by C R Langille
“Why don’t you join me? The water won’t stay hot forever, Bee,” rasped a dead voice.
Bee.
Garrett’s heart crumpled under the strain of that single word. Tears rolled freely from his eyes. Trisha called him Bee after their second date. They went on a picnic in the California hills. The bees were alive and busily buzzing around them. At the end of the night, Trisha said he was as sweet as a honey bee, and the name had stuck.
“Get in here, Bee! We need to catch up on so many things! So many things I can share with you!”
Garrett released the curtain, but his hand stayed where it was, palm open across the light surface. From the other side, a hand shot up and met his, only the thin sheet between them. Despite the heat of the water, the hand on the other side was cold. Garrett pulled his hand back as if it had been bitten by some animal, clutching it close to his chest. He stumbled into the towel rack and kicked over a small metal wastebasket near his feet.
Whatever stood in the shower took its hand away from the curtain, leaving behind a bloody print which was washed away as the water ran over it. The thing let out a shrill cry of glee and laughed.
The water shut off, and Garrett watched in horror as mangled fingers grabbed the edge of the shower curtain. The wrist twisted in a disgusting angle, and shards of bone threatened to bust through the pale skin.
“Come with us, Bee. Come with us deep in the mountain. He waits for you. Maddie and I wait for you.”
The voice wavered and warbled, shifting from his wife’s loving tone to a voice that dripped with venom and loathing. The thing pulled the curtain partway back, and Garrett’s eyes opened wide in horror. He tried to yell but couldn’t command his vocal cords to cooperate.
***
The Maddie creature still crouched above them on the ceiling and continued to bob its broken body up and down as it cried out at Allison.
“THE OUT OF CONTROLLER! THE OUT OF CONTROLLER! THE OUT OF CONTROLLER!”
Mort’s brain finally kicked into overdrive, and he ceased his futile attempts at the doorway. He grabbed a chair and flung it through the window. He was halfway through when he remembered his brother.
“Randall!” Mort outstretched his hand. “Come on! We need to get out of here!”
Randall looked up to his brother, and a mask of misunderstanding slipped over his face. He watched as Mort’s expression twisted into a grimace of pain and the tines of a pitchfork burst from his torso. Mort’s gaze slid from his brother to the newly acquired spears of metal sprouting from his chest. A moment later, a set of hands reached through the broken window and pulled Mort into the night.
Allison screamed and backed to the bed. Randall shot to his feet and ran to the window recklessly.
“Mort!”
Garrett burst from the bathroom at the same time. As he crossed the threshold, the Maddie creature dropped from her perch on the ceiling and fell onto Garrett’s shoulders and drove him to the carpet. Garrett got a good hold of Maddie’s shoulder and wrenched her from his back. She hit the wall with a deep thud but continued her cackling.
Randall stood at the broken window and was about to dive through after his brother when Allison grabbed him by the arm and twisted him to the floor.
“Let me go! I have to get him!” Randall said, gritting his teeth.
Allison didn’t respond verbally, but she put him in a submissive hold, utilizing the techniques she had learned in jiu-jitsu class. Randall fought to get away but couldn’t break out of the hold.
There was a slam against the outside wall that shook the room and caused dust and bits of drywall to fall from the ceiling.
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked to the door. An intense pressure built in the air, and the wooden door bent inward, ready to burst. Seconds later, an ear shattering crack thundered through the room as the wooden door gave way exploding in a shower of splinters.
Chapter Twenty-Two
November 3, 1180
Sir William and I have come to an impasse. It seems we are to part ways. I have prayed that he would see the light and turn back from this foolishness. There is no way that we can defeat this thing on our own; we must return with the full might of Templars to purge this evil if we wish to be successful.
I, for one, cannot wait to be gone from this canyon dwelling. The edges of the village near the canyon wall give me pause every time I walk near. It is a long enough fall to the bottom that I hesitate and find stable ground before moving anywhere close to the precipice. Man was not meant to live in such establishments.
I shall take my men-at-arms, and any of Sir William’s that wish to return, and leave at first light. I shall not miss these natives in the slightest.
-Sir Ralph
Canyon Shadows
Troy clutched the book to his chest and watched from across the parking lot. A mob of townspeople led by Jared and Brent gathered outside the small motel room. Jared tried to open the door when a chair flew through the window. One of the townsfolk, armed with a pitchfork, thrust the makeshift weapon through the window and speared a man who was climbing out. Troy smiled when Brent reached up and pulled the man through, and the mob commenced to tear him to pieces.
Troy’s smile faltered when the sheriff’s Bronco slid into the parking lot and two people emerged. One was the drifter he’d met on the road into town. The other, presumably the owner of the vehicle and the town’s sheriff, carried a Japanese sword in one hand.
The Spirit and the Star!
Jared, Brent, and the rest of the mob sensed their presence and as one rushed the pair. Sheriff Blackwood met the throng head on and entered into a dance of death. He used the katana like it was a natural extension of his body and attacked the townspeople without remorse. Rusty stayed back and pulled a medicine bag from his neck, snapping the leather cord and wrapping it around his left hand. He took the obsidian dagger from its sheath and began hopping around in a tight circle, his voice echoing into the night, chanting words that the Earth hadn’t heard for almost a thousand years.
The bag in his hand began to glow a dull white, and the hair underneath his “Chick Magnet” hat started to whip and twist as if caught in the gale of a small tornado. His circular dance took wider and wider and sweeps, and then he spun one last time. As he did, he yelled, “Dan, get down!”
Dan didn’t hesitate at the command and dropped to the ground as Rusty finished his ritual. The wind that built around Rusty’s body swept forward toward Dan and the mob, leaving a trail of twisting dust in its wake. The dust and dirt spun until it took on the form of a charging bison, sweeping over Dan’s prone form and crashing into the mob.
The sound was deafening, as if a thousand of the spirit bison stampeded through the parking lot. The townspeople scattered in all directions like bowling pins knocked asunder. Those unfortunate few unlucky enough to get caught by the charge were mowed down and gored by the apparition.
Jared dove out of the way, but Brent took the full force, and his body slammed into the door of the motel room. For half a second, it looked as if the door would hold, but it soon gave way and burst inward.
The Spirit and the Star! Destroy them and bring the Host!
A surge of hate and rage boiled Troy’s blood. Dark energy coursed through his veins, and he could see things clearly. Inky tendrils of darkness wrapped around the scattered townsfolk, connecting all of them to a larger tendril of shadow that spread through the town. Troy knew it led back to Him. The townspeople’s true forms were made clear, and they were both beautiful and terrifying in their own way.
The creature that was Jared stood up, and dark membranous wings sprouted from his back. Obsidian horns grew even larger, twisting in all directions. The man’s hands became claws tipped with a black fiery darkness.
Troy opened the book, his fingers subconsciously drawn to the correct page. The ancient words blurred and shi
fted as he read. Dark blood splattered against the pages as his nose let loose a torrent of sanguine fluid. As the blood hit the pages, it was immediately sucked into the book, disappearing and reappearing as new words. Troy smiled as he realized what he was reading. His grin widened when a car pulled into the parking lot next to him.
***
Mick Tully brought his car to a stop. He was mesmerized by the sight before him. It looked like a Native American and the local sheriff were locked in a battle to the death against a mob of town residents. He slowly grabbed his cell phone and had started to dial Allison’s number when movement to the left of him caught his attention. A man with a bloody nose stood outside his driver’s side window holding a large book. Mick didn’t like the way the man smiled at him.
Mick put the car into gear but wasn’t fast enough. Troy smashed his hand through the window and grabbed him by the throat. Curved talons of shadow sprouted from Troy’s hand and tore into Mick’s soft flesh, showering the inside of the windshield with gore. Mick didn’t feel a thing as he bled out and died, but something whispered in his ear, burrowing deep into his being, welcoming him to the mountain.
***
For a moment, lights along the street and motel dimmed to almost nothing, and a dark oily liquid poured from Troy’s talons into Mick’s body. Troy whispered words in a tongue that only gods and immortals knew, and time seemed to slow.
Rusty and Dan turned their attention to Troy, Rusty’s eyes widening as he realized what was happening.
“Dan!” Rusty yelled.
“I know! Take care of it!” Dan replied, keeping Jared at bay. To Dan, Jared looked as he always did, but Dan knew what he really was, what crawled beneath Jared’s form, and wasn’t about to let him out of his sight. Even though he couldn’t see what was there, it didn’t mean it wasn’t able to kill him. Rusty took off in a sprint toward Troy and Mick.
Troy finished his mutterings and let go of Mick. The car rolled forward, running into Dan’s Bronco. Mick’s head rested on the steering column of his car engaging the horn. The loud blast of the horn’s shrill scream tore into the night.
***
Garrett looked up and out of the now obliterated doorway. A mass of people were lying on the ground outside with the sheriff locked in battle with Jared Barlow.
He staggered to his feet and stumbled to Allison and Randall, helping them to their feet.
“What the hell was that?” Allison murmured.
“I don’t know, but it couldn’t be good. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Before we have a chance to spend some time together, Bee? It’s been soooo long,” croaked the thing that was Garrett’s wife, its timbre dropping four octaves as it slurred the words.
Garrett turned to look back and instantly wished he hadn’t. The Trisha-thing stood at the threshold of the bathroom.
It was naked and wet from the shower, water dripping onto the carpet along with bits and pieces of the thing’s skin. The thing wore Trisha’s body as if it were some sort of costume two sizes too big. Its face resembled Trisha’s, but that’s where the similarity ceased.
Like Maddie, the Trisha creature was in bad shape. One of its legs completely twisted around, and a jagged bit of clavicle protruded out in a broken mess.
The Maddie thing started to laugh even louder, filling the room with a deafening cackle that threatened to drive Garrett over the edge. Randall teetered even further down the slippery slope of lunacy and began to giggle uncontrollably to himself.
“Boss?”
“Yeah?”
“We need to go.”
“Yeah.”
His voice worked, but Garret’s legs refused to respond to the signals his brain crammed into his body. He transfixed his gaze on the macabre corruption of his former family.
The blaring of a car horn brought him to his senses. Garrett turned away from the creatures, and as he did, some of his faculties returned. He grabbed Randall by the arm and ushered Allison to follow him out the door.
The small group piled out into the warm Canyon Shadows night air. Garrett regretted the decision to leave the relative safety of the room as they stepped outside into Hell.
***
A rush of power flowed through Troy, a gift from He who dwells deep in the mountain. He imagined that he touched the essence of divine immortality. As quickly as it arrived, it disappeared as that energy flowed through him and into Mick’s body, twisting and corrupting the corpse into something else—something amazing. Troy slumped forward, reveling in the euphoria of that dark intervention.
Darkness shrouded the vehicle and the body inside, hiding it from view. Troy watched it all with fascination, waiting for what would happen. There was movement from inside the shadows, and the horn continued to bleat into the night, but otherwise, nothing else happened.
Troy straightened up in surprise, a look of confusion spreading across his face. Perhaps he had misspoken the words. Perhaps he wasn’t strong enough to channel the dark magic.
Troy’s confusion transformed into rage as Rusty ran toward the crashed vehicle. Troy looked at two nearby townsfolk, brothers he knew, both twelve years old and wearing matching Utah Jazz basketball jerseys. They were unconscious on the ground from the previous burst of power that Rusty had summoned, but it was simple enough to tweak the oily energy coalescing around their bodies.
The energy became almost sentient and streaked toward Rusty, wrapping around the man’s body like an attacking python. Rusty let out a yell of surprise and slammed to the ground, his arms pinned to his sides. Wisps of smoke and the faint smell of burning meat wafted into the air around him as his clothes and skin slowly started to burn away wherever the tendrils of energy touched him.
***
Dan turned his head toward Rusty, but the distraction almost cost him his existence. If there hadn’t had been the subtle pop and splatter sound, Dan would be missing his head. At the sound, he instinctively tucked into a roll and moved away as Jared’s curved claws rent the air that had only moments ago been home to Dan.
He came out of the roll and sprung to his feet and turned his full attention back to Jared, or the thing that used to be Jared. The splatter was the sound of Jared shedding his skin to reveal his new form. Blood and gore marked the spot where Jared stood. The thing’s thick, black skin shimmered in the sanguine coating of its former host.
The Jared-thing let out a feral scream and came at Dan again at an impossible speed. Dan flicked the katana to the side and went into another roll. This time, when he came out of the tumble, dark black blood slowly slid down the length of his blade.
It seemed to notice the blood as well and looked down to its torso. Its rage was palatable when it saw the thin cut. Dan gave the thing an impish smile and yelled something in a guttural barking tongue.
***
Garrett’s spine tingled, and his skin crawled as the words left Dan’s mouth, but the creature that was Jared obviously understood what the words had meant. It didn’t like it in the least. The thing rushed toward Dan with a newfound purpose.
The winged creature grabbed Dan by the leg and tossed him into the front of the motel, shaking the foundation. It stomped down with a clawed foot, hoping to crush the sheriff, but Dan rolled away, getting to his feet. The creature raked his claws out, but Dan dodged each attack, countering the second blow which took two of the creature’s fingers off. It let out a howl and rushed in with renewed fervor. Dan rolled out of the way but swung the katana out as he did, catching the creature in the guts. He came to his feet behind it and spun, driving a wide gash into its spine.
The wound tore wider with the monster’s exertions, and the creature slapped a claw across its stomach, but intestines seeped through its fingers, spilling to the dirt with a wet sploosh. It stopped moving and looked down to the ground, its inhuman features taking on a most human look of confusion. A second
later it crashed to the ground—dead.
***
Rusty tried to use the right gestures and the right words, anything that would help him break through the twisting darkness that wrapped around him. But whenever he came close to the answer, or before he could make the correct gestures, the oily bands constricted even tighter or applied just enough of a burn to rip his thoughts from him and throw them into oblivion. Slowly, but with a menacing determination, the evil power drained his knowledge, stripping his defenses from him before he could use them.
Rusty became feral with pain and wrath. He slipped further and further away from his senses, dipping into something primal. His bones snapped, grew, and reshaped. Fur burst from beneath his skin, growing longer and thicker. His body was on fire, and the pain was exhilarating and agonizing. Within moments, his yelps of agony turned into snarls and howls.
***
The sound caught Allison’s attention, and she ripped her gaze away from Maddie and Trisha to look behind her. A coyote was wrapped in tendrils of shadow, rolling around on the ground with patches of its fur burning. It only a took another moment before her mind tried to question the what and how of the situation. Those questions were destroyed as she whipped her head around to confront the two biggest threats, the things that were Trisha and Maddie, both of which were now closing the distance with a mind-breaking speed.
The two crossed the floor with the same nightmare crabwalks. Bones and joints cracked and groaned as they skittered across the shag rug toward Allison. She let out a scream and stumbled backward into Garrett and Randall.
Randall watched the scene unfold in a dreamlike state. It wasn’t real; it couldn’t be. His mind wouldn’t let it. It was like some bad horror movie had invaded his reality and set up shop, and he was along for the ride. There was too much going on with the coyote-man, the sheriff battling what looked like some deformed gargoyle, and townspeople scattered all across the parking lot like broken rag dolls. It was maddening. Then his gaze fell on his brother, and his whole world came crashing down.