The Reaping

by M. Leighton

  Frustrated and disappointed, I resigned myself to busy work until he returned. There was always laundry to do, bathrooms to clean, floors to mop, carpet to vacuum.

  I had just finished cleaning Dad’s bathroom when I noticed that his bed wasn’t made. Since I had plenty of time on my hands, I decided I’d strip and change his bed, too, something he usually did himself.

  I carried his dirty sheets to the wash machine and pushed them in on top of mine then hit the start button. I went back into his room, to his closet where he kept his queen size sheets.

  I was pulling them off the shelf when I saw the safe where he kept all our important documents. I had never looked inside it; I’d never had any reason.

  The lock had a dial and a place for a key. I assumed it could be opened either way. I hoped it didn’t require both because I had no idea what the combination was. I did, however, suspect that I knew where the key was.

  I walked to his dresser and opened the top drawer. Once when I was putting away some clothes for him, I’d noticed a small box stashed behind his socks. I hadn’t thought anything of it at the time and he usually put his own clothes away, so I hadn’t seen it since. But now, I pulled out the little box.

  I glanced guiltily over my shoulder before I took the lid off and rifled through its contents: a few silver dollars, a two dollar bill, some old wallet-size pictures of me, his wedding ring, a dried boutonniere, and, in the very bottom, a key.

  I took the key to the safe and inserted it. It turned easily and the lock clicked open. I pulled on the handle and the door yawned wide.

  Inside were a variety of envelopes, a small stack of hundred dollar bills, an old photo album, a baseball card in a protective plastic case and some laminated cards, bound together with a rubber band.

  Flipping through the cards, I saw my birth certificate and slid it from beneath the band. It had all the information one would expect to find on one’s birth record. I didn’t know if multiple births were recorded on a birth certificate, but this one said nothing about a twin so it was no help.

  I stuffed the card back into the stack and replaced it in the safe and pulled out the old photo album.

  The first couple of yellowed pages held pictures of my mom and dad when they were younger, probably even before they’d gotten married. They were smiling and happy, both looking healthy and sane. I flipped past their life together until I reached baby pictures. There were several pages of me, in all sorts of clothes and poses, but nothing out of the ordinary. I flipped ahead to find pictures of my sister when she’d come along. Being younger than me, I figured she’d be toward the end.

  As I flipped, I saw a family picture. It was Mom and Dad in heavy winter coats, standing in front of an old house. Mom was blonde and beautiful, her long hair nearly reaching her waist. And Dad was handsome as ever, his dark hair curling around his chiseled face. Snow was on the ground all around; it dusted the trees in the background. And in their arms, they held me—separately.

  My heart sank into my toes. I knew that there was only way that picture could be possible, without photo shop that is. Twins. One of my parents was holding my identical twin.

  I brought the picture right up to my face and looked closely. The brightness of the sun and the whiteness of the snow brought out red highlights in the hair of the baby in Mom’s arms. I lifted a lock of honey blonde hair from my shoulder and held it up to the light. There was not even a hint of red in my hair now and, as far as I knew, there never had been.

  A ghostly face with black eyes and flaming hair danced through my mind, hovering in the shadows much like she had in my dream. I knew at that moment that my mother held my twin sister in her arms in that picture and that, somehow, last night I’d dreamed of her.

  Flipping back toward the front of the book, I looked once more at all the baby pictures. I looked closely at the hair. All the different clothes and poses hadn’t been me at all; only half of them were. The other half had been of my sister—my twin sister.

  Feeling more betrayed and dejected than I could ever remember (and that was saying a lot since Dad’s recent admissions), I carefully replaced the photo album and locked the safe then returned the key to the box Dad kept hidden in his sock drawer.

  Hours elapsed after that discovery. At one point I remember hearing a hard rain pounding on the roof, but the next time I was really aware of my surroundings, darkness was falling and still there was no sign of my father.

  Anxious to talk to him but equally anxious to meet Derek at the forks, I changed into yoga pants, a tank and a hoodie and then went into the kitchen to scribble Dad a note. If it was good enough for me, then it should be good enough for him. All things considered, I felt like it was very generous of me to think of his feelings at all.

  When my feet hit the pavement, I struck out west, in the direction of the mountains. Within minutes, my feet were thumping on the wet pavement in a steady rhythm and I was completely inside my own head, just the way I liked it.

  The “forks” was actually just a fork in the road. It was a fairly significant fork in these parts, however, as many people had disappeared from that general vicinity over the years. Needless to say, I’d never been allowed to run that far before. Dad said it wasn’t safe.

  If I hadn’t been so preoccupied, I’d probably have been afraid—heading to the forks, on foot, by myself, after dark, no one aware of my whereabouts. But before I had time to dwell on it, I was there, just over an hour after I’d left my driveway.

  The forks lay under the shroud of a heavy mist; the air was so humid I could almost taste the fallen leaves from the forest floor, just a few yards away. I searched the dark, foggy roadside as best I could in the darkness, but saw no evidence of Derek or his bike.

  I was acutely disappointed that he hadn’t shown. I wondered if he’d changed his mind. I walked a little ways up first one fork then back down and up the other. Still no Derek.

  I was back at the fork, standing in the middle of the road, debating what to do, when I heard the snap of some twigs in the woods a few feet from where I was.

  I was instantly alert and alarmed. I couldn’t see a thing, I hadn’t found Derek and I was all by myself. I stood motionless, listening closely for the sound, but I heard nothing. Once more, the woods were quiet.

  A couple of minutes later, after I’d convinced myself it was just some sort of forest creature moving about, my heart returned to a more normal pace. Calmly, I was considering turning and running home when I heard another snap. Then another. I tipped my head and listened hard, trying to triangulate the sound. When I fixed its position, I turned to face it. Straining, I looked deep into the trees and their inky shadows, but I couldn’t see anything beyond the edge of the woods.

  Then, just like I’d seen in my dream, a face appeared in the darkness. It was the same girl. Her eyes were like hollow pits in her pale face. Her red hair floated out around her as if she were suspended in the mist. Her lips, so like my own, were twisted into a cold smile and she beckoned me.

  Another snap sounded then I saw Derek’s face push through the mist and the girl dissolved in the air like smoke in the wind. I closed my eyes in relief, letting it flood my body and flow into my tense muscles.

  “What were you staring at?”

  “N-nothing,” I hedged, opening my eyes. “I didn’t think you were here. Where’s your motorcycle?”

  “Further up the road, behind a tree,” he said as he turned and walked back into the forest. When he had disappeared into the trees, I heard his disembodied voice call out, “You coming?”

  I stared at the spot where I’d last seen him and the girl, thoughts of a brutal death in the woods drifting through my mind. After all, I barely knew this guy. I mean, he was in my dreams (and not in a good way), he’d shown up at two different places I’d been like he was stalking me, and he’d been feeding me unbelievable lines about curses and the ability to start fires. And he chose the forks as a meeting place. None of it boded well. And yet…

&n
bsp; Despite all the troublesome circumstances, my feet were moving to follow him even before I was finished reeling off reasons I should turn around and go home. I had already decided I was going to get to the bottom of this, consequences be damned. Turns out whatever was happening to me was turning me into quite the rebellious risk-taker.

  I stepped into the shadows, barely able to see his silhouette enough to follow him. “Wait!”

  Ahead I heard a frustrated sigh, but the sounds of his movements through the branches and underbrush stopped.

  “You need to be able to move around in the dark. It can be a handicap if you can’t,” he said, the clarity of his voice indicating that he’d turned toward me.

  “Why do I need to be able to walk in the woods at night? Is there a lot of occupational need for that?”

  “Listen smart-a—“

  “Just kidding. Geez,” I said.

  “Watch it,” he snapped, turning to continue on once I’d nearly reached him.

  He walked a bit more slowly and we made our way further and further into the mountains. The damp, cool air nipped at my nose and cheeks and my fingers were getting very cold. I didn’t see much because my eyes were trained either on Derek’s back or the ground at my feet. I heard the babbling sound of a creek in the distance, though, and the chirps and croaks of various nocturnal creatures all around.

  I’d been watching my step as we traversed a fallen log so when Derek stopped in front of me, I ran right into him.

  “Sorry,” I said, backing up and stepping around to stand beside him.

  The breath hitched in my throat. We had reached a clearing. Even in the dark I recognized it. It was the clearing from my dream. It wasn’t as intimidating, what with no blood-soaked snow or anything, but it was one and the same. And, right now, it was beautiful.

  The moon was bigger than I’d ever seen it before, hovering above the tree tops like a giant, glittering diamond. Its light shone brightly through the bare limbs, sparkling in the drops of moisture on the leaf-covered ground. As Derek stepped forward into the clearing, the lunar glow softened his angular features and turned his bronze skin to pearl. As I watched him, I felt the lure of him again, tugging at my soul.

  I followed him out, the wings of a million butterflies fluttering anxiously in my stomach. My cold fingertips tingled and my face felt suddenly warm. I’d felt the sensations before, like a power surge or a hot flash.

  “Can you feel it?”

  “Feel what?”

  “The power.”

  Suddenly I was breathless. “Yes,” I whispered.

  “Did you talk to your father?”

  “No,” I admitted. “He wasn’t home. But…”

  “But what?”

  I hesitated before telling him what I’d learned. I was at the point of no return. Intuitively, I knew he was going to tell me something that would forever change my life. And I wasn’t at all certain I really wanted to know.

  “Well?”

  “I think you were right. About being a twin I mean,” I said.

  He shrugged, obviously not surprised. “Now do you believe me?”

  “Believe what? You haven’t told me anything yet.”

  “That’s why I brought you here.”

  “Why? Why here?”

  “Because this is where you’ll feel it most. This town sits on a nexus. And this,” he said stretching out his arms. “This is the center.”

  Derek walked to the middle of the clearing and stopped. He took off the black leather jacket he wore and circled his shoulders as if he were loosening up for a boxing match. Then he stilled, took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

  He was motionless for several extraordinarily long seconds before I saw him flick his hands in one short snap. There was a faint whoosh and I stared in wonder at the small orb of fire that materialized in the air between his palms.

  All the way across the clearing, I felt power radiating from him. It stirred something inside me, tickled something deep inside my chest and belly.

  Derek raised his arms to shoulder height, his eyes coming slowly open to meet mine. A bolt of electricity seemed to pass between us, jarring me all the way to my toes. For a second his silvery gaze seemed to glow with the very fire he wielded. Then, as if he were lofting a ball into the air, he flung his hands up and out.

  Suddenly, the air above us burst into flame. The fireball exploded into a compact car-sized mass that floated over our heads, lighting the woods around us. The golden sphere shimmered with shades of orange and blue. It was perfectly controlled, however, eliciting not so much as single hiss from any of the damp vegetation around its perimeter.

  Heat washed over my face and ruffled my hair. My palms tingled as I watched Derek first shrink then enlarge the ball by moving his hands closer together then farther apart.

  And then, with a clap of his hands that made me jump, the fire was gone, as if it had never been. Not even the smell of smoke hung in the air, only the woodsy scent of damp bracken.

  “How did you do that?” I was amazed.

  “With practice,” he said nonchalantly. “Unfortunately, I had to—“

  Derek stopped mid-sentence, his entire body stiff as his expression turned to one of anger, the one I’d dreamt about so often. His hard gaze was fixed beyond my left shoulder. I turned to see what he was looking at.

  A gaunt man stood in the woods at edge of the clearing, barely visible in the deep shadow of the trees. A frigid chill spread down my arms and back.

  I watched as he stepped forward into the barely-lit clearing. He moved like running water—fluid and nearly silent.

  Though I couldn’t identify a cause, I felt a shudder pass through my body; he made me want to cringe for some unfathomable reason.

  He was dressed in an ill-fitting jet black suit and collarless button-up shirt. The too-large suit served only to accentuate his emaciated, nearly skeletal appearance. His face was sunken, the bones protruding grotesquely beneath pale, waxy skin. His wispy hair, the blue-black of a raven’s wing, floated weightlessly around his narrow head like static electricity pulled at its tips.

  “Fahl,” Derek said tightly. His voice held so much venom I had to look and make sure it was him speaking; it barely even sounded like him.

  “Finally,” the man, Fahl, said. His voice was a surprise: smooth as glass and just as cold. It also held the lilt of a British accent.

  The man looked toward Derek, who made no comment. The thin man smiled, the kind of smile I imagined a cobra might have if it could make such gestures. It chilled me to the bone.

  “What are you doing here?” Derek growled.

  “I felt it when you brought her into the clearing. I just had to come and see for myself that you found her. She’s, how shall I say?” The man paused, searching for the right words. “Highly anticipated.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Fortunately, I don’t have to explain myself to you, Derek. In fact, you should be glad that I gave you this assignment rather than keeping you…with me, where you have no choice but to learn all the gory details,” he sneered.

  Derek’s chest was heaving and he looked positively livid. The veins in his neck stood out like they were about to burst and every muscle in his body looked taut with fury.

  Then I noticed his hands. They were a bright glowing orange, like red-hot pokers, and they shook with his effort to restrain himself.

  I stood perfectly still as the man approached me. By the time he was within about three feet of me, I could smell him. He didn’t really stink so much as he just had very distinctive odor, like sickness and death and dark things I didn’t want to know about were oozing from his pores.

  “I knew she’d be beautiful, too,” he said, his voice no more than a whisper.

  He didn’t stop walking until he stood only inches from me. Eyes the dull, flat black of coal met mine, unblinking, boring a cold path into my skull. He didn’t speak or move, just stood looking down into my face for several intense, breathless sec
onds.

  The corners of his mouth twitched up into that dead smile. “Mmm, you feel just like her,” he said, closing his eyes in pleasure. When he opened them, they held an evil delight, as if he’d somehow sampled my soul and liked the way it tasted. “Only sweeter. Pure,” he declared, licking his lips.

  Just as I was about to back away in disgust, he closed his eyes once more and his body began to shimmer. The trees behind him became visible, dancing delicately in the wavy air where his translucent body shook.

  Suddenly I was paralyzed. I watched him take another step closer to me. I wanted desperately to back away, but I was unable to move. Wide-eyed and terrified, I held my breath when he took that final step toward me, the one that would bring his transparent body into contact with mine.