The First Male

by Lee Hayes

  “Where are you going, Donna?”

  “Back . . . to my work.”

  “You work for us now, and I want you to stand right there in that spot and keep us company.”

  Donna stood for hours.

  As soon as Clara crossed the threshold of her home, she knew something wasn’t right. Instantly, her breathing quickened. She set her shopping bag on the floor near her feet, slowly closed the door, and removed her big red hat with the wide brim. She carefully removed her coat and laid it across her bag on the floor.

  “Donna?” she called out. Her voice echoed throughout the house but returned empty, unanswered. The house was quiet, too quiet, and devoid of almost any usual signs of life. No music playing. No voices from the television. Not even Donna’s customary hum as she moved about the house. Even the air was still, eerily undisturbed.

  Clara’s eyes carefully scrutinized her surroundings, darting around the room, trying to take in as much as she could. She didn’t see anything unusual; yet, the warning in her heart remained. The hairs on her forearms stood on end, validating her suspicion that something was dreadfully wrong. Even the illumination in the house was unusually dim, except for an odd glow reaching out from the back. Clara knew Donna well enough to know that she didn’t like a dark house, and if she had to leave, Clara knew that Donna knew her well enough to leave enough lights on so that the house wasn’t shrouded in shadows.

  Shadows. That’s when Clara really noticed the shadows. In every corner they seemed menacing, almost threatening in ways she couldn’t define. There seemed to be shadows everywhere, even in places there shouldn’t have been.

  “Donna? Where are you?” she called out again and took a few guarded steps toward the living room, which was empty. Even though the room was empty, she still felt a presence; something that didn’t belong there had disturbed the energy of the room. Cleverly tucked underneath the silence of the room was an almost undetectable hissing sound. It was faint and familiar; she had heard the sound before—when she read Simon. Then, it was so light that it simply blended into the background. But hearing it again, she instantly remembered it. It was there, in her vision, and now it was in the house, everywhere. The sound was distinct.

  Her attention turned toward the back of the house as she took a few more steps, moving stealthily so that her heels did not click against the floor. The deeper she moved into the house the more she felt the same energy and the hissing sound grew. The air became less settled the farther she went. It was a different vibe than the energy she usually felt from her ancestors, who had left pieces of themselves in the wood, the walls, the furniture and other fixtures. This energy was far more kinetic than the spiritual energy sustained in the slave ornaments that adorned her house. The energy usually emitted by the house and its possessions was a comfort, often in her time of need; but this energy was disturbing, malevolent. Clara raised her hand to her throat and clasped the gold protection necklace she had made for herself and moved toward the solarium. Whatever awaited her was there. She could sense it.

  When she reached the room, the stench of whatever it was suddenly slapped her hard across the face; the smell was so strong that it forced her to cough, announcing her presence to the thing that occupied her house, even though she knew no announcement was needed. From the moment she entered, she had been aware of it, as she was certain it had been aware of her.

  When she peered into the room, shock gripped her tightly around the neck and she swallowed a hard lump of fear that almost stuck in her throat. As a spiritual medium and from living in New Orleans, Clara had felt evil before, in many different ways and forms, but what she felt now churned her guts. Her innards felt as if they were on fire. Instantly, she recognized that the evil in this room was pure, undiluted. Her eyes widened as she saw Donna’s naked body hanging in mid-air in the corner, her arms extended as if held in place by an invisible crucifix; her head bowed. She hung several feet in the air, her head inches away from the ceiling. Trails of dried blood snaked from the corners of her mouth and her puffy flesh was stained with burn marks. Clara wasn’t sure if she was conscious.

  In front of Donna was a fiery shadow thing that must’ve stood eight feet tall. It was hooded, with yellow snake-like eyes. Most of its body did not appear to be corporeal, save for a few bones; she could see through the shadows that comprised its torso; still, it had power. The only thing about it that seemed tangible was its dreaded hood. Yet, the stench that she knew could only come from him covered the room, stained the carpet, embedded itself into the walls, and latched onto objects; claiming the room’s possessions for itself, as if it was sentient. Clara’s throat constricted, in part to prevent the smell from entering her body, and in part, out of pure fear.

  Her heart grew heavy, like it would sink out of her body, when she realized that she had seen this shadowthing before; she had seen it when she read Simon. It was there, in her mind and all around Simon. In her reading, it wasn’t in the form it was in now; instead, it was everywhere, ubiquitous, like air.

  Clara scanned the room. A woman sat in her chair, her silhouette visible. Across from her was a man she recognized. Simon. Clara backed away, slowly.

  “Come in, Clara.” The woman didn’t even turn in Clara’s direction, but her voice floated across Clara’s ears, compelling her to move, in spite of Clara’s strong desire to stand firmly planted where she stood. “Do not be afraid of us.” The woman swiveled around slowly and faced Clara with a frightful delight painted on her face. Panic seized Clara when she lost complete control of her own limbs and her body moved forward on its own, one hard step at a time. “Do not fight. Come. Join us.” Clara’s body moved mechanically and her joints popped like an unoiled machine as she struggled for control; a wasted effort. Her body continued moving forward, despite her resistance. Her forward motion was labored, her movements rough.

  “So, you’re the one,” Eli said as he eyed her up and down lustfully. As soon as he spoke, Clara recognized that he was not Simon. He was someone else; yet, they were identical. She quickly wondered if Simon knew he had a twin brother. Eli was sitting in front of the woman and then, suddenly, stood in front of Clara, sniffing at her. “I can smell him on you, in you. Mother,” he said, turning to face Rebecca, “this one has touched Simon; she has been inside him. She’s stained with his power. I can use her to find him.” Clara stared into his hateful eyes and trembled as Rebecca’s face exploded into wicked delight.

  “How wonderful, my dear son,” she said as she stood and clapped wildly. Then, she turned her attention to Eetwidomayloh. “I told you my darling Eli would not fail you. He could never fail us.”

  “I had no doubt.” Eetwidomayloh’s voice filled the space of the room, his low voice rumbling like thunder.

  “We will deliver Simon to you, and all shall be as planned,” Rebecca continued. “We will have dominion over this world and will open The Great Gate so that you may enter, permanently, and not just in shadows.”

  A booming sound that Clara could only assume was a laugh slipped from underneath the hood, shaking the entire house. “Make it so,” he said. The windows in the solarium rattled mightily when he spoke, and the horrible hissing sound fluttered beneath his rumble. Then, the bones that gave him form cracked, collapsed in on themselves, and turned to powder, and the shadows that bonded his bones together in this world retreated into the dark recesses of the room, and he vanished; the powder blowing across the room.

  “Clara, do you understand the power before you? Are you the one that spelled this poor creature?” Rebecca said, referring to Donna. “You tried to protect her from harm, from us with this little trinket?” Rebecca held in her hands a necklace identical to the one she had given Simon. Clara did not answer. “As you can see, your power is feeble and we are strong.”

  “What—what do you want from me?” Clara’s voice was strong and curt. Her courage, in some small measure, had returned to her when the shadows vanished, taking the hissing with them.

  Rebe
cca calmly walked over to Clara and eyed the shining necklace that was hanging around her neck; digging into her cleavage. She let a rambunctious laugh escape from her mouth that created sparks in the atmosphere.

  “Do you think this silly thing will protect you?” Swiftly, she snatched it from Clara’s neck and tossed it onto the floor, grinding it beneath her heel. “It will not. Only we can protect you. Or destroy you.”

  “Where is my brother?” Eli screamed, as if he could no longer remain silent.

  Clara’s body tensed, but she remained silent.

  “I did not hear an answer, Clara. I must warn you that my son has a temper, and I can only keep him leashed so long. It is in your best interest to tell us where Simon is. I could pull it out of your mind, but I would much rather you told us voluntarily.”

  “I-I-I don’t know where Simon is. I don’t even really know him.” Even in the clutch of an increasing fear, Clara spoke clearly, defiantly.

  “What was he doing here, then?” Eli asked. “You at least know that.”

  “He came for a . . . reading. He thought he was being haunted.”

  “Silly boy,” Rebecca said, more to herself than to Clara. “Silly, silly boy. What did you tell him, witch? What did you show him?”

  Again, Clara did not speak.

  “Let me rip it out of her mind, Mother. We don’t have time for this. Simon is out there alone. He needs us.”

  Rebecca sighed audibly, rolling her eyes. This witch may have more power than we know. We cannot risk entering her head unless we bind her powers and we certainly do not have time for that.

  But Mother, I can do it. I know I can. I am strong.

  We cannot risk you this close to your ascension. I forbid it.

  Clara tried to maintain her calm when she realized she was privy to a conversation Rebecca and Eli were having with each other in their heads. Never before had she been a mind-reader; she had always been more empathic, but the presence of their power in the room had obviously strengthened hers. The information she gathered she could use to her advantage. They wouldn’t probe her mind out of fear. They feared her. Clara didn’t quite know why, but they did.

  “Clara, look at this unsightly woman before you. Look at how she hangs there, almost lifeless. She is being disciplined for forcing me to repeat myself. I never liked that. If you value your life you will learn to answer all of my questions, the first time, or Eli will rape you in ways you cannot even conceive. Am I clear?”

  The word rape burned fear so deeply into Clara that she felt it in her bones. It felt like fire burning her from the inside out. She hoped it was only a threat, but Rebecca’s words carried weight, real power. Her threat was a promise; yet, Clara wasn’t ready to capitulate. If she told them what she knew, she had no doubt they’d kill her, perhaps torture her—without a second thought. She had to use her cunning. Her survival depended on it. Her mind raced.

  “Now, Clara, what did you show or tell Simon?”

  “Nothing. I mean, I couldn’t—he wouldn’t let me. He was closed.” Rebecca and Eli circled her, displaying their usual predatory posture.

  “She’s lying, Mother. She’s a lying bitch!”

  “Eli—”

  “I know, I know, but now isn’t the time for delicacy, Mother. This woman—this mortal—is all that stands between me and my brother, between me and our crown. She knows where he is. I know she does. We need to know what she told him.”

  “You are right, my son. You are right.”

  The smile on Eli’s face deeply disturbed Clara. Whatever he had planned for her, he planned on enjoying it.

  “You will tell me all that you know, or I will shred you.” He spoke through tightly clenched teeth.

  “I told you all I know. I don’t know where Simon went.” Eli took his fist and knocked her across the room. She crashed into a chair and fell to the floor as pain ricocheted across her face. Blood poured from her lips, staining her chin red. She lost partial consciousness. Teetering on the edge of blackness, she forced her eyes to open, and, when she did, she saw Rebecca looming above her, smiling. But, she also saw something else. Spirits. Spirits of her ancestors, circling her; protecting her.

  “I’m all out of patience, witch!” When Eli screamed, all of the glass in the solarium exploded. Every figurine, light fixture, and window shattered, and jagged pieces of deadly glass ripped through the room like razor blades. The glass cut deeply into Donna’s flesh and sliced into Clara’s face, ending her reign as a great beauty. She cried out in agonizing pain. She wondered where her protection from her ancestors was.

  “You poor dear,” Rebecca said, gloating.

  Eli’s eyes had turned completely black. He snapped his head in Donna’s direction, and her body was immediately gobbled up by flame. Her eyes popped open, and her skin fried as her screams clawed across the room; her body convulsed, writhing in unbearable pain.

  “Donna!” Clara screamed. “Make it stop, make it stop. Please,” she sobbed.

  “Certainly,” he said.

  Instantly, the flames extinguished, for a second. Then, the fire returned, but it was far more ferocious than before. It quickly devoured all of the flesh on Donna’s body, leaving nothing but skeletal remains. The horrifying smell of cooked flesh stuck in Clara’s throat; she tasted Donna.

  “Now, tell us what we want to know,” Rebecca said, “or your fate will be much, much worse—lasting an eternity.”

  Clara tried to speak, but her words were lost somewhere inside her inconsolable sobs.

  “Fuck this,” Eli said abrasively. He quickly moved over to Clara and looked down on her bloodied face. He yanked her up and brought her close to his face, squeezing her chin. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, his hot breath singeing her skin. “I’m going to take your power, witch. And then I’ll know everything.” She instantly felt a pounding in her head that convinced her it would explode. Eli was inside her mind, probing clumsily. Suddenly, he kissed her hard on the mouth, inserting his tongue into her mouth and tasting her blood.

  “Eli—no!” Rebecca screamed, but it was too late. Suddenly, he screamed and stumbled backward and fell onto the floor, twisting and hollering in pain.

  “Eli!” Rebecca screamed and moved over to him.

  “My head, my head!” he screamed and continued to roll violently around the floor. A thick, black, tar-like substance formed in the corners of his mouth and ran down each side of his face.

  “Eli, baby, what’s wrong? What did you do to him, witch?” she bellowed at Clara. “It is going to be all right; everything will be fine. Mother is here. Do not worry,” she said as she kneeled to be closer to him. She pulled him into her arms, tears falling from her eyes. “You did this to him! You did this!” she yelled, pointing an accusatory finger at Clara, who did not comprehend.

  From the corners of the room, an offensive tearing sound suddenly spread across the room as shadows pulled themselves from the corners and sprung to life, crawling across the floor toward Eli. The shadows moaned deeply, painfully, as if near death. They left black oily smudges across the beige carpet, and they struggled to reach Eli, using clots of carpet to propel themselves forward like giant slugs. They moved purposefully, slowly, but did not stop.

  “You will pay for this in ways that will cause angels to cry—I promise you that.” Her voice was so shrill that Clara felt claws scratching her arm, breaking the skin. Rebecca stroked Eli’s forehead all the while maintaining unbroken eye contact with Clara as the shadows began to cover her and Eli. “You cannot leave this house. You are bound here from this day, forevermore. The glass buried in your skin is permanent—it can never be removed. And, you cannot die, not until I kill you. This is your curse, from this day forward, until the end of time.” As the shadows completely engulfed the duo and they began to fade, all that could be heard was Rebecca’s wailing moans as she held Eli in her arms, rocking back and forth.

  That night, a great storm ripped through New Orleans.

  CHAPTER 19
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br />   Thomas Thibodeaux was in a panic. His shallow, rapid breaths dug deeply into his chest as he slid deep down into the folds of the cold, leather seats in the borrowed, sky blue, ’67 Ford LTD with the white rag top. It was a tank of a car with a dull, foretelling grin that looked as if it knew it was, someday soon, destined for the junk yard. Thomas’s body was on fire with adrenaline, but panic choked off the giggle that tried to escape from his mouth. He knew he had been wrong. He never should have grabbed that girl by her waist and shoved his tongue down her throat, but the danger in the air, mixed with the promise of the taste of her cherry red lips, created an almost irresistible temptation. He had to kiss her, it was destiny. And when he kissed her, she only protested because her hairy beast of a boyfriend was across the room, at that very moment, leaping across the pool table, ready to separate Thomas’s head from his shoulders.

  Thomas let the kiss linger a beat longer than it should have, but the reward far outweighed the risk. He was spry and knew there was no way the beast with the thick neck, skin tight blue jeans, and heavy cowboy boots would be able to catch him once he got moving.

  Thomas hadn’t counted on the beast having friends.

  As he zigzagged through the crowded bar, dodging swinging fists and beer bottles hurling through the air, he didn’t notice a burning tingling in his hands, but in his head he realized he was seeing events happen a few seconds before they took place, giving him the edge. He knew who would leap out to try to tackle him. He saw a skinny boy with frazzled brown hair swing a pool stick before he actually did it. He heard the sound of the black eight-ball whizzing through the air before it was actually thrown by the dark-skinned dude, who had been playing pool with the girl’s boyfriend. Thomas ran through the crowd as if his life depended on it; he was quite sure it did. If they caught him, they’d beat him to a bloody pulp, or worse. Luckily, he made it outside and disappeared into the parking lot before they laid hands on him.