream like that. It made her heart stutter and her mind go blank. He thrashed and kicked, eyes wide but unseeing, and she scrambled to the other side of the bed to escape his flailing limbs. Every time she tried to get closer, he whirled on her, forcing her to dodge away from his frantic shoves. She had to scream to be heard under his panicked cries. She told him it was okay, that it had just been a dream, but it was of no comfort. No matter what she said, he just continued to fight his unseen attacker. He toppled over the edge of the bed and landed hard on the floor. The jolt seemingly bringing him back to himself. Chest heaving, he looked around the room, his movements jerking as he tried to see everywhere at once.
Marigold gripped the edge of the bed as she cautiously shuffled closer, “Louis?”
He didn’t respond, didn’t even look at her. But he had stopped screaming and she was grateful for that. Still gulping down each breath, he patted his hand against his jacket pocket. The slight movement grew into sharp slaps when he didn’t find what he was looking for. At first, Marigold didn’t understand and tried to speak to him again, but then it clicked and she snatched up his mobile. Cradling it in the palm of her hand, she presented it to him. It was hard to reach out and keep her distance at the same time, but his eyes flicked to the small device and he lurched forward. Before she could move, he grabbed the phone from her hand and ran for the door.
She called after him, her voice rising with mirrored panic, but he didn’t hesitate as he disappeared through the threshold. Her feet tangled in the bedsheets as she sprang up to follow him. Yanking her feet free she hurried out into the hall just in time to see him turn a corner. As she ran after him, she wished that she had spared a moment to put her slippers on. The thin carpet didn’t offer any protection from the cold metal underneath. Louis didn’t wait for her. He barreled down the hallway, making a beeline for the door that opened onto the balcony. The mist poured into the boat when he wrenched open the door. It was so thick that, after only a few steps, she lost sight of him completely.
“Louis!”
Her fingers dug into the wood of the doorframe as she paused in the middle of the threshold. The mist rolled over her, cool and slick against her bare skin. It seeped into the carpet underneath her feet and numbed her toes. The floodlights were still on, working with the fog to completely hide the world behind a swirling golden haze. She squinted harder, unable to even distinguish the railing that she knew stood only a few feet in front of her.
The crack in her voice set her on edge, “Louis!”
She could hear him, the pounding of his feet as he raced over the metal, but was unable to tell which direction it was coming from. The wood dug into her palms as she struggled to decide which way to turn. His footsteps faded, replaced by the lapping of water and the gentle, breathy howl of the wind passing through Spanish moss that hung from the nearby trees. Swallowing thickly, she slowly edged one foot out onto the deck. The fog had left a thin layer of water on the floor and she almost pulled back at its frigid touch. She bit her lips and took another step, leaving one hand on the doorframe like a lifeline.
“Louis, where are you?”
His silence kept her clenched on the doorframe until her knuckles turned white. There was a sudden flash of light and she spun towards it, some strands of her red hair catching on the moisture the fog had left upon her cheek. Holding her breath she waited for anything else to stir. Another flash. She abandoned the door and broke into a run. A part of her mind screamed at her that she had no idea what she was running towards but her need to find Louis was greater and she pressed on. One hand held high to keep herself from colliding into anything.
The damp metal froze her feet and the airborne droplets of water collected in her hair. Each moist breath carried the chill deep into her lungs. She peered into the fog, still unable to discern anything out of the gleaming haze. The cloud before her flashed again. Marigold pushed herself faster, ignoring the way her hair rose on the back of her neck. The fog held tightly to its secrets. Tightly enough that she didn’t see the massive shadow until it was almost upon her. She gasped and threw herself to the side, her hip struck the railing, and her own momentum almost toppled her over. She latched onto it, still holding on even after she had regained her footing. It couldn’t have been Louis. The shadow had been too fast. Too quiet. Marigold glanced behind her, back to the doorway she had just abandoned. It was impossible to see it anymore. She longed to go back. Instead, she lifted her hand once more and continued walking into the abyss.
The soles of her feet squelched against the balcony with every step and her heavy breaths churned the fog. The cold prickled against her fingertips and robbed them of their sensitivity. But still, she pressed on towards where she had seen the flash of light. Something surged through the water, a quick splash of something large, and she flinched before she could stop herself.
“Louis.” Despite her conviction, her voice came out in a broken stammer.
The name choked off as a shadow began to form before her, too shrouded in t
he mist for her to be able to judge its true size or shape. The air tingled against her outstretched hand and she suddenly felt vulnerable, exposed. She slowly pulled her hand back towards her chest, not wanting to draw the attention of the darkening shadow. But it wasn’t darkening, she realized, it was coming closer. Marigold shifted her weight, torn between surging forward and fleeing back to the relative safety of her room. On the hope that it was Louis, she called for him again. There was no response. The figure loomed closer. Hesitantly, she took a step back, her feet squishing into a small puddle of water. The figure followed her in complete silence.
She pressed her hand against her chest like a shield, forcing her wrist into her sternum until both bones ground together. The figure drew closer and she gave into the urge to run. She didn’t hear it follow but she felt it there, right behind her, closing in on her. No matter what she did, she couldn’t increase the distance between them. Her feet hammered against the floor. The slick shine of water on the balcony threatened to trip her with every step. She couldn’t see anything beyond the fog. It consumed everything and left her blind. The figure loomed close behind her back, almost close enough to touch. She could feel it. Picture it perfectly like a photograph plastered across her eyes. It was right there. A hand grabbed her arm and yanked her violently to the side.
She didn’t have time to struggle and her feet interlaced. The hand pulled her through the doorway and back into the multi-colored hallway. Pain sliced up her arms as she attempted to break her fall. The carpet ripped and grounded against her forearms as she slid to a stop. Behind her, the heavy metal door slammed shut with a resounding crash. She flipped over but the hand grabbed her again, tight enough to bruise, and hurled her to her feet.
The fear in the pit of her stomach eased when she looked up to see that it was Louis pulling her along. She stopped struggling and tried to get her legs to work, to fall into step beside him. He didn’t say a word as he pulled her into a breakneck sprint. The hallway was barely wide enough for them to run side by side, but he kept her close as they barreled the short distance back to their cabin. Behind them, the hull door slammed open, unleashing the fog into the boat. Marigold glanced over her shoulder to see the mist churning in like a dam had broken.
With his crisp shirts and suspenders, Louis didn’t advertise himself as a man of strength. His generally mild manner gave Marigold the illusion that she would be able to overpower him. So she wasn’t prepared for him to wrap an arm around her waist and practically threw her into the cabin. She hit the bed hard enough to force the air out of her lungs. Before she could get up, Louis slammed the door closed and slid the lock into place. He mumbled, the words coming too fast and low for her to understand any of it, and hung his gris-gris on the door handle. With that done, he ran to the window and ensured the lock was in place.
“Louis?” Marigold asked. She didn’t dare get up. Didn’t want to get in his way. “What’s going on? What happened to you?”
He didn’t pay any attention to her as he continued to bless the room. Fear slithered in her gut like a horde of snakes. Anything that could provoke this level of terror in Louis was something worthy of being scared of. She glanced around the room but couldn’t find what had riled him up. She wanted to help but could only ball her hands in the sheets and wait.
“Louis, what is going on?”
Without a word, he tossed her his phone. It hit the blanket by her knee and she hurried to pick it up. After hitting in the code, the screen lit up, already in the photo application. She clicked onto the album to see the last photographs he had taken. Her mouth opened as she looked over each one in turn. The fog had stolen the finer details of the pictures but some things were still distinguishable. The side of the ship, a porthole, and a figure of pure black. Its skin shone in the flash. The spindly, bony creature possessed elongated limbs and fingers that looked more like extended knives. It was clawing at the wall. Clawing to get in.
“What is it?”
Louis finished what he was doing and seemed at a loss for what to do next. After a moment of hesitation, he ran over to the bunk and began yanking the pillows free of the pillowcases.
“That’s a mare,” he said, his voice frantic as he rushed back to the porthole.
He tugged and tucked the pillowcases around the glass until it was impossible for them to see out, or for anyone to see in.
“I know this one,” she kept her tone as light as she could, hoping that it might somehow calm him down. “It’s where the term ‘nightmare’ originated from, right? It sits on your chest as you sleep and gives you bad dreams. Is that what happened? Did the mare come for you?”
His new task was complete, leaving him with nothing to help focus his restless energy. He paced the small space, his whole body jolting with unspent adrenaline. Eventually, he dropped down on the end of the bed, but he couldn’t keep still, couldn’t keep from checking over his shoulder as if he expected the mare to suddenly appear behind him. After one final glance, he sunk down onto the floor. He hunched his shoulders, ducked his head, and slouched down as if he wanted to hide. Marigold looked from the porthole to the door and slid down next to him. She knelt as close as she thought he would let her, seeking comfort within the shared space. Her stomach was a hunk of ice that she can’t dislodge and it grew with every second that he refused to meet her eyes. Finally, just when she thought she wouldn’t be able to take his avoidance anymore, he looked over to her.
“Why are you so scared of a mare? You told me they were common. And generally harmless.”
“It’s not what it is that scares me,” Louis whispered. “It’s who it is.”
He pointed to the phone as if the picture contained all the answers. She flicked through a few more photographs before she found the one he must have been thinking of. It was a close-up of its twisted and mangled face. Her gut twisted as she looked at it, but something deep in her mind told her that there was something familiar about its features.
“That’s John La Roux.” The fear in his tone made her shiver. “The Vampire of New Orleans.”
***
Louis pulled his glasses off and pressed his hands against his eyes. He couldn’t get his heartbeat to slow down, couldn’t stop his mind from repeating back what had just happened. Marigold was next to him, her hand poised over his arm but never making contact. He was scaring her, he knew he was, but he couldn’t shake off the overwhelming, consuming dread that had settled within him.
He let his head drop back to rest against the bed and tried to steady himself. But the position stretched out his neck, reducing it to an exposed strip of flesh. He snapped his head back up. Marigold kept making soft broken noises, like she started a dozen sentences at once but couldn’t see any of them through to the end. He couldn’t leave her stranded like that. Needing a sense of normality, he cleaned his glasses on his shirt. He licked his lips, took care to position his glasses perfectly back onto his face, and opened his eyes.
Marigold was staring at him. It looked like it physically pained her to keep all of her questions contained behind her pinched mouth. Still, it only took a second for her to notice that he had shifted his gaze onto her. He offered her a shy smile and was rewarded by a weak one in return.
“I’m sorry, cher. I didn’t mean to give you a fright.”
Marigold shuffled off of her knees to sit on the floor. “I’m going to need you to explain this.” She held up his phone, thankfully with the back of it facing him. He really didn’t want to see that again. At his silence, she continued, “You told me mares couldn’t hurt you, not really. Not physically.”
“They can if they have something to feed off of.”
“What do you mean?”
He shook his head and tried to sort out the facts that she would need to know from the jumble of information within his skull. “Ghosts can be parasites. They can establish connections to things like places and objects and use it to strengthen themselves.”
Marigold was quiet and he was hoping that
she wouldn’t latch onto what he had left unsaid. That bit of hope shattered when she held his gaze and asked.
“Can it latch onto a person?”
“Yes.”
She nodded solemnly, “You think it’s latched onto me?”
“I think it wants to. It’s why it’s so desperate to get in.”
“I think it was,” she said. “I heard tapping. It was coming from inside the room.”
Louis took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze, as much to reassure himself as her. “I was asleep. It can always come through the barriers using a sleeping person. We have no control over that, not right now.”
“If I fall asleep, will it be able to latch onto me?”
Louis shrugged, “It’s not an exact science, cher. I just want to know why it’s here.”
Marigold tried to keep her tone light but it came out strained, “Maybe he’s just checking on his kin.”
Guilt lingered clearly in her blue eyes. It was hard to look at. “What I mean is I want to know why he’s on this plane of existence at all. How he had even become a mare. There’ something I’m not getting and that makes me nervous.”
“Louis,” she began in her ‘no nonsense’ tone. It was always hard to keep from smiling when he heard it. “I know you think that I’m not strong enough to take the truth, and maybe you’re right. But I don’t have a choice. I have a demon on my doorstep and ghosts as my roommates. Ignorance isn’t going to help me. You can’t shield me from these things.”