She Lies Twisted

by C. M. Stunich

  “I'm so sorry, Tate, I didn't mean to scare you.” Jessica bent down next to me and laid a hand across one of mine. I screamed, startling her and James both. She stared down at me, confusion wrinkling a complexion I'd always been just a little bit jealous of. Aren't twins supposed to share the same everything?

  She continued to watch me but didn't turn into a giant bat or a dragon or a fucking leprechaun. She just stood there and waited as patiently as I'd never been. I let James help me to my feet and tried to wrap my mind around what was happening. Jessica had been dead. I had seen her body. I had seen her blood. I watched her sleeping face in the coffin Grandma Willa had picked out but I'd never liked. She'd been buried next to Grandpa and Mom and three thousand miles away from Abe and Jason and Dad. I couldn't articulate my feelings. My tongue swelled up and all I could say was, “What the fuck?”

  Jessica smiled warmly and approached me softly, her arms held out in the question of a hug. I froze, stuck halfway between indecision and joy. She was dead but now she's not. She hated me before but maybe she won't now? I didn't move. Jessica's smile faltered.

  “What's the matter, Tate?”

  “Dead people don't come back to life.” It was harsh and terse and I didn't really mean to say it but I had learned my lesson. Boyd hadn't been alive at the trailer and by ignoring James' warning, I had turned him into a demon. I had wished for years that my mother would come traipsing through that door and whisk me away to our old house in Gresham. It hadn't happened and it never would. I walked right past her, into the house, and up the stairs. The progress I'd made with James and Grandma Willa seemed like nothing in the light of this, the worst cosmic joke ever played.

  Jessica stopped me at the second floor. When I turned around, her eyes were swollen with tears. James was standing behind her, brow pinched with worry.

  “Tattle?” I had hated that nickname when I was ten, I hated it now.

  The sound of it broke my heart.

  “Jessica?”

  Jessica threw herself at me and knocked us both to the floor. She buried her face in my lap and told me she was sorry a thousand times over. James leaned against the railing and watched, trepidation tainting what was otherwise a happy smile. We stayed like that for a long time and all the while, as I brushed her hair back and she soaked my sweater with tears, I knew that something was wrong and I couldn't figure out what it was.

  I hadn't stopped shaking since I'd seen Jessica but I had started to think more clearly. She hadn't revealed how or why she was here or even acknowledged the fact that she was dead. That was fine for her but I needed answers. I took the harp from my purse and left Jessica asleep in my bed. I hated to leave her there but I didn't have much other choice. Both harpies were waiting for me when I walked outside.

  “Explain,” I said, holding the instrument out in both hands. I wanted to know about everything; the poem, the assignments, my dead sister. I'd been patient but I couldn't wait anymore. “Tell me everything.”

  “We have another assignment for you,” Ehferea breathed, her words more like the rustle of the breeze in the trees than someone's voice. I dropped the harp to my side in frustration.

  “You already told me that,” I snapped and, remembering James' words, added, “And I'll do it so can you please just answer some questions for me?” Ehferea's black lips pulled back from her tiny teeth.

  “I have already briefed James on the previous assignment but something else has come to our attention.” Ehferea nodded and Nethel stepped forward, turning so that I could see the long, curving line of her back. Blood. Flesh. Bone.

  I turned away.

  “We have tracked a rogue spirit to this area.” My heart flip-flopped in my chest and began to beat crookedly against my ribcage. It isn't. “We can't be certain of the form it has taken but you can be assured that it has armed itself with a weapon from the Library.” It can't be. “I suggest you use caution when approaching this spirit as it has the ability to turn others against you.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I asked, my voice hollow and tinny, far away. Ehferea and Nethel exchanged stone faced glances. They were giving nothing away. I vowed not to, either. Three could play at that game.

  “You and James have been assigned to dispatch the spirit to the appropriate realm. She has had an opportunity to study in the Library and has, regrettably, made the decision to use her time there in an inappropriate manner.” Ehferea spread her wings and shook them, shedding loose feathers across the lawn, before tucking them more tightly against her body. She's nervous. I realized as she stared down her pointed nose at me. Her eyes were dark with specks of light, like stars. I realized with a start that she was actually quite pretty.

  “So, all James has to do is touch her right?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. I knew this was too good to be true. It has to be her. It has to be. Ehferea shook her head, the mane of feathered hair that sprouted from her scalp shimmering in the late afternoon sun.

  “You must use the harp to wrap her spirit. She will be sent to another plane for further assistance.” I had always told Jessica to go to hell and now I was going to have to send her there. For what? For stealing some stupid weapon? They haven't actually told you who it is. My unconscious mind whispered soothing thoughts but I knew. I'd known the moment I'd seen her something was wrong. I'd been right. I closed my eyes and fought down another panic attack. It's not like I had to do it. They couldn't make me. But they could get someone else to do it. There must be other summoners around. Somebody sent Boyd to the Akashic Library and it wasn't you.

  I opened my eyes.

  “What will happen to her there?” I asked, hoping I wasn't giving too much away. Nethel answered, her voice like a summer rain against the pavement.

  “She was wronged in this life and finds herself unable to move forward. It does happen occasionally but rest assured, no harm will come to her.” It wasn't really an answer, just a roundabout way of pretending they'd satisfied my question. I frowned.

  “What am I supposed to do with this harp?” I lifted the instrument up again. “I've never been particularly gifted when it comes to music.” Nethel smiled with her yellow lips and stepped closer to me. I watched her move slowly, fluid and graceful. If she wanted to hurt me, she could, no matter what I did. I stayed where I was and let her guide my fingers to the strings.

  “It's quite simple, really,” she whispered against my ear, pulling first my index and then my middle finger across a string. “It was made for you, after all.”

  I felt myself being swept up in music while a beautiful voice tolled the lines of the poem like an old church bell. Wrong'd and ruin'd, broken down, our twist'd gatekeep, we have found. I opened my mouth and I sang a song I didn't know. Pretty words spilled from my lips and swelled in the air before coming to rest on my soul. The melody swirled around me as my fingers moved from string to string, strumming along with the words.

  When the song was over, the harp tumbled from my hands and crashed to the grass, creating a divot and resting propped there, like the sword in the stone, just waiting to be picked back up.

  I had crawled back upstairs and fallen asleep next to my twin. When I woke up, she was gone and there was a note.

  Errands, Tattle. See you tonight for popcorn and a movie?

  -Jessica.

  The weirdness of the situation wasn't lost on me. I was aching for her, still shaking from the shock of seeing her again, and she, she was prancing around town in a sundress she was never supposed to wear again and kissing notes with lipstick that hadn't been touched since I'd found her with her wrists slit open and her head hanging in the toilet. She wasn't acting like someone that had just committed suicide. Then again, she'd been dead for two years. I guess she'd had time to get used to the idea.

  I crumpled up the note and tried not to panic.

  The harpies had assigned James and I to find her. What was the chance that they would also employ another summoner? I mean, she was my sister. There seemed to be some sick,
fucked up thing with these people and watching me suffer. They'd want me to do it, wouldn't they? I realized I was pacing and paused when I heard footsteps outside my door. They were far too robust to be Grandma Willa.

  “Are you dressed, Neil?” It was James. I rushed to the door and flipped the lock before he could reach the landing at the top of the stairs. Some part of me was ashamed, at my collection, at the book covers on the wall, at the pictures of Boyd strewn across the floor like a second area rug. Jessica had reinforced my insecurities with her looks of disapproval and the way she pinched her lips in displeasure. She'd done that before but now that she was back and my heart was in her hand, it hurt more than ever. I couldn't handle anymore rejection. Besides, it smelt like decay in my room. I was going to have to find the crow in my backpack and get rid of it.

  “Uh, no,” I lied, bending down and retrieving a red hoodie from the floor. “But I'll be out in a minute.” I threw on a pair of black jeans and Abe's old combats boots before drumming up some courage and unzipping my bag. I grimaced as I removed the plastic bag. The book with my brother's notes fell out of the front pocket and crashed to the floor with a fluttering of pages.

  “Life is what you make of it.”

  I stared at the page for a long while before snapping it shut and tucking it into the purse where I'd stored the harp. It hadn't been much of a good luck charm so far but I felt like nothing of Abe's could ever be bad. If there was even the slightest chance it might help me find Jessica before someone else did, I was taking it. I even took the pocketknife from my bedside table and stuffed it in the back of my jeans before heading downstairs.

  James wrinkled his nose as I walked by and followed me to the outside garbage can.

  “What's that smell?” He asked, waving a hand in front of his face. I ignored him and went back inside for the keys. When he saw what was in my hand, his face blanched. I squeezed my fist closed.

  “You don't have to go with me,” I said. “But I have to go find Jessica.”

  “What about our assignment?” James asked, removing a sheet of paper from his pocket. An address was scribbled in barely legible handwriting. I paused. If Jessica really was this rogue spirit, maybe I could use our assignment to find her. As it stood, I hadn't even the slightest clue of where to start looking. I bit my lip.

  “Okay,” I said. Maybe I could kill two birds with one stone. The analogy came with another wave of the smell and I almost threw up again.

  “The one question is,” James asked, his face as wrinkled with displeasure as mine. “Do we have to drive?”

  Expecting to find a demon wasn't much different from not expecting to find one. It was scary as hell either way. I paused at the edge of the of the parking lot and watched a streak of white shimmer past the front gate and into one of the warehouses. I kept my eyes peeled for Jessica. James' head was down and if I wasn't mistaken, I didn't think he was breathing. Knowing we were technically dead and seeing proof of that were totally different things. I was starting to sweat, too, my fingers rubbing up and down the neck of the harp for comfort. James' anxiety was starting to wear off on me.

  From the moment his hand had touched the door handle to the moment he stepped out on the gravel and used his foot to close the door behind him, James' face was even whiter than usual. The whole ride, he had gripped the edges of his seat with corpse stiff fingers and babbled. Whenever he got nervous, he started talking a lot. I had noticed it was one of his self defense mechanisms. Boyd had been the opposite. He had always gone quiet, like deathly silent. I'd been hard pressed to get an uh huh or a yeah out of him when he was like that.

  “Are you gonna be okay?” I asked as we crunched across the wet ground towards the fading green of the warehouse. James gave me a thumbs up but didn't speak. I was actually sort of glad, he kind of looked like he needed to throw up. I felt bad but it wasn't really possible to walk out to this part of town. It was a remote packing district on the north side, sandwiched between two major highways and tucked behind a meat packing plant. I tried to smile at him for reassurance and pretend I wasn't worried about getting thrown off the premises by the employees.

  I adjusted the strap of my purse and hoped there wasn't going to be a confrontation. I didn't want the harp to fall out and break. Just the thought of something bad happening to it made me sick to my stomach. Despite the fact that I was even less sure of what was going on now than I had been before, I was almost grateful to the harpies. The instrument was starting to feel like a piece of my soul. It was strange and wonderful all at once. My brother, Abe, had always said that one song could change the world. I guess he was right.

  James and I paused in the massive doorway, our eyes adjusting to the change from the bright, gray morning light to the pale, flickering of the overhead florescent bulbs. It only took us a moment to spot it. I glanced over at James.

  As soon as I saw his face, I knew something was wrong. He was watching the demon with wide eyes and quivering lips. It looked nothing like the other demons we'd seen but then again, none of them had really looked alike.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. He didn't respond. He didn't even look at me. Suddenly, he was falling and I was struggling with my arms under his. “James?” I asked, desperately trying to get a response. He was starting to freak me out.

  “It's her,” he said. It didn't take me long to figure out who he was talking about. Sydney. His dead friend. I recognized the pain in his eyes and the weakness in his limbs. That's how I'd felt when I'd seen Boyd. Lost. James was lost. I lowered him to the floor gently.

  “Why?” He asked, his voice no more than a whisper. I didn't respond. I had no idea what I was supposed to say. Because the universe is cruel. Because you told me yourself that if we don't see the one that started this then we won't know why we're still here. I sat on the floor with him for a moment, holding his hand and wishing we were invisible. The demon hadn't noticed us yet but if I'd learned anything by being around the others, it was that they were pissed. I glanced up and watched the white blur shimmer up and down the aisles like it was pacing. Does she know who he is?

  Sydney paused and I was finally able to get a better look at her. She was actually quite pretty, for a demon. Her fur was like virgin snow, untouched and perfect, and it fell from her lithe body in curling waves, like the branches of a willow tree. Her black eyes locked onto mine and for a moment, I thought I saw her there, deep down. There was a girl with strength and poise and inner beauty that never died. My heart jumped into my throat and I knew without a doubt why James had loved her.

  “I tried,” he whispered, grasping onto the edge of my sweater with cold hands. “I tried to keep her here. I've followed her and I've them at bay. Why now? Why?” I pushed him away and stared down at him in horror. Sydney didn't deserve to be a demon. I didn't know much about this new world I was now a part of but I knew that. I had seen Boyd and the sandman and the red dog. They were angry and they didn't deserve to be. Death was supposed to be their time of rest. I shoved James from my lap and stood up.

  Sydney was watching me carefully, her brown antlers lowered in anticipation of a fight. I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. This was going to be quick and easy. The stitches in my belly itched and I vowed that I wouldn't be getting anymore. I approached her carefully, my eyes tracking her dancing hooves and her dark hair tangling in her antlers like kelp as she danced between stacks of boxes. All I had to do was touch her, once. I swallowed my fear and pushed forward.

  She continued to prance, the long mane of her tail swishing back and forth like a cat's, until I had closed the gap between us and was standing within arm's length. Something inside of her must of recognized something inside of me because she lowered her head and paused, almost like she was surrendering to something bigger. I was shocked, to say the least. I had been expecting a fight, almost wanting one. Fights made more than just limbs ache. They took the mind away from the troubles that plagued it. A fight would've been welcome. My stitches twinged. Okay, almost welcom
e.

  I reached my hand forward, not wanting to take any chances. She looked like a deer, maybe she was just acting like one, lowering her head for the charge. Fingers that were so pale they barely looked like they belonged to me anymore brushed against the feather white tips of her hair. I heard the scrape of sneakers on pavement and then I was falling.

  My head slammed into the cement floor while roses of pain blossomed behind my eyes.

  “Stop!” James screamed, the heavy weight of him draped across my weary shoulders like a shawl. “Don't, god, Neil, don't!”

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I screeched. The pain was bad enough but I could only imagine what it would feel like to have one of those hooves against my temple. I sat up too quickly and found myself collapsing against James' shoulder. He grasped me by my upper arms and locked his gaze to mine. There was desperation there, and fear. I recognized both because I felt them myself. Is this what I'm going to be like, when the time comes? Oh god, Boyd, I hope I can do it.

  He pulled me forward and tried to hold me against his chest. I wasn't ready for that kind of comfort, especially not after what he'd just done.

  I looked around and tried to get a target on Sydney. She was gone.

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” I snarled, throwing James' hand off of my shoulder. “You could've gotten me killed!” James shook his head.

  “We can't die,” he said, pointing at the dark X's across his throat. It was then that I realized that they were probably self inflicted. Boyd's throat lies open like the Grand Canyon, wide and gaping. I shook my head to clear it. Stars flickered in my vision and faded slowly, leaving splotches of blindness.