A black-heeled shoe peeked around the wall.
85
The shoe pulled back and clomped away. Eva walked barefoot, so the shoe belonged to one of those fucking cows; either Guert or Mena. I wiped my bloody hands on my shirt and followed the clomping to the dining room. Mena stood at the swinging doors that led down to the kitchen, and turned when I called her name.
She bared elongated, yellow canines as I charged towards her. Mena bolted across the doorway into the bathroom. The door clicked as the bitch locked herself inside.
"Where's Edward?" I asked, ramming the door with my shoulder. A low growl emanated from behind the door, but I put more weight into my shoulder and rammed the damn door again. It crashed opened, slamming against the wall. A sigh whispered in the air. Mena backed away and clamoured on top of the commode.
I pulled the door out enough to peek behind. A deep, mulberry bruise pulsated where the door had hit the wall. At first, I was sorry I had used so much force, and then I smiled wickedly. I slammed the door into the wall again. Again. After admiring the damage, I turned to Mena.
"He had a gun," Mena yelped. "The night you called," she said, panting and sniveling as the cunty bitch cowered on her hands and knees. "It was meant for you. He told you to come to the house because he knew Eva was dead asleep. His plan was so well hidden. She would've never heard the shot in her sleep."
"How'd he get a gun in here?" I asked.
Mena shook her head, her hands embracing her homely fucking face.
"Maybe he intended to kill Eva," I said. I gestured towards Mena with my chin. "Or you. You cunt." I leaned down to her. "Where is Edward now?"
Lowering her arms slowly, displaying long teeth that protruded from white gums, she said, "Ask Guert." Fur grew out of her pores and quickly covered her face. Her hands and feet morphed into paws. Mena's back shifted, elongated, and she pounced over my head. Landing behind me with a house shaking boom, she skittered across the dining room floor on all fours and disappeared down the hall.
The Lion Dog--she really was a bitch. It had been Mena terrorizing Caroline and me in my car. It had been she who watched me in the Jeep outside Caroline's house. I was not surprised to see such an ugly woman shape-shift into a dog.
I heard a clang from below. The kitchen.
The small landing outside of the bathroom led down a wide set of steps that I'd not dared to take before. A shuffling sound and then a loud burp sounded from below. I took each step tentatively, listening for what would be waiting at the bottom. The staircase stopped against a wall and jutted left. Once around the corner I stood in a large kitchen, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. I heard another burp and then a splash.
86
I faced row after row of bleached wooden counters in the kitchen. Above each counter hung various pots and pans: Teflon, copper, cast iron, porcelain. The counters were clean except for one that was dusted white with a mound of flour sitting in the middle. A glass canister filled with flour sat on the end with the lid off, scoop inside. Skinned meat sat in a clear bowl, marinating in some yellow shit.
Guert was behind the counter leaning into a waist high rubbish bin, an empty plate on the floor beside her feet. Her bent, humped back shook violently. She burped and gagged. "Guert." She straightened, facing me with surprise, and she pulled her finger out of her mouth. Vomit strung from her chin to the can. I approached her at the counter and saw an open sore on her shin. In its center there appeared a pink protrusion. The fucking thing squirmed. "Oh, bloody hell," I said, taking a step back.
Guert looked down to where I gawked. "It's the worm," she said.
"The water." I held a hand to my mouth in disgust. I'd been thirsting for water uncontrollably. They'd poured glass after glass for me and I guzzled them all down. The guinea worm--I had seen the revolting little thing in pictures and on the news, but never thought I would witness it up close, not in my privileged life.
"Don't worry, Mr. Jeffrey. It's not the guinea worm."
"It's not?" I asked with little relief as I watched the rounded pink head wiggle even further out of her sore.
"This is much worse. This is the worm that never dies."
"You're infected," I accused.
"So are you."
"Not with that," I said. "Why haven't you seen a doctor?" I asked.
"This same worm is in you, and I assure you, a doctor won't help," Guert answered. She hiccupped and stuck her head back in the bin. The veins on her forehead and forearms bulged as she gripped the edges tight. Her bottom lip quivered and I realized she was no longer gagging; she was choking. Guert released her grip and fell with a hollow thud to the floor onto her back.
Dead.
I stepped closer to her and regarded the lifeless gaze in her open eyes. I wondered if I should call the police. Nkumbi. I gave a quick laugh at my foolish thought. That ass couldn't help me. No one could. The voice inside my head told me that Nkumbi was no longer around.
I backed into a silver door that I figured to be a walk-in freezer--I would put her inside.
I grabbed Guert by both ankles and heaved. She was incredibly heavy for a woman who looked as if she weighed no more than a stick.
Their bodies are infested, weighting them. You are getting heavier, too, and soon your feet will shake the ground with each step you take.
"Fuck," I said to that damn voice.
I struggled with her body as I dragged her across the floor, her black skirt rolling up to her waist. Snake tattoos slithered down each thigh. Tails trailed inside her underpants, bodies encircled her upper thighs, oval heads positioned on her knees, mouths opened, forked tongues lolling out in a hiss. "Bloody hell," I said, backing into the freezer door. I dropped her ankles and pulled on the handle--how I despised opening doors I had never been through. I dragged her inside, holding her legs up like a wheelbarrow, and an overhead light popped on.
Skinned, headless, human torsos hung from meat hooks in the freezer's center. Some of the carcasses were adult size and others, to my horror, were much smaller. Drums labeled "Innards" lined the wall, as did shelves of wrapped plastic pieces labeled "Thighs", "Ribs", "Livers". Shelved frozen rounds unlabeled and covered in thick plastic were heads. During my first visit inside the house, I had heard a struggle, a thump, and something being dragged. "He might join us for dinner," Mena had said with a smirk when I asked about Edward.
Mena and Guert had struggled only slightly with Edward. You were treated to a fresh meal that night.
I saw a plastic wrapped head and dropped Guert's legs.
I am no longer in the freezer, but in the Royal Palace. One of Hatshepsut's slaves is being whipped into total submission by the Royal Magicians. The magicians teach Hatshepsut's slave to accept the pain that comes with duty. The slave learns to ignore the constant ringing in the ears, to control her body's response to sudden nausea, to listen to the voices in her head and to welcome the inhabitants.
"Come with me," Hatshepsut says to me.
We approach Pharaoh in his bedchamber. Moonlight streams in through the window. The days when one enters into a father's bedroom span far into the future.
In a drug-induced sleep, the guards lay at his side. She stands over Pharaoh, his head bent in a bow. She has just been named his heir, but her choice in me, Sennemut, does not please Pharaoh and he will not hand over the royal crook and flail.
Snapping the false beard off his chin, Hatshepsut's delicate mouth opens and widens, exposing a jaw I had once seen on a jackal as it fed on a lion's leftovers. Long teeth jut forwards beyond her lips and she closes them over her father's face, swallowing his head. She remains on top of him, her hair hiding the gory feast, but I hear the crunches and sickening slurps. I think I will drop to the ground from disgust. Moon lit snake eyes twinkle at me. "Siyasebenzela," she lisps with red stains between her teeth, and slithers on her belly towards me.
Back inside the freezer, Guert laid face up, spread eagle on the cold cement freezer floor, eyes open wide. She was not bl
ind to any of this. The head--it had to be Edward's. Several teeth were missing from the slack mouth. Wrapped, waiting to be served, she just hadn't gotten to it yet.
As the cook, Guert practically lived in the kitchen. I envisioned her over the can, fingers down her throat, unable to stomach what she ate. There might have been some humanity left in her, but not enough. "Fitting place for you," I said, closing the freezer door behind me.
87--MR. GRANGER
Footsteps, inaudible to Jeffrey, sent whispers through the floorboards until they reached Granger's large, fanning ears. Mena was walking on all fours in the entryway. Phred and Guert were dead and Mena now summoned for help.
The vial in Mr. Granger's fingers bubbled when shook. Tiny popping spheres captured Granger's interest and the creature's rolling eyes watched them with child-like amusement. Mena sat at the bottom of the staircase on her hind legs. She growled for Granger's attention. "One moment," it said, opening the vial, purposely spilling a drop on Phred. His body smoldered and shriveled, turning to ash.
"Jeffrey's in the kitchen," Granger said, "putting Guert in the freezer."
Granger sealed the vial and held it out. "I was going to bury this, and use it for later. I'll give it to Jeffrey. Will he use it if I tell him how? The ultimate test."
88--LINDSEY
Lindsey reached down to the flames and picked up a burning ember, launching it over the gate. She hoped for an explosion, holding her breath, and sighed regrettably when only wisps of smoke reached through the bars. She threw another. Father Charles joined in, throwing embers, with Lindsey whipping as many as their singed fingers could handle.
The gate caught when hit. Fire reached out to the dead branches on the bushes and spread quickly. The sun was falling behind the mountains and Lindsey watched both the sun and the flames extinguish at the same time. A broad hole remained where the sun had shone through the bushes. It was black inside the hole and Lindsey couldn't see a thing beyond it.
The bone bars changed in the dusk to become an illusion of dense steel rods. She grabbed the bars and shook. Under her hands the bars weren't only an illusion, but also a change in matter. They didn't give under her violent shaking and the only thing that stopped her from attempting to shimmy up them was the whistling stench that hit her in the face. The ground tremoured under her feet, and had she not been clutching the cold bars, she would've fallen to her knees as Father Charles did.
Lindsey read the word, "run" on his lips, as the deafening boom rising up the hill drowned out other noises. A black cloud had settled over Eva's gate and her woods.
Father Charles fingertips reached out to her, his arm shaking back and forth. Lindsey held a bar with one hand to keep steady, and stretched the other towards Father. "Let go," his lips said. Thunder exploded all around, and the ground shook with the force of an earthquake. Lindsey released her grip on the bar and ran to Father. Bracing each other, they stumbled across the road.
Father Charles pulled her over the guardrail and down the slippery rocks. He was headed to the sea. She wrestled from his grip, now realizing his plan--they would escape Eva only in the water. She ran behind him. A bolt of lightning shot out of the sky and they dove into the frigid water, plunging deep.
89--TATWABA
De ground shake. De sea crash and water spray de road. Lightning shoot from sky and strike at sea. Gulls scream overhead and fly into one another.
Elements at rest.
Tatwaba never been to Llandudno. Tatwaba's meager belongings rustle in plastic bag bunched between folds of her brightly coloured dress.
A flesh eating disease broke out when she return to her village with Caroline's book, dragging it through dirt roads by the cord she slung through its spine. Villagers suffered nightmares and several children disappeared overnight. uSathane.
She read it when found under couch where Mr. Jeffrey sleep, allowing words and knowledge to penetrate her mind. English become clearer with the turn of the page.
Tatwaba wore Caroline's beautiful scarf around her forehead, dipping it over her green eyes that the villagers no like. She want to wash the scarf in river. Tatwaba try to dunk it, and the scarf hit top of water as if hitting a glass wall. She took the scarf with her when she left the village, wearing it around her neck.
Walking several hours on the side of the road, she dropped from heat exhaustion, having forgotten to bring water. She slurped from the storm puddles in the road.
Tatwaba walked for a few more kilometers, and came upon her destination. She walked through the open gate.
90--EVA
Eva's baby jumped inside her and she rubbed her hands over her stomach. "Calm," she dictated to her belly, smearing her hands over her face and down her neck until her baby stopped. She was hungry and her throat bulged as if pumped with air, throbbing, stretching in anticipation of the next meal. Both palms pressed on the balloon in her neck, deflating it with the pressure.
She ate once a day, right after dusk, and the baby was as hungry as her mother. Phred was dead and so was Guert. The food in her freezer would last for a few more months.
Eva used her staff as sentry and had no concern for them, although she had intended them to live a lot longer. Phred and Guert had been in her employ for over ninety years and the preparation involved seasoning such persons, indoctrinating him or her slowly so as not to kill them in the process.
Phred and Guert would have been disappointed had they learnt they'd miss out on the opportunity to serve Jeffrey, the new man of the house. Inside Jeffrey lived the one who had given life to Lamia, making her who she was. Maybe Samiel was torturing them in Hell while his spirit tapped on Jeffrey's brain. Samiel was there, regardless of the fact that Jeffrey was unaware of the being within.
The new recruit coming up the drive would serve her well, and the recognizable face would comfort Jeffrey. She was bringing back the book and the scarf soaked with her blood. Eva smiled, content with the turn of events. There wasn't much that could go wrong. All Jeffrey had left to do was name the baby.
"She's coming," Mr. Granger said.
"I know that," Eva answered sharply, glimpsing at the front door.
"Jeffrey has been all over the house."
"Yes," she hissed, "He's in my room."
"They tried to burn the gate," Granger said.
"It will not burn," she replied. "I am the house, and it is not time to burn."
Eva climbed the staircase and entered her bedroom. Jeffrey looked up from the bed where he sat. He rubbed the scar at his neck and followed the marking down to his chest. "Let me guess," he said. "Next comes the tattoo."
"You might like to have this instead." She walked over to the wall between the windows and hooked her finger deep into the gypsum where it disappeared. A small square door opened--a hidden safe. Eva pulled out a black velvet-lined tray that shot rainbows against the wall. She lowered the tray to Jeffrey's face and a mound of prisms sparkled. Diamonds.
"I have many," she said, bouncing a tennis ball-sized bag of them in her palm. "It's how I use magik in the real world. In the real world, one has to use colour. I use these." She opened the bag and dumped diamonds onto the tray, stopping when they spilt over and tapped along the floor at his feet. "Children have lost limbs over these," she said proudly. "Guerillas' scare tactics have been mildly successful, taking limbs from the miners in an effort to seize local control over the diamond trade. This one right here." She held up a rock the size of a pea. "It cost an arm--up to the elbow. Terrible?" She snickered. "Bags of them, you see? You want one?" she asked, pulling out another bag from the safe. She threw it at him, hitting him hard in the chest. He caught it, gripping it tight. "Africa is rich with minerals. See the price of wealth? And here I am in the middle of all this, thriving. I could never leave this land."
She read his face and heard his twitch. He was angered and frustrated at having become a part of her life and responsible for continuing it. That realization sickened him. Yet, he wanted it--her diamonds, her power in the wor
ld.
Jeffrey was torn--diamonds in hand, diamond tipped hammer in pocket. He threw the diamonds back at Eva.
91--JEFFREY
Eva caught the diamond bag against her belly.
"I don't want anything else from you," I said.
"Too late. I've already given you too much. Your visions--I gave you those."
"My voices," I said, "Those thoughts were from you."
She raised an eyebrow. "Not from me. It must be Samiel's voice in your head. You are him."
"Samiel? The serpent in the garden? You will never convince me of that. I am not your Samiel.
Samiel has been trying to invade you.
"That's right, yeah," I nodded, sliding a free hand into my pocket, touching the hammer. My chest throbbed, the medallion pulsating against my skin. "He's been trying to convince me to accept him, not be him."
Eva grinned, as if victorious. "You did accept him," she said, "when you moved into this house." Eva began to fade.
I don't know where I am. I see nothing but black all around. "You've heard of this place before," the voice says. "No more denial--you're here," but I can't see where. "Not much of a choice, but we're all given one. And this is yours. Welcome to it. I've been here a long time, waiting for you.
"Feel the heat," it says. And I do, on cue. It takes my breath away. I'd never experienced anything like it, not even on the hottest day in South Africa. "When the dry heat stirs up a hot wind," it says, though I cannot see, "That wind conjures red whistling droplets that singe the ground, leaving pock marks behind. Noticeable, too, is the absence of hope and sympathy." I feel that--despair. It makes me cry.
"The walking dead linger here." My eyes open to where I stand, and the ground is red and hot, volcanic. "Your face cringes with your hop--there is no way to avoid the ground. Standing still is too painful, yet the hopping is too tiring, so you alternate between the two."
There is enough hazy light to see. These people, if you can call them that, resemble ancient mummies. Their eyes--bulbous fat slugs--greet me first. Then I see shallow skin hanging in sheets from charcoaled bodies. Hairless creatures, all of them.
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