by Indi Martin
If what’s happening to Gina can scare him, what chance do I have at keeping her safe? he wondered nervously, but stayed silent, waiting for Victor to continue.
“Once this became apparent, I had to take it away. I thought perhaps by watching over her sleep, I could keep her safe, awaken her before she descended too deeply into the dream. That is when you came.” He shrugged his shoulders slightly. “Ms. Parker has no love for me, I am aware of her feelings. One does not need to read her mind to see them.”
“Why does she hate you so much?” asked Morgan, leaning in.
Victor shrugged. “I cannot say for certain. I have, at weaker times, considered probing her mind for the answer, but I swore upon joining this place that I would not infringe on the privacy of those around me, unless necessary to save a life. I take my oaths with seriousness.”
“She could have killed you,” pressed Morgan.
Victor nodded slowly. “I am aware of this. I was surprised she did not.”
“Why didn’t you defend yourself?”
Silver eyes stared back at him without an answer. Morgan decided to ask a different question. “Why did you join Unit 12?”
Victor licked his lips and grimaced. “You are here to discuss Ms. Gina, Mr. Morgan. Not me. My story is not as interesting, or as urgent, I assure you.”
Morgan highly doubted that, and made a mental note to learn more when he could. “You were unable to stop her from dreaming that dream,” he stated, acquiescing to Victor’s request to change the subject.
“I was, but that was not exactly my intent. I wanted her to stop herself. That is why we trained on her blocks, her defenses. They seemed to have some impact, but she returned to the same place. I hope it is not because of idle curiosity, but it may be. That would be bad. Of course,” he pursed his lips again in thought, looking above Morgan at the wall. “It could be she is supposed to travel there. There is often reason to these things. Although,” he broke off and looked at Morgan again squarely. “It is still too dangerous for her. She is far from ready to handle anyone - or anything - she may encounter in those places.”
“This is all very helpful, Victor, and I appreciate you being so open with me. I can’t imagine you’ll get the same reaction from Gina when she finds out we spoke.” Victor’s wry smile told Morgan he understood the consequences. “But unfortunately, I still don’t understand how I can help her. I don’t have those… gifts. I’m just normal. I’m a good detective,” he added briskly, feeling his skin prickle with the familiar feeling of not-belonging. “But I am a little out of my element here,” he admitted with a sigh.
“There is often reason to these things,” repeated Victor. “More often than not. You being here is important, in a way we have yet to see. I believe this.”
“You’re awfully spiritual for a…” Morgan stopped himself, unsure if the word “vampire” would be offensive.
“And you are not, for a human.” Victor grinned.
“Never really saw the allure in it,” replied Morgan.
“I am not exactly spiritual,” explained Victor. “I do not believe in a compassionate, benevolent father figure towering above us all.” His grin turned grim. “I would have some choice words for him if he existed. However, I have seen enough to believe that our lives are all interconnected in some way. And I do hold to the pet belief that all living things weave their own patterns through the tapestry that is life.” He shrugged. “As for how you may help Ms. Gina, well. I believe she is searching for something. Her mind is traveling to planes I have only heard of. As a detective, you are good at searching. Perhaps you can help her find what it is she seeks, mitigating the danger of what she may find.”
“That sounds overly simplistic,” complained Morgan.
“Sometimes the simple things are the hardest to accomplish,” Victor retorted.
Morgan stood. “I know why you joined Unit. You just wanted to be the guy that says cryptic things, didn’t you? The resident zen master.”
Victor laughed deeply. “I cannot say it had not crossed my mind. But I assure you, I am not endeavoring to be cryptic.”
“Well, you’re succeeding without trying, then.” Morgan paused on his way out. “Really, though, thank you.”
Victor smiled back at him. “Do not be a stranger, Mr. Morgan. I enjoyed talking with you.”
“I did too,” said Morgan, and he realized he meant it. He liked the strange man, and the conversation had made him feel a bit better about the situation, and Gina’s training with him. Of course, he considered, even he admitted there were some concerns over his helping her. He wished Victor had made clear what they were.
Buoyed by the conversation, though still a little confused as to his direction, Morgan whistled as he walked the path to Gina’s apartment, feeling more lighthearted than he had in weeks.
21
“What time is it?” whispered Chris.
Nathan glanced down at his phone. “It’s only 1:45. And my phone’s almost dead.” He clicked off the screen, restoring the flickering yellow glow from the candles as their only light.
“Sunrise is what, six? Six-thirty?”
Nathan shrugged.
“Too far away,” whispered Luke, hugging his knees close.
The cellar was dark and damp, and mostly empty. Chris was thankful for that. He didn’t want to find a box of dolls, or mannequin parts, or anything else down here; he felt his brain ache just from all of the things he’d already witnessed. He just wanted to sit down here in the cold and then get the hell out come sunrise. They were huddled together in a small circle around three candles, which were burning down at an alarming rate. He had two more in his pocket that he had yanked off the shelves - before things went even more to shit, he thought - but wasn’t optimistic about them all lasting until morning. They’d scoured the stone and brick walls for exits, but found none, save for a small window. It, too, was boarded up, though not as heavily as the windows upstairs. Chris felt sure they could break those boards, but wasn’t certain they could all fit through the window. Maybe he could, he was pretty thin; Nathan was much shorter but still very thin, and would probably do okay. Luke, though… Luke wasn’t fat, but Chris was pretty sure he was too stout to fit through the small opening.
“I don’t like the waiting,” whispered Luke, laying his head on his knees and closing his eyes.
“None of us do,” replied Chris in what he hoped was a reassuring voice. “But we’ll be okay. We’ll get out of here.”
“Where is here?” asked Nathan nonsensically. “None of this makes any sense. Look at my hands.” He shoved them out into the brighter circle of candlelight. “They were covered in blood, and now they’re clean. The water worked. I cleaned my hands. There was definitely electricity. And the doors and windows weren’t boarded up when we got here.”
Chris looked at him cautiously. “Yeah, I know.”
“So this has to be some sort of illusion!” Nathan gasped, his eyes bright. “None of this is real! I bet Danny’s behind it.”
Chris winced at his words. “Nathan, Danny’s… Danny’s gone.”
Unbelievably, Nathan winked at him. “Nah, that’s what he wants us to think. I bet he got Melissa in on it too. He found her, after all.”
“I found her, Nathan,” Chris’ voice was soft and concerned. “I found her, and she was definitely not alive.”
“It was dark,” Nathan’s voice was creeping up in volume and in pitch, and Chris glanced up at the trapdoor, laying a hand on Nathan’s arm. He shook it off. “It was dark, and it could have been really good makeup. You saw her on the video. She was a pretty good actress. She was acting. This is all just a huge prank.”
Luke whimpered and buried his head in his knees.
“Nathan, come on, you’re not thinking clearly. We’ve all been through a lot…” started Chris, crooning, trying to talk Nathan down.
“No, it’s you guys that aren’t thinking clearly.” Nathan giggled. “They got you, man. They got you good. Dann
y!” he called out, loudly. Chris gaped in terror. “Melissa! Come on, guys, this has gone far enough. You got us! We just about shit ourselves!”
“Shut up,” growled Luke, raising his head and looking menacingly at the diminutive man through curtains of long, tawny hair.
“You shut up, Luke, I’m tired of you calling the shots all the time,” snarled Nathan. Chris’ eyes were wide and he wasn’t sure what to do. To say this was out of character for Nathan would be a huge understatement. “Melissa! Come and give Luke a kissy kiss, make him feel better…”
Luke was up in a shot, launching himself at his friend and they tumbled across the floor. “SHUT UP!” he screamed, pummeling Nathan’s face with his fists. “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!”
Chris leapt over to pull Luke off of the smaller man, grunting with effort as he threw Luke aside. “What is wrong with you!” he hissed, helping Nathan sit up. His face was swollen and purple, and blood was gushing out of his crooked nose. “Jesus fucking christ, what is wrong with both of you?”
Nathan was still giggling slightly, a wet, gurgling sound. Small red bubbles expanded and popped at his mouth, which seemed to make him laugh even harder.
Chris sat between them, shaking his head and relighting the candle that had been knocked over. “Everybody just calm down,” he said shakily, running his fingers through his beard and glancing back up at the trapdoor. “Just calm down.”
“They’re not dead and none of this is real,” Nathan spurted petulantly. Chris glared at him and he quieted, running his sleeve across his face.
“Melissa is,” said Luke, who hadn’t moved from where Chris had thrown him. “I killed her.”
“What…?” Chris turned to look at him incredulously. “What are you talking about?”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re all gonna die here anyway.” Luke coughed weakly, and his body seemed to sag deeper into the floor. “I strangled her. I… I didn’t know what I was…” He pounded the stones with his fist, and the sudden movement made Chris jump. “No, that’s bullshit. I knew what I was doing. I just didn’t stop, I should have stopped, I…”
“Whoa, guys, everybody just chill out. Nathan, shut up.” Chris threw a warning glance in his direction when he heard him start to speak, and he clamped his mouth tight. “Luke, you didn’t kill Melissa. Whatever psycho is outside did. You were in the bedroom the whole time, you couldn’t have gotten outside to bury her.” Chris talked his way through the situation, ticking off reasons as he spoke. He clung to logic as his last defense against the insanity erupting around him. “She was in the bathroom. And besides, you wouldn’t hurt a damn fly, Luke.” He glanced at Nathan’s face and winced, grimacing. Well, maybe, he conceded to himself. “You wouldn’t hurt a girl,” he corrected. “You would never hurt a woman. Never.”
Luke didn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the candles’ light. “Yeah, I know. I wouldn’t. But I did.”
“What, exactly, do you think you did?” asked Chris, exasperated, ready to refute anything Luke said.
In a flat, listless voice, Luke listed off the events clinically exactly as he remembered them. Chris’ eyes grew wider throughout the story, and he gaped, unable to speak. A small spark of hatred ignited within him at how coldly Luke could recount the scene. Even Nathan stayed silent, absorbing the horrific details.
When it was done, there was an oppressive silence. The stone walls seemed closer than they had before, and Luke’s features in the flickering candlelight looked alien, unrecognizable to Chris.
“That’s not funny,” whispered Nathan.
“No, it isn’t,” agreed Luke in the same flat voice.
“You…” Chris shook his head to clear it, wanting to unhear everything he’d just heard. “You raped her?” His voice was unbelieving, disgusted.
“Yep,” answered Luke, still staring into the light. The flames danced across his shining eyes. “And then I killed her.”
Chris balled his hands into fists and shook with rage. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?” he asked wonderingly, half to himself. The spark of hatred had ignited into a roaring flame, burning his senses, tunnelling his vision. There is no way, he tried to argue, no way that a man I called my friend is capable of that. But the cold retelling still hung in the air, diseased and stinking, and he found himself unable to refute it, refuse the hollow ring of truth behind the flat words. Whatever the truth was, Luke believed what he was saying, of that Chris was sure. And that was enough for him.
“Get out,” spat Chris.
“What?” Luke lifted his head slightly, focusing on Chris.
“Go, get out. Get out of here. Get out, right now,” seethed Chris, feeling wrath redden his vision and muffle his hearing.
“It… it wasn’t really me, it was this place, this house,” defended Luke.
With a snarl, Chris grabbed him by the shirt and brought them nose to nose. He could see a glint of fear in Luke’s eyes, the first emotion he’d seen since he began his story. “I don’t care if it was the Easter Bunny,” he whispered. “I don’t care if Charles Manson was possessing your body. You raped and killed a woman. You don’t get to sit beside me and keep being my friend.” It took all of his effort to withdraw his fist, and he pushed Luke away from him. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you where you sit. Get out. Take your chances up there.” He pointed at the ladder, but never broke eye contact.
Astonished, Luke looked between Chris and Nathan. “Nathan?”
Whimpering softly, Nathan turned his head away. He would no longer meet Luke’s eyes.
“Chris, come on. We have a better chance if we stick together,” begged Luke, tears streaming down his face. “I swear, I didn’t mean to do it, I didn’t! I really liked Melissa, I would never…”
“But you did.” Chris hissed between gritted teeth.
Luke dropped his eyes and nodded. “But, there are things up there…” whined Luke pitifully.
“They’re not real,” whispered Nathan, still not looking up at Luke.
“Melissa was gone,” said Chris, thoughts running rampant through his head. “Maybe this is all, I don’t know, maybe…” He shook his head. “Maybe they just want you, Luke. Maybe you brought this all upon us with what you did.”
“The house was creepy before I came along,” retorted Luke, scooching further from the ladder.
“Yeah,” Chris looked up at him fiercely. “But it was your reflection Melissa saw in the mirror that started all of this. Maybe it really was you all along.”
Luke raised his hands in defense. “Nuh-uh, no way, you aren’t pinning this shit on me. I didn’t kill Danny! NICK killed Danny!”
Nathan growled under his breath. “He was trying to help,” Chris jumped in. “He was trying to clear his airways. You weren’t. In fact, you killed her by strangling her, which is pretty much how Danny died!” Chris was sure now, sure he’d figured out the puzzle. “This is ALL you, you bastard! Danny and Melissa are BOTH dead because of you!”
A loud knock sounded on the trapdoor, causing all three of them to jump. Chris and Nathan crabwalked away from the ladder, and the three men huddled together in the dimming light. “Get up there,” hissed Chris. “It wants you.”
“Fuck you,” hissed Luke back.
Another knock, this one almost courteous, resounded through the dark cellar, echoing slightly off of the damp stones.
“Braaaaaaaad!” called a feminine voice. Chris and Nathan both turned to look at him. Luke’s eyes were wide, his forehead covered in a clammy sweat, his face ashen and pale. He mouthed the word “No,” but no sound came from his lips.
“I told you none of this was real,” whispered Nathan, but he didn’t look like he especially believed it.
“Are you down there, sweetie?” she called again. “I think I fell…”
Chris watched in surprise as Luke slowly rose to his feet and walked toward the ladder. “Luke…” he started, but the following words died in his throat. He did want him to leave, and he did believe
that what had happened was his fault. Still, Chris didn’t particularly want to see another one of his bandmates, his friends, die. He definitely did not believe that Melissa was standing up there, fine and dandy; no, he’d seen her body up close, and had reeled in the stench of death. Whatever was standing up there, calling to Luke, was not Melissa. Of that he was more certain than anything. He reached to the side blindly and squeezed Nathan’s arm, needing to feel another friend still beside him.
“Luke, let me in. It’s cold up here.” The voice was softer now, sounded closer, as if she had her face directly next to the crack in the floor.
Luke’s forward momentum hitched for a moment, and he paused, looking up the ladder. He looked back toward Chris, his face barely visible in the now-single candle’s flicker, and smiled nervously. “Maybe she really is okay,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut before he turned back to the ladder and began to ascend.
22
Nonsensical images and sounds gave way to a rapping sound, and Gina Harwood opened her eyes reluctantly. Irritated, she glanced over at her bedside alarm clock and gave a small squeal. Ten-thirty! Throwing off the covers in a panic, she slid into her robe. Gina hadn’t meant to sleep in quite so late. The dreams she’d experienced since last night’s unusual interruption would have overjoyed her a few weeks ago; now she felt cheated. She didn’t want normal dreams, even weird ones, she wanted to go back down the staircase and ask the ancient men more questions. However, she’d slept - too long, she chided herself - well and quietly, with only flighty fantasies barely connected to one another, and quickly evaporating from her memory.
The knock sounded again, more urgently, and she grimaced, looking longingly at her coffeepot as she made her way to the door. Looking down to make sure she was mostly presentable, she opened the door to see Morgan Snyder standing on her doorstep. He looked concerned, and his hand was raised as if to knock again. “Morning,” she said as cheerfully as she could manage, which wasn’t very, and left the door open while she walked to the kitchen to make herself some coffee.