House of Thirteen

by Andy Lockwood

  Mariel showed no fear and proceeded to try to communicate. It took time, but Mariel and Mother were able to find a common ground for language. They began a discussion that started as a parlay and turned into an agreement based on the bonds of friendship, as absurd as this one might be. Mariel led them into a section of forest that had been tabled for some future city development. She showed them the boundaries and, on her own authority, gave them the forest. Later, she would set out to turn the forest into a nature preserve, protecting much more than this group of creatures. They in turn kept to the forest, finding ways to mask their existence, and learning to coexist with the less-troublesome humans.

  It wasn’t until much later that Mariel came to Mother with the dagger. Mother had no real understanding of emotion, making her completely useless in the line of questions Ren and Joe had for her as they sought further clues to what the dagger was and why it was so important.

  Mother could only tell them that it had been left under her protection and they were the first to try to claim it. But they had not been the only ones in the forest recently.

  “She never even bothered apologizing for trying to kill me,” Joe spoke softly, hoping no one else on the bus was eager to eavesdrop. “Or you.”

  “I don’t think she understands what being sorry is.”

  “Well she should learn,” Joe was interrupted with a yawn. “You could teach her.”

  Ren scoffed. “Maybe some other time. I am much more worried about whatever else is going on.”

  Joe shuddered. Mother had told them about other beings in the forest – she had used the word beings specifically, not humans. She had kept her distance, keeping guard over her promise to Mariel, but other members of her den started disappearing. It was the first time either Ren or Joe saw her express anything that resembled emotion, and it was not anything they liked experiencing. Ren took it on a guess that wights had the emotional range of an animal, which meant a scale of extremes. She could see it as Mother tried to tell them about her missing brood. Cold rage poured out of her; she seethed with sorrow and anger. Worse was that no matter how she tried to convey it, she didn’t seem to know how to express her fear. She could only rage at the unknown, even to her two new allies.

  They looked around the bus again before Joe continued. “You think someone is hunting them? But who?”

  “And how? Even if they don’t have Mother’s abilities, they can’t be easy to bring down.” Though Ren was relieved that only Mother had her abilities. Only she had been around long enough to attain them. Mother had explained that younger wights could mask themselves, camouflaging themselves in their environment, and hiding in shadows. They hunted with the speed and efficiency of predatory kings and once they had your scent, they could track you forever. But whatever was hunting the wights didn’t leave a trail. It was silent, invisible and exceptionally dangerous.

  “Do you think Tau’s mystery men have anything to do with it?”

  Ren nodded. She would almost bet that Tau and Eunice Abernathy were both tied to this… somehow. She didn’t understand how everything fit together, but Ren had the distinct feeling that it was all coming to a head, and she and Joe were already caught right in the middle.

  They got off at the last stop in Old Town just after midnight. Like their last hike back from the shopping district, they were weary, muscles aching. Unlike last time, there was nothing to be happy about. As the days wore on, the news only got worse. Thieves, and vendettas, now folklore and who knows what else come to roost in their anonymous little lives. They dragged along the sidewalks, arms around each other keeping one another on their feet.

  Silently they walked, the dark house loping into view. Ren wished to herself for it all just to be over. She wanted Mariel and Colette to be waiting at home for them, to have all the answers they’d been seeking and to put an end to all this chaos once and for all.

  When that didn’t happen, she closed her eyes and held tighter to Joe as they shuffled closer to home.

  **

  Ren sat at the end of the couch, her limbs strewn in uncomfortable looking positions, but she gave them no mind. A pot of tea cooled on the table in the common room, steam drifting into the air. Joe’s deep breathing was the only sound in the room, and even that was mostly ignored by Ren, her thoughts operating overtime. There had to be a way this all fit together. One that made sense.

  As if anything makes sense around here.

  It was as fair a point as it was a jab. Ren fought the bitterness that was welling, the anger she felt against Mariel. It wasn’t fair that they were stuck in the middle of a situation that was not theirs to begin with. Mariel had left them with nothing. There had been no warnings, and neither of them was answering their phone.

  Everything had been left to their own devices. Why had Mariel not warned anyone that this might be coming? Certainly, if she knew to hide the dagger, then she knew well enough that there was some sort of danger – which they all might be in. How could Mariel play at such a risk?

  Ren sat up and poured a cup of tea, standing up to pace the room. She walked the length twice more, retracing steps both physical and mental as she tried to find that elusive fragment that fit everything together. She moved up and down the floors, seeing the paths where foot traffic had worn things down. Paths moved everywhere: from room to room, across in distinctive patterns to certain shelves, even some places at the table saw more traffic than others. But only one door lacked regular foot traffic. Only one door had ever been spoken of in hushed tones, and she walked toward it now.

  In a dozen steps she found herself standing in front of that great wood door, one that she had only stepped beyond once. Mariel’s office was probably locked whenever she was not in it – probably sometimes when she was – and it would have to be broken into. She would explain herself later; she didn’t need anything but probable cause right now. It was an old door; maybe she could just force the lock.

  Maybe you’ve seen too many movies.

  She slipped her fingers around the knob, pressing her shoulder to the door. She gave the knob a firm abrupt twist and was surprised to find that the door simply opened. She pulled on the door to brace herself and keep her from falling into the room. Such a mess would only set them back further, and right now, this was the only good sign they’d had. Or was it such a good sign?

  Perhaps Mariel left the door unlocked in the event that they needed to get in here. Then either she or Joe would try, finding it unlocked. Had she anticipated this, or just anticipated a need?

  Ren shook her head, she could ask these questions later.

  She looked into the room, into the organized chaos that Mariel dwelled in. This was another in a theme, and she had no idea where to begin the search here either. She sat down at Mariel’s desk and took in the room. She repeated the phrase to herself: organized chaos. That’s exactly what this room was. While everything was in piles and stacks and stuffed into shelves, it was all Mariel’s way of putting things into groups, keeping it all together. Now, Ren just had to figure out what mattered and what didn’t.

  She started with the desk itself, figuring that anything that meant something to Mariel would be kept close by. In one drawer, she found nothing but business cards. Ren shuffled through them, looking for a name that might stick out, but none did. The next drawer down: ledgers. Stacks of black faux leather ledgers – and one brown one – filled the drawer end to end. She wondered how many of them were full, and how many Mariel might have bought just for consistency. She furrowed her brow at the brown one and it’s faded faux velour exterior, wondering if this occurred before purchasing the lot of black ledgers, or if maybe she felt a need to change for a moment, realizing the error of her ways and going back to her professional consistency.

  The rest of the drawers revealed little more than Mariel’s organizational ability. A drawer for her pens and other tools: scissors, a ruler, an assortment of paper clips, sticky notes, and a stapler. A drawer full of newspaper clippings, commendations
, small plaques and other memorabilia Ren was certain came from charity events that Delaney House had been a participant in.

  She flipped through the clippings with interest, taking in each one, looking for a clue, but all she gained an insight on was that Mariel was invested in making this place a staple of the community. She smiled inwardly; there was no reason it shouldn’t be. But there was nothing in the drawer that would give her any clues to what she was at the center of.

  Her mind continued to peck at her, sending her back to the ledgers. She pulled them out, flipping through them one at a time. Mariel had kept track of dates and details for everything acquired since she had started amassing her collection. She made mention of purchases versus donations, previous ownership, anything that she thought might be worth noting.

  She flipped through a handful of black books before deciding that she should look in the odd one out. It called to her that someone like Mariel, so precise and particular in her ways, would have one book that did not match the others – especially when there were at least a dozen in the other variety. She flipped through noticing the same penmanship, the same collection of details. She flipped the pages faster, looking for that one item out of place that would be a clue, but it didn’t seem to be there. She flipped backward through the book, paranoid that she might have missed something. It was a ledger, nothing more. The dates didn’t share the same consistency as with the other ledgers, but perhaps this was a special collection. Ren stopped on a random page and there it was: the clue had been right before her eyes from the beginning.

  The organization was still the same, but the details were completely different. It took Ren a couple of pages before she realized she was reading a shorthand journal of Mariel’s private life.

  She turned one page after another, trying to translate the phrases, not certain what most of them meant. She decided it would be prudent to work from the end, where she had the most knowledge. She flipped to the last page that contained Mariel’s unmistakable handwriting on it and stared at the first entry at the top:

  The Flower: Full recovery.

  It was like being taken back to her old life all at once. Her mother had always called Ren – Florence – her little flower. It had been a pun that she and her mother shared, with her mother always teasing Ren about blossoming into a woman. She wished her mother were still here, maybe she could help her laugh at the way she had been plucked from her old life and placed in this one.

  She shook it off, trying to remind herself that there was something she was looking for, but the words pulled her back in again. They might not mean a lot to many people, but to anyone who might access it – especially Ren at this moment - it spoke volumes. To anyone in this house, who had gone through the same process, it meant everything. And it meant more to her that Mariel had bothered to write it down. But the next entry pushed Ren back into bewilderment:

  The Queen is restless. Needs to be moved.

  The Queen? Who is she? Ren wondered if this was the reason that they had left so abruptly. Something to do with a queen, or The Queen, as it was written. But who and what kind of queen was she?

  She began to flip through the pages, looking at entries, most of them progress points and updates on members of the house, not just the four here, but all of them. And all of them had secret code names, meaning Mariel had reason to protect each of them from something out there. As she continued to flip the pages, she felt more than heard someone step through the threshold. She could feel their eyes on her. Certain that Joe was awake and wanting to know what she was doing, Ren turned and felt the shock of surprise as she looked up into Tau’s curious face.

  “Find something?”

  “What are you doing? I thought we had a strict no-breaking-no-entering understanding.”

  “What are you reading?”

  Ren stood up and shoved him back against the door. “You aren’t supposed to be here. I will fill you in later, now leave.”

  He smiled and Ren saw his teeth. Things were suddenly very out of her control. He had broken in; he didn’t seem concerned at all – and where was Joe?

  Their eyes met and his smile got bigger. He held his hand out, palm up.

  “You’re getting it now. This is my game. Hand it over.”

  She grit her teeth and hesitated, but she slapped the book down into his hand. Inwardly, she prayed he had no idea what he was looking at. She could tell by the look on his face as he turned page to page that he didn’t. He looked up at her after a handful of pages.

  “What the hell is this?”

  “I don’t know yet, but it seemed important. It’s different from the other ones.”

  He threw the book at the desk. “I don’t have time for this! Where is the knife? I know you’re close to getting it.”

  Her surprise betrayed her. She knew exactly where he stood now, with his cheshire grin as he stepped in so close, all she could see were his glaring eyes.

  “You know where it is, don’t you? Tell me. It’ll be that much easier for both of us.”

  “I’m not telling you anything. Not until I know the whole story.”

  “You’ll tell me everything, or poor little Joe-”

  She didn’t even let him finish. Ren jabbed him hard in the stomach, pitching him over and darted out into the living room. It was empty. No sign of a struggle, but no sign of Joe. Something had happened. Ren turned on her heel, eyes shooting daggers into him as he caught his breath, his cough turning to laughter, shallow and confident.

  “She’s fine. For now. See for yourself.”

  He pointed at the window and she crossed the room, leaning over the couch to see out into the front yard. Even in the darkness, she could make out Joe’s pale skin shining in the glow from the streetlights. She looked weak, tired. She also looked terrified. She was suspended between two–

  Ren gasped. She was being held in place by monsters. Glistening black creatures that towered over Joe. They were twisted and strange, shuffling back and forth, but bore a strange resemblance to Mother Wight. Ren shook her head. Was this Mother’s missing brood? If so, what had happened to them?

  “I am sure you recognize them, or at least the resemblance. I’d like to tell you we have an army of them, but that’s simply not the case. It took a lot of trial and error to transform them into these perfect soldiers. Lots of experimentation; lots of sacrifices.”

  Ren stared back at Tau, horrified by his pride in this horror. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing would come, no matter how she tried to force it.

  “Still, what they lack in numbers, they make up for in skill. They’re perfectly silent – as you can tell. They were here and gone and you never noticed. I’ll even just tell you: they’re blind. They don’t rely on sight at all. But don’t get hopeful: they’re the perfect bloodhounds. There is no escaping them, and right now, I am the only thing keeping them from tearing your little friend apart and drinking her dry.”

  Ren shot up, her arms clenched, ready for the fight he was edging toward, but he held up a hand.

  “We don’t care about you, or her. We want the knife.”

  Her jaw tightened and she begged her tears to stay hidden. She would address them later. “I don’t have it.”

  He smiled, raising an eyebrow as if he knew better. “You can get it. You’re resourceful. Besides, Joe’s life depends on it. You wouldn’t let her down, would you?”

  He stepped around her, walking toward the door.

  “I think two days is fitting, don’t you? Obviously, the sooner you deliver it, the better shape she’ll be in, but I wouldn’t drag it out till the last minute.”

  Her jaw was set, she couldn’t even look at him for fear what she might do that would jeopardize Joe.

  “What about Panya, your sister? Or was that just a story?”

  “Oh no, she’s real. She is with our family, safe and sound. She has no idea where I am.”

  She turned toward him, and felt her body betraying her under the weight of the momen
t. Hate burned in her eyes, emphasized by the tears that boiled over. Her fists shook and her lips quivered, she wanted to tear him limb from limb where he stood smirking at her.

  “Don’t keep us waiting, but don’t show up without the knife.”

  “Where am I supposed to find you?”

  “I’m sure you can figure it out; you were so close last time.”

  All she could do was stare as he walked out the door and spoke something to Joe. Ren stood on quaking limbs as Joe looked up at her. Her eyes were pleading, and she shook her head almost imperceptibly.

  Please don’t, Joe’s eyes begged. But please don’t what? Don’t follow? Don’t try to save her? Don’t give them the knife?

  She clenched her hands tight against her chest as she watched them slowly drag her away, Joe’s weakened muscles straining with no impact on her captors. She watched until they dissolved into the darkness, then she watched longer, standing at the window, every muscle quaking with anger. She never noticed that she had dug wounds into her own palms with her fingernails, and when she finally did, they were the least of her worries.

  She had to get the knife, get Joe, and get revenge.

  FIFTEEN

  The moment it was decided, Ren collapsed. She buckled under the weight of tears and conflict and anger all roiling inside her, demanding to be felt. She took a minute; let the pressure ease, and then stowed the rest back inside. She wanted to forget everything except the one goal: get Joe back. She marched out into the dark, travelling the long quiet roads alone, her boot heels echoing off the buildings as she walked.