"There never was," Jackie whispered. He looked up, through the trees, to where the only part of the Grimm house was visible, the tower. Feeling like Frodo in Mordor under the searching eye of Sauron, he ducked and wished he had a magical elfin cloak.
"That's right. I'm watching you, Jack Hobbit."
She cackles at the image that has come to her. She can already feel fear emanating from her intended victim and it is delicious. It excites her and gives her strength and confidence. Once she has accomplished her revenge, everything else will flow smoothly, she is sure of it. This time, the ritual will be completed and she will transfer into the unborn female fetus inside the young mother. Just to be a woman again and to be able to experience orgasms as a woman will be wonderful-but more than that, she will be in complete control of her host body this time-so much so that it will not be a "host" but will be her.
But it all starts with vengeance. Clear the palate. Freedom from the past. Balance the accounts.
She sniffs the air suddenly, smelling something different about the young man at the bridge who had opposed and beaten her thirteen years ago.
She probes. Something is wrong.
He knows, she realizes with growing excitement. He knows I'm back. Somehow he has been warned, has been to visit his mother, and now he's preparing for the worst.
She doesn't know how he knows she's back and waiting for him ... another glitch in the Machine....
It doesn't change anything, she tells herself and hopes that it is true.
"What's wrong?" Chalice whispered, ducking as Jackie had.
"I forgot you can see the house's tower from here. If we can see it, then someone up there ... I got the feeling she was watching."
Chalice frowned. "Now when ya say she, ya mean the witch, Eleanor Grimm, who's really ya brother, Steve, 'cause the witch's possessin' his body."
Jackie shrugged and nodded. "I know. It's crazy."
"If it wasn't for Ginny-my own niece-an' what she told us, I would think it's crazy. But right now, I think it's just scary." She bit her lip and squinted at Jackie. "I hate to ask ya this, Jackie, but what're ya gonna do? Thirteen years ago you and ya sister pushed Eleanor Grimm into the crematorium, but ya can't do that now. You can't hurt ya brother, can ya? I mean, do ya have a plan?"
Jackie covered his eyes with his hands and fought back tears. Chalice had just voiced all the thoughts debating in his head. He forced them silent and spoke softly. "I've got to try and save Jen and her family if I can. I don't want to hurt Steve, but ..." He didn't finish. His words were cut off by movement on the bridge. He could have sworn one of the boards in the middle of the bridge had just risen two inches, allowing him a nanosecond's glimpse of a red-rimmed, slit-pupil eyeball staring at him.
The troll!
"Oh, shit! " He stood and backed away from the bridge.
"What is it?" Chalice asked, nervously joining him.
"You know what you said about wishing you could have seen the troll? I told you to be careful what you wish for." He put his finger to his lips and pointed at the bridge. Chalice looked where he was pointing, shrugged, and shook her head. She saw nothing.
"Wait and watch," Jackie whispered.
She waited. And watched. And saw nothing still. But after thirty seconds Jackie blurted out:
"Did you see that?"
"What?" She looked around, afraid she'd missed something.
"The board moved. It pushed up and you could see the troll's eye looking at us," Jackie said, speaking low and pointing to the exact spot Chalice had been staring at when he yelled.
"I'm sorry, hon, but I didn't see anything," she told him.
Jackie looked at her, then back at the bridge. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," she said. "Look, this is silly. We can see if there's anything under the bridge if we just walk over there." She walked several yards to the right of the bridge and went over to the edge of the gully. She made an exaggerated show of leaning over and peering under the bridge.
"Nothing there, Jackie."
Feeling truly foolish and immature, Jackie went over and sheepishly looked under the bridge. Of course she was right; there was nothing there. Just shadow and mud ... that was moving. It bubbled and popped and rose like bread dough-a figure born of the mud, tortured, monstrous, with pointed ears, bent shoulders, scaly arms, and clawed hands. Its horned head turned and its yellow-red eyes with their reptilian pupils focused on him and Chalice and the troll began to climb out of the mud toward them.
Jackie looked at Chalice, but she just smiled at him until she saw the expression of terror on his face. He pointed back to where the troll was completely free of the mud and was clawing its way up the side of the gully toward them. He could almost smell its foul breath and hear its labored wheezing.
Chalice touched his arm and the troll disappeared.
Dizzy, Jackie dropped to one knee and rubbed his eyes. He looked again under the bridge. Empty. Truly empty. Was that the witch, or my own fear and memory playing tricks on me? he wondered.
Chalice knelt and embraced him, kissing his cheek softly. "Are you okay?"
"Thanks to you, yeah," he replied.
The connection is broken.
The girlfriend's touch.
Love!
The word is vile to her. Apart, neither of the two at the bridge could stand against her, but together, with their love ...
"Why does this fucking shit always happen to me?" Steve Nailer shouted and banged his fist on the tower wall a dozen times. He stopped and put his head where his fist had been and rocked it against the hard stone. "You think I could get a little fucking help? Just once?" He looked up at the ceiling. "Are you happy, Edmund, wherever you are, you hateful piece of shit?"
Out of the corner of his eye, by the top of the spiral stairs, he noticed Debbie Watson watching him anxiously. "What the fuck do you want?" he asked wearily.
"It's Jen. She's acting up again. She wants to see her mother."
I didn't sense this. But the girl is right, she sees it now. The mother-to-be is waking from her spell and no matter how much she pushes, how much pain she causes, she cannot force the pregnant woman back into bed from the tower.
"Get the fuck out of my way! " Steve barked at Debbie, making her jump and move as though struck. He rushed down the stairs and ran to his sister's bedroom.
Jen was out of bed, doubling over in pain, but walking and nearly to the door when it flew open and her mother strode in, followed by Debbie.
"Mom!" Jen cried happily. She rushed into her mother's arms and immediately pulled back. Some thing was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. "You're not my mother," Jen said, looking from Diane to Debbie and back. "Who the hell are you?" Suddenly her eyes widened and she instinctively grasped her belly with both hands. "Oh my God! You're the wi-"
"I don't have time for this," Steve Nailer growled and punched his sister in the mouth as hard as he could. He felt the satisfying sensation of most of her teeth dislodging against his knuckles. She fell straight back, instantly unconscious, and landed heavily on her back, blood and broken teeth spewing from her mouth. Without a word, Debbie helped Steve pick her up and put her on the bed.
"Tie her down, Angel, and make sure she doesn't choke on her teeth or anything. I still need her to deliver her brat in three months," Steve commanded Debbie. He went over to the night table and picked up the butcher's knife he had instructed Debbie to bring up from the kitchen earlier. He handed it to her.
If anyone other than me comes through that door in the next few hours, kill them."
"Thank you," Debbie said eagerly, her eyes shining.
Jackie held Chalice's hand tightly and together they quickly crossed the bridge. Nothing happened. Relief and a sliver of hope lightened the pain of grief momentarily. Once over the bridge, they quickly reached the junction of Dorsey Lane Extension and Dorsey Lane before the latter wound round to become the driveway to Grimm Memorials. Jackie led Chalice across the road and into the woods on the oth
er side, cutting and weaving between trees, always moving toward the house, until they reached the edge of the backyard. Working their way through the underbrush, they began to notice a foul odor reminiscent of the stench in the basement of Jackie's mother's house. It grew stronger the closer they got to the house until it became overpowering. The hungry buzzing of swarms of insects feeding drew their attention to the left, just as they reached the backyard.
Chalice clapped her hands over her mouth at the sight of Mrs. Holcromb's body, pitchfork still protruding at a propping-up angle from her chest, lying in the bushes with a loose pile of dead leaves carelessly thrown over her. The corpse was alive with bugs consuming it. She was a regular bug bistro.
Jackie pulled Chalice close so she didn't have to look, and led her away from the dead housekeeper. He kept going and they came out near the barn, the corner of the graveyard visible behind it. Straight ahead was the house; to the right of the kitchen door was the tree where Eleanor Grimm had tied her killer dog, Mephisto-Jackie didn't need to conjure any memories of him right now.
"Stick close to me," he whispered to Chalice, who appeared still shaken, "and be careful what you think about. "
She shivered and nodded. He held her tight, felt her trembling, and kissed her, mouth open, hoping it wasn't their last.
"I love you," she whispered as they broke.
"Me too," he whispered back.
Hand in hand they sprinted across the yard and into the house.
"This is it," Virginya told her mother as they approached the turn for Dorsey Lane. Stella put on the right signal blinker and slowly made the turn, beaming happily and humming softly to a tune only she could hear.
"You could speed it up a little bit, you know?" Ginny spoke up, annoyed by her mother's slow driving. Usually, she drove too fast.
"Oh no!" Stella answered, looking at her daughter reproachfully. "That would be breaking the law."
Virginya did a double take, but her mother instantly added: "And I've got an ounce of weed and an eight-ball of coke in my purse. We wouldn't want to get stopped with that now, would we?"
"So much for my powers," Virginya muttered.
"What, dear?" Stella asked politely.
Ginny frowned. It was weird how just a couple of mental commands had changed her mother. It was as though there had been a lot more in those commands than she realized. Her mother had never called Ginny dear or darling in her life-a lot of other, far worse names, but never dear. Aunt Chalice called her names like "Baby Girl," "Sweet Pea," and "Bunny Muffin" sometimes, but never her mom.
"Oh, nothing," Ginny said, expelling a long slow sigh. "But could you do me a favor?"
"Of course, darling, what is it?" Stella asked, her face eager to please, another first concerning Ginny.
"Could you stop calling me dear and darling? You're creepin' me out."
"Of course, dear," her mother answered.
Virginya winced but let it go. They were turning onto the end of Dorsey Lane, after the last house, where it entered the dense woods and narrowed considerably. Ginny immediately knew the house was the one Chalice's boyfriend, Jackie, had lived in thirteen years ago when he had last faced the witch. The road began to wind, meandering through the woods with a sharp turn every twenty yards or so, making it even slower going.
Virginya got on her knees and leaned against the dashboard as they maneuvered the obstacle course of the road, cleared the trees, and pulled up to the front of the massive Victorian mansion she had seen before only in her dreams and visions.
"Should I park here?" Stella asked vacuously.
"I guess so," Ginny answered weakly. It suddenly dawned on her that she really had no plan other than to warn her aunt Chalice, who she could sense was already inside and already in danger from the witch. As soon as her mother put the shift in park Ginny got out and ran into the house. Stella followed at a more leisurely pace.
Ginny's first instinct was to shout out a warning to Aunt Chalice as loud as she could. Once inside, however, and facing the stifling vastness of the place-the sound of her footsteps and the door closing behind her seemed to be muffled and died away almost as soon as they were made-she thought better of it. Chalice might not be close enough to hear the warning, but the witch might be, and Ginny didn't want to draw her attention. Not yet anyway, and not unless she had to to save Aunt Chalice.
Who the hell is that?
Steve Nailer stood in the shadows of the second-floor hallway, waiting for Jackie and Chalice to come up the back stairs from the kitchen. He turned suddenly and looked toward the front of the house.
Someone is coming and she can't tell who it is. It frightens her, this loss of power-loss of connection to the Machine. It is the only thing she has ever feared.
That and Edmund, of course.
But Edmund is dead and she is alive, and if she wants to stay that way and live for eternity, she's got to deal physically with these new strangers.
Steve Nailer let out a sigh of frustration and mut tered, "As if I don't have enough to do." He hurried down the hall to his sister's bedroom. He slipped inside and smiled at Debbie, waiting behind the door, knife ready to disembowel him given half a chance. She looked disappointed when she saw it was him and realized she would not get to kill anyone at that moment.
Steve shot a cursory glance at his unconscious sister tied to the bed and stroked Debbie's cheek. She beamed like a praised dog.
"Angel? Strangers in the house. You know what to do," Steve said.
Debbie held up the knife and Steve nodded. Giggling like a bad actor playing a lunatic, she ran out of the room, brandishing the butcher knife and glad for the chance to finally use it.
Steve did a "nyuk-nyuk-nyuk" chuckling imitation of Stooge Curly Howard and left the room also. If he had bothered to look again at the bed, or check on his sister more closely, he would have seen the spreading red stain of blood on the sheets beneath her.
Awkwardly still holding hands, Jackie and Chalice quickly traversed the kitchen and climbed the back stairs to the second-floor landing. Jackie swallowed hard, trying to remember which way to go to get tojen and Jeremy's room. If he could find neither of them there, his next stop-dreaded though it might bewould have to be the crematorium in the basement. If he could only remember ... The house seemed different than it had at New Year's Eve, the last time he had been there. He shuddered with the awful realization that the hallway-in fact, the entire houselooked exactly the way he remembered it looking thirteen years ago. All the renovations that had been done, which Jackie knew had been completed by Thanksgiving last year, were gone. The house had reverted to its original, dismal, and age-corroded state.
Jackie decided not to inform Chalice of this development, but she was sharper than he gave her credit for.
"Wasn't this all like new when we were here at Thanksgiving?" she whispered, looking around at the gloomy interior.
No flies on her, Jackie thought and immediately regretted it, fearing to see her suddenly engulfed by the insects.
"What?" Chalice asked, laughing nervously at the weird way he was looking at her.
"Nothing," he said. "Come on." He turned to walk down the hall and let go of her hand for an instant.
Something large and misshapen came rushing at them from out of nowhere-from out of the very air itself, Chalice thought-and crashed between them, sending them sprawling in opposite directions. The thing disappeared just as quickly again as it rushed down the stairs, dissipating in the gloom at the bottom.
Chalice, who had been thrown against the wall to the left of the stairs, looked at Jackie, lying at her feet. "What the hell was that?" she asked him.
"The witch," he replied, grunting as he got to his feet. "She's trying to rattle us and separate us. Come on. Let's stick together." He took her hand and led her down the left hallway.
In the opposite direction, to the right of the kitchen stairs, Jackie fell hard to the floor. He banged his head against the wall and was dazed for a moment until he felt
Chalice's hand on his arm, helping him up.
"Did that look like a big, motherfuckin' fly to you?" Chalice said, her voice low and scared but punctuated with a nervous giggle.
"That's exactly what it was, "Jackie agreed. He looked down the stairs. The bug was gone. "We've got to find Jen's room and get her and her husband and his sister out of here. If we can."
"I remember where it is," Chalice piped up eagerly. She tookJackie's hand and led him down the right side of the hallway.
Chalice followed Jackie, holding his hand tightly. She was scared, more scared than she'd ever been, yet, at the same time, she felt more exhilarated than she'd ever felt before also. She was breathing rapidly, too rapidly, she realized; if she didn't slow it down she was going to hyperventilate. Whatever that thing was at the top of the stairs, it had rattled and excited her. Nervously, but with a growing sense of anticipation, she wondered what lay ahead.
As if listening to her thought, Jackie turned and said, "You'll be all right. Just don't give the witch anything to use against you. Like don't think about things that scare you. And definitely don't think about your worst fear."
Great! Chalice thought. She wouldn't have thought about worst fears if Jackie hadn't mentioned it. Didn't he know it was impossible not to think of something one is told not to think about?
That's exactly why he did it!
As if sparked by her realization, the hand she held turned chalk white and the transformation rapidly spread up Jackie's wrist and arm, turning the sleeve of his blue knit sweater to a billowing orange fabric. The orange billows traveled up both arms and met at his neck where they came together in a large, round collar of huge flower petals in neon pastel colors. Like a hologram shifting images with the changing light, the change continued with his head. With a loud bang and puff of smoke, his hair exploded out of his head and changed color, immediately becoming a massive green Afro. Streaks of bright pink ran through it as it wobbled like a gelatin mold on his head, before spinning into two soaring green and pink hairy swirls sticking out from both sides of his head like giant odd wings.
She tried to pull her hand away, but Jackie was turning, his facial skin completing its paling to greasepaint white. His nose melted into a red rubber ball as his features changed. His lips thickened, grew red, cracked-she could see a hint of sharp black teeth within. Chalice gasped, dumbfounded at the clown before her. It was one of the most hideous she had ever seen, reminding her of a life-sized one in the Halloween store in her hometown. Her sister, Stella, had been deathly afraid of that clown, but Chalice, weirdly macabre from an early age, had thought it cool.
Grimm Reapings Page 29