by Lee Hayes
Eli Kane stepped boldly out of the shadows at Hollytree Convalescent Center. The sun had set hours ago and darkness claimed the city. Night elicited a particular kind of chaos, filling most people with feelings of unease and insecurity, as if the night would bring about the monsters they were warned about as children. In part, they were right to fear; Eli owned the night; it was in darkness that he found strength. He was inextricably and forever bound to it, lapping in its wondrous blackness.
Eli was dressed finely in a black, expensive suit that contrasted with his bold, blue eyes. His taut frame fit his clothes perfectly, as if they had been tailor-made for his body. His wavy, jet-black hair was cut low and slicked back like an old school mobster. When he walked down the busy corridor, his thunderous steps echoed off the black and white checkered linoleum floor, his long black leather trench coat flailing behind him. He was on a mission. He had to see the old woman, again. This time, he’d be much less polite. His patience had thinned considerably since his last visit days ago.
Eli rounded the corner of the hallway that led to her room, paying little attention to workers as he passed them. As he approached the nurse’s station, he was stopped by a nurse who immediately stepped from around the counter, her hand raised up with the palm side out, displaying the universal sign for “stop.”
“Excuse me, sir,” she said with authority. “Visiting hours are over.”
Eli exhaled and rolled his eyes. He didn’t have much patience for the rules of this mortal world. He could snap her neck with a mere thought, but one of the lessons he was learning was the art of subtlety. Thunder wasn’t always required; sometimes, a whisper would suffice.
He took a moment to size her up. By the lines that crossed her face, he could tell that she worked too much and that she took her job very seriously—too seriously. Eli smiled pleasantly at her. She possessed a fairly attractive, rosy face that had clearly seen better days; and the frizzy brown hair that hung just below her shoulders was badly in need of a perm. Remnants of her fading beauty were evident beneath her hardened exterior. Eli let his eyes slide down her shapely figure, which stretched the white material of her nurse’s uniform to the limit, though he could still imagine what her flesh would be like outside of her clothes; lust ruled him. After he finished the task appointed to him this night, he might call her back into the room and fuck her to within an inch of her life while the old lady watched, helplessly.
Eli smiled again to reveal his perfect teeth.
“Pardon me. I won’t be long. I promise,” he said with a coy little wink. She gave him the side-eye and looked him up and down as if she was trying to ascertain his real motive; but, when he smiled again, the cold expression on her face faded.
“Well, I guess I could let you go in for a few minutes; but, you have to promise to be very quiet,” she said with a playful school-girl smile.
“You have my word,” he replied flirtatiously.
“Why don’t I walk with you so that no one else stops you?”
“An escort from a beautiful lady? I am unworthy.” He did a small curtsy and she giggled as if it had been years since she had been paid a compliment. They walked down the hallway together, exchanging glances as if they were secret lovers.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” she said.
“I’ve been here a few times. I usually come at night.”
“I guess you work during the day, huh?”
“Hmmmm, something like that.” When they reached his destination, Eli took the lead, stepped in front of the nurse, and walked into the room as the smell of old flesh and ointment greeted him at the door. He walked over and kissed the old woman on the forehead affectionately.
“You’re a very special man. I wish more people would spend this kind of time with the elderly.”
“I have to make sure my . . . grandmother is being treated well.”
“Well, rest assured. She gets the best care we can offer. Even though she can’t speak or move, I’m certain that if you keep coming, she would make a full recovery. I’ve seen people on the brink of death come back and lead a full life with the help of the love from their relatives and friends.”
Eli smiled wryly. “We can only hope.”
“And I’m sure that smile of yours can heal the sick,” she added, her voice thick with desire. “Well, I best be on my way; more patients to see.”
“Thank you so much for your special attention and for letting me break the rules.”
“Don’t tell anyone. They might think I’m a softie,” she said with a wink. “I’ll definitely keep my eye on her. You know,” she continued as she shifted her weight to her left leg, “sometime when I look into her eyes I swear she’s trying to tell me something. I think she’s going to come out of this fine, one day.” She stepped closer and touched his hand. “I don’t want to get your hopes up. I know she’s been like this for twenty years, but the other day, I’m sure I saw her wiggle her feet. The doctor said it was involuntary, but I think she was making a connection.”
Eli forced a smile and took the nurse’s hand. He could feel her heat and knew that it was radiating below, dampening her panties. Lust swelled inside of her to the point that Eli could smell its sweetness.
“Thank you for the information, love. I didn’t catch your name.”
“It’s Andrea. Andrea Anderson, but you can call me Love,” she said as she smiled and flitted out of the room. Eli quickly closed the door and faced the old woman who sat upright in a chair in front of the television. Her grayed hair was tossed about her head and the old shawl wrapped around her shoulders looked as if it had been made fifty years ago. She didn’t move or blink.
He took a deep, menacing breath before speaking. “Hello, Adelaide,” he said with the tenderness of a grandson. He removed his trench coat and slung it across another chair as he eased over to where she sat. “So, we’re alone now, old woman. Eetwidomayloh sends his regards.” He lowered himself in front of her and squeezed her knees hard, his nails cutting into her flesh. Her eyes widened with discomfort. “So, you can still feel. I was kind of rough with you last time. I’m glad you’ve recovered.” He stood up and sauntered toward the window.
“You know, Addie, I’m getting really bored with all of this. I’ve spent too much time in this place smelling your shitty ass and looking at your wrinkled face. I’m tired of this Tango—we keep doing the same dance. Aren’t you tired yet? I dish out a little pain and you continue to resist me. I’ve been patient with you—far more patient than I should have—but there are limits to my mercy and time is short, as you know. Soon, you’ll have to let me into your head—you won’t have the strength to stop me. I get stronger every day, but you, on the other hand, are one step closer to the grave. So why don’t you make this easy on yourself and let me in? If you don’t, you know I will hurt you, slowly. First, I’ll blind you, sticking tiny needles into your eyes. Would you like that? Then, from the inside, I’ll break each one of your bones, one at a time. I’ll make it so that every crack will last hours and that you feel every ounce of pain. Then, I can make your heart explode inside your chest, and I’ll fix it so that you can relive the same horror over and over again. Your suffering will be legendary, and you’ll pray for the death that will never come.” Eli flung open the curtain to reveal the dark night sky glistening with starlight. “Don’t you miss this? Going outside? Having a life? Aren’t you tired of being trapped inside that wretched old body, unable to move; pissing and shitting on yourself and having someone wipe your ass everyday? Where is your pride? Where is your dignity? You are Adelaide Thibodeaux, the most powerful High Priestess of the sister-clan and look at you now. You’re a fucking invalid!” A despicable laugh escaped from his mouth and polluted the air with the stench of rotting meat. His roaring voice tumbled off the walls.
Eli moved over to the mirror hanging on the wall and took a moment to stare at his reflection. “I must admit that I am impressed with your power. Even in your weakened state, I still cannot
break into your mind—that’s amazing. Yeah, yeah, I know how your powers work. Each High Priestess born of the same blood is more powerful than the one before her, blah, blah, blah. And your bloodline is unbroken in more than three hundred years. I get that. Your powers are indeed strong, so tonight I thought I’d do something different. Tonight, I offer you a fair trade. I could release you from this prison that Eetwidomayloh entombed you in so long ago. Clearly, you and your pathetic sisters don’t have enough power to do so; otherwise you would have been freed a long time ago. Or, I could make your stay in that body last an eternity. How would you feel about immortality? In that body? Buried . . . underground . . . writhing in pain? Would you like that?”
He calmly took a seat next to her. “Of course you wouldn’t. That sounds awful, wouldn’t you agree? Now, you could avoid all of that by simply letting me into your head so that I can uncloak him and unbind his powers. As you know, his twenty-first birthday is coming soon and he will ascend. Your little binding spell may have kept some of his powers at bay for the last twenty years, but it will fail during the Ascension. Your magic will be like using a Popsicle stick to stop the raging waters of the Nile. I suspect that your spell will break any day now. We are what, a little more than two weeks away from the Ascension? When it breaks, do you have any idea the havoc his power could cause on the world? What if he ignites the living flame and incinerates everything and everyone? Would you like to see little children running through the city screaming with their hair on fire? That’s not a nice image, Addie. He could consume this world and the Shadowland with a simple thought, without even knowing it. That is why we must find him, teach him to use his power, or we all are lost. We are simply trying to clean up the mess you made before it’s too late. Had you not stolen the child from Eetwidomayloh years ago we would not be in this mess now.” Eli’s voice began to tremble and rattle the furniture in the room. “Signs are all around us. Your spell is weakening. There are thousands of dead cattle in Wisconsin. A plague of rodents in Australia. The River Thames, overflowing with dead fish. Powerful earthquakes, all over the globe, and it’s all because of you. You have made so many mistakes in your feeble effort to prevent that which cannot be prevented.” He opened his mouth and inhaled with a ghastly sucking sound that removed all of the oxygen from the room, essentially asphyxiating Addie. She gasped with disgusting choking sounds as her eyes bulged and her lungs tightened, trying to inhale the remaining air. “Now,” he said coolly, “won’t you help me?”
He paused for dramatic effect and to extend Addie’s pain. When she was near blacking out, he replenished the room with air and spoke casually, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. “We want to find him so that he can take his rightful place in the universe. He’s so very near. We will find him; we can feel his power. Your binding spell was never complete. Can you feel it, too? Each time his powers manifest, we can sense it, and I’m sure you can, too. So, it’s only a matter of time before we locate him. You’ve altered destiny once, but our will shall be done in spite of your interference; still, it would be so much easier if you helped us. So, in exchange for your assistance, I offer you and your sisters immunity from your crimes against us. And for you, Adelaide, I offer a special gift: full restoration of your health. Isn’t that wonderful? How could you turn down such a gracious offer? So, why don’t you let me in?”
Eli stared directly into her empty eyes and tried to pierce her mind. He pushed and pushed until intense pain ricocheted inside his own skull. He screeched like a wounded animal and collapsed to one knee, clinging on to the edge of a chair near the window for balance.
“So, that’s the game you want to play, you old bitch,” he said between heavy breaths. He staggered over to her and suddenly backhanded her so hard across the face that she flew out of the chair and slid across the floor. She crashed into the wall with a tremendous clang. Eli felt her jawbone shatter into pieces upon impact and he could sense her pain; it delighted him. She belonged to him now and no one was coming to help her. They were alone and his torture would last for hours. He spelled the room, insulating it from sound and creating a shimmer, which would reflect a manufactured image he conjured to anyone who entered. If a hapless nurse or aide entered the room, they’d simply see him reading her a story, but behind the veil, his assault of her would continue, uninterrupted.
Eli strolled over to the window and stared into the night. He placed his right palm on the cool glass.
“There’s a storm gathering, Addie. Can you feel it?” He closed his eyes and concentrated on what lay beyond the window, far past the horizon. “Oh yes. A storm.” His voice sounded lustful, full of strong desire. “I can feel it. It’s your storm, my dear. It is the breaking of your binding spell; it is the unleashing of his power. It is gathering strength.” He turned and looked into her stone face. “Surely, you feel it, too?” He moved over to her and picked her up gently from the floor. He laid her across the bed, taking time to properly fit the pillows beneath her head. He pulled the covers up and stopped when they were just beneath her breasts. He looked at a chair in the corner and it slid effortlessly over to him. He took a seat at her side and stroked her forehead. He would torture her, abuse her, and then repair her body so that no one would know.
“Well, let us get to it.”
His punishment would last most of the dark night.
CHAPTER 6
Simon woke up in his bed and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly eight at night and his room was dark, save for the light from the clock. His mouth felt arid and powdery, as if he hadn’t had water in days. His forehead was slightly moist, but his headache had dissipated. He sat up in bed and took a moment to fully assess his health. He felt good. Healthy. Strong. He looked around the empty room and called out for Brooke, but his voice echoed off the walls. He called out again. Still, no answer. He was alone. More troubling than being alone was the issue of how he had gotten from the doctor’s office back home. The last thing he remembered was walking toward the nurse. He remembered the waiting room. He remembered getting dizzy, but the rest was hazy.
Then, he started to remember.
Blaine.
The would-be robber at Cisco’s.
The tingling.
Thoughts of that red-headed child suddenly consumed him. Maybe that dough-faced boy was a figment of his imagination; maybe the man in the black bubble coat was some stranger on the street he had seen previously. Simon hoped he had imagined it all.
Then, he remembered other details.
The gun.
Reading Blaine’s thoughts. He remembered things about the boy he should not have known.
He remembered the pain in his head as he stood over the grill at work. The man in the bubble coat and Blaine weren’t products of his imagination. They were real and what Simon had experienced was real, regardless of how much he wanted to pretend they were fantasy; two extraordinary events on one very ordinary day.
Simon leaned over and clicked on the lamp on the nightstand, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness of the room. Just as he looked around, his cell phone screamed, which jolted him into alertness. He cursed the phone in his head, looked at the caller ID and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hey, baby,” he said, relieved to hear the sound of Brooke’s voice.
“How are you feeling? I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, but you know finals are coming up and I had a study group.”
“Not a problem, babe. I just woke up, anyway.” Simon rubbed his eyes. “Hey, how did I get home from the doctor’s office?”
“What do you mean?”
“I remember being at the doctor’s office and then I woke up here.”
“Are you serious? You don’t remember anything?” Brooke’s audible exhalation on the other end of the phone expressed her concern. “Simon, you fainted and when you woke up, you asked the nurse to call me. You have a low-grade fever and some kind of respiratory infection. The doctor gave you some antibiotics. You don’t remember me pi
cking you up? You don’t remember us almost tumbling down the stairs when you lost your footing?”
Simon didn’t want to admit it, but he had no recollection of any of those events. “Oh yeah, I think I do. I feel a bit groggy right now.”
“Well, stay in bed and get some rest. As soon as this study group is over, I’m coming over to take care of you, unless you need me now?” Her voice was laced with sudden concern.
“Nah, that’s okay. I actually feel pretty good.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. The antibiotics must be working. Finish studying, baby. I’ll see you later tonight.”
“Okay. And, Simon?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you,” she said with genuine affection.
He smiled, softly. “Thanks, baby. I needed to hear that. I’ll see you tonight.”
He ended the call and set the cell phone on the nightstand. As much as he wanted to reciprocate, he simply could not utter the words. No matter what. The words had far too much power to maim and to mutilate. He had witnessed it too many times in his young life. When they were together, instead of saying them, he often sidestepped the issue by kissing her passionately, hoping the power of his lips and tongue would nullify her longing to actually hear him say the words. He wasn’t equipped to be that vulnerable.
He grabbed the television remote control and clicked it. When he replaced the control, he noticed a Post-It note stuck to the nightstand. It was written in his handwriting, but he didn’t remember writing anything. He pulled it from the stand and looked at it closely, as if closer proximity to his face would jog his memory. The note was simple and short.
It simply read: A. Thibodeaux
“What the hell is that?” he asked himself as he studied the note. “A. Thibodeaux?” He searched his mind, hoping to find some trace of recognition, some fragment that would provide him with a clue, but he couldn’t. He had no idea what the note meant. He quickly grew frustrated. So much was going wrong with him. His sight. His hearing. His memory. The infection. Now, he was leaving himself strange notes that he didn’t remember writing. Quickly, he balled up the note and shot it into the trashcan like a basketball.