Sons of Dust

by P. Dalton Updyke

  “We still have power.” She knew she was slurring her words, the syllables flattening out, the vowels smoothing over. Percocet, the great speech enhancer. “Lucien has been appearing to us when he wants to, on his own terms, but we have terms, too.” That’s good, Geenie. Good talking. Sure, you got terms, too. “It’s time we called him on our terms.”

  “Ouija?” Kate’s voice floated. “You think we should try to call him using the board?”

  Gina nodded, swallowing. Her mouth felt so dry. Her tongue clicked against the roof. “We can command him to come.”

  “What makes you think he’s going to listen?”

  “Because,” Gina said simply, “He has to.” And that was right and she didn’t even need her father’s voice to tell her. Lucien would appear if they called him. “Call it magic or faith or God. Give it any label you want, but if we call him, he will come.”

  “Then what?” It was Marcus who was fidgety now, Marcus moving around the room, touching objects, then putting them back down. Gina could hear him as he lifted the knickknacks, heard the chink of glass as the porcelain pieces were put back. If she opened her eyes, she knew she’d see Marcus standing by the fireplace, his shoulders hunched, his right hand on the mantle. She knew she’d see the expression on his face, the utter despair in his eyes. If she opened her own she’d see Kate, sitting in her mother’s wing backed chair, a glass of wine in her hand.

  If she opened her eyes, she’d see Vinny.

  Vinny on the couch, the afghan slowing turning black as he died.

  She kept her eyes closed. “We call him, we chain him.”

  “Simple,” Marcus muttered.

  “It is,” Gina replied. “It’s always been simple. We just never saw it that way.”

  “After he’s chained, we have to burn everything,” Kate said.

  “Why?”Marcus was farther away now; close to the windows, maybe.

  “The wrath of God,” Gina said. “The sons of dust have to use the wrath of God to chain the evil. And the wrath of God always ends in fire.”

  She heard Kate stand up, her shoes against the wood floor a tap tap that reminded Gina instantly of Mrs. Kowalski. Katie walks like her mother, she thought, but she stands like her dad.

  “But why the bricked up attic?” Kate’s voice floated across the room. “Why did they have to do that?”

  “They didn’t destroy the evil.” Gina swallowed, her throat as dry as sand. “Maybe they didn’t know how.” The board was put on the table again; Gina heard it open. She heard the small sound the planchette made as it was placed in the center of the lettered arc.

  “Gina?” Kate said softly.

  Gina opened her eyes. She glanced at the collection of porcelain figurines Mrs. Kowalski so cherished. The marbled glass clown, the delicate ballerina, the milk glass Madonna. She had a sudden memory of Mrs. Kowalski dusting the pieces slowly, the white cloth moving over the glass with a gentleness that shouted love. Gina put her fingers on the plastic triangle, aware of the heat in the room, the sound of the storm, the smell of burning wax. “I love you all,” she said as she put her other hand on the board.

  Marcus covered her hand with his own. Kate slid her cool fingers on the other side of the game piece and Gina closed her eyes again.

  Nothing happened. Seconds ticked by and nothing happened at all.

  Marcus was right, she thought, the power doesn’t exist in just three of us, and just as the thought crossed her mind she heard a tearing sound, a sound of rough fabric being split apart and the roaring, ripping grew greater and greater and something else joined the cacophony: the sound of rage.

  The sound grew in her head, expanded and pulsated and then the wind wasn’t outside anymore, it was swirling through the room, lifting her hair away from her face, billowing her sweater behind her. The wind tore at her skin and she cried out as a stroke of agony started at her foot and ran up her leg. The pain was white hot, searing through her. She cried out again. Marcus gripped her hand so hard it hurt. Buck up Geenie! Her father urged, Stay strong, No time to waste. Buck up!

  But Daddy, her mind moaned. I’m so afraid.

  “Lucien!” Kate cried out sharply. “We command you to come!”

  The roaring, ripping grew and grew so that Gina began to believe she would go mad at the sound. The wind howled, her hair lifted away from her shoulders, she could feel the hair on her arms standing on end. Static electricity, she thought numbly. She knew the exact instant he came. A jolt went through her and with it a shattering force that took her breath away.

  Her eyes flew up and she saw him – it – at once.

  He was standing in front of the fireplace, framed in flickering candlelight. He was more beast than man, strength written in the massive muscles of his arms and chest. She couldn’t see his face clearly, it was lost in the shadows, and she was grateful for that small favor, at least.

  “You rang?” it said in its thick guttural voice. It threw back its head and laughed. “You want to play some more?”

  Kate stood up. The legs of her chair creaked as she pushed it back. She stood up straight and tall and beautiful. Her long auburn hair was blowing around her face, the wind billowed her clothes.

  “Get the chain, Marcus,” she said calmly.

  “Get the chain, Marcus,” Lucien mimicked. “Sure Marcus. Get the chain, why don’t you. It’s right there.”

  Marcus reached down and Gina knew by the expression his face that the chain was no longer curled at his feet. Lucien laughed, his teeth flashing in the dark. Gina could make out his eyes now, yellow and slanted, glinting in the charcoal of shadow. “Come on Marcus, old buddy, old pal. Get the chain. Kate’s orders. And you have to listen to Kate, right?”

  Marcus was out of his chair, on his hands and knees as he frantically searched for the links.

  “What’s the matter, Marcus? Can’t find what you need?” Lucien taunted. His eyes glittered in the dark. “What do you really need Marcus? Can anybody guess? Kate? Gina? I know what he needs – and it isn’t a fucking chain.”

  Lightning flashed, illuminated the room in the brief glare. The white shimmer faded but the instant of light was enough for Gina to see the silhouette.

  “Bo,” Marcus breathed and a voice inside Gina moaned.

  Kate said sharply, “No, Marcus. It isn’t Bo. It’s a trick, like Vinny’s father. He wants you to think it’s Bo.”

  The figure across the room took a step further in and the candle flame glinted on blonde hair, turning it into a soft, golden halo. Another sound accompanied the sound of a woman’s footsteps and it only took Gina a second to place the noise.

  The chain, dragging across the wooden floor.

  “What you need, my friend, is some good loving, and Bo, why she’s just the ticket, isn’t she? She’s what you want – hell, Marcus, she’s what you need. And she’s right here, right now. I can make all the bad things that happened go away. All the unfortunate mishaps. I have the power to bring her back to you, to make everything that’s happened disappear from your memory. All you have to do is take the chain off of her – and hand it to me.”

  Marcus took a step forward, and the expression on his face ripped Gina apart. Hope.

  “Bo?” he said. “Honey?”

  The figure took another step, its arms outstretched in welcome.

  “No!” Gina cried out as she pushed herself to her feet. “No, Marcus! It isn’t her!!”

  Marcus moved forward, like a man lost in a dream. Gina stood up, the pain screaming through her flesh. Kate had moved; she was on the other side of Marcus, but he didn’t seem to hear or see either of them. His eyes were on the dark figure between him and Lucien.

  “Honey?” his voice trembled with longing. “Bo.” He stretched out a hand, not to touch her face or her waist. He was reaching for the chain in her hands.

  “No!” she screamed. “DON’T TOUCH IT!” Ignoring the pain, Gina pushed Marcus aside roughly with a strength she didn’t know she had. The thing pretending to be
Bo growled, a sound like pebbles falling. Marcus stumbled when Gina pushed him. The figure shot forward, arms still outstretched and now it was full into the candlelight and the breath went out of Gina’s chest.

  “God,” she managed. “Oh my dear God.”

  The thing roared and charged at her and it didn’t have Bo’s face, Bo’s sweet, sweet face, but a hideous abortion of it. The forehead was a loop of flesh, cheeks were sunken and rotting, the mouth a slash of red and her eyes…her eyes…Gina groped behind her with one hand, her fingers closing over something on the table. She lifted the heavy piece and as the thing got closer, Gina took a deep breath and swung. It wasn’t until her arm was in the air that she realized what she held.

  The glass Madonna.

  She screamed as she swung it, and heard a sickening thud as the glass hit the body – and it was a body, yes, it was hard and solid, not an illusion, not a ghost – and she screamed again and swung, striking it in the face. Blood, purple, not red, spurted from the wound she opened and Gina threw her arm back and swung again.

  The glass Madonna shattered.

  Gina was holding the base, dark now with the creature’s blood and then light was pouring from the Madonna, white white light streaking the dark with brilliance and Gina swung again, the light moving as she lifted her arm and Gina thought it’s coming from her, it’s the Madonna, it’s the nun, it’s Bo… it’s all of them! All of them!

  She swung, screaming still, but with glory now, glory in the light and the beast howled in rage.

  Kate and Marcus were next to her, using their hands to strike the thing that dared to be Bo – and that was what hurt her, what made her swing again and again. – it tried to be Bo.

  Bo!

  “There!” she screamed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “THERE!” The light was almost a physical thing; it tore the beast into stripes of dark and as the beams from the shattered Madonna splashed over it, Lucien cried out. He howled, crouching low, trying to back away, but Gina followed, grabbing hold of the chain wound around its body. She slipped her fingers between the chain and what was left of the creature and when her fingers closed over the links, the light spilling from the glass figurine flashed brilliantly, then went out. The thing howled in agony…and disappeared.

  Gina swung, her arm arcing through empty space. She stumbled and would have fallen if Marcus hadn’t caught her. He was shaking; shuddering, even. She held the shattered glass Madonna in one hand…and the chain in the other.

  From beyond them, someplace in the dark, Lucien spoke, “You should have left, Gina,” it said in its thick voice. “You should have gone to the hospital, gotten your ankle checked. You know how bad these things can be.”

  Now she could hear the smile in its voice; the gloating. Before she could reply, a bolt of pain shot through her, making her cry out. Her leg left was on fire, the pain so immense she wondered how her body could contain it. The glass Madonna slid from her hands, shattering into pieces when it struck the floor. Gina held onto the chain as tight as she could, the links biting into her palm. The pain flared again, white hot and hard and she almost dropped the chain, would have dropped it if her father hadn’t spoken in her head.

  Hold it, Geenie. Hold it and don’t ever let it go.

  It’s bigger than me, Daddy! It’s so much more than me!

  It’s pain, Geenie, pain. Pain ain’t fun, but you’re my daughter, and you can take it!

  Dimly, she was aware of Lucien laughing. She clutched at her leg, trying to stop from passing out. Everything was gray, swirling red pain, white hot, gray, blessed gray…

  Lucien stepped out of the shadow, his eyes gleaming yellow hatred and he pointed at her, his long, curved nails blackened by time. He pointed and fresh agony exploded and she heard her own screams mix with Kate and Marcus’s. “You shouldn’t have fucked with me!” Lucien roared. “It wasn’t your PLACE to fuck with me! It wasn’t your PLACE!”

  But that wasn’t true. “It is my place!” she cried out. “It is my right! And I choose to take it!”

  Lucien roared and something else exploded with the pain and sickening intensity. Gina felt it surge through her, a force that galvanized her. Heat spread up her legs, through her belly and arms but it wasn’t the heat of pain, it was heat of strength. It surged in her, through her, opening her to its force and its light and sweet mother of God it felt good, it felt wonderful, it blocked the agony and indecision and it took hold of her.

  And it was right.

  Gina lifted the chain, the light with her in her through her and she threw it at Lucien, her aim straight and true and the chain wrapped around his neck. Kate stepped forward and Gina felt the same power was in Kate, through Kate, with Kate. She took hold of the other end of the chain and Lucien roared and jerked…

  And the chain slipped out of Gina’s hands.

  Chapter 45

  Kate

  She reached for the chain wrapped around Lucien’s neck and as her fingers closed over the links – so cold, they were impossibly cold – Lucien roared and jerked his body backward and the chain was suddenly slack. She looked over her shoulder and saw the look of astonishment on Gina’s face and understood that Gina had lost her end.

  She was the only one with her hand on it now.

  Oh, but that was how it should be. That was right. It was true. It started with me, Kate thought, it should end with me. She closed her hand into a fist, the chain’s coldness seeped through her, branding her with its unholy chill. She closed her hand over the links and pulled. The chain tightened around Lucien’s neck and he roared again, reaching up with both hands to grab hold of the links. Kate was close enough to see that the chain had wounded him. There were cuts on his body where the chain touched him, deep wounds that oozed clear fluid.

  Hurt him! We’ve hurt him!

  As if he could read her thoughts, Lucien’s eyes snapped open wider, staring at her with such hatred she recoiled. Lucien grinned, his razor teeth flashing in the scant light. She was close enough now to smell him; it was the scent of death. There was movement behind them. Marcus rushed forward, and with a quickness that was startling in its un-humanness, Lucien turned and struck Marcus with both hands. Marcus’s body flew backwards, his head snapping to the right as he struck the wall and landed in a crumpled heap.

  Oh God! No more, please! Why can’t he just DIE? Why can’t Lucien just go back to hell where he came from—

  Because, Bo’s voice whispered in her head, you haven’t sent him back there yet.

  Lucien roared again, but were his screams weaker than before?

  Kate thought they were.

  Lucien swung back toward her, the chain so tight around his neck it was biting into his flesh, the skin on either side of the links puffed and bruised. Pus dripped from the sores opening on Lucien’s body, his eyes were wild with rage and—

  Pain?

  Pain?

  Kate took a deep breath and renewed her hold on the links. Okay, God, this is it. Please give me the power and above all, the faith, to hold him. She threw another loop around Lucien’s neck.

  “BITCH!” He screamed. The air was full of the sound of his struggles. “LET ME GO!”

  The chain cut into Kate’s hands, her palms were slick and she thought it was sweat, but then realized it was blood. Her wrists were red, dripping…Her heart was thudding in her chest, there was a roaring in her ears. The fear was still in her, part of her, but the emotion filling her veins with fire was anger. He took BO! He took ALEX! He took VINNY! And he was nothing! Nothing! “We’re sending you back to hell where you belong!” she said and her voice was calm, serene. Her mother’s.

  Lucien grabbed hold of the chain, pulling it and Kate closer to him. The chain swung against her body and pain cut through her. It was wounding her like it wounded Lucien. Sin, she thought, it’s my sin, too.

  “Then die with me!” it hissed, his eyes flashing.

  She lifted her head, her eyes locking on the unholy ones. A hundred images flashed through
her mind: Bo pushing her bike through the Forest Field, Marcus dribbling a basketball in Quigley Park; Gina peeling the wrapper off a candy bar; Vinny lighting a cigarette, his head cocked to the side. As the pictures flared in her mind, Kate realized that above all, what mattered in her life hadn’t been the things she’d done. It had been the people she’d done them with. The laughter, the feeling of the belonging, of love, damn it, love. That was what mattered. That was all that mattered.

  The power to stop Lucien was her. It was in her, it had always been in her. The power of love. Kate took a deep breath and said, “So be it.”

  Lucien roared and struck her. She felt his nails slash through flesh. The pain was quick and deep and then he struck again and she heard Gina’s screams and Marcus – Marcus was conscious now, he was getting to his feet, slow motion, they’re moving so slow…and she saw the expression on his face. Saw his mouth open as he shouted and with her strength seeping out of her, Kate tried to smile.

  “Get her out,” she said to the man moving so slowly toward her. “Get Gina out. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  It was her job, she wanted to say, but the ability to speak was leaving her. She couldn’t make her lips form the words. She thought she’d feel terror, or remorse, regret, but there was nothing but a sense of peace, grace even, as Lucien’s nails clawed her and another feeling seeped through her, overcame her.

  Love

  So much love.

  She looked over her shoulder, saw Marcus lift Gina into his arms. Gina was struggling, weeping, striking at Marcus but Marcus didn’t put her down. Carrying her close to his chest, Marcus opened the door. Outside, the rain was slashing down in sheets.

  And there…right there…was someone..someone

  Kate squinted, trying to make out the figure and it moved, came closer and it was made of sweet, clear light.

  “Bo,” she whispered. “Bo.”

  Bo was glimmering, glittering white light. She smiled at Katie, but Kate saw the tears, iridescent streaks sliding down Bo’s cheeks.