by Derek Adam
“What’s happening to Luca?”
“They’re not carving pieces away anymore, Emma. They never made it work for them. But they found another way.” Eli stepped closer to me, putting his hands on my shoulders and looking into my eyes. “They’re turning us into prisoners. They’re taking us, and putting us inside of your people.”
“Possessing people? Why?”
“Not possessing. That’s us in control, and we’re driving. This, what they’re doing, is locking us inside and giving your people control of us. All of us. All that we are. All that energy. They’ll have their inhuman soldiers now.”
There was no burning or discomfort in his touch. He squeezed my shoulders, and despite the darkness in his eyes, I could hear sincerity in his voice.
As if he were pleading.
“It won’t stop there, Emma. Your druids. They’re already planning to do the same. They know about Luca.”
The phone call…
“They told me to bring him back with me…”
“He is what will allow them to do this. Luca has unique abilities that no one else has. He is human, but it’s like he has a direct connection to the other side. They’ll take control of him, and use him – and his abilities – like a factory.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because I won’t be a slave. And I won’t see my kind be used as batteries, or weapons, any longer.” Eli let his arms fall to his sides. The mosaic tiles that shown through some of the fissures in his skin reflected light from the room. He ran a hand along his flesh, touching the tiles that were exposed. “We are not all evil. We are not good. We are just like you, born of a God, and a part of everything. Some of us fall into darkness… some of us choose to rise above.
“You have to stop them, Emma. There’s no one like you or Luca.”
“Stop who, where are they? Where is Luca?”
“It’s not just the Ahnenerbe. You have to stop your council, too. There is no winning side. The only way to stop it all, is to stop both sides. You have to destroy them all, Emma, or it will just continue.”
“I can’t do that. I’m a guardian of life, as are they. You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m going to attack my council.”
“Who guards our lives, Emma? Are they any less to you because of our differences or where we come from?” He furrowed his brow, grimacing in frustration as he raised his voice. “You have no idea what you’re fighting for. You’re a puppet, Emma. We all are. It’s just bloodlust in a holy war. And you can’t stop it, not like this. Not when you’re choosing sides.”
I slid the guns into their holsters and stood there, feeling somewhat defeated at the thought of it. I wanted desperately for him to be breathing lies. For all of this to be some clever trick simply meant to disarm me.
I could deal with that. That would be easier to handle than the alternative.
Virgil approached slowly, stepping up next to me. He was looking at Eli, studying him before leaning toward me.
I felt Virgil’s hand on my shoulder. “I see more than you do, Emma. And I see that he is not telling you lies.” Virgil and I looked to one another at the same moment. “Listen to him.”
A void grew in me that ached. It was a tangled ball of emotion, curling around inside me as it grew. I wanted to cry out in anger and sadness all at once.
I had never felt so used or lied to. Having my entire purpose for being be false left me hollow inside.
My eyes felt like they were going to water as a lump grew in my throat. I looked at Eli and took a deep breath, exhaling softly.
“What am I supposed to do?” I asked quietly, trying to contain the tidal wave of emotion that was rising.
Eli leveled his eyes with mine, closing the space between us.
“Let me in. You have only a small part of me. I can give you the rest. With that, you can stop this all.”
“You want to possess me.” I scoffed and put my hand up to object, but he took my hand in his and put it to his chest. His flesh was cool to the touch, and the tiles in his skin that touched my hand were like ice.
“No. My end is already assured for what I’m doing. I’m giving you the rest of me. You’ll have tremendous power, Emma. Enough to end this, I hope.”
I was stuck, unmoving. I stared at my hand on his chest, feeling the chill emanating from his skin. I could also feel the energy of him… it was familiar.
“What if I say no?”
“Then a great many will see their end.” I looked to him again, meeting his eyes. They weren’t black anymore. They were a mix of vibrant color, resembling the polished, reflective surface of the tiles in his skin. “But you can save them… Us. Starting with Luca.”
Luca…
I nodded to him before I realized I was really in agreement, surprising myself.
But I was willing. I trusted Virgil, and found myself trusting in Eli.
He sighed in relief and raised his hands, touching the sides of my face. I felt the warmth radiate from his hands. A deep amber light began to spill from his hands, lighting his eyes as well.
There was no pain or discomfort this time. Just a gentle and consistent humming that grew in the room. The different pitches in the humming sounded like they were bouncing off one another, but gradually evened out.
They quickly harmonized, like a perfectly tuned instrument, and then it was quiet.
Eli was gone.
Chapter 17 – Luca
It was my favorite smell, rivaled only by how good it tasted. My mouth was watering, overflowing with saliva at the sweet-tart, buttery-crumbled flavors that were about to melt all over my tongue.
I had a death grip on the fork in my hand, holding it upright and brandishing it like a weapon.
Patience was required in order to get what I wanted though. Grandpa wouldn’t have any foolishness at the table.
Which was fine by me, it was a fair trade to get that fat slice of his homemade strawberry rhubarb pie.
Oh man, I was twitching. A cloud of that delicious scent rolled over me on a breeze from the kitchen and the smell of pie filled my nose.
Sweet, sweet bliss… it was coming. I could hear him cutting it. The knife was clinking against the glass pie plate. That sound made my mouth water more. It was so close.
It didn’t matter how often he made it, there was a process to it all. Like a tradition.
Grandpa made the pie while I watched. He would pass me little cuts of strawberry that he said were “too ugly for the pie.”
I loved the ugly strawberries.
There were always so many. I used to tell him he should find a better farm stand that didn’t sell so many ugly ones. Then I got wise to it. If he went to a different farm stand, then I wouldn’t get to eat the ugly ones, because there wouldn’t be any.
So, one time, over slicing strawberries, I told him he should buy from the same stand because those were nice people and they probably counted on us buying strawberries. So, we would buy their ugly strawberries and keep them in business.
He agreed with me and said that was “a fine thing to do.” To think I’d almost lost out on the best part.
After the pie was made, we played cards. All kinds of card games. We played while it baked, and we played while it cooled off.
Then I waited, with fork at the ready, while grandpa cut the pie. He would bring me the first slice, always because…
“The first slice is where the magic is.” I heard him say it, almost in time with my thoughts as he walked out of the kitchen, plate in hand.
He set the plate in front of me, and I watched the contents of the pie slice slowly ooze out the sides. It was still hot, steaming a bit on the plate.
Grandpa’s hand tussled my hair and I wiggled as his other hand hovered over my plate, sprinkling just the perfect pinch of brown sugar over the slice.
I loved how some of it always missed the pie and would fall on the sides of the little white plate.
It was like the perfect pictures of desserts in fancy restaurant
s they show on television.
Next was my favorite part. The grand finale of the pie. I sat perfectly still and straight-faced, but was grinning big inside. He was gonna do it. He’d sling a great big gob of whipped cream over the top of the pie with a loud “K’yah!” It made me laugh so hard every time because he sounded like a kung-fu master.
I waited, but it didn’t happen.
Scowling a little, I looked to him as he settled onto the chair next to me. He was just smiling at me and he looked so happy.
Grandpa loved cooking and baking so much it always made him smile like that, especially on pie days.
“Eat!” He grinned and pointed at the pie, and I looked to it again.
My mouth wasn’t watering anymore. I didn’t want it without the whipped cream. I looked back at him and wanted to ask for it. I’d never had to ask for it before.
I was afraid I would hurt his feelings.
“Eat, Luca. It’s your favorite.”
“I know.”
“What’s wrong?”
I lowered my head and was just staring at the pie. It started to feel all wrong. I didn’t want it anymore, which was really weird. I really loved his pie.
Especially this one.
I looked back up to him next to me, and he was still smiling at me. “There’s no whipped cream.”
That’s when I realized that he would never put it on. Because he couldn’t. He was dead.
“I know,” he said quietly, his eyes still smiling at me, but not as brightly.
And then he was gone. His chair was empty.
I wanted to cry when I suddenly remembered how quickly he had gone when he passed away. It was just like that – gone right before my eyes when they took him.
And then the pie was never the same. I had to be dreaming, because this wasn’t my favorite pie anymore.
I felt an intense pain in my arm and I dropped the fork. It didn’t rattle on the wood table though; it passed right through it.
The table seemed to go blurry, like someone was smearing the paint it was drawn from, and then suddenly I was awake.
Or I could see, at least.
There was a fierce burning still in my arm, but I couldn’t move my head. Actually, I realized my head was moving on its own but I couldn’t control it.
It finally looked down and I could see a scorched brand had been burnt into the flesh of my arm.
That should have hurt more, but I didn’t feel like screaming. It just hurt. I was thrashing around, though, pretty good.
My head moved around again.
I wasn’t wrapped up in rope anymore, but I was still tied to the board by my feet and my chest.
I could feel the ropes, but I couldn’t hear anything.
Vagner was over there, reading from his book. There were a bunch of other robed figures there, too.
Why the hell couldn’t I move?
My head rocked forward and I could see the open steamer trunk in front of me.
The bodekin. It got to me. Did it rip my ears off or something? I couldn’t speak or hear… did it rip my face open?
Holy tits, I’m possessed.
I had been involved in some investigations with people who had been possessed. Most of them don’t remember a thing, just dreams. But some of them talk about being awake and experiencing it.
Feeling and seeing everything, but being locked in, like they’re in a coma.
…that son of a bitch stuck a monkey puppet in me.
Oh, you better hope I don’t get out of this.
I fought with all I had to try and control my movements, but I was paralyzed, watching my body flail around. My head rolled forward again, and I could see a tremendous amount of drool fall from my face and run down my shirt.
Nice.
Vagner snapped the book shut and stepped to me, raising a hand and covering my face. I was so pissed and tried to jerk my head away but couldn’t even manage a wiggle.
His hand smelled like dirty ass.
There was suddenly a great rush of air, taking over the silence. It was almost deafening. I wanted to wince and cover my ears, but there was no relief. I couldn’t move.
The pitch increased with the volume, like a container rapidly filling, until it suddenly stopped and everything went black.
I could see myself; hell, I could even move. My hands darted around, checking all over my body and my face and I sighed in relief.
“Thank God.”
However, it was still pitch black. I couldn’t see anything, other than myself. It was black in every direction. I wasn’t tied down any more though.
“Luca.”
The voice echoed over itself a few times, and I glanced around.
It spoke again, almost in a whisper. It was thin, raspy, and wraithlike. This time, it sounded closer to me. I turned again, and was face to face with myself.
“I’m gonna need you to take a seat, wait this out, and just be a good sport.” It didn’t sound like me, but it sure as hell looked like me.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m you, genius.”
“My sweet ass. There’s only one of me in here.”
“Eh, technically, there’s three of us. There’s you, there’s the new you…” The copy of me pointed to its chest. “And then there’s Fido.” He pointed off to the side, and my gaze followed.
Not far from me was the bodekin, sitting on the floor… what I’m assuming was the floor… everything was fucking black.
It had one leg up in the air, the other stretched out in front of it, and it was bent over, licking the skin between its legs with a massive forked tongue.
“…you’re not me.”
“No, I totally am now. You’re not you. I’m you. Which makes me, you. Or me. Depending on how you look at it, and who is talking.”
“What?”
“Exactly.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Anyway. This is exactly what you were told would happen. So just relax. I’m gonna take over from here.”
“I got possessed twice? … in one sitting? What the hell… tell me your name.”
He stuck a finger up at me, his brow arching with a look of surprise. Damn, did I look that stupid when I gave a surprised look like that?
“Ah! Sorry, you have to phrase that in the form of a question.” He laughed and made the stupidest face, twisting his mouth sideways and exposing as much of his teeth as possible.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, I got possessed by Jim Carrey.” I put my hands to my face and shook my head before looking at him. He was just grinning at me. “Who are you?”
“Abigor!” He stuck his hand out, taking mine and shaking it vigorously. “I command over eighty legions. I’ll take care of your body, don’t worry. It’s in good hands. But I have to go, there’s work to do. Um…”
He looked around at the darkness that surrounded us, then to the bodekin that was still lapping at itself, and shrugged.
“It’s generally frowned upon but, I’m gonna let you watch. Doesn’t seem right to leave you down here.”
“Watch what?”
Everything was gone again. My ability to move, much of my ability to feel. The light was blinding for a second as Vagner took his hand away.
I could hear, though it sounded muddied and muffled.
“Speak your name.”
“Abigor. It’s a pleasure. Untie me, please.”
Except I couldn’t speak. I could hear myself, but it wasn’t me. It was him.
I was stuck again, merely watching.
Once my body was untied, Abigor stood me up and was checking my arms and hands, flexing and stretching.
My hand extended toward Vagner and he paused, looking at it before taking it and shaking it slowly. I suppose it made sense for there to be pleasant, polite demons. Not all spirits and creepies were malicious.
Some of them were knowledgeable and classy, some of them were assholes, and some of them were Sutter.
Sutter, you son of a bitch, I need you. I need Emma.
When the handshake was finished, Abigor continued to stretch and shook out my hands and fingers. As polite as he was, I wanted him the hell out of me. I had no intention of spending the rest of my existence as casual attire for a demon.
“Super.” He wasted no time working my hands in various gestures. With each motion, there were small trails of amber light left behind. He was quietly chanting in…a mix of languages. I was picking out Sumerian, obvious Latin, and a blend of other languages being mish-mashed together, that I didn’t quite understand.
I felt tingling growing in my body, rising in intensity as Abigor spoke, his gestures becoming more deliberate.
I wanted to scream in my own head, but every attempt just felt like I was trying to flex a muscle that wasn’t there, or wouldn’t respond.
This was a first. I’d never been personally possessed, but I had encountered them enough to know there was no way to take control from this side.
So far, the experience was pretty damn unpleasant.
Abigor continued the gestures and I could feel the floor quaking. The light was visibly dimming as a dark shadow began to form in the center of the room, like a rolling cloud.
Why two?
Why the bodekin?
I watched as the ritual continued. I couldn’t do anything about that.
But…
I wasn’t sure how to work the controls on this thing, or how the hell to turn a thought, or a…soul… or whatever the hell I was.
With some effort… at least, it felt like effort… my vision suddenly went black. I found myself in the dark again. It was quiet. The complete lack of sound was deafening.
And then I heard it.
The sickly, wet, slopping of a tongue.
Glancing down, I could see my body contrasted against the expanse of black that went in all directions. I could move freely and it was a relief to feel like myself, even though I knew I wasn’t really me.
Not the physical me.
Just a few feet away was the bodekin, still licking itself.
“What the fuck are you doin’ in here…” I walked closer to it, wary that it might leap and attack. Then again, I wasn’t certain it could actually do harm in here.
It didn’t seem all that violent. Not like when they’re usually trying to eat someone’s face, or rip up the front of a truck.