Greyborn Rising

by Derry Sandy

“However, whereas ghosts are emotional wrinkles in the fabric, places like this one are physical wrinkles. I guess you can call them inanimate structural ghosts. This of course is an oversimplification, no one fully understands how or why these places exist. As you can imagine there are countless wrinkles and those who know where and what to look for can find them and travel to them. Back to your original question, we are in one such wrinkle now. This is the house I grew up in, the home of the Sardis family, my family.”

  Lisa heard Sam mutter something like “I told you so,” but she ignored him. He was obviously wrestling with some personal strangeness.

  “So, Lucien Sardis, the man waiting for us, is your relative?” Lisa said, recalling what Clarence had told her of the details discussed at Stone the day she and D’mara fled to the Gray.

  “No, my father died a very long time ago. Whatever now occupies my father’s body is a stranger. I should have told Katherine this when she came to us in the sleep, but it is not an easy thing to speak about and we ran out of time.” Ghita paused thoughtfully then continued. “Lucien, the stranger, has several of these locations. Sometimes it’s an entire house like this one, sometimes one room in a building. He uses them as staging areas. They are the perfect prison. Only the dead can enter and leave freely. The living can only leave via certain pathways which are very hard to find. The paths are the seams where the wrinkle is attached to the temporal web. Otherwise you can only leave and enter through one of the boxes, like you did.”

  “The house in Laventille, where Cassan was kept, it’s a wrinkle isn’t it?”

  “Not quite. Remember, your friends were able to get there physically and that the house takes up actual space in the visible world. Wrinkles do not take up physical space, they are outside of the three realities. The demonic ambiance that place possesses exists because Lucien trapped a multitude of angry, evil, malicious spirits in the very mortar and bricks of that house. Your friends are lucky to have escaped.”

  “So, I’ve heard.”

  They were still walking, passing from hallway to hallway each marked by an ornate arch. “He is in there, you must go in,” Ghita said stopping in front a nondescript door.

  Sam touched the door handle, about to open it when Ghita spoke.

  “One more thing, nothing is as it seems. Remember that and you may survive what is about to happen.”

  “Is that all you can give us.”

  “I have already given you too much.” With that the girl faded to translucency and then altogether leaving behind the scent of frangipani.

  Sam took the lead and pushed the door open. Lisa swallowed her pride and took his hand as they entered together.

  Chapter 34

  Evil is a seed that must be planted in the filth of indecency, watered in the blood of the innocent, and denied all illumination so that it may best fester to maturity.

  All workers of iniquity must become intimately familiar with the dark, both the dark without and the dark within. – Undated excerpt from one of the last surviving pages of Onyeka’s five manuals on Necromancy

  Voss could hear the heartbeats of Clarence and the girl. Clarence’s was elevated, pounding like the a tassa drum. The girl’s was as calm as if she was lounging on the sands of Pigeon Point. He could smell them, they were on either side of him, but he could see nothing. The darkness of the place to which they had arrived was complete.

  The three of them remained stock still and silent, listening, sniffing the air, and willing their eyes to see. It was easy to imagine that they were standing on a tall round spire and a footstep to either side was all that stood between them a freefall to Hades.

  Voss risked a hoarse whisper. “Do either of you know where we are?”

  “I remember this place, the smell at least,” Clarence said. “This is where Lucien creates maboya and other things. Fifty-seven would have been here longer, I think.”

  “D’mara,” she corrected, but did not offer any further information.

  “Do you know your way about?” Voss asked.

  “Not really, but I know we can’t stay here. There are bad things down here.” Even at a whisper, Voss heard fear in Clarence’s voice. “We’re probably in a holding cell. There should be a hallway outside this door, and stairs leading up to the main house.”

  “Clarence is right. We can’t stay here,” D’mara whispered. “Every expert in obeah was once a novice. Lucien keeps some of his earlier failures in places like this. Unstable creatures.”

  Somewhere in the dungeon something wailed in a scream that sounded like many voices but started and stopped all at once as if made by a single tortured being.

  “The monsters know we are here,” D’mara whispered.

  Voss had not been frightened in decades so the unfamiliar gnawing in his stomach annoyed him. Now however, was not the time to lose himself to panic. Panic would get them all devoured in this dark and hellish place. He steeled himself, “Kat has been here. Her smell is faint, but she has been here. We will leave this room and kill whatever comes after us or die in the attempt. There are monsters out there, but we too are monstrous.”

  With those words, Voss allowed his beast to come forth. His body morphed and grew, and he became covered in tawny fur. Fangs and claws replaced teeth and nails. In the end he stood in the form of a lion-man like Narisimha, the avatar of Vishnu. Now he had eyes that could pierce the darkness and he almost wished that he could not see.

  They were in a large cell just as Clarence had said. But they were not alone. Twisted things clung to the walls and the ceiling like a living carpet, things that looked like they used to be people or animals, now they were both and neither. They adhered to the walls and ceiling like spiders, apparently in some sort of stasis or slumber. Every now and again one would twitch nervously as if dreaming.

  Voss whispered, “Take my arms and tread very lightly. We are not alone in here.”

  He reached out to them in the dark, they must have sensed the change because neither seemed surprised by the thick fur now covering his arms. They moved towards the wooden door, inching their way painfully, afraid even to breathe. Voss thought it a miracle worthy of virgin sacrifice that the door was unlocked. When he opened it however, he realized that the fates were being cruel. The hallway was just as dark as the room, and the perverse results of Lucien’s early forays into spellcraft and necromancy lined the hallway.

  Twisted beings filled the corridor. They were all in some sort of dormant state, but Voss knew they were alive. Some looked almost human, but it was obvious that Lucien had been trying to create his own versions of the Grey’s lycans through obeah. Here there was a large dog’s head on a man’s body, there a woman in petticoats with one dainty slippered foot matched with the cloven hoof and thick leg of an ox. Before them was a living maze of horror through which they must tread.

  Voss hated suspense, if he had to choose between having a gun merely pointed at him and having a gun fired at him, he would always choose the latter. A pointed gun was deeply worrisome, a firing gun had declared its intent. Thus, picking his way through the static bodies of Lucien’s creations was one of the most unpleasant things he had ever had to do.

  The being ahead of him, a clumsy amalgamation between a woman and a massive snake, suddenly wailed but its eyes remained closed and once the wailing ceased it moved no further, Clarence almost leapt out of his skin. He led Clarence and D’mara gingerly through the garden of horrors to the staircase that Clarence had described as leading up and out of the hallway.

  But the staircase was occupied, crowded with Lucien’s failed creations. They lay and stood and stooped, twitching in their alien slumber, there was no way around them.

  “We will have to move them.” Voss whispered.

  “They may wake up.” Clarence replied.

  Yes, they might, Voss thought but did not voice. Competing solutions blossomed in his mind; How hard would the monsters be to kill while they slept? Should they try to move the things gently or should they just bol
t for the door, bulling their way forward, in the hope that they could escape through the door before being overwhelmed? As he approached the nearest monstrosity intent on testing the depth of its slumber, its four eyes blinked open, glowing green in the blackness. This set of a chain reaction in the hallway, one by one, green points of light came to life around them as the monsters woke up. The trio was quickly surrounded by a sea of eyes. With a roar Voss sprang at the first foe. They were going to die down here.

  A shaft of light pierced through the murk as violently as light from heaven would penetrate the shadows of hell. Several of the monsters squealed in agony at the sudden unwanted intrusion. Voss had to squint. Silhouetted in the doorway atop the stairwell was an Indian girl in a gold and red sari. She spoke down into the pit with authority.

  “You will all go back to your cells. I’m the keeper.”

  The subterranean monstrosities rushed to comply streaming past Voss Clarence and D’mara as they returned to the deeper cells.

  “You three, come with me. Your friends need you.”

  Clarence perked up. “Ghita, how nice to see you again.”

  D’mara simply inclined her head at the girl. The three stepped into the light with Ghita and she closed the door which, once closed became indistinguishable from the wall.

  “The door does not open unless I want it open,” Ghita said noticing Voss’ examination. “But we must hurry. Follow me.”

  The trio did not argue. They followed her through the large airy house, as the eyes of Hindu deities monitored their progress from paintings on the walls and statuettes in alcoves.

  Chapter 35

  Kamara and Rohan ran through the underground tunnel that connected Stone to Jonah and Imelda’s cottage. They had closed and locked the thick steel door on Stone’s side of the tunnel, but they knew it would not hold back the tide of pale demons for long. Rohan cradled Agrippa to his chest as he ran. He imagined the dog wore an expression of minimal tolerance and offended pride at having to be carried. Kamara ran, sword in hand. They climbed the metal ladder which led to Jonah’s cottage. The hatch at the cottage side of the tunnel was locked from the other side and Kamara pounded on the steel door with the butt of her sword to be let in. When the door opened, and they climbed out of the hatch they found themselves staring down the barrels of the old couple’s guns.

  “Is it really you?” Jonah asked, gun pointed steadily.

  “No one told me the password, so I don’t really know what to say,” Rohan replied. He would have raised his arms, but he was still cradling the big dog.

  “Come on now, climb out and close the hatch,” Jonah said motioning them through.

  “Where is Tarik?” Rohan asked.

  “I’m right here.”

  “Can you burn the maboya, like you did in the safe-house?”

  “No, there are too many and I’m lending my mother strength now.”

  “Lending her strength? Do you know where she is?”

  “No, I do not, but wherever she is she needs all the power she can get. She has been drawing on me heavily. Blood related soucouyant can share power and the most powerful relative need not wait for the weaker ones to volunteer their power, they can simply tap it.”

  “Well we damn sure can’t stay here. They will overrun this house very soon. We can take the old truck. Where we should go?” Jonah asked.

  “One of the other Houses. We can return in force and kill these things.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rohan. You asked them for help, and they have yet to send a single man. Stone is alone.”

  Rohan weighed Jonah’s words. He took out his phone and called Richard. Richard answered on the first ring his voice was breathless over the roar of an engine. “Rohan, you’re alive.”

  “Yes, you sound like you expected otherwise. Richard we are being overrun by maboya. We need every Orderman at Stone.”

  “I was already on my way to you to share some disturbing news. Lucien has corrupted all the other Houses as well as the Watchers. They were all promised a place of power when he opens the Grey. No one will aid Stone. In fact, the other elders knew that you would be attacked tonight. They knew of all the other attacks beforehand. Isa was the only elder who was not turned by Lucien. His stubbornness is why the Watchers sent you to the forest telling you that there was one Lagahoo to be slain but instead you found a pack waiting to kill you.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Three of them came to convince me to join them. I had to kill them and run. I killed my own brothers, Rohan. The corruption is complete. Stone stands alone. Tonight, is supposed to be the night that Lucien changes the world by opening the Grey. I’ll be at Stone in about five minutes.”

  “Don’t bother coming here. We’ll meet you on the road.”

  Rohan ended the call. The conversation had left more questions than answers. If Isa had been approached why hadn’t he warned the rest of the men of Stone? Had Isa suspected that the other houses had been approached as well? The thought that the entire Order had been corrupted by a promise of power was terrifying to say the least.

  “Let’s get the truck and get out of here,” Rohan said.

  They left the cottage, constantly scanning for the pale, predatory pursuers as they made their way to where the Toyota 4x4 was parked. There were no maboya to be seen as they piled into the vehicle with Imelda at the wheel. Rohan did not want to risk attracting the beasts with the noise of the engine, so he pushed the van forward. He intended to coast silently to the front gate, which was possible because the driveway sloped downhill all the way to the exit. As the van picked up speed he jumped into the front seat. Kamara and Jonah acted as gunners at the rear windows. They hoped all the maboya were inside Stone or working their way through the tunnel.

  That hope was short-lived. As they rounded a bend in the driveway dozens of pale maboya stood on the blacktop sniffing the air. Their eyeless gaze fell upon the truck as it rounded the curve. Imelda turned the ignition and pushed the accelerator pedal to the van’s floor. Several of the creatures leapt vertically clear of the truck, but several more were mowed down. Kamara and Jonah opened fire as the van sped past. The pack of maboya gave chase, running with superhuman speed and agility, some on all fours, others upright, and still others bounding in disturbingly alien ways.

  Imelda handled the truck like a professional getaway driver who had six kilos of cocaine in the boot and the Trinidad Police on her rear bumper. Rohan fired out the front passenger-side window as maboya rushed in from the darkness of the surrounding grounds like pale phantoms. Jonah and Kamara pumped a steady stream of lead out the rear windows. The gate was up ahead. They triggered a remote switch and the entry-way slowly opened. At this speed of approach, the gap would be just wide enough to admit the van, if Imelda held it steady.

  The 4x4 barely fit past the gap between the slowly opening steel lip of the gate and the concrete gatepost and lost both side mirrors as it lurched onto the roadway. By some violation of the laws of physics, Imelda managed to hold the van on the road without letting up on the speed. Suddenly bright headlights from an oncoming vehicle blinded the van’s occupants. Rohan had the briefest moment in which he noted that the oncoming vehicle was in their lane before the scream of the collision.

  Untethered by a seatbelt, Rohan was ejected from the jeep face first through the windshield. The passenger-side airbags deployed but did not stay his passage through the membranous, gummy glass. He was momentarily airborne before the blacktop rose up and caught him. His body bounced along the pavement like a pebble skillfully skipped across the surface of a lake. When he came to rest fifty feet from the van he had to cling to consciousness by sheer force of will. As his vision dimmed, he heard a dog barking, someone shouting, someone shooting, then a warm red silence descended. Kamara.

  Chapter 36

  Lisa and Sam entered the large airy room hand in hand. There were three people inside. Lisa recognized the man who took her in the Grey, standing off to on
e side, malicious in his appearance. Kat was present as well, lying on a waist-high, flat-topped slab of stone in the center of the room. She appeared to be peacefully asleep.

  The third person Lisa did not know, but she assumed this was the man they were here to meet. He was a tall good-looking man, with square, well-defined features, intelligent eyes, and a head of dark hair beginning to silver at the temples and at the nape of his neck.

  When he spoke, it was with a pleasant voice that Lisa did not expect to hear from a maniacal obeah man.

  “Welcome, I’m sorry that you got mixed up in all this.”

  “I’m sorry about that too,” Lisa replied. “How is Kat?”

  “She is alive for now. Sedated, of course. You have to agree that she would be a lot less compliant otherwise.”

  Sam appeared to have nothing to say so Lisa continued talking. “Why are we here? None of this makes sense.”

  “You know why you are here, Lisa. You have something I need. When you saw me on the astral plane, you did something in error that many people with centuries more experience could not do by design. You separated me from my power and took it for yourself. You even used it to heal Rohan, allowing him to defeat the master lagahoo. Quite impressive. Silent Sam over there.” Lucien gestured with the wave of a hand. “Well, he’s an entirely different matter. You see, I performed a ceremony to call forth a spirit with the knowledge to open the Grey. That spirit is Sam’s previous incarnation. Both past and present Sam are sharing that one body. And your soucouyant friend her, Kat? I have hated her from the moment I first saw her. But that’s another story.”

  “Why are you doing this, opening the Grey? I’ve been to the Grey, it is not safe.”

  “Ah, let me answer by asking you a question. What did you think about obeah before you got caught up in all this? What did you think about the lagahoo, the soucouyant, Duens, the moongazer, or any of a number of things with which you are now intimately familiar? Answer honestly.”

  “I thought they were all Anansi’s stories, folktales.”