I’ll be right here across the street if you need me.”
I nodded my head as I reassured him, “I’ll be fine.”
The interior of the house was much as it had been the night before with the exception of the dark grey fingerprinting dust coating various surfaces. The lights were off, and the few shafts of the setting sun that managed to filter in between gaps in the heavy drapes harshly illuminated small slices of the room, casting the rest in hard- edged oblique shadows. I pushed the door shut behind me, cutting off even more of the external light and symbolically sealing myself into the eerie dwelling.
The expected pain augered itself up my spine and into my skull the moment I set foot in the house. I stumbled for a moment and then steeled myself against further onset of the agonizing sensations as I moved farther into the room. I wouldn’t be able to stop the pains from coming, but at least I could be ready for them.
A burning fire like molten lead filled my body, and my skin felt stretched and tortured by countless pinpricks as my hair seemed to come to life, stiffening to create endless waves of gooseflesh. My eyes were watering, and thin streams of tears began flowing down my face. I staggered against the blinding pain, peering through clouded eyes, and forcing myself to move farther down the hallway.
Unearthly screaming filled my ears as I pressed forward.
The amplified sound of jagged metal against a rapidly spinning grinder.
The mournful whistle of a teakettle.
The wail of a chainsaw.
Everything and nothing.
The piercing noise penetrated my bones, making me vibrate like a human tuning fork, and grew impossibly louder when I reached out for the basement door.
I grasped the tarnished handle tightly, refusing to let go even though it seemed to glow red hot, threatening to sear the flesh from my hand. Quickly, I jerked my wrist and flung the door wide, only to be engulfed in writhing ethereal flames.
Summoning my wits, I beat back the flames, denying their existence both with my mind and my voice. The imaginary fire vanished with a choked sputter, and I stepped forward through the open doorway, clinging desperately to the wooden railing until my feet finally met the dirt floor at the bottom of the stairs.
I stood staring into the darkness, concentrating on pushing away the violent spasms of pain while I waited for my eyes to adjust. There was a salty taste in my mouth, and my nose was starting to burn. I brought my hand up, and the lower half of my face felt wet and sticky. Slowly, I stretched my hand out into a thin shaft of light that angled purposefully down the stairwell, forming a focused stripe across the darkened floor. I could see that my fingers were covered in blood. My nose was bleeding.
A cleaver of pain buried itself between my eyes, insisting that it be allowed to split my skull and let my brains spill out. I was beginning to regret that I had come here without someone to back me up. My grasp on the physical world was weakening. The last thing I recall was that I’d told Carl Deckert I would be fine.
Fear.
Anger.
Fear.
Anger.
Surprise.
“ I didn’t expect you to come back.” Roger is speaking to me.
We are surrounded by darkness, yet we are awash in an eerie light. The little girl, clad in white lace, levitates near him. Floating weightless in the air. There is no visible means of support.
“ Sorry to disappoint you,” I return, and this time my words echo through the air instead of disappearing into nothingness.
He is standing no more than twenty feet away from me, dressed in a dark ceremonial robe. The hood is pushed back to reveal his face, and it lay limply across his shoulders.
“ I’m not disappointed,” he says. “Just surprised. I don’t know what you think you’re going to do.”
The little girl’s body is drifting about on a gentle breeze, bobbing up and down slightly, but never straying far from him.
“ Stop you,” I tell him evenly.
“ You can’t stop me,” he says. “I told you, she’s The One.”
“ Why are you doing this?” I ask.
His only response is a sour, demonic laugh.
Falling.
Screaming.
Silence.
“ Rowan, so nice to see you.” Ariel is standing before me. Beside her is the little strawberry-blonde girl, holding tightly to her hand.
“ Mister, why don’t you stop the bad man?” The little girl looks up at me with wide, sad eyes and then turns her gaze to the right.
I follow her eyes, looking far off into the distance. There is a grove of trees surrounding a small clearing. Centered in the clearing is a hooded, robed figure standing with hands raised high. Moonlight glints from an object held in those hands. Moonlight glints from an athame.
A small figure lies prone before the cloaked one. A small figure clad in white lace. Preened and arranged. Unblemished and virginal.
The scene begins to grow increasingly distant as trees erupt from the landscape, obscuring the view as they continued to appear, closer and closer.
Immediately before us, the earth trembles and begins to sink. Almost as quickly as the depression is formed, it is filled with water. The glossy surface ripples in the slight breeze, moonlight reflecting from it in a shimmering stripe. The ground continues to shake, and another stand of trees erupt skyward. The tall pines form a line before us, now completely obscuring the clearing and all but the smallest glimpses of the shallow lake.
I turn to the little girl. She is pointing at the sign. “What does it say, Mister.”
I look downward, following along her finger to the small white sign. Bold black capital letters spell out PLEASE DO NOT FEED GEESE.
“ Only you can save her now, Rowan,” Ariel’s lilting voice gently touches my ears.
I turn to her, and she holds forth her hand. In it, a tarot card. A tarot card known as The Moon.
She stiffens and the card flutters from her hand. Her eyes go wide and blood streaks down her dress.
“ Hey, mister, what time is it?” The little girl is talking to me. “What time is it? Hey, mister!”
I look up to the glowing, marbled disk of the full moon high above. Spinning around its face are the hands of a clock. I watch as the minute hand chases rapidly after the hour hand, overtakes it, then begins the race anew.
“ Hey, mister!” the tiny voice demands. “What time is it?”
Darkness.
A deafening, demonic chord.
The sound of water splashing violently.
I can’t breathe. My lungs are on fire, and the flames are licking up my throat. My chest feels heavy, and there is something tightening about my neck. The atmosphere feels thick and fluid around me. I want to gasp for air, but something is telling me I shouldn’t. My thoughts are beginning to cloud; my mind is turning murky and dark.
I open my eyes, flailing my arms in front of me. I so desperately need air. I need to breathe. The air is thick and murky. It stings. I catch a distorted glimpse, rippling and blurry, of the full moon above. It is all that I can see. All except for one thing-a pair of murderous grey eyes.
My world begins to fade.
Twilight.
An endless scream, “Why, Rowan, why?”
Darkness.
Falling.
Impact.
