by J B Murray
Garrison covers Annalise’s face with his arm as he helps her to her feet. Jakob yells something at them, though neither can understand over the sounds of the eruption around them. Taking several steps, Jakob kicks at the door they came in through. His heel finds the area just above the handle and it splinters open. Soon the three are on the other side. Jakob quickly lays the boy on the ground of the corridor and pushes the door shut again. His hand holds the handle while he mutters something beneath his breath. A pale, blue glow trickles around the doorframe, and Garrison gets the sense they are somehow sealed safely from the danger beyond.
7
7.
“Oh my god… oh my god,” Annalise repeats. Her eyes haven’t left the door since they came to safety.
“Brent,” Garrison kneels by his little brother. Brent’s face is in his older brother’s hands, shaking as Garrison tries to stir him fully awake. “Brent?”
“What… what happened to… to…” Annalise stutters.
“Our dear Reynolds?” Jakob inquires rather calmly. “I wouldn’t fear much in that matter.”
“What? How?”
“Suffice to say, the man is in a better place now.”
“A better-?”
“A better place. Yes,” Jakob confirms. He turns and grabs up the cane he left leaning in the crook of the doorway. He reaches to straighten his topcoat then pauses as he recollects its recent demise. “Oh… right. Very well then.”
“Brent?” The little boy stirs, his eyes peeling open ever so slowly.
“But he… he… he burned up,” Annalise continues.
“All relative. Trust when I say, for him at least, things aren’t nearly as bad as they seem.”
“Gary?” Brent questions, seeing his brother clearly hunched over him.
“Yeah Brent. Yeah… it’s me.”
“Gary,” Brent exhales, his voice confirming. The boy reaches up and wraps his arms around his big brother.
“Come. Gather up your brother. We must be quick about this.”
“About what?”
“Getting the three of you back home.”
Jakob sets off at a decent pace. Garrison nudges Brent, asks him if he can walk. The little boy stirs to his feet, wobbles for a brief time before getting settled. Then the three set off after the man with the monocle.
Brent looks at the man ahead of them with a curious gaze. The colors around him are starting to fade. Those which once glowed, now seem to dissipate in wisps of smoke. They trail behind Jakob like memories soon to be forgotten. The three start falling behind, and Garrison scoops up his little brother, pulling him for a piggyback. Brent wraps his arms around Garrison’s neck as the older quickens his pace. Annalise follows. It feels good to be this close to his older brother. He feels safe again. Even as he bounces up and down until Garrison catches up with jakob.
“Can you still get us home?” Garrison questions.
“I’m not sure I follow?”
“It looked like… well… like the Veil closed behind that man.”
“That man’s name is Crowley. A deviant servant of… of… well, if there were a devil, he’d most certainly be the creature’s right hand. And yes. I still can. He only, by some means unknown to me, managed to close that part of the Veil where he worked his magic. I can feel tears in the Veil all over the world. Your’s should still be open plenty.”
“And my brother?”
Jakob stops dead at the question. He turns on heel and holds out his hand. Props Brent’s face up so their eyes are level. He looks into them for some time. Digs deep into the soul which lies there. Squints, as if considering the possibilities. Finally, he drops the boy’s chin and nods.
“It would appear Crowley left a little something behind.”
“He what?”
“I would have thought he removed the fragment he instilled in your brother when he left. But it seems it lingers. This is good.”
“How is this good?”
“It serves as a marker. Leaves a trace. It will lead me directly to the point in which you came through the Veil.”
“And then? Can you remove it?”
“Of course.”
Jakob prods on, the three in tow. Little is said over the next few minutes. Jakob moves forward with purpose, his eyes darting this way and that, as if they were tracking movement of some sort. Annalise keeps her fingers wrapped around one of Garrison’s wrists, staying close behind. Brent nods off and again while bouncing on his big brother’s back. Soon, the four of them are standing at the mouth of the alley. Annalise and Garrison recognize it well enough. Both know the staircases which lay beyond.
THE WAY HOME
THE WAY HOME…
“Are you sure this is the right one?”
“Trust me,” Jakob reassures.
The four stand at the mouth of the alley a moment before Jakob leads them down it. Their footsteps echo on the cobblestone beneath. Ever nearing the dark, and the opening to the other side, a bit of trepidation mounts within the group. Jakob notices Annalise’s hesitation as he takes a step toward the opening.
“What is it?” He questions.
“I don’t… I don’t know if I can do that again,” she answers in a whimper, remembering well the time spent trying to get through; the overwhelming feeling of being crushed, not being able to breathe.
“Ahhh, yes. I imagine it must have been frightful before. But fear not. The way through will prove to be much different this time. I assure you.”
She looks to Garrison who can only offer a shrug. He has doubts as well, but Jakob bears confidence. So, Garrison takes hold Annalise’s hand and follows the man through. On the other side, now relieved the ordeal was as simply as could be, each of them catch their breath, staring at the wonder of the staircases again. They’d almost forgotten the immensity and fear of the place. They follow as Jakob traverses several cases. Garrison doubts very much that it resembles the way they’d come in as Jakob slithers to the left, then right, hardly taking a moment to notice the direction he’s descending.
Eventually, and after what seems too short a period of time for Garrison, as the ascent felt so much longer, Jakob holds up on one landing. Garrison cranes his neck, eyes trying to cut the dark, as if something which lay beyond would remind him that yes, they’ve arrived back where it all began. Jakob offers the kids a gentle smile. Nods to each in turn, as he indicates the way out with a point of his cane.
“Are you coming?” Garrison asks the man.
“I’m afraid I cannot.”
“But what about Crowley?” Annalise interjects.
“Fear not. Crowley won’t trouble you anymore.”
“You sure?”
“Trust me.”
“But what about the fragment. You said-”
“Ah yes. But with Crowley gone, there’s nothing more to fear. The fragment itself will begin to fade. Crowley can’t survive out there, in your world. And when he dies, so too will every part pf him.”
Garrison offers a smile then nods. He scoops Brent up onto his back again and turns toward the breach. Annalise threads her hand beneath his arm. The two give each other a reassuring smile before stepping through. The viscous shroud between The Great Beyond and the Veil enrapture them. It pulls and tugs, slowing their pace until eventually, they come through the other side. Garrison stumbles, nearly falling into the snow, not realizing the step down. Annalise pulls back on his arm, helping to keep him from falling.
Outside the large, upturned tree, the roots now covered in a thick coating of white, the sun peeks through the clouds. Morning’s not yet dawned, but encroaching. Garrison stares up into the sky, wondering if it’s only been one night, or several that they’ve been gone.
“Are we… are we back?” Annalise whispers in vague disbelief.
“I think so,” Garrison offers. He looks around. Though their footprints have long since been covered by fresh snow, the clearing looks the same as before. The large tree, brought down by some force of nature sti
ll sits upturned, gnarling roots dangling from the deadened giant. The Veil, as he now knows it, still hums to life within at their backs. A blackness pinpricked with motes of light.
“Which way?” She asks.
“Huh?” He snaps from his reverie.
“Which way home. I’m freezing already.”
“I think,” he starts turning his head to the left and jutting his chin. “I think that way.”
The fresh snow crunches beneath their boots as they start for home. Garrison shifts his little brother on his back, trying to make them both more comfortable. He’d let Brent walk, but the kid has no shoes. And they do need to get back home. Not only is Brent not wearing shoes, but with the falling snow, his pajamas will soon be wet. He’s still amazed the boy made it out here in the first place. He hopes Annalise is up for a bit of a jog.
“Garrison, stop.”
Garrison freezes as the words linger in his ear. His little brother spoke them, but the voice coming from the boy’s mouth is far from his own. Could Jakob have been wrong? About the fragment? About Crowley? He turns around quickly, head snapping in an arc as his eyes scan the landscape. They try to pierce the shadows in the trees, failing all the while his heart races. Annalise slows up and turns to look at him.
“What is it?” She asks.
He throws a finger to his lips, “Shhh.”
“Running off so soon?” A familiar voice beckons from behind the giant, fallen tree.
Crowley steps around the object, his hands clasped behind his back in a casually eerie manner. The man always boasts confidence. As if he’s never lost a fight in his life. Crowley releases one hand and holds it aloft, as if he were conjuring a spell. Garrison wonders how he survived. He shouldn’t be walking around out here, out in reality. Then it dawns on him… the Veil isn’t yet closed. Wonders further still, how he found the three of them. Jakob obviously underestimated the power of the man’s magic. But what could he possible want now? Garrison’s eyes light with the answer. His brother. Brent squeezes his arms around his neck tighter.
“Brent, loosen up a bit bud.”
But the boy’s grip only increases. Crowley smiles. Brent’s eyes roll up in his head and Annalise gasps as reality comes crashing in. She runs over to the boy and grabs his arms in her hands. Tries pulling him free. But the boy’s grip is iron. Garrison falls to his knees, his hands also trying to pry loose his little brother’s deadly embrace. Stars dance before Garrison’s eyes. Spittle flies from his lips as he gasps for air. All the while, Brent clings to him, eyes glazed over, choking the life from him.
“It seems I went about this all wrong last time,” Crowley insists. “I won’t make that mistake again,” he concludes, his eyes digging deep into the boy’s soul. He slowly scrunches his fingers into a fist. Garrison can’t believe his brother’s embrace could grow any tighter. But it does.
“Nor shall I make the mistake,” another voice calls from within the shadow of the woods.
Jakob emerges, his cane propped casually against his shoulder. His hair is ruffled from recent events. Out in the open, out in reality, Jakob looks somewhat translucent. A ghost or memory stamped on the surrounding landscape. There, but not really. The dawning light seems to cut through him. Jakob’s eyes never leave Crowley as he takes one step after the other, nearing the man.
Enraged, Crowley screams, dropping his hand and turning to face Jakob. At once, Brent’s grip loosens and Garrison falls forward, face first into the snow. Annalise rushes to him. Before she can turn him over, he breathes in a huge gulp of air and powder, choking on both. Crowley’s hand goes back up and he snarls at Jakob. He opens his mouth to release some incantation.
“Enough,” Jakob states.
Jakob strips his eye of the monocle, revealing a dark chasm that seems to go on forever. The open cavity swirls with a burning liquid fire. Annalise gasps at the sight. Brent’s eyes open wide. For the briefest of moments he sees the strange event it all its glory. He looks to Crowley whose body glows with a deep blueish purple. A haunting color, in wisps and tendrils of fog. Then to Jakob, who’s entire person envelops in a blaze of orange and crimson. Crowley lifts his other hand and begins to spurt the first of his words. A torrent of flame erupts from Jakob’s eye socket. It breaks the distance between the two men in seconds and slams into Crowley’s chest. Crowley is thrown back a few feet, but the flames spewed from Jakob’s eye remain buried in his chest, almost holding him upright. Crowley scratches and paws at the fire drilling into him. His hands scorch from the heat, skin starting to drip from his bones.
The bright flames start to fade. Soften a little. A blueish hue seeps through them and another figure is pulled from the corporeal form of Aleister Crowley. It too writhes and scratches at the tendrils of blue flame snaking around its body. Soon the two are separated, and the orange flames let go the man. Crowley falls to the ground, his scalding body sizzling in the snow. Melting into the ground around him in little, smoking pools of flesh and sinew. Smoke and fog drift up from it as it heats the powder beneath.
The three kids, Annalise, Brent and Garrison, still choking a little all watch as the blue tendrils pull the soul of Crowley across the distance toward Jakob. No sound is made, but Crowley’s mouth ushers words. The glowing remains of his memories, and the body he once had drift over the snow, enraptured by the tendrils snaking from Jakob’s eye socket. Then in a whoosh, they snap back in a frenzy, and Crowley’s soul disappears within Jakob, who quickly pops his monocle back in place.
All is quiet for some time, save the sizzle and crackle of the corpse which lay just a few yards from them. Jakob arches his head back, eye closed, breathing deep. With an assured hand, he replaces the monocle over his eye. The rest wonder what just transpired. Had he swallowed Crowley’s soul? Is that what they witnessed? Finally he expels a deep breath and turns toward them.
“One last thing to do,” he says, nearing Brent.
He kneels in the snow; lifts the boy’s chin so their eyes meet. Examines the boy a little. Looks into him. His hand goes up to his monocle and gently grabs the glass. He starts to remove it.
“No!” Garrison barks. Before he knows it, he’s on his feet and hurling himself at Jakob. He crashes into the man and sends them both sprawling into the snow.
Garrison stands, his fists clenched for a fight. He looks down at Jakob who’s… who’s… laughing? They’ve never heard the man laugh before, but it spills from him now, filling the woods around them with a joyous sound. The laugh is genuine, heartfelt. He looks up at Garrison from his back and smiles.
“You need not fear me. But,” he says, sitting up. “Well done my boy. Well done indeed.”
“I can’t let you-”
“I won’t harm your brother. But there is a piece of that man still in him. A fragment remains.”
“A fragment?” Garrison eyes light up, then squint, growing dark. “You said there wasn’t one.”
“Ahhh, yes.” Jakob stands. He brushes himself off as he continues, “A rouse really. But alas, it would have complicated things if I’d told the truth. I needed the fragment to remain. Crowley was still out here. And who knows how deep his dark magic ran? Or what he would have done, should he have succeeded in taking over your brother’s body.”
“You used us?”
“In a fashion, yes.”
“And now.”
“Well now… now it is time to remove the fragment for good.”
“Why should we trust you?”
“Don’t. It makes no mind to me. I will leave the fragment if you wish.” Garrison starts to nod but Jakob interjects, “But know this. If by some manner, Crowley devised a way to remain, has set forth some magic which I know nothing about, there is always a chance he can use that fragment to return. And then what? Will you be equipped to deal with such a fiend?”
“No. No… I guess not.”
“Then allow me to do what I may. I promise this won’t harm your brother. He’ll hardly feel a thing.”
The four c
ollect themselves and walk over to a felled tree. Garrison remains standing beside Jakob as Brent and Annalise sit on the bark. Once again, Jakob lifts the boy’s chin. He removes his monocle, revealing the chasm behind it. The fire swirls there, but softly. Gentle. It snakes from the cavity in slow moving wisps of orange and yellow, blue and silver. They watch, astounded, as they work their way into Brent’s chest. The boy doesn’t move. Just sits and watches the colors coming toward him. The colors enveloping the man with the monocle. Garrison’s breath catches in his throat as the white in Brent’s eyes turn a hazy blue-silver. Soon, the tendrils start to emerge from Brent. They pull with it a small fragment of soul. It looks nothing remarkable. A nugget of rock or stone in a dark bluish hue. It disappears within Jakob’s eye socket. He smiles at the boy as he returns his monocle.
“Well done,” he tells him.
THE WRECK/AFTERMATH
THE WRECK AND Aftermath…
There’s a grinding of metal. It wrenches and squeals, pulling Reynolds awake. His body is frozen, extremities gone numb from the cold of the storm. He lies at an awkward angle, on the inside roof of his car. His legs lean against the driver’s side door. Can’t remember having removed his seatbelt. But he must have, because here he is, lying in a heap. Snow drifts through the broken windows on the passenger side.