Burt’s story! — It was the same — He had found it! — This was Eli’s lair!
At almost the same moment as this realization, a confirming black shape with glowing green eyes stepped from out of the cave mouth —
Blackie.
My God! He HAD been able to bring his dog!
Argus strained at the leash, fur bristling at this new rival — In his fervor, Frank had almost forgotten him.
Blackie moved forward, growling and dripping large gobs of saliva on the ground. There was something peculiar about Blackie’s form, something diffused and indistinct at the edges… There was no time to think on it further — Argus broke free of his leash and in his effort to protect Frank from this advancing creature, attacked.
The dog fight was a tangled mass of snarling spinning fur — but it only lasted seconds.
Blackie’s indistinct quality was revealed with finality — his shape was intangible — A specter the same as Eli. Argus’ teeth snapped at Blackie’s neck and head and legs — but slid through each time without contact or injury. Blackie, on the other hand, inflicted damage with every counter — every lunge drawing blood, his onslaught unstoppable and beyond mortal defense.
Frank leapt into the melee, desperate to save Argus, he yelled and flailed at the shadowy wolf-hybrid.
His swings went right through its body without impact and all he could do as his final recourse was to grab Argus by the collar in an effort to pull him out of the fight, out of the ghostly creature’s reach.
Argus bled freely in a dozen places, yet he tried once more to turn and protect his master, teetering back towards Blackie on shredded legs. Blackie bared bloody fangs and stepped forward again to meet him — only stopping when his master’s light and cheerful voice carried across to him —
“Desist, Blackie. Desist.”
Eli’s voice came again, this time from much closer and directed at Frank.
“Sorry about that, Franklin. But my pet comes before your pet…”
Argus could no longer stand and collapsed to the dirt. With one last lingering look up at Frank, he seemed to communicate sadness that he was unable to do his job, then lay down his head and died.
Frank crouched over him and stroked his battered head and wept.
When he finally looked up, Eli’s form slowly materialized in the mouth of the cave next to Blackie, waiting for him and staring at him fixedly. His clothes were the same as those he’d been buried in and all the details were the same; his wide-brimmed hat, even the carnation at the lapel that was now as shriveled and dead as his partially transparent flesh. Was he more transparent now than when Frank had seen him before? He seemed less defined, wispier — except for his raven-dark eyes that gleamed with desire — and willful determination.
“Welcome to my humble abode, Franklin.” He said, and beckoned Frank inside with a wide wave of his see-through arm. “It is with great pride that I bid you enter.”
Frank looked up from Argus, his dead friend. He could feel his features twist with sadness, disgust, and rising anger that he could no longer hide.
I will have my revenge for this, he thought, and in his mind the letters were bright red and shining — written in dripping blood. But first — to Jackie.
He rose to his feet and moved woodenly after the ghostly figures of Eli and Blackie as they soundlessly turned and disappeared into the darkness of the cave.
CHAPTER 30 – The Lair
Spider webs and stringy green moss that dangled from the cave ceiling hit Frank full in the face but he didn’t swerve or flinch, he was beyond such feelings. The old hatted man and faithful black wolf-hybrid lead him down the tunnel and he followed mechanically. The dirt floor was uneven, the air growing ever cooler and more damp as they continued ever sharply downwards, past an occasional candle wedged into a makeshift shelf carved into the walls.
They walked for what seemed like hours, the only sounds those of Frank’s footfalls and the dripping of moisture from the ceiling — the twin phantasms before him floated soundlessly — and still they continued downward, deeper and deeper still.
The passage began to turn and twist and there were the dark openings of other caves branching off in different directions — this was more than a single cave — it was a series of catacombs.
They stayed the course and, slowly, the tunnel they followed began to widen, almost imperceptibly at first, until gradually it became twice its former width.
As they moved around yet another sharp turn, a large space came into view, lit by what seemed to be thousands of candle flames from countless more shelves cut into the cave walls.
Frank came to a standstill, his mouth dropping in speechless awe. It took several moments to realize that most of the numerous candle flames and shelves were an illusion — there were three large old mirrors positioned against the walls at the end of the cave and it was this that was creating the effect of infinite flames and infinite shelves and infinite Elis and infinite Blackies and —
And infinite Jackies!
She sat, propped up in a chair and facing him before the mirrors at the end of the cave, pale and unconscious, her white dress torn and twisted and dirty and splayed out across one leg.
His beloved Jackie!
She was just there, feet away! All he had to do was take three long strides and he could sweep her into his arms! But he had seen this trick before. Eli would not make it this simple. Frank froze and surveyed the cave warily.
There was no sign of a trap, nothing between him and his love.
Could Eli have made a mistake? Could he possibly have over reached himself and exhausted his power on earth and been pulled back into that other place, that other collective he had earlier been rambling about? It seemed too much to hope for… Still… She was just there, so close — to hell with it, he could get to her. If he were quick, nothing could stop him now —
But something did.
His feet had no traction and he pumped his legs in vain to reach her, but somehow he did not move forward, did not close the distance, even by as little as a single inch. His feet merely stirred the dirt on the ground, nothing more.
His forearms hurt and he looked at them and could see the white marks of invisible fingers against the skin. The grip was like iron and just as unyielding. He struggled and turned and twisted, sweat running freely down his face, neck arched — but he could not break free.
The same invisible force abruptly thrust him hard against the wall and held him by his throat several feet above the ground.
As he choked, a murky shape coalesced before him — irst just a hazy smudge, then gradually a shadow, and then, finally — the evil leering almost transparent face of Eli, his maggot-ridden nose pressed right up against Frank’s.
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you, Franklin? You didn’t think you would actually win?”
Frank was aware of his fleeting thoughts being choked away. The idea that this was the same type of being his dog had fought and had lost to so utterly, and the ridiculousness in the notion that he actually stood a chance against such a force that had no corporeal form but that could wreak such devastation…
Eli clacked his black tongue in admonishment and relaxed his grip slightly so that Frank wouldn’t slip away to the comfort of unconsciousness.
“Life is something quite different than a Norman Rockwell painting or a Disney movie. Why do you insist on trying to hide from the truth of who we really are?”
Eli canted his head at an angle and raised an eyebrow — the cave walls and flickering candles clearly visible right through him. He leaned in further still to be sure Frank heard him clearly when he imparted the true secret of the universe.
“Hate is why we live, Franklin.” He hissed. “The primal instincts are still in full force. The thrill of the hunt. The ecstasy of confrontation. The delight at the smell of fear hanging thick in the air. We are, before all else, predators. Which means, our ultimate goal, our ultimate pleasure is conquering — des
troying our victims — beating the fucking life out of them! Watching them endure the snapping of bones and sinews, the bursting of veins and vessels — and finally watching them DIE! There is nothing more satisfying than that look locked on their faces when it’s over — the expression of total, uncompromised defeat. And the blood — the sweet, wondrous, mouth-watering, free-flowing blood of victory! Ah, ecstasy!”
Frank couldn’t move, couldn’t speak — locked face-to-face with such unadulterated evil and that gargoyle smile. He struggled but was unable to loosen the hold on his throat, unable to look away.
Eli laughed, his rancid breath further clouding Frank’s senses.
“Oh, don’t look at me that way, Franklin. After all —” He smiled and gave his most exaggerated innocent look. “I’m just a product of society.”
Frank managed enough space at his throat that he could move ever so slightly — his voice a hoarse whisper.
“Take me, Eli. Take me but let her go...”
The cloud that passed over Eli’s face was beyond any that Frank had ever seen before, a swelling of such pure and total rage that the air seemed sucked from the space, the vacuum charged with quivering negative energy. The monster’s hand tightened around Frank’s throat and squeezed with inhuman force and he shouted, the cave walls trembling.
“YOU BRING GENEROSITY HERE! YOU EXPECT MERCY FROM SUCH AS I!?! HOW DARE YOU!!!”
Frank couldn’t breathe, his vision swam.
Eli’s horribly twisted face tilted backwards, then came in fast — Frank barely saw a blurred glimpse of maggots thrown clear and skin sloughing off bone just before the head collided with his own and a sickening thud sent him spiraling into darkness.
***
Frank’s way back to consciousness was odd, there was no gradual return, just a sudden sense of being… wherever he was now… in complete darkness where strange sounds overlapped — rippling air, rushing wind, otherworldly echoes… Was he indeed conscious or was he simply dreaming this?
One thing that he knew was that his head no longer hurt. And that he felt… He felt… somehow very different… He tried to hone in on this further. What was different? He couldn’t feel the ground for one thing. Matter of fact, he couldn’t even feel his own arms and legs. He knew he couldn’t see but was it because it was dark or because he was blind? He pulled air into his nose in a big, long draw. He couldn’t smell anything. The only sense that still seemed to function was his hearing and even that was altered — The sounds were muffled, reduced… everything somehow distant… The answer was slow to puzzle itself out and he strained for a better conclusion but there was only one: he felt almost nothing. He felt oddly hollow… Barely a trace of what he once was… He felt like he was somehow vastly reduced. Diminished.
He strained his eyes and tried to turn his head but it was as if he no longer had eyes or a head to turn. He had no control over his movements or —
An indistinct form flew past and he could see it! But his vision was different than before — the form shimmered like a thermograph but instead of reds and oranges it left a cool green and blue gaseous trail in its wake. Then another form floated by, smaller but of similar make-up. He tried to follow their progress but was unable. He could only see what was in front of him, nothing else. What were these odd creatures?
Yet another shape floated past and stopped momentarily before him. It appeared to be in the shape of a person. Was it staring at him? Was that its mouth that was moving, trying to say something to him?
The form turned and seemed to pulse in a way that somehow clearly conveyed fear. It flew away quickly leaving color dancing in the air.
Another hazy shape approached, larger and more purposeful. It launched directly at Frank and stopped right in his face. From within the haze, a head mushroomed, then a transparent face rapidly bloomed — Eli, grinning ear-to-ear.
“Wakey, wakey, Franklin — you’re home!”
Frank was unable to speak — as though he had no mouth and no will to use one if he did. The other shadowy shapes now circled around them in a flurry, buzzing and vibrating with a palpable sense of anxiety. Was he now one these unformed creatures? He wanted to raise an arm or hand to look at it and see that he still owned flesh but could not.
Eli reached a wispy hand from the unformed haze that constituted his “body” and removed his shadowy hat with the newly coalesced appendage. He smirked.
“So much faceless hunger, Franklin. Doesn’t it just kill you?”
Under his removed hat, a plastic zip-lock bag sat squarely on his head. The bag looked distinctly different from all else in the room, seeming to pulse with vibrant color from something sloshing inside — something a deep and gleaming crimson.
Eli lifted his other wispy hand, quickly snatched the bag off his head and tore it open with a fingernail in one precise motion. The contents flowed onto the ground and the hazy wisps flitted around it more frantically —their whispers growing eager and forming a cacophony of excited gibbering echoes.
Frank watched the wisps of all shapes and sizes dart for the fluid that was now obvious to him as blood. The ones that reached it first descended and hovered — until the blood showed signs of dissipation while the shapes themselves began to conversely change, growing less transparent and more defined.
Throughout, Eli floated directly before Frank’s view and commented as though playing the consummate showman. He pouted with mock sympathy.
“Poor souls. Hungry for what they cannot have again. Life.”
One of shapes turned and faced them, and Frank saw with a start that it was Rachel — her brow arched severely, her eyes glaring. She seemed to speak angrily, her lipstick snarling across her face. Her voice was barely audible.
“How could you?” She said, and then it was as if she willed her voice to be more insistently powerful and he heard her much louder: “HOW COULD YOU!”
Several more smaller wisps gathered around the blood that seeped into the ground and they now became visible as children. Frank recognized many of them from the photographs he’d seen in the newspapers as the missing or murdered children, both from Eli’s past and his own present. One in particular took up a position beside Rachel and turned and glared at them. It was little Ricky.
Eli ignored them all, simply laughed and continued his narration.
“From an early age I was fascinated with blood.” He said, as though teaching a studious pupil. “Little did I realize what true value it would later have… Because in the end, Franklin, it all comes down to just a few things and without blood, it just won’t coagulate.”
Here he giggled at his own joke, his floating head and shadowy arms bouncing with the eerie motion.
“Get it?” He asked, then continued without waiting for an answer. “You see, hate and blood are the catalysts, Franklin. Hate, blood, and let’s not forget that little ol’ promise you had me make.”
The glaring wisps of Rachel and Ricky now began to fade and soon they had returned to their former murky shades. Their forms seemed to look towards the blood on the ground but by now it was fully consumed. They diffused still further until they drifted off like puffs of dark smoke and blended with the background blackness.
“Think of it this way…” Eli continued. “The promise opens the first door, the door to return. Hate gives you the push to do it, the motivation to cross over. And Blood gives you the life, the physicality — temporary but there’s always more where that came from.”
Eli laughed and Frank wanted to respond — to ask so many questions. But he could not — He felt strangely dizzy in a way he had never felt before.
What was happening to him?
Eli began to fade from his view as though slipping behind a black veil — Frank was unable to concentrate, unable to keep focus on Eli or anything else and soon nothing made sense in the world around him… Before he dissolved — for that’s exactly how he felt — like he was dissolving into the air around him — He heard Eli speak one last time and it was with great
difficulty that he made any sense of it.
“You are losing consistency — an expected occurrence.” Eli said. “Not to worry — in time you will adjust…”
And then, in a tone dripping with contemptuous sarcasm, Eli added —
“…and who knows? — By then you may have familiar company…”
Frank heard the beginning of a howl of laughter and was vaguely aware of the implications... His last distracted thought was that it was as if he was fragmenting as he had seen happen with the others —
— As if, quite suddenly, he was simply ceasing to exist…
CHAPTER 31 – Detective Parks
Fernando was almost done filling out the missing person’s form, his pen poised over a question three-quarters of the way down the page when Detective Nathanial Parks showed up by his side. Parks was in his late-thirties but seemed much older and Fernando guessed by his stiff manner and perfect posture that he’d been in the military.
“You’re Fernando Puenza?” Parks asked, voice kept absolutely neutral and flat.
Fernando couldn’t help but stiffen. They knew his name! The last thing he needed was trouble with the law. He nodded. Maybe he should have given them an alias at the front desk? Now it was too late.
The detective watched him carefully with those unblinking blue-grey eyes and indicated the form in front of him.
“You can skip that, there’s no need.”
Fernando was annoyed. He’d driven all the way here and the form had been a pain in the butt.
“What, you found her?” He asked, unable not to sound flippant and put off.
Parks ignored the question and continued in his formal betray-nothing monotone. His eyes never wavered and Fernando felt a bit wilted under that gaze.
“The night of the convalescent death — The night a patient sliced her wrist — You were there, weren’t you? You and Frank?”
Fuck! Fernando couldn’t hide the involuntary flush to his face and a nervous clamping of his fists. How did this Parks know that? The detective leaned forward and gave him an even more piercing stare and Fernando felt one of his hands twitch involuntarily again — this time he was sure Parks had seen it. He decided to say nothing. He’d seen it in all too many TV shows — people getting scared and blabbing about stuff that got them in worse trouble. Better to say nothing and get a lawyer to do the talking for you than say something stupid.
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