by Holly Dae
When the priest got louder and more insistent, she began to scream. The girl from last week hadn’t actually gone that far, but this was the stuff she saw on those movies that were supposedly based on true stories. The only thing she wouldn’t be able to manage was turning a sickly purple and burning when the cross was placed on her forehead, though she did try to shake her head back and forth, with her eyes closed like the cool piece of metal against her forehead was the most painful thing she had ever experienced.
The priest reached another climax of his prayer. It was good a time as any for Malakha to bring her performance to an end.
Malakha went limp in her chair and closed her eyes.
“Malakha!” That was John and by the sounds, he was approaching her.
“Don’t touch her.” That was the priest. The sound of John approaching stopped.
Malakha moaned a little, opened her eyes slowly, hoping she could pull off the bleary eyed, sleepy appearance. Then she slowly lifted and reared her head back, while squinting as though the light was bothering her. After a sufficient amount of time had passed for her eyes to seem like they had gotten adjusted again, Malakha began blinking slowly in what she hoped looked like confusion and scanned the room.
“What?” she asked.
“Malakha?” John asked, standing much closer to her than he had been before she closed her eyes.
“What’s going on?” Malakha asked.
“You… You don’t remember?” John asked in confusion.
“Should I?” Malakha asked, trying to pull off her natural dry skepticism. It was hard to act like her normal self when she was trying not to laugh.
“I think my work here is done,” the priest said and then turned to Father Thomas. “We shouldn’t have any more problems out of this one.”
Malakha rolled her eyes at that. She was never a problem to begin with.
“Can I go back to my room now?” she asked impatiently.
“Are you sure you’re—.” Malakha shot John a quick pointed looked. “I’ll escort her to her room, just to make sure she’s okay if you would like,” the young monk said quickly.
“Is that alright with you Malakha?” Father Thomas asked.
“Whatever,” Malakha muttered. She stood up from the chair and made her way for the door. When she got there and John wasn’t behind her, she turned to him and said, “Are you coming or what?”
John blinked out of his stare and said, “Right. Let’s go.”
Malakha headed out into the hall, this time with John behind her. The guard from earlier began to follow, causing Malakha stopped a few paces down the hall. She looked at the guard and then at John.
“Mind?” she asked.
John jumped, seeming startled and then looked at the guard.
“She’s been cleared. You don’t have to follow us,” he said.
The guard seemed to believe John and went back, leaving Malakha and John to continue down the hall. When they rounded a corner and Malakha was sure they were out of earshot, Malakha finally let out the laugh she had been holding in, ignoring the fact that the demon across the divide found the situation as funny as she did. She’d deal with him later.
“I deserve a fucking Oscar for that,” she said as she continued down the hall.
“An Oscar?” John asked. “That was an act?”
“You didn’t think it was real did you? I though you would figure out I was just trying to get out of there.”
John wasn’t following her anymore, but Malakha was in too much of a rush to stop for him again. When he caught back up to her he said, “Where did you learn to act?”
Malakha shrugged. “It’s a natural talent. I wanted to try out for a movie when I younger, but my mother forbid me. Once I’m eighteen and graduated and all that, I was thinking about trying to become an actor again. My mother might not complain so much if I started bringing in a steady paycheck or something. You know, like in the seven figures or something.”
John didn’t say anything, just continued to stare at her as they walked.
When they began to approach the girls’ dorms he said, “I knew you’d be interesting.”
“Glad I’m living up to someone’s expectations.”
John huffed. “I bet you could probably care less.”
“If the other monks were just a fraction more like you, I’d get along with them more.”
Chapter Twelve
Nocturne
When Malakha and John got to her room, Malak and Sabrina were already there and Malakha’s new jumper, made from the cloak she had brought from Hell the previous night lay on the bed. Malak’s sister had really done a good job with it on such short notice. It was a one piece, just like Malakha wanted and Ashley had cut the fabric to form two pants legs. And she had sewn on ties made from extra fabric of the cloak so that Malakha could close the top of the jumper right up to above the top of her breast. The girl left the long wide sleeves and hood in place. Lying next to the outfit was a piece of fabric to tie up her hair and a belt, also made from the fabric of the cloak.
“My sister says that you owe her for this,” Malak said. “She had to skip class to get this done for you by tonight.”
“Owe her what exactly?” Malakha said picking up the suit.
“She said she’ll let you know,” Malak said shrugging.
Malakha nodded and then turned to both Malak and John. “I’m going to need both of you to step out for a minute.”
“Do we have to?” Malak asked.
Malakha glared at him over her shoulder causing Malak to roll his eyes and follow John out the room.
When the door was securely closed and locked, Malakha went to her closet to grab a pair of jeans and a fitted tank top.
Sabrina, who was sitting on her bed watching, tilted her head a little and asked, “What’s that for? It can’t go to Hell with you, right?”
“Yeah,” Malakha said, “but I’m still not certain how Hell works. This is in case something happens to this jumper on the other side. I would prefer not to be left naked in front Malak, who happens to have a huge crush on me, and a Monk, even though he’s celibate.”
“Malak more than has a crush on you. You do know that, right?”
“Yeah,” Malakha muttered, still not quite sure how she felt about that information. “I’m not sure I believe it though.”
Sabrina sighed and shook her head as she stood up to help Malakha tie the ties on the jumper since the long sleeves kept getting in the way. As she did so, Malakha decided to ask the girl something she had been wondering since the previous night, when she spoke to the demon responsible for the causing the havoc amongst the students.
“Sabrina,” Malakha said.
“Yeah.”
“Have I ever… hurt you before?”
Sabrina paused to look at Malakha. Then, as she continued with the ties, asked, “Hurt me?”
Malakha guessed that could be seen as a little vague and tried to formulate a better way to get across what she was asking.
“I mean have you ever thought I was mocking you or trying to offend you on purpose with my rants on Catholicism and religion?”
Sabrina rolled her eyes. “That? Malakha, you’ve been doing it since I met you and you don’t mean anything by it. It’s just what you believe that’s all. I can’t be mad at you for that.”
“I know you can’t be mad at me for what I believe in but, was I ever too vocal? Did I ever offend you with my straightforwardness,” Malakha asked.
Sabrina snorted. “You mean with your insensitivity?”
Malakha scowled. So Malak wasn’t the only one…
“Why would I be? I mean you’ve made it very clear since day one that you didn’t want to be here and you had no intention of even trying to believe in something you didn’t. It’s not like I don’t know it anyway.”
“I did try.”
Sabrina stopped, her hands pausing in the motions of tying the belt around Malakha’s waist, as though it was taking all of he
r focus to comprehend what Malakha was saying. Malakha almost, just almost, rolled her eyes at the girl. Was it so surprising to people that she wasn’t as insensitive as they made her out to be?
“You? Tried?”
“Maybe not by the time I got here,” Malakha admitted. “But I was raised Catholic. What do you think I was doing before my parents finally sent me here?”
Sabrina didn’t answer, only turned Malakha around to tie up her hair, so Malakha continued.
“I just... My disbelief has nothing to do with a lack of trying or wanting to be rebellious. The rebellion thing came later. I really did try to believe this, but I just didn’t. It really doesn’t make sense to me. But I just wanted you to know that I don’t think you’re stupid or anything if religion makes sense to you. In fact, if it weren’t for people like my parents, the nuns, and the monks trying to shove Catholicism and God and religion down my throat like it’s so absolute, like I’m absolutely wrong, I wouldn’t have a reason to be so… so…”
“Outspoken against it?” Sabrina asked she wrapped Malakha’s micro twists into a low ponytail. She secured the tie with a knot first and then tied the two strands into a neat bow.
“Yeah,” Malakha said looking into the corner next to the door where the scythe she had brought from Hell was.
As she went to get it, Sabrina said, “What made you want to apologize all of a sudden? You’ve never cared about apologizing for your honesty before.”
Malakha rolled her eyes. “It’s this damn demon.”
“You mean you’re possessed or something?”
“No. Just that he… well… he pointed out that we’re similar in some ways is all. He thought I should be amused by his antics because it’s no different from what I’ve been doing all along.”
Sabrina frowned and asked, “You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“Of course I don’t,” Malakha said quickly causing Sabrina’s frown to deepen. “Really. I don’t. But it didn’t hurt to just make sure. To make sure I wasn’t, in Malak’s words, fucking psychotic.”
Sabrina laughed, and Malakha glared. Her friend was doing a great job assuring her the opposite was true…
“What? You deserved that after what you did that night,” Sabrina replied looking Malakha over. Her gaze landed on Malakha’s bare feet. “You have no shoes.”
“I already know that, but I think I know how to solve that problem when I get to Hell,” Malakha said, grimacing a little at her idea that would solve the problem. Sabrina laughed again.
“Are you two done giggling in there so we can come in? I think you must have forgotten that I’m not supposed to be in the girl’s dorms,” Malak said through the door.
Malakha unlocked the door as she said, “You’re with a monk. No one would question that.”
“After getting caught up here last night, I’d rather not chance it,” Malak said going to sit at Malakha’s desk.
“Aren’t you in trouble for that anyway?” Malakha asked as she sat on her bed.
“In the midst of a student jumping off the roof into a giant bonfire last night, I think Sister Mary forgot about it,” Malak said. “Either way, I don’t plan on pushing my luck that much again.”
As Malakha started to lie back on the bed, John spoke.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to Hell.”
“How?”
“Lucid dreaming,” Malak said while handing John Malakha’s Kindle with the browser open to the site he had discovered a few days ago.
John tried to hide it, but he still looked skeptical, so when Malakha had made herself comfortable on the bed, holding the scythe in her hand over her chest, she said, “I’ll try to bring something back for you.”
“Wait. What do you need me here for?”
“Because we’re still learning this thing as we go along,” Malakha said trying to relax her body. “And who better to have here in case something goes wrong that a monk who’s learning the art of exorcisms.”
Malakha had tried and failed to keep the cynicism out of her voice, but John didn’t seem to mind. He only nodded and stood back to observe—much like he did during the exorcisms—with an indifferent expression on his face. Malakha turned her focus away from him, staring at the ceiling as she tried to force her body to relax, the song that she still didn’t know the name of coming to her head. She tried to push the fact that she didn’t know what it was called or where it had come from out her head, but as the song continued and began to falter because she didn’t know the rest of the tune, Malakha found herself growing annoyed and decidedly less relaxed as her annoyance gave way to frustration. What was that melody? It didn’t help that Malak, Sabrina, and John were watching her.
She groaned and sat up.
“What’s wrong?” Sabrina asked.
“Well one, I can feel you all staring at me and two, I can’t remember my soothing melody.”
“Maybe we should try the hypnotism thing again,” Malak suggested. “That seemed to work.”
“To be honest, it annoyed the crap out of me more than soothed me,” Malakha replied. Then she groaned and said, “If only I could remember that song!”
“What song?” Sabrina asked.
“It’s a classical piece. I’ve never played it, but I hear it all the time…”
“Moonlight Sonata?” John asked.
“No. Everyone knows that one,” Malakha said. “It’s another one. And it was on a movie recently.”
“How recent?” Malak asked, already using Malakha’s laptop to locate the tune.
“Last five years?” Malakha guessed. “And every time I picture the scene, there’s a girl playing the tune on a violin.”
Sabrina looked up at that. “You mean like in the new version of The Karate Kid?”
Malakha blinked. “Was that it?”
“You mean this,” Malak asked having pulled the scene up on YouTube for Malakha to hear.
If it weren’t so out of character for her, Malakha would have bounced on the bed in excitement when she heard the tune, the name of which and place of which she heard it having been eluding her, not just for the week, but a few months.
“That’s it,” Malakha said as the melody began to erase her earlier annoyance and frustration. “What’s it called?”
“Nocturne in C sharp, by Chopin,” Malak said letting the melody continue to play on repeat. “So do you need us to leave now or what?”
Malakha shook her head, lying back down again. “The music’s fine. I think I can do it now.”
Malakha could tell the difference the instant she laid back down on her bed again, not just listening to the melody and riding the sound of it away from her world, but committing it to memory. This would be her key. If she ever had to go to hell without Malak and Sabrina or anyone to pull her back across the divide by talking to her, she would just the let the music take her where she wanted to go, like riding the waves on water.
Malakha lost control of her body again, beginning to feel like she was drifting on water as the mirage of Hell appeared. This time she seemed to drift up towards it as her own world began to blur until finally, Hell seemed more real than her world and her world disappeared completely, the music slowly fading as she fell backwards and onto a lumpy bed.
******
Malakha lay still for a moment as she tried to gain her bearings. She was back in the same large, dark and old building that she had landed in the last time she came here from her room, but on a bed. Malakha guess where she landed had something to do with what direction she was looking when she finally began to cross the divide because last time, she landed on the other side of the room face first and hadn’t even paid attention to the bed. It was uncomfortable, even though she had only been lying there for maybe all of twenty seconds.
Malakha sat up and swung her bare feet over the side of the bed, and it was when she did so that she noticed her feet were the only things that were bare. The semi-fitted jumpsuit Malak’s sister had made out
of the cloak she brought back with her from Hell last time was still present on her body, even though the tank and jeans she had worn underneath were gone. Malakha had also been worried that the entire outfit might fall apart since the thread Ashley had used wasn’t from Hell, but Malakha guessed that the thread was so woven into the fabric of the jumpsuit that it was allowed to pass across the divide too.
When she stood up, she felt extra weight on the left side of her body and remembered not just the scythe in her hand, but what she intended to do with it in order to get the shoes she needed. Malakha tilted her head back and forth to the side a little in hesitation. She really wasn’t looking forward to this. Might as well get it over with though…
Malakha pulled her hood on to shadow her features. Then she began to make her way out the room and into the hall, but instead of looking for an exit, she took a left and made her way further down the hall, hoping that the harpies from only a few days ago were still present. Nancy’s boots would be perfect. Malakha only hoped that they would cross over the divide with her. Julius’ trench coat never had.
“Hello!”
No one, or rather nothing, replied and Malakha sighed a little, wondering why strong, prone to anger fantastical beasts were so easy to find when she didn’t want to find them, and nowhere to be found when she wanted to find them.