Bonds of Darkness

by Joyce Ellen Armond

May as well ask, if no one is going to volunteer to finish the story. “So, who's Gloria?"

  Vern shook his head ruefully. Laurie's thin face went cold and hard. “It doesn't matter anymore."

  "I listened at the window,” Kate reminded them. “I know that you tried something like this before, and failed."

  "I said, it's none of your concern,” Laurie snapped. If she had enough strength reserves, Kate thought, she would have just left the room to avoid the subject.

  Kate looked to Vern. “It isn't fair to ask me to do this and not tell me everything."

  "No one's asking you to do this,” said Laurie in the Venus Fly Trap voice.

  "I'm asking her to do it,” Vern said, in the same soft tone he used each time he challenged Laurie, a tone that vibrated with respect and love, but also his own dignity and power.

  He had a lot of presence for just a kid. Kate guessed Vern couldn't be too far into his twenties. She remembered herself at that age: brash, nothing-left-to-learn, ready to tear down the world and rebuild it without the bad parts.

  When Laurie stared at the floor and refused to speak, Vern met Kate's questioning gaze. “This happened about ten years ago, so obviously I'm relating what I've heard second hand. I wasn't there."

  Kate nodded, accepting the terms of his story-telling.

  "Gloria was Laurie's protégé, the best and brightest witch in the coven."

  A part of Kate still bristled at the improbability of this all. It seemed ridiculous that they were talking about covens and demons, curses and spells, without laughing.

  Vern was definitely not laughing. His expression showed a borrowed grief as he shot a look at Laurie. “Gloria had such a deep natural talent, such a connection to the Goddess, that Laurie believed she could be a match for Sander. But she wasn't, and Sander killed her."

  "She died because of me.” Laurie's voice was dry, dead leaves in the wind. “I had come to love Paul, you see. It seemed fated. I would save him from the curse, and we would live happily ever after. I knew Gloria wasn't strong enough. But I was running out of time."

  The question trembled unspoken on Kate's lips, but Laurie's sadness was so profound she felt she couldn't ask it. Why had she been running out of time?

  Vern answered the unspoken question for her. “Paul doesn't age. Laurie does."

  "I was forty-five years old then,” Laurie whispered. “He wasn't going to see me as a desirable woman for much longer.” She laughed, a painful sound. “Not that he ever did."

  The reason for Laurie's hostility came clear. Paul had not loved Laurie. He did love Kate. Now could Kate trust her? She looked to Vern, who watched Laurie with eyes filled with shared pain. Could she trust him?

  "What do I have to do?” Kate asked, putting her mug on the counter. “To save Paul, what do I have to do?"

  "Tomorrow,” Vern said, “before dark, before the ritual, we'll bespell you."

  Again, the matter-of-fact references to magic shook her. Skepticism and uncertainty tickled the edges of her resolve.

  "We'll turn you into a battery waiting to be charged. Then, when Sander touches you, you'll be as powerful as he is, for a while."

  But if she let Sander close enough to touch her, he would probably take the chance to hurt her. Badly. If not kill her outright. “This seems like a really overly-simple plan.” Kate hugged herself. “What exactly am I supposed to do after I'm ... all charged up?"

  "Disrupt the ritual. You'll have to work on instinct. That's why it would have been better if I had been the one, but now it has to be you."

  Disrupting the ritual sounded easy enough. She was pretty accomplished at disrupting all manner of things. But ... “What exactly is a ritual?"

  "This is a waste of time.” Laurie levered herself out of her chair, leaning on her cane.

  "It's our only chance,” Vern said.

  "I can do this.” Kate spoke with a confidence she didn't feel.

  Laurie shook her head. “You've never been around magic, much less something as horrible as Sander's curse."

  "I saw the demon. I wasn't ... completely unhinged by it.” Kate remembered how it had tried to comfort her, tried to help her sleep. How it had rushed from the closet to try and save her from Sander. “I think it likes me.” Of course, then she'd thought that the demon was Paul. She hadn't known it was its own creature entirely, with Paul's essence imprisoned inside it somehow.

  "Have you seen Paul change?” Laurie asked.

  Kate shook her head.

  "Be there with him when the sun sets. See what you're volunteering to deal with.” Laurie raised her skeletal head. Deep in their sockets, her eyes gleamed with unshed tears and frustrated fury. “Realize that if you do this, you will most probably die."

  The words hit Kate like a punch to the stomach.

  "Be there for Paul's change,” Laurie said. “And if you still want to try and save him, come back here tomorrow afternoon. Vern will get you ready."

  "Laurie,” Vern said in that soft voice.

  Laurie slashed her hand through the air, silencing him. She teetered, the motion throwing off her balance. “I'm tired. I'm tired of all this. I need to rest.” Hobbling on her cane, she left the kitchen without another word.

  Alone in the watery sunlight leaking through the window panes, Kate looked at Vern. He stared after Laurie for a few deep breaths, then looked back at Kate.

  "Well,” he said, “that went well, didn't it?” He shook his head and sighed. “But she's right. Watch Paul change."

  "Have you seen Paul change?"

  Vern closed his eyes and shuddered. Kate did not ask him anything more. “I know you'll be back tomorrow, though,” he said, opening his eyes again. “I know you will."

  She thought of Paul, pictured the demon, felt the force of Sander's hatred. “Why are you so sure?"

  Vern smiled, an edge of sadness to the curl of his lips. “You love Paul. I know the look. I've seen it on Laurie's face, too."

  I love Paul. Kate clung to that fact, her life preserver in this strange sea.

  Vern walked her out to the end of the wagon-track driveway. “Remember that it's normal to feel revulsion and terror when you encounter something supernatural."

  "Like the demon,” Kate said.

  Vern shook his head. “The demon is natural, just out of its natural place. It's the change that's all wrong."

  He squeezed Kate's shoulder once, and then they parted. He walked back to the little house, and Kate walked up the road to her car. She slid behind the wheel, put the key in the ignition. The Chevy threatened not to start. Finally, the engine rolled over on the third try.

  When this is all done, I'm getting a new car. She eased back out onto the main road, now well-traveled by lunch-going drivers. Of course, if this works out well, I'll get to drive Paul's Mercedes, so who cares.

  After going almost a mile, she realized she was just driving out of town, with no destination in mind. I can't do this alone. I should call Vanessa. Or Gwen. Gwen would know what to do.

  But she couldn't imagine finding the words to explain something that she only half-believed, even after all she'd already seen. So she drove on alone. She found a diner, ate a lunch she didn't taste. She ordered coffee and noticed only the bitterness. Oh God, for an extra-large nonfat soy latte now. She ordered apple pie. More coffee. Watched the big white clock behind the counter tick away much faster than she thought it should.

  When she parked at the curb outside Paul's house, the dashboard clock glowed 5:42. The afternoon clouds were streaked with red.

  "Why can't I fall in love with a heroin addict?” She commanded her legs to get her out of the car and into the street. Reluctantly, they obeyed. “Why couldn't I meet a convicted felon? Something easy?"

  She paused at the wrought iron gate that led to the porch. Was Paul inside? Was Sander Wald?

  Instead of going to the front door, she followed the garden path around the back of the house until she found what she was almost sure was Paul's bedroom window.
From her understanding of the layout of the upstairs, and the vaguely familiar curtains, she was almost sure.

  Looking around at her feet, she found a handful of small pebbles, smooth river rock mixed in as mulch around a fading hydrangea. Choosing the lightest, smallest one, she took aim and threw.

  Plink.

  She waited.

  Plink.

  Nothing.

  She chose a bigger stone this time, threw just a little harder.

  Crrrrrrack!

  "Shit!” She dropped the stones, covering her mouth. Had she broken the window? She rose up on tiptoes, trying to see.

  "What are you doing?"

  She whirled and crouched the way her self-defense classes had taught. Her heart hammered in her chest, beating the breath out of her lungs. When she saw Paul step from the shadows, she gulped for air.

  "Kate, what are you doing here?"

  His expression was cold, without feeling. Irrationally, Kate had been expecting the demon. It had loomed so large in her mind, that she had not realized that she would first face Paul in all his beautiful flesh.

  He tipped his eyebrows and waggled his shoulders, keeping his hands in his pockets. He wanted an answer.

  Kate pointed to the window. “Um ... I ... ah..."

  He stared through eyes gone to ice. He spoke in a tone meant to cut. “Very romantic, Kate, but it's not going to work. I know you don't know everything..."

  "I talked to Laurie and Vern."

  The words hit him like a slap to the face. He actually flinched “Okay, I guess you do know everything.” He wouldn't meet her eyes. “So you know why you shouldn't be here. Why you can't be here."

  "No.” Kate glanced up at the sky. “This is exactly where I want to be."

  Paul looked up. Something bitter clouded his eyes. She couldn't quite tell, in the failing light, if it was tears. “I don't want you to see."

  "I love you.” She meant to say it clear and loud, a firm declarative. But it came out as a whisper instead.

  Paul's jaw twitched. “It doesn't matter.” He moaned suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut.

  Alarmed, Kate took a step towards him, put her hand on his arm. “Are you alright?"

  His eyes came open, blazing with rage. She pulled away, but he took her by the shoulders and propelled her back, fast, her feet skipping over stones and mulch, her body crashing between two bushes, until she hit the side of the house and her breath went out in a sudden puff.

  "I am not alright.” His voice pressed against her ear. The stubble on his chin rubbed against her neck. “Of course I am not alright."

  Kate tried to move her head to look at him, but he held her still, trapped against the bricks. Cold sweat snaked down her spine. She tried to breathe herself into calmness. “But you love me, right?"

  His body shifted, covering hers. His mouth came down on hers, hard. She answered, her teeth grabbing at his lips, trying to convince him without words that she wasn't afraid. That she wasn't too afraid. Then she felt his muscles tense. He groaned into her mouth, and she tasted blood. He jerked away from her, stumbling back. She heard him fall, heard him groan again, a grinding sound of agony.

  Instinct moved her to go to him, to soothe the pain. But when she cleared the obstruction of the bushes, she saw him on the ground, writhing and arching. Blood streamed from his nose and ears, eyes and mouth.

  No one had told her that it hurt him. She'd been expecting some magical wavering of the air, maybe some sparkles and glitter, for Paul to be gone and the demon thing to be there. No one had prepared her for this.

  Paul arched, his fists beating the ground. She saw the demon's dark form flow out of his stretched wide mouth, his staring eyes: blackness glistening with his blood. It burst from his chest, rending the shirt. She fell to her knees, her legs unable to support what her eyes saw.

  For an instant, it seemed Paul was turned inside out. She saw white jagged shards that could only be bones, glimpsed darker, wet masses that had to be organs. And then the demon's blackness enveloped his broken body completely, swallowing him. The blackness began to form a shape: two legs, two arms, a head. Two yellow eyes sprang open, and stared directly at her.

  She screamed. Terror flooded through her. The thing had crushed Paul, torn him apart and digested him. Instinct took over. Before she realized it she was on her feet running, her heart in her throat, her throat gasping for air. She ran down the garden path, thinking only of her car, of escape, of being safe.

  She turned the corner and ran straight into Sander Wald.

  She bounced off of his body, stumbling back with a cry. She looked over her shoulder, saw the yellow eyes, the flowing black form. She looked back at Sander.

  A knowing, cruel smile curled his lips. “That's right. Run."

  Kate ran.

  * * * *

  "She ran away!” In the gathering darkness, Sander Wald chuckled. “What a weak little thing. Good choice, Paul. Good choice."

  The demon slunk back, hiding itself in the shadows. Paul had never felt the demon like this: cold, flat, lifeless. The usual high-voltage hum of rage that sang through it had shorted out. The thick blackness of its form seemed so empty it echoed.

  "A weak little thing,” Sander repeated, step by slow step winding down the garden path. “Not like you, Paul. You're strong."

  Both the demon and Paul heard the possessiveness in Sander's voice. But when he spoke again, his voice dropped into self-reflection. One moment reaching out and trying to break Paul, the next moment he acted as if Paul didn't even exist.

  "Maybe that was my error all along. Choosing the weak ones."

  Now Paul felt a quiver of anger in the demon, as Sander paced sedately by. Through the demon's eyes, he saw the crisp seam of Sander's slacks, the perfect break of the hem over his shined shoes.

  "Yes, perhaps that was it. It's not having power over the weak ones; it's having power over the strong."

  He lifted his voice again. “Like you, Paul."

  Inside his prison, staring bodiless out into a colorless world, Paul did not feel strong. He wasn't at all surprised when Kate ran. She moved through a world where there were no demons, let alone demons that took over the space in the universe assigned to a man she loved.

  She does love me.

  "She doesn't love you, Paul. You realize that now, don't you?"

  A bitter fury pulsed through the demon like lightning in a cloud.

  "She doesn't love the whole truth of what you are. She is afraid of you. She loathes what you are."

  What you made me.

  "But I don't.” Sander stopped moving. Through the demon's yellow eyes, Paul could see him from the knees down, standing a few feet away, facing away from him. “I think that you are the most glorious thing, Paul, under the sun and under the moon."

  Paul's heart faltered for a moment. He remembered the lunches, the break from the loneliness with someone who knew what he was and didn't despise him. Someone who knew all the same things, remembered all the same people and places. Someone he didn't have to hide from.

  "Come with me, Paul."

  If he went with Sander, Kate would be safe.

  "Come with me,” Sander said, weaving the words into a seduction. “Make things right."

  Rage ignited through the demon. Paul felt some of it directed at himself. It exploded from under the hydrangeas, whirling through the air. It shot up into the sky, stretching itself thin, reaching for the fat, nearly full moon.

  Gravity refused.

  With an internal wail, the demon fell back to earth, scrabbling at the clouds, as if it could hold onto the air and pull itself up and away from Sander Wald.

  It dropped onto the garden path, flattened and exhausted.

  Sander Wald laughed softly, a sound that chilled Paul even without a body to feel cold.

  The demon gathered itself up and launched into the sky. Again. And again.

  * * * *

  Kate could only drive because driving was the fastest way to escape. Her
hands guided the wheel, her foot alternated brakes and accelerator with robotic precision. Her nerves, her muscles, and her senses worked together with one purpose: Run. Get away. Run.

  Waves and waves of cold shame threatened to overwhelm her. She'd failed Paul, Laurie, Vern, herself. I'm nothing but a coward.

  With her nerves already in shock from Ellie's death, she'd had no room to feel overwhelming fear. But to see that thing break Paul open, crawl out of him, and then suck Paul inside ... it was too much.

  She pulled in behind Gwen's house, stumbled up the gentle slope of the yard. She crossed the threshold, closed the door, and still felt no sense of safety. She ratcheted the chain lock, turned, knocked over the broom and mop resting innocently by the door. The clatter caused her to jump and scream.

  Vanessa appeared in the hallway. “Kate? Oh my God, Kate!"

  Vanessa approached, arms out. Kate shied away.

  Vanessa stopped, the hurt and confusion clear on her face. She kept her eyes on Kate, but lifted her voice. “Gwen? Gwen!"

  Kate pushed past her, ran down the hallway, up the stairs. She heard the clack of Vanessa's heels following.

  She ran. Like a coward, she ran. Shame whipped her.

  "Kate!"

  "Kate?” Gwen called after her now. Both of them chased her. She ran into her bathroom, turned on the shower. She put herself under the scalding spray, clothes, shoes, shame, and all. She sank down into a tight, protective ball, the hot stream pounding on her head.

  "Oh, dear Jesus,” she heard Gwen whisper.

  Sobs broke loose in Kate's chest, shook her, an earthquake of emotions. She lifted her head into the hot spray, tasting it as she cried out. The water suddenly stopped; Vanessa had turned off the faucets.

  "Kate!” She took Kate's head between her palms. “Look at me!"

  Kate did, and saw her friend's eyes go round with horror. “What the hell is wrong?"

  "I ran.” Kate gurgled the words out between sobs and gasps. “Oh, God, I ran!"

  Vanessa climbed into the bathtub and gathered her close. “I don't know what you're talking about, sweetheart. I don't understand."

  It doesn't matter. Her internal voice was as cold and distant as Paul's had been. Kate let her head fall to Vanessa's shoulder, let herself cry. For Ellie and Alina. For Laurie and Vern. For Paul. For herself.