by Amy Cross
"It was exactly like last time," Cassie says, her voice sounding weak and frail. "It was the same as the time with Bobby. Exactly the same."
Before I have time to react, Lenora's body suddenly jolts, and finally she turns to look up at me. The skin has been almost entirely torn away from her face, leaving a bloody skull with one remaining eye blinking furiously as blood seeps across its surface. She opens her mouth, but no words come out; instead, all I hear is a faint rasp.
"She's in agony," Cassie says calmly. "Just like Bobby. You have to do what you did last time."
"No," I say, taking a step back. I can't take my eyes off Lenora's pathetic, agonized face. She reaches out toward me, but it's clear that there's nothing she can do. The pain must be overwhelming. Five years ago, I saw the same thing happen to Bobby, and I did the only compassionate thing that was possible. I did it once, but I can't do it again.
"She's going to die anyway," Cassie whispers. "Darper's the one who kill her. All you have to do, Fisher, is help end her suffering as soon as possible. You didn't kill Bobby, not really, and you won't be the one who kills Lenora."
"I can't do it," I say, taking another step back as Lenora tries to crawl after me. I still remember the feel of the knife as it sliced so easily and so quickly between Bobby's ribs; I remember the faintest pressure as the tip pushed against his heart and finally burst through. I thought it would be a quick death, but he still suffered. I tried to pull the knife out, to stab him again and this time end his suffering, but I was too scared. I froze, and he ended up bleeding to death slowly. I was trying to help him die quickly after Darper had attacked him and mutilated his head, but all I did was make his suffering worse.
"Give me the gun," Cassie says weakly. "If you can't help her, let me."
I watch as Lenora crawls toward me, blood pouring from her ragged, ruined face. After a moment, however, she starts crawling in a different direction, and I realize she's trying to get to the gun on the other side of the room.
"Who was she firing at?" I ask, turning to Cassie. "I heard a shot."
"Who do you think?" Cassie replies, staring at me impassively. "As soon as you went outside, Darper appeared. I thought I could stop her. I thought I could talk to her and make her see that she should leave, but now I see that there's no way to contain her anger." With tears in her eyes, Cassie tries to get to her feet, but she's too weak and ends up back on the floor instead. "She's -"
Before she can finish, Lenora lets out an agonized scream. Turning, I see that she's still some way from the gun, but it's clear that she's in agony.
"Help her," Cassie whispers. "Please, Fisher. Don't let her suffer."
I take a deep breath, and finally I realize that Cassie's right. Hurrying across the cabin, I grab the gun and turn to face Lenora. She stops crawling and stares up at me, and for a brief moment it's as if she understands that I'm doing this to protect her.
"I'm sorry," I say, aiming the gun and firing once, hitting her in the middle of the forehead. Her head drops and hits the floor, and I realize that she's dead. At least it was quicker than the time I killed Bobby. Five years ago, I made a mistake and ended up causing him more pain after he'd been attacked by Danver. This time, I was able to kill more quickly. I guess practice makes perfect.
"You did the right thing," Cassie says, watching from the other side of the room.
"She shouldn't have come here in the first place," I say, looking at the gun in my hand. "We can't let this happen again. Not the way it happened last time. I don't think..." I pause for a moment as I realize that there's no way out. "We can't escape from Darper, can we?" I ask, turning to Cassie. "She'll never leave us alone. She'll never stop. We thought we'd got rid of her before, and we hadn't. We can't make the same mistake again."
"I'm cold," Cassie says after a moment. "Fisher, I feel really cold."
I walk over and sit next to her. When I touch her forehead, however, I find that she's burning up. "You're not cold," I tell her. "You've got a fever. It's like you're on fire."
"I told you," she replies, as a tear trickles down her cheek, "Darper's coming back. I can feel her. She's here already, and there's nothing we can do to stop her. Even death won't be enough. She's in me now, Fisher. She's part of me, and I can feel her burning through my soul. I've tried to stop her but I can't." With tears flowing down her face now, she leans closer and kisses the side of my face. "Goodbye," she whispers. "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to hold her back, and I'm sorry I couldn't keep her from breaking back through." She closes her eyes. "Just, please, promise that this time you'll wait for me."
The Ballad of Darper Danver
part II
Becky Madison
"I don't think there's anyone up here," I say as we hurry through the rain-lashed forest. The only light comes from Mulcahy's torch, and it's hard to believe that anyone, even Cassie Briggs, would come out to the cabin on such a terrible night. Then again, if she wants to hide, this might be the perfect place.
"Then what's that thing doing out here?" he replies, as his torch picks out a car parked up ahead.
As we get closer, I realize that I've seen this vehicle before, and a glance at the license plates confirms my suspicions.
"This is that writer's car," I say, as Mulcahy shines his torch through the window. "The one who came from New York to interview Cassie. I saw her earlier, and this is definitely her car."
"Looks like she's gone and got herself all caught up in this mess," Mulcahy replies, clearly lost in thought for a moment. "She shouldn't have done that. It's going to complicate things."
"We'll have to wait," I point out. "You can't do anything to Cassie if there's a fucking journalist hanging around."
He stares at me for a moment. "I fail to see the problem," he says eventually.
"What are you gonna do?" I ask. "Shoot her too?"
"I'm going to perform my duty," he replies firmly. "I hope no civilians get in the way, but I can't be responsible for every conceivable eventuality. Besides, who knows what she's doing here? Maybe she's Cassie Briggs' newest victim?"
"But if -"
"Right now," he says, interrupting me, "I'm here because a missing person's report has been filed. When we find Cassie, we'll make a decision about the next step, but one thing's for certain. If this writer has put herself in a dangerous situation, I certainly can't guarantee her safety."
"She has a photo of Ma," I reply. "It's... She told me she's gonna put this embarrassing photo of Ma in her book. It was from the other night, when Ma was following Cassie..." My voice trails off, and for a moment I'm worried that I might have said too much. "Ma had a knife," I continue. "She said she was gonna hurt Cassie, but she never could have actually gone through with it. You know what Ma's like. Her heart's in the right place, but she's a good person. And this bitch from New York said she's gonna humiliate her and publish this photo she took while she was following them both."
"Sounds like she's another one who's set on causing trouble around here," he says. "Your mother's a good woman, Becky, and I won't have her being upset, not on any account." With that, he turns and starts walking along the path that leads up through the trees toward the cabin.
"But you can't -" I start to call after him, before realizing that there's no way he's going to listen to me. Hurrying after him, I can tell that he's on something of a one-man crusade. I get that he wants to deal with Cassie, and that he believes he's administering justice. That writer, though, is another matter. Sure, she's a bitch, and I'd do anything to stop her publishing that photo of Ma, but it's hard to believe that Mulcahy would actually consider killing her. Cassie Briggs deserves to die, but I'm not comfortable with the idea of Mulcahy just gunning down anyone who gets in his way.
"There's a light," he says suddenly, stopping and switching the torch off.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but finally I realize that he's right. Up ahead, there's the faintest orange glow from inside the cabin. Although this isn'
t the first time I've been up here since Bobby died, for a moment I find myself wondering if I can keep going. After all, my brother died in this goddamn place, and despite everything I said earlier, I'm not certain he'd want us to be chasing after Cassie right now. I've been waiting for the chance to deal with that little bitch for five years, and now, right at the last moment, I'm suddenly filled with fear at the thought of more blood being shed.
"Are you sure about this?" I ask, turning to Mulcahy. "Maybe there's another way?"
"Another way to do what?" he replies.
"Just..." I pause, and for a moment I can't stop thinking about what it'll be like when Cassie's dead. This was supposed to be a victory of sorts, so why the hell am I starting to panic. "This is murder," I say eventually. "It's cold-blooded murder. If we do this, we're not better than her."
"If you want to go and wait in the car," he says firmly, "that's absolutely fine with me."
"No," I say, as rain continues to pour down all around us. Taking a deep breath, I tell myself to stop being weak. This is the right thing to do. "So what now?" I ask. "Do we just head in there, all guns blazing?"
Taking his gun from its holster, Mulcahy takes the safety catch off before turning to me. "I don't know if you want to come all the way in there with me," he says after a moment. "Likely as not, this won't be pleasant, so you'd be better off hanging back for a few minutes." He pauses. "I mean that, Becky. I don't want you slowing me down or causing problems."
"I want to be there," I say firmly, even though I'm starting to have second thoughts about cold-blooded murder. "I want to see that bitch get what's coming to her."
"Then you have to make sure you keep behind me at all times," he continues. "No heroics, and no involvement. You're here as an observer only. There are strict rules in place to prevent civilians from interfering with the operations of police officers."
"Now you're worried about rules?" I ask, although I immediately realize that I should probably just keep my mouth shut. "Do what you've gotta do," I add, "and I won't get in the way. I just want to know that Cassie Briggs gets what's coming to her."
As we get closer to the cabin, with the wind and rain howling through the clearing, it's clear that the orange glow coming from within is very weak. With his gun in his hand, Mulcahy heads over to the window and peers inside, but when I join him, I realize that there's something covering the glass.
"Blood," he says after a moment.
"Where?" I ask.
"All over the window." He pauses. "I doubt it's Cassie's, either. We might well be in a homicide situation, Ms. Madison. You're to remain outside the building until I've been inside and secured the situation. Under no circumstances are you to enter until I've given you explicit permission. Is that clear?"
"So now what are you gonna do?" I whisper. "Blow the place up?"
Without saying anything, Mulcahy walks over to the door. He grabs the handle and, after pausing for a moment, he pulls the door open and raises his gun.
"Police!" he shouts. "Freeze! Drop your weapons and -"
I wait for him to continue, but he just seems to be staring at the inside of the cabin, with a look of shock on his face.
"What?" I ask, hurrying over to join him and finally seeing the truth.
On the floor, near the door, there's what appears to be a dead body, slumped on the ground with a large pool of blood beneath the head. I immediately recognize the coat, and it's clear that someone has killed the New York writer. Turning and looking over at the far wall, I see Fisher Benhauser staring back at us; he has someone in his arms, resting on his lap, and after a moment I realize that it can only by Cassie. It's a shocking sight, and although I never really liked Fisher, it hadn't occurred to me that he might be so deeply caught up in this whole mess.
"Drop your weapon!" Mulcahy shouts as he steps into the cabin.
"We -" Fisher starts to say.
"Drop your weapon!" Mulcahy shouts again.
"It's on the floor," Fisher says, his voice blank and expressionless. There are tears in his eyes, and he looks distraught.
"Stand up!" Mulcahy shouts, as I hurry over and grab the handgun from next to the writer's body. "Put your hands above your head and step away from one another!"
"She can't," Fisher says.
"On your feet!" Mulcahy shouts. "Now!"
"I can't," Fisher says.
"You have until the count of three," Mulcahy replies firmly, "or I'll have to use deadly force."
"It's too late," Fisher replies, reaching down and running a hand through Cassie's hair. "There's nothing you can do to her now. She's gone."
Fisher Benhauser
They don't understand. Even now, when they're right in the middle of it all, they don't have a clue.
"Fisher, I need you to stand up right now," Sheriff Mulcahy says, with his gun still aimed straight at me. "This isn't a request. It's an order. Get on your feet!"
Running my hand through Cassie's hair, I try to remind myself that one day she'll come back. Although her body feels dead and still, it's not the end. She's already starting to heat up, getting warmer and warmer as the fever returns. I can't even imagine what this is like for her. She must be going through hell, as that thing rips through her soul, claiming her body and twisting its way into her mind. I want to help her, to find some way to ease her suffering, but all I can do is wait. I know what's coming. She'll be back eventually, but first, her body is going to be used by an entirely different mind.
"Fisher, you have a wife and a son waiting at home for you," Mulcahy continues, stepping closer as he continues to point the gun at me. "Edie's a good woman, and Donovan needs his father, so I'm asking you to step away from this whole mess. I know you're not responsible for anything that's happened here today. You came here out of a misguided sense of friendship, to help -"
"I shot her," I say suddenly.
He stares at me.
"The writer over there," I continue. "I shot her. You can check my fingers for residue or whatever the hell you do to prove these things, but I'm the one who pulled the trigger." I pause for a moment. "She was already dying, though. More or less. I only did it to stop her suffering, the same way -" Before I can finish, I look over at Becky and see the lock of shock in her eyes.
"The same way what?" Mulcahy asks, edging closer.
"I'm sorry," I say, staring at Becky.
"The same way what?" Mulcahy shouts.
"Bobby was hurt," I say, seeing the tears in Becky's eyes. "He was hurt really bad. The thing... I know you won't believe me, but there's a creature that lives up here. A ghost, or something like that. She attacked Bobby. She hurt him, and he was screaming. There was no way to save him." I pause again. This is the first time I've ever talked about what happened all those years ago. "Cassie wanted to kill him," I continue. "She said it was for his own good, to stop the pain. She had the knife in her hands, but she was trembling and she couldn't do it, so I..." Closing my eyes, I think back to the moment when I slipped the knife between Bobby's ribs. "I did it," I say finally, opening my eyes again. "I killed Bobby, because he was already dying and he was in so much pain."
"That's a very serious crime you just confessed to," Mulcahy replies. "I'm not entirely sure you mean it, though. You're just trying to protect her, aren't you? You're trying to make us think Cassie's innocent."
"He was screaming," I add, "with tears in my eyes. She'd ripped half his face away. He was bleeding everywhere. There was no way he could survive, and he was crying out in pain. We couldn't just leave him like that, not after what she'd done to him."
"When you say 'she', you mean Cassie," Mulcahy says. "She's the one who attacked him."
I shake my head.
"Who?" he shouts. "There was no-one else up here!"
"There was," I say, staring at him, "and she's here again right now."
"There's no-one else here," Mulcahy says, but I can tell he's starting to doubt himself.
"How many people are in this room?" I ask.
<
br /> "You need to get to your feet, Fisher," he replies, "and -"
"How many people?" I shout.
"Four," he says firmly. "Five, if you count Cassie Briggs' newest victim."
"No," I say with a faint smile, "that's just how many people you can see. But she's here. She's always been here, and she's been waiting for us. She knew we were coming. I don't know if she can see the future, or if she can just sense what people are going to do, but this whole thing was inevitable. We thought we'd got rid of her five years ago, but she was just waiting. Darper Danver is always -"
"Darper Danver is all in Cassie's mind!" Mulcahy says, with a hint of panic in his voice. "We know all about Cassie's obsession. There was someone named Darper Danver once, hundreds of years ago, but Cassie has built up this whole fantasy about being able to contact her ghost. It's all horseshit, Fisher, so I'm going to ask you one final time to stand up and put your hands behind your head."
"You're so wrong," I whisper. At that moment, I feel the faintest tremor in Cassie's body. It's not much, but it's enough for me to know that it's all about to happen again.
"I'm not looking forward to talking to Edie tomorrow," Mulcahy says. "Think about that, Fisher. I'm gonna have to knock on her door and tell her you're dead. I won't be able to cover the details up, either. I'll have to tell that poor woman that you died protecting some piece of shit trash. It'll devastate her. She'll be destroyed, Fisher, and then do you know what's even worse? That little boy of yours is gonna have to grow up without a father, and then when he finally gets old enough to understand, he'll find out why you died. You wanna break their hearts? Really? Or are you gonna do the right thing?"
"There's no right thing anymore," I tell him, as I feel another tremor in Cassie's body.
"No-one's gonna blame you for the writer's death," he continues. "I can fix that, Fisher. Same with what happened to Bobby. No-one has to know. Nothing leaves this cabin -"