The Spawn of Lilith

by Dana Fredsti

  Next up on the shooting schedule, Jake and Jeanette would explore the Morganti ship, finding Zoe and a bunch of creepy-ass shit including ambulatory corpses, body parts, and torture devices. I really wasn’t looking forward to spending a lot of time on that set, but hey, I didn’t have much choice—especially now that I was the star, stand-in, and stunt double.

  On the plus side, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch for me to act paranoid.

  Peter trotted up with a sheaf of papers in one hand. “Shooting schedule for tomorrow and Tuesday,” he announced, handing them out. I took mine, glancing at my call time and scenes.

  INTERIOR – MORGANTI SHIP

  Jake/Jeanette find Zoe.

  Jake/Jeanette/Zoe Airlock

  Ritual Shaad/Rheyza

  Ritual FX Darius/Lee

  I frowned.

  “Huh. What’s up with the ritual scene?”

  Peter shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  “That was a rhetorical question, Peter.”

  “A what?”

  Before I’d decided if I had the patience to explain the meaning of “rhetorical,” Jack joined us.

  “Everything okay, Lee?”

  “Just wondering what’s up with the ritual scene. It’s been moved up to tomorrow. Last I heard, Jaden wasn’t satisfied with the effects yet.”

  Jack looked unhappy. “He’s not, but Herman’s insisting. He says he wants to see the finished results before—” He stopped abruptly.

  I lowered my voice. “Herman’s sick, isn’t he?”

  Jack’s eyes flickered to the left, looking over my shoulder. “Well, I’m not sure, but—”

  “Jack, it’s painfully obvious.” I gave him a look. “Please don’t bother lying, okay?”

  He sighed. “Yeah, okay. He’s sick. He won’t say what’s wrong, but the way he’s been talking, I’m guessing some sort of fast-moving cancer. He doesn’t want people to know. I don’t… I hate thinking about it. He’s been really good to me. I just hate to think of him dying without being saved.”

  Jack looked so genuinely distressed that I could almost forgive him for that—the assumption that their way is the only way. There’s definitely more to heaven and earth, Horatio, but not the limited version so many people think there is.

  I quickly changed the subject. “Do you know why Darius and I are listed on the call sheet for the ritual scene?”

  “We’re only going to have one take to get this particular shot, and there’re some pyrotechnics involved that could make Joe and Angel uncomfortable. So both Jaden and Herman want to do the money shot with you and Darius. I know it means doubling someone other than yourself—”

  I will not laugh. I will not laugh.

  “—but we’d appreciate, Herman would appreciate it, if you’d sit in for Angel. I’m sure he meant to ask you himself, but he’s been—”

  Distracted, I thought.

  “Distracted,” Jack said. “So—”

  I held up a hand. “Stop drilling, Jack. You struck oil.”

  He looked blank.

  “I’ll do it,” I said.

  * * *

  The ritual scene took place in an octagonal-shaped chamber on the Morganti ship. The walls were about eight feet in height, and each section of the octagon held a glass trophy case containing a severed head. Some of the heads were human and others distinctly alien. All looked as though they’d died in agony.

  Kudos to Jaden for some truly gruesome work.

  Side-by-side, Darius and I sat cross-legged on black cushions that blended in with the floor. Every surface of the alien craft’s interior was a variant of the shade used on the exterior. For the set-up, the set was lit with a 2K bulb, unfiltered.

  I looked at myself in the reflection of a glass trophy case on the other side of the circle. Kyra had done an awesome job—deathly pale skin, hair so dark it seemed to eat the shadows. We wouldn’t be filmed from the front, but the reflections of our faces would be seen in the glass of the cases, so we needed to match Joe and Angel.

  We sat in a chalk circle just outside of a larger one with an inner and outer border. A pentagram was drawn in the larger circle so its points touched the edges of the inner border. A variety of esoteric ingredients—red powder in a small glass vial; two shallow bowls, one holding dirt, the other mixed herbs; a small bone; a polished ebony stone; a glossy blue-black feather; and what looked like the dripping, bloody heart of a large animal—lay spread out in front of Darius.

  A cast iron cauldron sat in the center, balancing on three stumpy legs, an unlit tea candle beneath it. In between the borders were sigils interspersed with black candles. The sigils and borders were drawn in an unpleasant glow-in-the-dark yellowish-green reminiscent of drying algae, unnatural sea creatures, and bile. It made me twitchy and slightly nauseous, like everything else on the Morganti set.

  Connor stood behind the camera, which was set up to the right and in back of us. Herman stood a few feet behind him, Jack next to Herman. Gathered in a group and well out of the way behind them were Ben, Joe, Angel, and Eden, with Michael, Kyra, Joan, and Effie close by.

  Peter stood by with the clapperboard. He was kind of like me—standing in for positions that hadn’t made the budget cut. Brad, the other PA, had gone home sick.

  Paul did a final check on the four lights set up on C-stands around the outside of the octagon, all bearing filters to create an unhealthy green glow that shimmered around the edges. A soft spotlight, nestled in a short, fat candle holder, created classic under-lighting on our faces.

  “Now remember,” Jaden said, hunkering down next to us. “It’s going to get kind of crazy, but you’re going to want to stay right where you are when the effects really start popping. They’re not exactly pyrotechnics, but we don’t want you and Darius getting any of the splashback from the materials. If you stay in your little circle here, you’ll be just fine.”

  I wondered what he meant by “materials,” but kept my mouth shut. If Darius was cool with this, then so was I.

  “I gotta say,” Jaden continued, “I am so glad we’re using the two of you for the money shot, instead of the actors. You’re both used to this stuff, so some smoke and mirrors won’t be enough to make you jump. We need to get this in one take.”

  He pointed to the cauldron. “When everything’s a go and the effects are activated, you’ll see stuff come out of there. It’s kinda like a high-tech fog machine. Then it’ll move to the outer rim of the circle. Got it?”

  I nodded. Darius grunted.

  “Just remember,” Jaden said again, “you two don’t have to say anything. We’re not rolling sound on this take. We got the actual dialogue in the close-ups so I’ll read the lines to make sure everything is synced with the effects. Darius, you’ll put the ingredients in the cauldron. Do you remember the order?”

  Darius grunted again by way of reply.

  One grunt for yes, two grunts for no. Kind of like a Neanderthal Ouija Board.

  Herman stepped out from behind the camera. He smiled, the expression a little ghastly with his skeletal face and the stark lighting of the 2K.

  “Folks,” he said, “I want to thank you for all of your hard work. For the flexibility you’ve shown. I’d also like to extend my appreciation to those who are done filming for the day and who’ve stayed to watch this. I’m so proud of Jaden for what he’s done and it means the world to me that you’re all here to witness it.” Then he looked at me, ice-blue eyes almost luminescent.

  “Lee, you’ve been a bulwark of strength and tolerance. I cannot thank you enough for all you’ve done.” He paused, then added, “And all you’ve yet to do.” With that he went back behind the camera, sparing me the need to respond.

  “Okay. Everyone ready?” Jaden lit the candle under the cauldron, rubbed his hands together, and went over in front of the camera. Picking up a control box of some sort, he knelt on the floor as close as he could get to us without being in the shot.

  “Remember, I’ve done this before, so don’t worry
.”

  Paul turned off the 2K. Immediately the octagon was awash in a blend of muted, unearthly colors not found in nature, and my stomach gave an uneasy turn. Maybe I should have taken two Dramamines.

  “Ritual FX, Take One,” Peter said, holding the clapperboard in front of the camera and bringing it together with a sharp crack. He immediately dropped out of the way.

  The camera rolled. Jaden spoke.

  “Amelatu Abanaskuppatu Tiamatu, ati me peta babka!”

  His voice rose, uttering the word at the end of the phrase in a harsh staccato as Darius tossed the open vial of red powder into the cauldron.

  My skin crawled for no discernable reason.

  “Annitu, dalkhu sa ina etuti asbu!”

  In went the bone.

  “Bu’idu salmu la minam Kurnugi, Erset la tari, La’atzu!”

  Next, the ebony stone.

  “Nisme annu nusku! Nisme annu sisitu! Elu ma semu annu kishpu!”

  Darius tossed in the feather, a pinch of dirt, and a sprinkling of the herbs.

  The incantation was in a language I didn’t recognize, even though it seemed oddly familiar. Jaden showed a surprising level of commitment to the lines. I didn’t expect that from an FX guy.

  As each ingredient entered the cauldron, the crawling of my skin increased. Was it my imagination or was the temperature dropping? Shivers rippled through my body and the crawling of my skin increased until I was fighting the urge to jump up and get the hell out of there.

  “Uzna sakanu. Pana sakanu. Kima parsi labiruti.”

  I forced myself to remain in place.

  “Lequ annu libbu!”

  As Jaden uttered the final word of the incantation, Darius dropped in the gory heart. When it hit the cauldron, three things happened simultaneously.

  The temperature plummeted until what looked like ice crystals formed on the surface of the trophy cases. A rank odor rose from the cauldron in a rush, as if something inside had exhaled, its breath foul. And oily-sheened black shadows followed the smell, rising up into the air, writhing and shifting in front of us.

  The roiling blackness was reflected in the trophy case across from us, undulating, tendrils swallowing each other like a misshapen Ouroboros.

  There were a few sharp intakes of breath.

  “Jesus Christ,” Jack said under his breath.

  I did my best to breathe through my mouth in shallow gulps of air to keep as much of the stench out as possible. I doubted Morgantis barfed. I wondered if the powder that had gone in first had possessed some sort of hallucinatory properties. Whatever, however, it was spectacularly creepy.

  The shadows continued their macabre ballet, twisting and turning, then swarming around the edge of the chalk circle as if testing the boundaries. The air in front of one of the things seemed to bulge as if the shadow pressed against it. Things shimmered, vibrated, and it looked as if the shadow was tearing a gash in the air so it could squeeze through past the barrier and—

  “Cut!” Jaden yelled.

  Someone, probably Paul, turned the 2K back on. Light flooded the chamber, a bright glare that cut through the darkness and sent up tendrils of steam. The shadows evaporated and the air began to warm again, although the smell remained.

  Someone started clapping somewhere in back of the camera set up. I shielded my eyes with one hand and saw that it was Herman. He stepped out onto the set, followed by the Tymons.

  “Brilliant,” Herman said. “Absolutely brilliant.”

  Breanna nodded. “That was truly spectacular.”

  Everyone on set joined in the applause—even Jack joined, although he looked as though he could use the services of an old priest and a young priest about now.

  Then someone screamed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The scream sounded again, filled with pain and fear, the intensity hurting my ears. Underneath the high-pitched cries came another sound—a rending noise as if heavy fabric was being ripped apart.

  It cut off with a wet gurgle.

  Without even thinking I leapt to my feet, stumbling over Darius, and pushed my way through the rest of the cast and crew to reach the darkened corridor. My eyes couldn’t adjust to the gloom fast enough to prevent me from tripping over something beneath. I went sprawling, catching myself on both hands before bashing my chin on the slotted floor.

  My hands slid on a surface that was unexpectedly warm, liquid, and slick, stopping against a yielding softness. A gassy, coppery smell assaulted my nostrils.

  “Get some light in here,” I yelled even as I tried to backpedal.

  “Here!” Connor called as a strong beam of light penetrated the gloom, illuminating what lay on the floor. There was Effie’s face, mouth open in a now silent scream.

  I pushed away from the all-too-familiar bloody mess that had been our boom operator, her ribcage decimated, a hole in the cavity where her heart should be. Other organs had been torn apart, left to ooze out onto the slotted floor. I could hear liquid dripping to the ground below.

  “Lee, what’s happening?”

  I turned. Angel stood behind me, partially blocking the beam of light from the 2K. Her eyes widened in horror as she took in the scene before her. Even as I opened my mouth to warn her away, something reached out of the shadows and snatched her up by her arms and head. Blood splattered me in the face, neck, and chest as she vanished back into the set.

  “Angel!”

  I jumped to my feet and swiped at the viscous liquid in my eyes, fully intending to go after her. Then her screams cut off with a horrible rattling sound, and there wasn’t any point. I heard the rasping slithering noise. Something hissed and chuckled. The sounds came from nowhere and everywhere.

  “Lee!”

  “Ben, get everyone out of here!” I yelled back. “I’m right behind you!”

  Chaos ensued. People screamed and shouted, scrambling to get out of the enclosed space and back to the soundstage. I stumbled backward into the ritual chamber, afraid to take my eyes away from the darkness where Effie’s corpse sprawled. Only Connor remained in the chamber. He ripped the colored gel off one of the other lights and used the beam to illuminate the way off the Morganti ship.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “It’s… it’s not my blood.”

  He nodded grimly. “We have to get out of here.”

  The hissing, slithering, and chuckling sounds got louder.

  “No shit.” We spun and made our way down the corridor. “Did anyone else get hurt?” I almost said “killed” but couldn’t bring myself to do it. The reality of what I’d just seen would set in soon enough. It was a miracle that I wasn’t already gibbering in shock.

  “I don’t think so. Jaden got everyone moving as soon as Effie—” He shook his head and swallowed hard. “As soon as she screamed.”

  Jaden. Whatever had just been unleashed, it was his doing. Special effects my ass. He had a lot to answer for.

  The temperature dropped again. I stopped short and my arm shot up to prevent Connor from going any further. Sniffing the air, I smelled sulfur. Underneath that were less pleasant odors—garbage left out too long. A dead rat left in the walls of a house in the summer. An overflowing septic tank baking in the summer heat. All of it combined to create a stench fouler then any of its parts.

  I gagged, sounding like a cat with a hairball. Connor manfully tried to pretend he wasn’t affected, but green was not his natural color.

  “It’s here,” I said in a low voice.

  “What’s here?”

  “Hell if I know,” I snapped back.

  The light behind us flickered on and off. The temperature dropped further. It felt like I’d crawled into a freezer. I thought I saw ice forming on the walls next to us. Then a liquid growl came from the dark doorway next to us.

  This is so not good. I pulled the Morganti prop knife out of its sheath. A seven-inch blade didn’t seem like much in the face of that menacing, visceral sound, but it was better than nothing. At leas
t that’s what I told myself.

  Something leapt at me. I felt the wind of its passage and heard claws swiping through the air. I ducked to one side, but wasn’t quite fast enough. Razor-sharp tips grazed my arm. Son of a bitch! Giving an indrawn hiss of pain, I lashed out with the knife. Something in the shadows gave an unearthly squeal.

  Yes! I’d tagged it. Whatever it was.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw the shadow in the corner of the corridor. It expanded, taking on a different shape, like the silhouette of some large predator—a cross between a dire wolf and a jaguar, maybe. Where was a cryptozoologist when you needed one?

  Whatever it was, it lunged for me again, aiming for my head. The smell, already throat-clenchingly noxious, grew even stronger as the thing detached from the other shadows, like an amoeba splitting off and giving birth to more of its kind. It revealed an open mouth filled with jagged ebony teeth, backlit by an otherworldly glow from its throat.

  Reacting purely on instinct, I dropped down, stabbing upward with the knife at the same time, letting the creature’s momentum drag the edge of the blade through its underbelly as it passed overhead. If the noise it made before had been a shriek, this time it was a wail of anguish. Foul-smelling black goo spattered down on the floor and on my head.

  The thing hit the wall and fell to the ground, thrashing in agony as it gave howl after ungodly howl. Still crouching, I turned to face the fallen predator to see if it would attack again.

  Connor stayed where he was, frozen in place.

  The shadow creature gave one last shudder and lay still. I got to my feet, approaching it with caution in case this was a demonic fake-out. As I watched, however, another gush of viscous black fluid ejected from the wound I’d inflicted, along with a gout of the same stuff from its mouth.

  The thing was actually darker than the shadows that gave birth to it. The initial impression wasn’t a bad one, of a dire wolf combined with some sort of prehistoric feline. Only instead of fur, its skin was slick, covered with an oily sheen that reminded me of all things Morganti.