“Excuse me!” Stephen exclaimed, watching as the man entered the foyer. The child followed, dragging a pink suitcase with wheels, a cartoon pony emblazoned on its front.
“You can’t come in here without . . .”
“Yeah, we’re going to be living here for a bit,” the man interrupted.
“Living here?” Stephen repeated, then chuckled. “I think you’re sadly mistaken.”
“Not mistaken at all,” the man said, stepping out to retrieve the rest of the suitcases from the front stoop.
Stephen felt tiny eyes upon him and looked down to see that he was being stared at by the little girl.
“And what’s your name,” he asked her.
“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” she said to him.
“Good for you.”
“But since we’re going to be living here, I guess I could tell you.”
Stephen smiled uncomfortably. “I really don’t think that’s right, honey. A misunderstanding must have . . .”
“Cassie,” she said, and smiled at him.
“Cassie?”
“That’s my name. Cassie Royce.”
“Well hello, Cassie Royce. I’m Stephen Vasjack.”
The man came in with the remainder of the bags, kicking the door closed as he entered.
“And is this your father?” Stephen asked her.
“Yeah, his name is Griffin. His friends call him Griff.”
“Do they,” Stephen said, eyeing the man as he looked around. “Okay, Griff, why don’t we start with . . .”
“Griffin,” the man said.
“Excuse me?”
“Only my friends call me Griff.”
“Oh, of course, Griffin,” Stephen said. “Why don’t you explain to me where you would get the idea that you were going to be staying here.”
“Because Elijah said so,” the bald man told him flat out. “And if Elijah says that this is where we’re living, guess what?”
Elijah. Stephen immediately recognized the name of the creepy, older man who had come to the house and helped Theodora with her—situation. Supposedly, the man was the head of some ultrasecret organization that dealt with the threats of the paranormal and had recently recruited John and Theo into their fold.
“I see,” Stephen said as he folded his arms across his chest, not quite sure what he should do.
He had specific instructions not to bother John while he was away, and Theo was currently indisposed. Stephen could think of no other alternative.
“Lunch,” he said, moving past the father and daughter and their luggage on the way to the kitchen.
“What’s that?” Griffin questioned.
“Seeing as there isn’t an answer in sight and probably won’t be until I can speak to my employers, I say we call a truce over some lunch.”
He stopped, turning to see if they were following. They were standing there amongst their bags.
“Well?”
Cassie looked at her father. “I’m hungry,” she said to him.
He considered that for a moment, then took Cassie’s hand and followed Stephen into the kitchen.
“Do you like paninis?” Stephen asked. “I can make us a couple of nice paninis.”
“What the hell is a panini?” Griffin growled.
“I like peanut butter and jelly,” the little girl said.
“Of course you do,” Stephen answered.
• • •
To see her lying there on the floor of her bedroom, anyone would think that Theodora Knight was dead.
Her skin was deathly pale, her limbs askew and strangely stiff, as if rigor mortis had begun to set in.
The only signs that pointed to the idea that life had not completely fled her mortal form were the markings on her skin. Strange black tattoos placed upon her flesh to give her control of the entities that lived inside her.
The markings were moving, flowing across her pallid skin as if to slide off and puddle upon the floor. The markings moved and changed shape as Theodora dealt with the problem at hand.
The demonic entities inside her were becoming more unruly, attempting to wrest away control—a little at a time—whenever possible.
That was something she could not afford. There were too many lives that could be affected by these actions.
Not to mention the eventual loss of her own immortal soul.
So she needed to do something about it. Theodora needed to put herself in an altered state of consciousness and engage the creatures that shared her physical form as well as her psyche.
She needed to show them who was boss.
• • •
The demons had made themselves at home with her memories, picking and choosing pieces of her past to create a landscape on which to live.
To use against her as she attempted to rein them back in.
She found herself on a quiet street in Nottingham, England, a place of fond recollections, as she’d spent many a summer there in her youth. But the demons had taken it, corrupted the quaint structures, and tainted them with their presence.
There was a stink of offal permeating the air, and the incessant cry of a baby drifting mournfully on the foul-smelling breeze. She looked around the street from her memories, searching for signs of the demonic, searching for a glimpse of those who enjoyed tormenting her so.
It was all about weakening her resolve, taking away the things that gave her strength, the things that she found joy in.
If they couldn’t have her, body and soul, they would take from her anything that they could.
As long as it caused her some semblance of pain.
There had been a sweet shop on this street, and every Sunday, her mother and her aunts would allow her and her cousins who called Nottingham their home to go to the shop and pick anything that their young hearts desired.
Theo remembered how much she looked forward to Sunday, how exciting it was to see all the different kinds of candy, and how difficult it was to choose.
She found herself carefully walking down the center of the street, the baby’s cry still carried on the warm, fetid breeze. If she wasn’t mistaken, the sweet shop was right up ahead of her, on the left-hand side.
It was exactly as she remembered it, the two large plate-glass windows, so clean, and the store so brightly lit within that one could see all the candies from the street.
Cautiously, Theo moved toward the store. Even though she knew what she was here to do, she still couldn’t help but be drawn to this particular place that used to bring such joy.
The old woman was inside, and Theo found herself instantly smiling.
What had her name been? She wracked her brain to remember as she moved from the window to the front door. Through the glass, the dainty old woman looked up from the display case that she had been stocking to see Theodora peering in through the glass in the door.
The smile was like the sun breaking through clouds on a gloomy day. She gestured for Theo to come inside.
Dottie, she suddenly remembered. The old woman’s name was Dottie.
Theo pushed open the door, anticipating the sound of the tinkling bell over the door announcing her arrival.
“Hello, love,” Dottie said, bringing back the joy and excitement of those Sundays. “What can we do for you today?”
She was actually about to start perusing and shopping when the memory of why she was there hit her—
Along with the savage blow to the back of her head.
Theo was thrown off her feet, falling to the side, her head striking the front of a glass case as she landed upon the hardwood floor.
The demon that struck her appeared as a shadow, a living thing of solid black that had emerged from a darkened corner, which was why she hadn’t seen it when she’d come into the shop.
Even tho
ugh the entire scenario didn’t exist in the real world and was a creation of the demonic within her psyche, it didn’t mean that things didn’t hurt; in fact, they were downright painful.
“Stay down, love,” Dottie said, now sitting behind the cash register. “Let the nice man take your life quick, then all your pain will stop.” She was nodding eagerly, assuring Theo of her honesty. “Listen to Dottie, and everything will be right as rain, it will.”
Listen to Dottie, right, Theodora thought as she gathered her wits about her and climbed to her feet, as the shadow beast lunged. It latched around her throat, slamming her back against the case, breaking the glass.
Theo struggled in its clutches, reaching out to take hold of the blackness and wrapping her finger in the cold fabric of night. The tattoos upon her flesh began to move, to respond to the proximity of evil.
And they began to glow, to radiate a light far brighter than the sun.
The marking were on her fingers, slithering upon her flesh, which were now entwined with the stuff of darkness.
“Let’s see what you look like under there,” Theo said with a grunt, feeling the burning sensation radiating from her flesh beneath the icy numbness of the shadow-stuff.
The demon suddenly knew what it would be experiencing and attempted to pull away, but Theo held on.
“Not so fast,” she growled, as the light began to eat away at the covering of black, punching through the shadow like a thin-bladed knife through cloth.
The demon was screaming as its body was revealed, its pale, sensitive flesh starting to smolder and stink as it pulled away, leaving Theodora holding a disintegrating suit of darkness.
The demon revealed collapsed to the floor, its body pocked where the light of her inner might had touched it. The suit of shadow felt wet and heavy as it decayed in her grasp, and she let it fall to the floor.
“This was very sneaky,” she said, advancing on the demon, who dragged its pale body across the floor away from her. “To be honest, I was prepared for a more frontal assault per the usual. I show up and you all pile on, trying to rip me to pieces enough to weaken my resolve and allow you to take the driver’s seat.”
The demon continued its pathetical crawl toward the door.
“All this,” she said. “The Nottingham street, the sweet shop. All very nice.”
“Thank you, love,” Dottie said, as Theo turned toward her.
The blast of infernal fire was something akin to burning to death in the midst of the Arctic.
The old woman’s hands were outstretched toward her, the demonic energies leaping from the delicate tips of her fingers, engulfing Theo, sweeping her up off her feet and sending her crashing through the plate-glass window to the street outside.
Oh, they are full of surprises today, she thought as she pushed herself upright, shards of glass raining down from her body to shatter upon the street.
Most of the demons that called her body home—or was it more like prison—had gathered on the remembered streets of Nottingham. They watched her eagerly as she stood to face them.
The body of the first demon to attack her lay broken and burning on the street beside her.
“This is what happened to him,” she said, pointing to the demon’s shattered remains. “Seriously think about what I can do to you.”
The demonic gathering made no moves toward her though she felt the markings on her skin reacting to their proximity.
“Oh we know,” said a familiar-sounding voice. She turned toward the sweet shop and saw that Dottie was coming out of the store, but her form was changing, growing smaller, younger until she was no longer the old woman who ran her favorite candy shop but Billy Sharp, the childhood friend who’d drowned when he was just shy of his sixth birthday. The demonic spokesman felt as though speaking to her in this form made it easier for her.
It didn’t.
“Why didn’t you stay Dottie?” she asked.
“I’ve actually come to enjoy this shape,” the demon said, admiring the child’s form, his striped shirt and short pants. The clothing the boy’d been wearing the day he drowned. “I would think that you would enjoy it as well, seeing your little friend again, his departure having been so . . . abrupt.”
“No,” she said. “No, I don’t at all.”
The child shrugged. “Can’t please everybody all of the time.”
The street with all its businesses had begun to fade, a thick greenish mist filling the air as the places became less and less defined.
“I’m sure you know why I’m here,” she said so that not only Billy but all the demons that were still watching could hear.
“You’ve become tired of your excruciating existence and have decided to allow us to take over the actions of your human shell?”
Theo started to remove her clothing, the T-shirt and jeans that she’d created to cover herself, peeling them away to reveal her naked flesh inscribed with magickal sigils and words of power that allowed her the ability to fight the monstrosities so eager to take possession of her.
“Not even a little,” she said, feeling no modesty at all as she stood fully naked before the gathering of the demonic.
“I was so hoping that would be the case,” Billy said, kicking at a stone on the street just as it turned to green fog. He turned his dark-eyed gaze to her as she stood revealed to him—to them—the markings on her body flowing like an electrical current all along the surface of her female flesh.
“Perhaps one day,” he said with a heavy sigh, the demons surrounding them responding to some unspoken command, surging hungrily toward her in an attempt to break her spirit and consume her soul.
She hoped to make each and every one of them choke on the bites.
• • •
The grown-ups were still talking in the kitchen, paying no attention to Cassie as she strolled away after finishing her peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
There was something about this house, something that made the blond hair at the back of her neck tingle. She had felt it as soon as she’d come inside.
Something that made her want to have a look around. Something that told her she should explore.
Back in the lobby, Cassie stood, listening to the voices of her father and the man named Stephen as they talked in the kitchen. Stephen still didn’t think that they would be living here, but it was obvious that he hadn’t spoken to Elijah yet.
Elijah would set him straight.
There were other voices, too, that Cassie heard, just beneath her father’s and Stephen’s.
And they were calling to her.
The little girl glanced over to the winding staircase, listening to be sure, and decided that the voices were coming from up there.
Going to the stairs, she started up, holding on to the railing as she climbed. She couldn’t make out what it was exactly they were saying, and she listened very, very carefully to be certain.
Cassie.
She was certain that she’d heard her name called and quickened her pace up to the second level.
“Hello?” she called out at the top of the stairs. “Did somebody call me?”
She listened again, craning her head to capture any sound.
Welcome, Cassie.
She started down the corridor, passing closed doors as she walked. Were those that were speaking to her behind one of these doors, she wondered, watching and listening as she went.
“Where are you?” Cassie asked. “Tell me where you are so that we can meet!”
She liked meeting new people, though her father didn’t like her to. She knew he was afraid that something might happen, that she would meet a new person and they wouldn’t be so nice and. . .
Cassie pushed the thought from her mind. She hadn’t had one of her accidents in quite a long time and didn’t feel that it was that big a problem anymore.
Tho
ugh her dad thought otherwise.
Flashes of past incidents played before the theatre of her mind, and she tried to ignore them. She was just a little baby then. Now she knew what she was doing and was very, very careful to try not to get upset.
That was how it used to be, she tried to explain to her father, and he had just looked at her and said that it was always good to be careful.
“Hello?” she called again. She couldn’t hear the voices anymore as she walked down the corridor, her footfalls absorbed by the thick maroon carpeting that covered the floor. “Can you call out again, please, so I can find you?”
What she heard next she wasn’t too sure of.
Cassie stopped and listened. There it was again.
Somebody was moaning close by, and it sounded as though they might really be in pain.
The little girl zeroed in on the sound, heading toward a closed door near the end of the corridor.
The moan had turned to outright crying, and for a moment she didn’t know what to do. She considered calling to her father and the man Stephen, to tell them that something was very wrong up here, but then thought—what if somebody needed help right this very minute?
What if it was a matter of life or death?
Her mind was made up as the moans turned into screams. Cassie ran toward the door without a question.
“Hello!” she called out, grabbing the doorknob and turning, pushing the door open into the room. “Do you need help?”
There was a woman on the floor of the room . . . well, at first she thought it was a woman.
But then she saw the color of its skin, and the way its limbs bent in all kinds of directions, and how unnaturally long they were. And the claws. There were claws instead of hands.
Cassie had thought it was a woman at first glance, but she was mistaken.
It was a monster.
• • •
The battle inside Theo’s mind was epic.
They came at her, wave after wave, attempting to drag her down, not giving her a chance to catch her breath.
They wanted her weak . . . they wanted her helpless . . . they wanted it so she could not fight back anymore, then they would take away her control.
The tattoos burned upon her flesh, enhancing her strength so that she could go on. She hated to think of what would have happened to her if the Coalition hadn’t put the marks upon her body.