A hot wind blew through the room. Lisa’s skin buzzed. She smelled an unfamiliar burning, bitter odor. She opened her eyes and jerked backward.
Standing on top of the coffee table was a gorgeous woman, though she was not quite human. She had two arms, two legs, and such, but there were also large wings sprouting from her back. There were four wide wings, almost like a dragonfly’s. Instead of being filmy and thin, these appendages were solid and sturdy. Even so, they were strangely translucent. Looking through them was akin to looking through a glass block window. Thick veins traced across each wing, forming a network of pumping blood. As they twitched, candlelight glinted off the ridges. Examining this woman, Lisa saw two other inhuman traits: a pair of fiery orange eyes and a set of long, sharp fingernails, almost like talons. The conjurer gazed up in awe, taken aback by the power of her spell. She was the one who called the creature into being. This fact bolstered her confidence even more.
“Anza, you are now at my command,” Lisa said, shoulders rolled back and chin turned upward. “I have a task for you.”
The winged woman looked down, away from the window. Her eyes brimmed with fury and her lips pressed into a tight line.
“Why have you summoned me?”
“My brother has betrayed my honor, stolen what is rightfully mine,” she explained in a steady voice that grew with vigor as she continued. “You will retrieve it. Go to him while he sleeps and show him the consequences of his actions. Do whatever you see fit to make him leave. Frighten him and punish him. He must flee the house and never return. I only ask that he be left alive.”
“Yes, Master,” the winged woman said. She stared past Lisa for a moment, and her lips perked up a trifle. “What of his wife and children?”
“Leave the children,” Lisa said, emphasizing each word. “As for the wife, you will discipline her as well. She has allowed her husband to dominate and control all he desires. Let the bystander suffer. Use whatever measures you must to make them leave. Just spare the children.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Now, find Marcus and Gabriella Carrey. Go!”
The flames of the candles suddenly rose like pyrotechnics. The hot gust of wind made Lisa screw her eyes shut. When she opened them again, only a pile of ash remained where Anza had stood. The candles had extinguished, leaving her in darkness, save for the artificial light bleeding into the apartment from the streetlamps.
She rushed to the window. The winds picked up outside, sending the trees into a frenzy. Their branches flailed and their leaves shuddered. Up in the light-polluted sky, clouds covered the emerging stars. How Lisa missed the vivid colors of an untainted sky! Soon enough, she reasoned, she would once again revel in the pure night, far away from the contaminations of the city.
Turning on a lamp and returning to the book on the table, she flipped the page. This passage had far more words than the previous one. The illustrations on the bottom half of the page showed two large circles atop thick stalks that crossed over one another. One winding strand sprouted from the top of each circle, and a woman was cradled by each of them. The woman being held on the left side of the page peered into the end of the vine as if it were a telescope. On the right side, the tail of the strand seemed to envelop the back of the woman’s head, leaving only the profile of her face exposed.
She recited the spell more quickly this time, excitement and confidence growing. As she spoke, her surroundings faded away and her vision filled with another familiar background. The conjurer and the conjured began to share a line of sight. Anza soon descended on the secluded house. Lisa’s heart rate increased as the winged woman headed toward the open window of the master bedroom. Little did Marcus know that his paltry life would soon change irrevocably, and it would all start with that small aperture where Anza entered.
Standing at the foot of the grand bed, they saw Marcus and Gabriella sleeping soundly. Anza blew out a long, freezing breath, causing the husband to shiver and grimace in discomfort. When the gust didn’t let up after a few seconds, he opened his eyes and got up to close the window. He scanned the moonlit room and almost overlooked the interloper. Lisa delighted in his small jerk of fear.
“Who are you?” he whispered, careful not to alarm Gabriella. “How did you get here?”
Anza remained silent. Marcus scrutinized her face, but quickly looked away from her luminescent orange eyes.
“What are you? Answer me!” he hissed, still averting his eyes.
Lisa chuckled at his belief that he could handle the situation. It would only make his downfall more amusing.
The winged woman took a single step. Marcus walked backward until he bumped against the windowsill. He bit his lips into a thin, worried line, and it was obvious that it took a great deal of effort to stand still. His jaw shivered and his brows knit together over bulging eyes as he took in Anza’s form. Lisa grinned at his foolishness, his helplessness. Anza advanced silently, stopping but a foot away from him. Perspiration clung to his skin and glistened in the moonlight. He drew his hands into fists, but before he could strike, the winged woman lifted a hand to his throat. She didn’t apply pressure. Lisa knew that the important part was the threat. Anza straightened her index finger, moving it back and forth on his jaw. Marcus shuddered but kept his shoulders squared and his fists tight.
“I was sent to reclaim what you have stolen. You must leave this place,” Anza said.
“Now? In the middle of the night?” Marcus asked incredulously. He continued before he could get a response. Barreling onward had always been his fighting tactic. “You have no right to come in here and evict us!”
Anza released Marcus and glided to the shadowed part of the room. She leaned over Gabriella, sending images of her fitful rest to Lisa. Without permission, the winged woman grabbed Gabriella’s arm and hoisted her to a standing position. Gabriella yelped, suddenly wide awake, and looked up to see the assailant. Her eyes opened wide and darted to her husband. He was frozen to the spot.
“Good thinking,” Lisa said. “Get them together. I want to see them cower before us.”
Anza hauled Gabriella to the window with little difficulty. The couple looked at each other with frantic eyes and fumbled around to find each other’s hands. Gabriella quietly wept.
“What does she want?” she asked.
“You will address me,” Anza responded. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes. Please, just tell us what you want,” Gabriella begged. “Is it money? I’ll write a check, I’ll give you our credit cards, you can take all our cash. Please! Let us go.”
Of course she thinks it’s about money, Lisa thought.
“Leave this place. You do not belong here.”
“Honey, you can’t help here,” Marcus said, pushing her to stand behind him. “Just stay quiet. I’ll handle this.”
“You will address me,” the winged woman repeated. “Will you all leave peacefully, or do I need to convince you? You do have children . . .”
Lisa gasped. “Wait! I said to leave the children alone. Don’t you dare touch them.”
Anza bared her teeth in a twisted grin. Lisa could not see the smile, but she deduced from the couple’s reaction that Anza had shown them something terrifying. She knew Anza had set a new plan in motion. Gabriella now openly and loudly sobbed. Marcus stepped back and put his arm around her, keeping silent. His eyes bounced around the room, seemingly in search of a flashlight, a baseball bat, anything he could use as a weapon. When he reached out to grab the lamp on the bedside table, Anza swiped at his arm. Gabriella screamed, and he reeled back, staring at the burning, bloody gashes from the creature’s talons.
Anza turned around, then said, “Stand in front of me. Summon your children.”
“You leave them out of this,” Marcus said. Lisa knew he would have been ashamed of the tremor in his voice if he could hear it, though the thought brought her no joy.
“Stand in front of me and summon your children,” Anza commanded, “unless you would like me to
get them myself.”
“What if she hurts them?” Gabriella whispered. “We have to do what she wants.”
Nodding, Marcus led her by the hand to stand before the winged woman. As they walked, Lisa saw his tears shining in the glow of evening, his chin wrinkling from the stress. She shook her head, trying to clear the image of imminent disaster, but the sight endured.
Anza stared into the dark hallway, waiting for the children to appear. A moment passed. No one spoke. Then she lifted a talon to the back of Gabriella’s neck, whispering, “Summon them, or I will do it for you.”
“Amelia!” Gabriella shouted, the name involuntarily bursting from her lips. Her husband attempted to argue, his mouth opening and closing and quivering, but no words could escape his throat. “Will!”
“Stop!” Lisa cried. “I order you to stop! Listen to your master.”
Lisa could not see her living room. The disconnect between feeling and seeing was jarring. Desperation creeped in. She felt for the table, found the book, and slammed it shut. Still, only the dark corridor of her childhood home, blocked by two huddling figures, lay in front of her.
Now both parents were calling for their kids. Sobs broke Gabriella’s high-pitched shrieks. Marcus’s usually deep voice cracked and wavered, making him sound like an adolescent boy. Even Lisa shouted, though her words were not names. She recited every spell she could remember, but nothing changed.
Amelia emerged from her room in a panic. She turned on the hall light and began to ask what was wrong but quickly silenced herself when she saw the large, winged creature behind her parents. The blood drained from her face. She backtracked a step, swaying on her feet.
“Go get your brother, Amelia,” Marcus said, choking on his words. “It’ll be okay.”
Their daughter nodded at the same rate as her chest rose and fell. She burst into her brother’s room and dragged him out. Both children were silent, and little Will was crying. The sight of the young boy’s red, puffy face made Lisa’s chest constrict.
“Stop this!” she bawled, still trying to exert control over Anza.
The family huddled together on their knees before the mighty woman. Amelia was now crying, shaking, trying to hold herself together. Gabriella held Will, rocking him side to side, both of them wailing. Marcus made an effort to look angry, but he only looked pathetic.
“Let us go,” Gabriella pleaded. “Take whatever you want, just let us go!”
“Yes, let them go,” Lisa directed. She needed to regain some authority. All she could do was give orders that would not be followed, but she would not relinquish her last sliver of hope. “Get them out of the house and leave them alone.”
Anza grabbed Gabriella’s arm and lifted her again. Gabriella looked at her children and assured them she would be fine. Her manic promises fell flat.
With an abrupt movement, Anza seized the mother’s throat. Clenching her fist, her sharp talons pierced skin, and blood trickled onto Gabriella’s shoulders. It stained the collar of her pale night shirt, starting with a small seed and blossoming into a dark flower. The children screamed. The pounding of Lisa’s heart was the only thing that grounded her. She knew her control of the situation and of herself was rapidly evaporating.
Finally, Gabriella fainted, going limp in Anza’s grasp. Anza threw the body against the wall without bothering to look where she fell. Lisa only heard the thud.
“Mommy!” Will shouted. He wriggled out of his father’s grasp and ran to the body. “Wake up, Mommy! Wake up, wake up, wake up.”
“Rise,” Anza said, ignoring the incessant torrent of Lisa’s commands.
The family stood on wobbling legs, leaning on one another for support.
“You,” she said, pointing at Marcus. “You refused to leave. Your children may thank you for their future.”
“We’ll leave,” Marcus said. “We’ll leave right now. Come on, let’s go.”
He walked over to Will, grabbed his hand, and pulled him away from his mother.
“What about Mommy?”
“We’ll come back for her,” Marcus promised.
“Run,” the winged woman ordered.
Marcus hauled his son onto his shoulder and yelled at Amelia to run to the car. The woman calmly followed them to the top of the staircase where she watched them stumble downward. After a minute, she heard the car engine start and the wheels kick up the rocks of the driveway as it raced off the property.
“Is that enough?” Lisa asked. “Have you done enough damage? All I wanted was my home. I didn’t want anyone hurt or . . . or fucking traumatized! I told you to leave them alive. You disobeyed me. The High Court will find out, and you’ll be damned. Just you wait.”
“There is no evidence. We shall see justice.” She barked a laugh.
“There is plenty of evidence against you! I am evidence of your perfidy, of your recklessness, of your crimes. Those poor children are evidence too. You’ll never see this world again.”
“You are mistaken,” Anza said. “Your drunken, stuttering recitation of my conjuring spell has given us free rein of this realm. You spoke without grace. Your gibbering blunder will be your demise. You convinced yourself that you were so skilled and so powerful, but you are no one’s true master.”
Lisa’s eyes widened. She had been warned about the sanctity of the spells, and she now realized the consequences. Anza escaped through the window. She flew up to the top of the trees and followed the only road leading away from the house. It didn’t take long to find the new Mercedes-Benz weaving across the median.
“No,” Lisa whispered.
The winged woman dived like a hunting kingfisher. She righted her position before reaching the tarmac and landed on her feet in the middle of the narrow road. The Mercedes-Benz barreled forward.
“Dad, watch out!” Amelia’s shout could be heard from Anza’s distance.
Marcus cut the wheel to the left. The few seconds he had were not enough to register the figure as Anza. Lisa squeezed her eyes shut, but she knew her vision could never separate from the winged woman. They both watched the car charge through the trees lining the road. They watched the car slam into the wide trunk of an oak. They watched the car disappear in billows of smoke.
The winged woman remained in the middle of the road, waiting for the smoke to clear. Lisa cried and screamed, begged and pleaded for Anza to leave the scene. The sight of the burning car on its side made her chest tighten, her throat constrict. Through the thinning smoke, she spied a tiny, limp arm hanging out of a shattered window. Her throat suddenly opened. A wail, louder than what she thought her body could produce, erupted. The force was strong enough that she tasted blood in her mouth. Anza’s eyes lingered on the crash for another minute, basking in the glory of her work. Then she took flight.
“Why?” Lisa asked. “Why would you do this?”
The landscape changed from forest to suburbia to the buildings of the city as the woman glided to her next destination. Lisa felt like her heart caved in. Anza entered the apartment through the open window, not bothering to show even a modicum of respect with a formal reentrance. It was bizarre for Lisa to see herself through another’s eyes. Her face was red and splotchy, her hair a greasy mess. She looked so small. The only orderly part of her appearance was the velvet cloak she wore.
“Well?” Lisa croaked. “Have you destroyed enough?”
The winged woman strode up to her conjurer. In one swift movement, she brought her talons up and dug them into the soft flesh under Lisa’s chin. The piercing pain made her body go rigid, made her head feel light and heavy at the same time. She tried to breathe through the blood flowing out of her mouth to no avail. She only produced a gurgling sound. The weightless feeling behind her eyes spread and overtook the sensation of gravity pulling her body down. The last image to register in her mind was of her broken, limp body sagging from Anza’s hand.
AMANDA NEVADA DEMEL is a born-and-raised New Yorker, though she currently lives in New Jersey. Aside from being a li
felong reader and visual artist, she has been relentlessly writing since she was thirteen years old. Her favorite genre is horror, thanks to her father and much to the confusion of her mother. She especially appreciates media that can simultaneously scare her and make her cry. Amanda also loves reptiles, musicals, and breakfast foods. You can find her on Instagram @amanda.nevada.demel and on Twitter @AmandaDemel.
* * *
Illustration by Joe Radkins
I heard Marnie before I saw her, her boots clomping down the building hallway. Immediately upon entering our apartment, she slammed her two big travel bags against the wall.
“Hey lady, how was your vaca—“
I managed only a couple of garbled half-sentences before we made it to the bed. She’d just been on an Alaskan cruise with her family and was ready to “fucking explode,” she said. I didn’t last very long. Marnie did most of the work.
When we were finished, she threw on a big t-shirt and rolled over, examining herself in her makeup mirror.
“I think,” she said, “that there’s something in my eye.”
I leaned over her shoulder to see the reflection. Her left eye twitched slightly. The veins were bright red and thin, like stress cracks on a window.
“It’s been bugging me the last couple of days. There’s definitely something in there,” she said. In the freaky, enlarged reflection, her tear ducts looked like something out of one of those nasty surgery videos they used to make us watch back in AP Bio. “Dirt, maybe, or . . . ?”
“Stop touching it,” I told her. “You’re only going to make it worse.”
Howls From Hell Page 19