The two men watched while the stack caught fire and began to burn. Smoke bellowed up the back of the shed, darkening the clear blue sky.
“You know we could get ten years in prison for starting a fire this time of year.” Jackson gave a nervous laugh.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t get out of control.” Doug picked up the pitchfork.
When the two men returned to the front of the shed, Jackson moved to open the double doors that faced the cottage and stopped. “Is that a car?” This time Doug definitely heard something and nodded.
“I reckon someone’s just pulled up out front.”
“What should we do?”
“Open the shed.” Doug ignored the sounds of a car door slamming. They had a job to finish.
Jackson nodded and flung the double doors wide. The rancid smell of rotten root vegetables mixed with a hint of sulphur hit him square on. The drumming flared in Doug’s head, not quite blocking the sound of Jackson gaging and coughing. The rhymical beating pulsed and constricted as though eating at his thoughts.
He looked at Jackson, who had one hand over his mouth, grimacing. Doug wondered if he was reacting to the smell or the drumming. Doug turned his gaze to the inside of the shed and saw only darkness. As his eyes adjusted, he noticed the smoke filling the building, and then spotted a pile of rags. For one sickening second, he thought the shed was empty and the creature had managed to escape, but then the pile shook and jerked forward.
“Get behind the red line!” Doug shouted over the drumming inside his head.
Jackson stood in the doorway staring into the shed, too fixated to take in Doug’s voice. Doug reached out and shoved Jackson in the chest. He stumbled back and shook his head like a swimmer trying to dislodge water from his ear. The kid clambered behind the line.
They stood on either side of the red-lined path, Doug with the pitchfork and Jackson holding the shovel out in front of him.
“If Maggie doesn’t come out in time, try and keep it off me while I get to the backpack.” He was yelling, trying to make himself heard over the crackling fire and the incessant drumming.
“Will do!” Jackson’s voice was high-pitched and edged with panic.
A croaking sound rose from inside the shed, like a groan that grew into a throaty guttural cry, sending chills down Doug’s spine. He glanced over at Jackson, and they made eye contact. The kid looked dazed, jittery, but to Doug’s relief, he held his ground. The intensity of the wind increased and the drumming grew louder.
Chapter Thirty-five
Prapti leapt, and for a split second seemed airborne. The cleaver rose in a vicious curve. Maggie ducked right, avoiding the weapon. Instead, the impact of Prapti’s body forced her back into the old dresser, which split on collision, sending brittle wood and crockery smashing to the floor.
Sharp splinters cut into Maggie’s back. She struggled to keep her footing as she slid sideways, feet crunching over shards of china. In the same instant Prapti turned, swinging the cleaver in a deadly arc. Maggie heard the blade whip through the air and dove to the side, lifting her left arm to shield her head. She let out a cry and pain blazed up her forearm, making her knees shudder. If she fell, Prapti would be on her in a second.
Maggie staggered, clutching her injured arm. Agony tore through her flesh. Her knees buckled, this time almost collapsing, but she managed to stay on her feet. For a second they faced each other. Prapti, seeing the blood covering Maggie’s arm, gave a triumphant laugh. She raised the cleaver for another attack then stopped and looked towards the back of the house.
“Devi!” The guttural shriek echoed off the dark walls.
With Prapti’s attention diverted, Maggie grabbed the spanner from the back of her jeans. Prapti turned back with teeth bared, her eyes glazed with hatred and something else– a shifting, watery look that could have been panic. Maggie swung the spanner at the woman’s face with as much force as she could muster. The heavy tool collided with Prapti’s jaw, rocking her face with a sickening crunch that reminded Maggie of the way sea shells rattled together in the bottom of a bucket. Prapti sagged to her right, but didn’t drop. She lifted her head, glaring through tangled hair, jaw hanging at a strange angle elongating her face.
Prapti grunted and charged, driving Maggie downwards. Her back slammed into the floor, sending a shaft of pain up her spine, but her fingers remained tightly clamped around the spanner. Prapti’s weight came down on top of her and the air burst out of Maggie’s lungs in a painful whoosh. The woman gripped Maggie’s throat with her left hand, still holding the cleaver in her right. Face hovering close enough for Maggie to smell her dank breath, Prapti drew herself up until she crouched over her then brought her knee down on Maggie’s injured arm.
Maggie choked out a scream, bucking her body in a desperate attempt to heave the woman off. Prapti held on, increasing the pressure on Maggie’s throat, leaning over her until her face was only inches away. She stared into Maggie’s eyes as if searching for something, then drew up slightly and spat. Blood and teeth sprayed Maggie’s face and eyes, blinding her.
As the pressure on her throat increased, mercifully the pain in her arm subsided. Her vision blurred. Maggie’s lungs, desperate for oxygen, burned. Prapti’s fingers squeezed her throat until it felt like the bones were crumbling. Maggie bucked, this time with less strength as the fight drained from her body.
Her eyes darkened, vision narrowing to a point where she saw herself holding Eddie. He smiled and grasped her finger in one of his chubby little hands. Maggie smiled back, whispered his name and felt warmth sweep over her.
All this time, I’ve been frantically trying to save Harness because I couldn’t face the same pain as losing Eddie. Now she’d failed them both. She didn’t deserve this happiness. This warmth. Not if it meant giving in and letting the demon win.
Her arms were empty. She no longer held Eddie. Instead, her fingers grasped something cold and heavy. A thunderous crack brought her back to the dark, filthy cottage.
Maggie’s eyes opened, meeting Prapti’s bottomless stare. Maggie coughed and gulped air, like someone breaking the surface after being held underwater. For a moment all she was aware of was the oxygen filling her lungs and the swollen burning in her throat. Sound rushed back and with it the scene came into focus.
Prapti was looking down, not at Maggie but at herself. Maggie followed her gaze and saw a wound on the woman’s chest. A fleshy hole near her right shoulder ringed with black charred skin. Dark blood bubbled and ran down her torn dress.
Maggie felt the weight of the spanner in her hand and struck. She caught Prapti on the temple. The impact resounded like a bat striking a ripe melon and the woman fell to the side, pinning Maggie’s injured arm. She cried out as she shoved the lifeless body aside and pulled herself free.
“Maggie.”
She heard her name and turned to the voice. Harness crumpled in the doorway, gun in his lap. Maggie dropped the bloodied spanner and half-walked, half-crawled to him.
“You’re hurt,” he said, and coughed.
She put her hand on his face, making sure he was real, and felt the fiery heat of his skin. She looked into glassy, feverish eyes and knew he didn’t have much time.
“We need to get you out of here.” Maggie’s voice came out a croaky whisper. She looked past Harness and saw Rodney climbing the porch steps.
“I heard a sho—” He stopped and took in the scene.
“Jesus. What happened? Your arm.”
“I don’t have time to explain.” Maggie used the back of her good hand to wipe some of the blood off her face and then kissed Harness on the lips. She looked up at Rodney. “I’ve got to get out the back and help Doug and Jackson.” She stood up.
“I’m coming with you.” Harness shoved his gun into the waistband of his jeans and struggled to his feet.
Rodney grabbed him around the waist. Harness leaned his arm around the shorter man’s shoulders.
“You heard him,” said Rodney. “Let’s go.”
Maggie wanted to argue, but the smell of smoke wafting through the house reminded her there was no more time.
“Okay.” She made herself look away from Harness.
She moved to the back of the house, barely glancing at the filthy kitchen. Her left arm hung useless and slick with blood. Before opening the back door, she paused and forced herself to examine the injury. The cleaver had sliced through a section of her forearm, leaving a gash nearly twenty-five centimetres long, revealing tissue and something white. The wound was deepest near her elbow, where a flap of flesh hung down like a limp red tongue. A wave of dizziness hit her and bile rose in the back of her bruised throat.
She knew she needed to put pressure on the wound to stem the bleeding or she’d risk passing out. Maggie looked around the kitchen for something to use, but apart from a pile of firewood and some empty boxes, the room had been gutted. She could hear Jackson outside yelling something about red lines. His words were obscured by howling.
“Maggie?” Harness’s voice came from behind her.
“I need something to wrap around my arm.” She pulled her T-shirt over her head, hurriedly wrapping it around her forearm and tying it in place using her right hand and teeth. The pain lessened to the point where her whole arm felt numb and useless. Maggie guessed it was nerve damage but couldn’t afford to worry about that now.
Dressed only in jeans and a thin black singlet, Maggie pushed open the back door and was blinded by sunlight. Before her eyes could adjust, her other senses were bombarded. The air was heavy with the stench of burning wood and grass. Another odour, rot and sulphur, nearly overwhelmed her. Hot wind assaulted her body. Doug and Jackson’s voices were yelling over animalistic howling and snarling.
Maggie blinked a few times and the scene cleared. Doug was on the ground. The creature on top of him resembled a small human, but skeletal and draped in rags. Its skin was the colour of wet ashes, with long grey wisps of wiry hair growing from its large bony head. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen or imagined. Its presence in the daylight seemed impossible, the horror of it making her want to turn and run. Instead she stood frozen as the thing tried to rip her friend apart.
Doug had his hands on the Acheri’s shoulders, trying to push it away as its sinewy neck craned forward, teeth chattering centimetres from his face.
“Holy God, what is that thing?” Rodney voice from the doorway sounded hollow and distant.
Maggie opened her mouth to answer but couldn’t make her throat work. Jackson appeared out of the smoke, lunging at the creature and trying to grab it by the neck. With ferocious strength, it twisted in the young man’s grasp and flung him backwards into the dirt.
In the seconds when the Acheri’s focus shifted to Jackson, Doug turned his head to Maggie. “The backpack,” he called through gritted teeth.
It was enough to get her moving. She looked around but couldn’t find the bag. Glancing behind her, she saw Rodney and Harness coming out of the house. Harness took in the scene and, drawing strength from somewhere, pulled his arm from around Rodney’s shoulder and took a step forward. In one fluid move he drew his gun from his waistband.
“Get down, Maggie!” His voice sounded stronger. He fired three shots in quick succession.
Maggie dropped to the ground and watched transfixed as all three shots hit the Acheri. With each bullet it jerked back, absorbing the impact but not falling. The force was strong enough to drive the demon off Doug, but not kill it. The Acheri turned to Rodney, Maggie and Harness, as if noticing them for the first time. Its yellow and black eyes rested on Maggie. Drumming pounded in her head as if the instrument were being played against her skull. Images bombarded her mind, skeletal children moaning in pain.
Maggie closed her eyes and shook her head, desperate to clear the awful scenes. She forced her eyes open and saw the Acheri draw back its thin, black lips, exposing a mouth overcrowded with long, sharp, yellowed teeth. In the centre of its face was a two-holed cavity. As it sniffed the air, the holes moved in and out, making a puffing sound.
The demon juddered forward, closing in on Maggie, who looked back at Harness wondering why he’d stopped shooting. He’d collapsed, his body spasming. Rodney knelt on the ground next to him, a look of utter panic on his face.
“Rodney, get the gun. Shoot it,” Maggie screamed.
When she looked back at the demon, it was almost on top of her. Maggie covered her head with her hands and braced herself. Another two shots rang out, the rapport like thunder in her ears. The creature howled. Maggie uncovered her head and looked around.
Rodney stood over Harness holding the gun. The Acheri staggered back a few steps, but was still standing. Maggie saw Doug struggling to his feet. Jackson, holding a shovel, approached the creature from behind. The shearing shed was ablaze, ancient wood snapping and crackling as the building burned at a frightening speed. A strong wind drove the heat forward, making it difficult for Maggie to catch her breath.
She looked around, frantically searching for the backpack. The smoke thickened. Soon it would be impossible to see anything, and their only chance to stop the Acheri would be gone. If it got away now, they all would get sick and die, it was only a matter of time. First Harness, then the rest of them.
She could see the Acheri shrouded in smoke a couple of metres in front of her. It moved in a jerky side-to-side shudder, but she couldn’t tell if it was getting closer or moving farther away. She noticed a dark shape on the ground near the demon. Please, let that be the backpack. Maggie got to her feet and moved towards the Acheri.
The drumming in her head neared to deafening. In spite of the blazing fire’s heat, she shivered as chills invaded her body. Just walking the few metres towards what she hoped was the backpack, her breath laboured and muscles strained. Maggie forced herself forward, eyes constantly moving between the demon and the dark shape on the ground. Nearing her target, she realised the Acheri was indeed moving away.
Does it feel outnumbered, or has if successfully infected those who posed a threat?
Determined not to let it escape, she crouched down and grabbed at the shape on the ground. The smoke made it difficult to see, but as soon as her fingers closed, she felt the familiar nylon straps. Maggie grabbed the bag and fumbled one-handed for the zip. She looked up to make sure the demon hadn’t changed direction and noticed Jackson raising his shovel above the Acheri’s bony head. She was about to call out to him when something shifted in the corner of her eye. As Maggie turned to look, a soulful cry of sorrow and outrage split the air.
“Devi!” Prapti bounded towards Jackson with the cleaver raised high.
“Jackson. “He half turned to the sound of Maggie’s voice. The cleaver came down with a sickening crunch. Jackson’s head jerked to the right. Arterial blood spurted into the smoky air.
Maggie screamed, her swollen throat burning as she watched helplessly. Jackson’s knees buckled. He hit the ground. Prapti turned to Maggie, her jaw hanging disjointed from the upper part of her mouth, the right side of her face bathed in blood, one eye resting on her cheek. Even through her horribly altered appearance, the look of triumph was easy to read.
Maggie stopped screaming and scrambled to her feet. Prapti stepped towards her, the bloodied cleaver still in her hand. The woman meant to kill her, but Maggie would be dammed if she’d die cowering on the floor. She held the backpack in front of her.
“Come on, you crazy bitch. Take your best shot.” Maggie spat the words. The left side of Prapti’s face drew up in a half smile.
Prapti charged, but before she could make contact, Maggie felt herself pushed aside. A pitchfork punched Prapti in the stomach, the sharp prongs pierced the woman’s abdomen. For a moment, she looked confused, then bucked and jerked in an effort to free herself. Doug pushed the handle forward. There was a meaty squelch as the prongs pushed through flesh and bone. He drove the weapon forward, the force pushing Prapti to the ground. She emitted a low gurgling sound, twitched and then stilled.
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sp; Doug wasn’t taking any chances. He held the handle of the pitchfork, pinning the woman to the ground. He turned to meet Maggie’s shocked gaze. “Do it now.”
His words echoed in her ears, but didn’t register. She looked down at the backpack. Her movements felt dull and slow, like trudging through water. She put the bag on the ground. Using her good hand to unzip it, she pulled out the long, red woollen coat Mary had given them.
A vaidya’s mantle or medicine woman’s cloak, she thought numbly as she dragged it out of the backpack. She hoped to God it would work.
The outline of the Acheri engulfed in smoke moved farther away. The red paint that kept the Acheri trapped between the shed and cottage had been disturbed when Doug had fallen and struggled with the demon. Now the Acheri crossed the line and lurched into a veil of smoke.
Maggie tried to stand. Her whole body wracked by chills, she staggered, nearly losing her footing. Strong arms lifted and supported her from behind.
“Whatever you’re planning on doing, we’d better make it quick,” Rodney said, glancing back at Harness’s still form near the back door.
“I need to get this around the Acheri,” Maggie responded through chattering teeth.
She wasn’t sure if she felt cold because of blood loss and shock or if the Acheri’s poison was already attacking her body. Rodney nodded and locked his arm around her waist. With Doug still pinning Prapti’s body to the ground and Harness unconscious, Rodney and Maggie moved as one towards the Acheri.
Chapter Thirty-six
Heat from the fire, like a blast of hell, threatened to overwhelm Maggie. Her skin burned and yet somehow, she continued to shiver. The smoke was almost worse than the heat; it filled her mouth and nose, stinging her already injured throat. Her eyes burned and watered.
Rodney coughed. In his struggle to breathe, he rattled both their bodies. A jolt of white-hot agony spiralled up her arm. Maggie gasped, pushing back a wave of dizziness. The demon made its way around the side of the outbuilding. Maggie blinked rapidly, trying to clear her eyes to keep the ghostlike figure in view. She wondered why a creature who had lunged forward with so much speed now moved so slowly. Is the heat from the fire slowing it down or all the red paint?
The Stone Flowers Page 23