Anika Rising (Gretel Book Four): A Horror Novel

by Christopher Coleman

  She scraped the knife across her neck toward the center beneath her chin, and was now only inches away from the vein that would explode beneath the trauma of the metal.

  And then she heard the voice.

  Tanja will kill them. Gretel and Hansel. Tanja will kill them.

  Anika’s eyes shot open, and she held the knife in place for a beat, terrified to remove it for fear that the fatal cut had already been made, and that removal of the blade would unleash the fountain of red death. She removed her knife hand slowly, and seeing no gusher, lowered it down by her side. She looked around the room for the person who had spoken, knowing in her heart there was no one there.

  The words hadn’t been spoken aloud, of course, Anika knew that much, but it also hadn’t been the same voice she’d heard while sitting on the bathroom floor back at the cottage. The voice then was more of a memory, while this one, though not quite auditory, sounded real. Of course, the voice in the bathroom had also mentioned Tanja, and Anika considered that the memory had perhaps surfaced as a precursor to now, a primer for the warning she was currently receiving.

  “What do I do?” Anika asked the empty room, ignoring the warm streams of blood that flowed quickly down the length of her neck.

  Find her. Kill her. You were brought back for a reason, Anika. And it was not to die alone, at your own hands, in the back of an abandoned warehouse.

  There was nothing tonal in the voice, no pitch or inflection to decipher; it was as if the words were bypassing Anika’s ears and being implanted directly into her brain.

  “Who are you?”

  I am no one now. And who I was once makes little difference.

  “But I don’t know Tanja. I don’t know where to look.” Anika was now fully committed to the conversation, and willing to accept the idea that she was losing her mind. But, as the voice had just replied with regards to its identity, Anika’s sanity made little difference now. She had reached the cusp of suicide, so if there was a purpose to which she could cling, a reason for living that might save her children, she was willing to consider it.

  The Eastern Lands, the voice continued. It has been her place of dwelling for many quarters of centuries now. That is where you must go.

  Anika shook her head in disbelief, beginning now to doubt her mental state even further, considering the voice may in fact be a delusion, a protective barrier her mind had constructed to ward off her self-destruction. How else could she conceive of such an impossible command? The Eastern Lands? They were a thousand miles away. She may as well have been told to look for Tanja on the moon.

  “It’s Gretel who possesses the abilities,” Anika pled, instantly feeling shame at the cowardice in her voice. “I would never find her.”

  Gretel’s destiny will lead her elsewhere. And her path will lead her brother to that same place one day as well. But you must do your part in bringing an end to this story. The scourge that was Marlene is but one chapter in a book of many. The kin of Marlene have dwindled, the Aulwurms of the Old World are nearly extinct. But there are siblings that remain. And her mother.

  “Tanja.”

  There was only acknowledging silence from the voice, and the name ‘Tanja’ seemed to hang in the air.

  Anika shook her head and folded her hands across her face. “I killed them without cause. I can’t continue taking lives.”

  What was it you were about to do with the knife?

  Anika shook her head again, this time dismissing the implied comparison. “No. This is for a cause. I am prepared to take my own life to prevent the deaths of others.”

  Martyrdom is no more a cause than is the kill of a hunt.

  “They were innocent!” Anika’s scream filled the small space of the kitchenette, and she flung the knife toward the porcelain sink; the blade hit the iron faucet and ricocheted to the floor with a clang. She turned her face up to the ceiling and then leaned back against the narrow counter, suddenly feeling weak and hopeless. “What am I to do?” she asked. Her voice was barely a whisper as she shook her head in desperate confusion.

  Your actions are yours, Anika. You have the same will you have always had. You must never forget that. I know your hunger is strong. Perhaps it even feels irresistible. But the strength of that feeling won’t reside in you for long. Soon the craving will be controllable, measurable in a way that you will be able to both satisfy and command. You have returned from the base life stronger. Less prone to injury. Formidable. And your frenzied passion to eat is a way to ensure you remain that way.

  “Base life?”

  The potion, in the manner in which you consumed it, built in you a type of shell beneath the surface of your original being. Think of it as if you have molted from your previous life. Whereas most people die and their souls are released from their bodies to continue their existence in a realm beyond, your exposure to the potion—and its remedy—has created another layer of corporeality that has kept your soul in place. It’s why you remember yourself, why you have the same emotions and opinions as the Anika Morgan of last week.

  “But my body is poisoned now.”

  There are a great number of people, men and women alike, who would destroy civilizations to be for one day what you’ve become for as long as you can sustain it. You have moved beyond the labels of Orphism and the potion it begat. It simply is now. You’ve reached the junction of decision, where you must choose to use the underlife for purpose, or die under the weight of the responsibility it requires.

  “And what does this ‘underlife’ mean exactly? I can’t be killed by the blade? Or, if I will it to be so, can I bring an end to this by slitting my own throat?”

  There are a great many things that can end your underlife. And as your hunger is controlled and your feedings grow less frequent, you will become even more susceptible to death. There is a balance to be found. You will need help to find this balance of desire and gratification. Someone whom you can trust with your secrets. With your life. It is vital that you survive. It is vital that you keep your children alive.

  Anika slid to the floor of the kitchen and laid her palms flat in a posture of defeat. “I don’t understand what is happening. I don’t know what you’re telling me to do. Where do I go? Who can I trust to help me?”

  She will know of Marlene’s death. The voice continued without regard to Anika’s laments. The tone was cold now, unsettling. She will learn of the death of her daughter. Feel it. And her other child will feel it as well. And she will hunt all of you until you are her trophies. You. Gretel. And eventually Hansel. Find Tanja. Kill her.

  Anika now felt exhausted, the adrenaline of her near death suddenly plummeting, leaving her groggy on the floor and asking drowsy questions to the voice that had now departed. She reached absently to the side of her neck and, just before she drifted to sleep, realized the deep slice she had made from her ear to the point just below her chin had already begun to heal.

  Chapter 4

  “WILL YOU WAIT FOR ME?”

  Petr stopped to pluck a pear from a stem that protruded just at the edge of his reach, stretching his body up through the middle branches to grab a particular beauty, intensely focused on the task while he asked his question, hoping to appear preoccupied with important fruit-picking duties as he engaged Gretel in small talk. But he heard the doubt in his voice, and he assumed Gretel could hear it too.

  He put the pear to his nose and took a sniff, luxuriating in the freshness of the smell before taking a wide, moist bite.

  “I’ll just be a few days. You know I’d do anything to stay, but it’s a project I just can’t miss. If it was only me, I would accept the grade and move on. But there are other people involved, people depending on my part and—.”

  “It’s fine, Petr,” Gretel interrupted. She looked at Petr and smiled, opening her eyes playfully wide. “I already know all of this.”

  Petr and Gretel resumed their stroll, striding slowly as they walked, almost pausing between each step to maximize the seconds before they reached
Petr’s truck.

  “Okay, I just—”

  “And I also know that worrying about a pair of strangers from your first-semester biology class is what makes you the person you are. You’re very special, Petr. Most of the people I know—have ever known—would cling to any reason to be derelict in their responsibilities. But not you; even when your excuses are valid, you keep to your commitments.”

  Petr ignored the compliment. “Why don’t you come with me, Gretel?”

  He stopped walking and placed his hand on top of Gretel’s forearm. She broke her stride a step ahead of him and turned, her playfulness slipping away as she looked to the ground with a sigh.

  “Why not? Anika is...we’ve had her funeral. I know Hansel is still shaken by all that’s happened, of course, and I’m sure he will be for a while. Forever, maybe. But honestly, generally, he seems okay.” Petr paused and then added, “Almost relieved.”

  Gretel looked up at Petr, her eyes wild at first but then quickly diffusing, as if recognizing the truth of the statement.

  “There’s nothing left for you to do here. Let’s just go back together. Mrs. Klahr is here to look after your brother. We’ll only be gone for a few days. I’ll finish my project and then we’ll come back. And once we’re back, you can start making your plans to leave.” He paused. “Or maybe you can just stay.”

  “I can’t, Petr.” Gretel’s words came swiftly and with a dusting of irritation. She looked past Petr now, staring off to some empty space in the distance.

  Petr dipped his head, trying to catch Gretel’s look, but she kept her eyes averted. “Why not?”

  Gretel let the question sink in, allowing it the appropriate consideration, and then finally directed her large, brown eyes back at Petr. “It doesn’t feel right here anymore, Petr. There’s still something...treacherous here. And now that I’m back, I feel it more powerfully than ever.”

  “Then we’ll stay at school. We don’t have to come back.”

  Gretel frowned. “And what about when summer arrives? Or at holidays?”

  “We’ll stay on campus. Easy as that. Or we’ll rent another house somewhere even farther from here. There are plenty of other places we can live. I don’t care, Gretel, I just don’t want you to go.”

  “You can’t stay away forever, Petr. Are you just going to abandon the orchard? And Mrs. Klahr?”

  “Well what is it that you’re doing?” The volume of Petr’s question edged just to the border of yelling, and he immediately followed it with a soft, “I’m sorry.”

  Gretel let the silence linger for a beat and then said, “I’m not you, Petr.”

  “That’s a cop-out.”

  Gretel gave a sympathetic frown. “You know I’m not, Petr. And not just in the ways you think I mean. To do with my abilities or whatever. I don’t have the compassion you have. I’m not as kind or charitable. Do you think for a minute that if our situations were reversed I would go back to school for my awaiting classmates and some class project?”

  It was Petr’s turn to look away now. He felt embarrassed, childish.

  “I will miss Hansel. And Mrs. Klahr. And especially you. And I’ll worry sick about all of you every day. But I am leaving. And I will try my best to wait for you, Petr, but I won’t promise that I can.”

  Another silence filled the space now, and the two lovers looked off in separate directions. Finally, Gretel gave a sad smile and started walking again up the gravel driveway toward Mr. Klahr’s truck. Petr remained in his place, watching Gretel as she took the steps alone, and then he closed his eyes at the pain that filled his chest. He loved her. He forever would. That she didn’t feel the same about him was obvious, though he took selfish consolation in his belief that she would probably never feel that way about anyone.

  Petr bathed in the pain for another moment and then followed Gretel up the driveway, meeting her at the truck. She had already opened the door for him and now stood to the side like a chauffeur.

  He stepped into the driver’s seat and started the engine, and then stared through the windshield at the dirt road ahead. “Where will you go?” he asked, the resignation in his voice palpable. He then smiled and said, “You know, in case I wanted to send you a letter.”

  Gretel didn’t return his smile. “I don’t know exactly. My plan is to stay in Hecklin for a while. That’s the town we lived in when we were there before. I’ll look into renting a room somewhere. After that, though, I can’t really say for sure. I’ll just see where the land takes me. I’ve got my mother’s letter at least, so maybe that can guide me in the beginning.”

  “All of that sounds incredibly safe.”

  Gretel didn’t bite at the sarcasm. “So since I’m likely to be a bit transient for a while, it will probably work better in the other direction: I’ll send you the letter.”

  Petr nodded at this, but his thoughts had digressed. He gave a quiet snicker and a slight jiggle of his head.

  “What is it?” Gretel asked.

  Petr looked over at the girl he loved. “You know, I always thought that after Marlene was gone, when she was truly dead, gone forever, and you and Hansel and your mother were back from the Old World, things would start over for us. That we would all become...closer. And I don’t just mean you and me, but Hansel and Anika too. And the Klahrs. I thought the whole experience we went through would create some type of unbreakable bond between the four of us. But that never happened, did it? In fact, in most ways, the opposite has happened.”

  Gretel raised her eyebrows and gave a coquettish smile. “Don’t you think you and I have gotten closer since then?”

  “Yes,” Petr answered, seeming to miss the sexual reference. “But also no. The truth is, I felt closer to you that day in Rifle Field than I do right now. I don’t really know why exactly. Maybe it’s because we’ve grown a lot since then, or have become more reserved with our emotions. But I don’t think that’s the whole of it. I think we were poisoned by her. Not literally, like Anika was, but in our souls.”

  “Petr, it’s not you, it’s—”

  Petr laughed, cutting Gretel off in mid-sentence. “Were you about to say ‘it’s not you, it’s me?’”

  Gretel frowned.

  Petr looked serious now, steely. “But that’s just it, Gretel, it is me. I know you think you’re the only one left that feels it, but I have the poison inside me too. I may not act as cold as you. And maybe I appear to value my relationships a bit more. But I’ve been poisoned too. She didn’t just kill my father, Gretel, she killed Mr. Klahr. Do you know what Mr. Klahr was to me?”

  “Yes, Petr. He was...I know.” Gretel swallowed and closed her eyes.

  “And she killed Sophie. And her brother. That was my fault. Those lives are my responsibility.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Petr closed his eyes, blocking the developing tears, and then shook his head to reset the conversation. “I’m hoping you’ll be here when I get back. But I won’t count on it. And if you’re not...I’ll understand. I really will. And I’ll assume I’ll never see you again.”

  “You will. I can’t put it to a measure of time, but you will see me again. I promise that.”

  “No you can’t, Gretel. You can’t know that for sure.”

  Gretel dipped her head and looked up suspiciously at Petr. “Have you not heard about me? I’m magic, you know? I know lots of things that other people don’t.”

  Petr laughed, and before that second or two of happiness escaped him, Gretel leaned into his body and kissed him deeply, grabbing his face in her hands, letting her tongue linger in his mouth.

  She pulled away slowly, the stick of their lips stretching the kiss for another moment before she backed away and shut the door slowly. “And one more thing, Petr.”

  Petr looked at Gretel, still slightly enchanted by the kiss.

  “Please don’t come looking for me.”

  Petr blinked back to the moment, mildly startled. “What?”

  “It might not always be safe where
I’m going, and I don’t want you to follow me. It’s not one of those situations where if you truly loved me you would come and tell me how you feel and insist that I come home and marry you. That’s not what this is, so please don’t come.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because I can feel it in you. Even if you can’t. I know once things at school are finished you’ll want to come for me. But you can’t. I’ve promised we’ll see each other again, and I want you to hold that belief close to you.”

  Gretel’s words struck Petr like a slap, and he now felt embarrassed and emasculated.

  “Promise me, Petr.”

  Petr looked back out through the windshield, his face now void of emotion. “I promise.”

  He pulled the door to the truck closed and, without another word, drove away from his home. Just before he turned toward the Interways, he checked the rear view mirror, but Gretel was already gone.

  Chapter 5

  ANIKA EXITED THE WAREHOUSE and began walking down the dirt road that led away from the structure, not wavering from the path until she reached the shoulder of the Interways. Her clothes were in tatters, her face a mess of bruises and scabs, and despite her unusual strength, she was tired. The hunger was showing the first signs of returning, but for now it was manageable, a budding seed somewhere deep within her cells.

  The Eastern Lands. That was to be her aim now. It was a laughable quest, of course. She couldn’t imagine how she would make it to the docks, let alone across the widest of the oceans to the other side of the world. And once she was there, what then? How would she find this woman? Tanja. She knew nothing about her other than her sinister genetics and ancient existence, not exactly the traits upon which to find a person in a sea of a hundred million others.

  Tanja. A lingering monstrosity of Marlene’s heritage that still somehow remained. How could it be? How could it be that this distant kin of Anika’s was, according to the invisible voice in the warehouse, on a mission to kill her and Hansel and Gretel?