Veil Between (Part 6)
As a story comes to an end, I often feel a little bereft. I like to think it's because I've been in the heads of a dozen or so different characters, mapping out their lives, but the truth is I'm worried out of my mind wondering how to bring every thread I've introduced to an end. After all, I'm not someone who sits down to outline and plan how the story will go. Rather, I'm a 'make-shit-up-as-I-go' kind of writer.
While sometimes I may have an idea of where I want to go with an ending, it's usually the starting scene I have the most clarity of. And the middle is usually muddled through to the best of my abilities.
Maybe I shouldn't be so willing to reveal all my secrets but after blogging for so long, it would seem disingenuous of me to say I'm an excellent writer and these things just naturally flow from my brain.
The truth, as we all know, is far different. Every weekend, I'll sit in front of my computer and a blank Word document, thinking of what to craft next. Sometimes, by rereading the last few sentences, I can see where the story will go next. Other times, I rack my brain during my daily walks (to keep a semblance of health) to see where I might go. Then, of course, there's the occasional spark of inspiration during a shower, or when I'm lying in bed hoping for sleep to take me.
Whether or not I'll actually fulfil my dreams of becoming a published author is still very much up in the air. Though I like to think I'm writing for myself, there's a part of me who desperately wishes my work might be recognised and acknowledged by thousands.
In any case, life plods on.
People live, people die. Meanwhile, I just keep doing what I can to keep the horrors of our current age from crushing me into oblivion.
Shouldn't be too hard. Right?
----
Darkest night descended over the city. Thick heavy clouds had rolled over the sky, covering the stars. In the distance, thunder rumbled.
Inside the four walls of the colonial house, we sat in a small tight ring, clasping the hands of those next to us. Not for the first time, I wondered if I could wipe the sweat from my palms. It was hard to deny I was a bundle of nerves. What we were choosing to embark on was dangerous.
Lives were on the line.
As if to echo the direction of my thoughts, there was a loud crack above us. It was followed by a bone-tingling howl from within the house itself.
Seated at the head of our group was Maria. Before her was the pendant that had once belonged to Adeline’s father. It glinted in the candlelight, looking just as innocuous as it had the first time. Next to it was a small bowl, empty save for a few sprigs of rosemary and sage. An obsidian dagger sat atop it, glistening still from being blessed thrice.
“Repeat after me,” commanded Maria. “Word for word.”
Her gaze swept over us. Then, satisfied with what she saw, Maria closed her eyes and began to intone the Latin words in a guttural voice unlike anything I’d ever heard before.
After a moment’s hesitation, each of us joined our voices with hers. As we did, the rhythm quickened, becoming a chant.
Before too long, the words themselves seemed alive and we but the vessels for them. The Latin seemed to slip from my tongue as if I’d known the language my whole life.
As the chant began to reach a crescendo, the Faversham pendant begam to glow with its own inner light, pulsing with a sickly green.
From the depths of the house came a roar. Low. Bestial. Filled with rage. Outside, visible through the large French doors, lightning flashed and thunder crashed. The entire house seemed to shudder with the sheer force of it all.
Then, before anyone could react, something smashed headlong into the wall behind me. Glass shattered and plaster dropped from above. The very foundation seemed to quake from the force of the blow.
In my shock, I almost let go of Adeline’s hand, wishing to turn around to inspect the damage. But the warning Copernicus and Maria had provided us beforehand had me tighten my grip instead. To break from each other before the ritual was complete would leave us all vulnerable.
I cast a worried look over at Maria. Her face was stricken white, eyes wide with horror. But she continued to chant, the last few syllables falling from her lips. Beside her sat Copernicus. His brow was furrowed in deep concentration though a bead of sweat had made its way down the side of his face.
As the ritual reached its end, the pendant began to float up into the air. It began to pulse with a sickly green energy. Each one larger than the next before it enveloped us all.
Lost in its glow, I did not hear the crack from behind me. It was only when Copernicus scrambled to his feet and grabbed the obsidian dagger from where it rested that I realised something was wrong.
“The silver dust!” he shouted towards Patrice.
Letting go of my hand, she reached for the small pouch strapped to her waist. From inside it, she pulled out a fistful of silver. She whirled round and cast it in the air in front of her.
A shape began to take form, shimmering like it was from the spectral world.
There were no words to describe what I saw from over my shoulder except that it was something hideous and beyond all human comprehension. It reared on too many legs before lashing out with a grotesque prehensile limb of some kind. The claw at the end of it, snapping shut on air. A huge mouth, filled with rows of sharp teeth, cut across what looked to be its torso.
“What is that thing?” I asked. “It’s not—whatever it is, it doesn’t belong here.”
“Astute as always, Mr Brookstone. Unfortunately, this is no time for idle chatter. Remember the plan. Iron. And lots of it.”
Right. Of course.
I dashed towards the wall where the round tables had been stored. Adeline and Rachel and prepared a mishmash of iron weapons. From fireplace pokers to horseshoes. They had even managed to secure a number of swords, spears and axes. Obtained, presumably from museums or collectors for a hefty amount of money.
There was something to be said about having wealth at one’s disposal.
Quickly scanning over my choices, I picked out a crowbar. It felt weighty in my hand and fit snuggly in my grasp. But, more important than anything else, it was easy to use.
There was no need for tricks and flourishes. One good whack and it could fell most things.
Just as I turned around, ready to join the fray, something hot and sharp pierced through my left shoulder. Maria stood before me; her lips curled into a rictus grin. With a grunt, she pulled out the slender blade of an elegant rapier. The hilt was inscribed with a litany of symbols. None of which I recognised though they looked similar to Akkadian.
In a voice both terrifying and beguiling, she began to chant in a language I could only describe as primordial.
The world around me began to shift; the air seemingly to shimmer with heat. In the haze, I thought I saw a flicker of something beyond the extent of human understanding. And in that liminal space, I caught a glimpse of Mike. He was lost, confused, in pain.
My heart ached. I reached for him, fingers brushing against what felt like a glass barrier. As I tried to push past it, I found myself once again in the ballroom with a battle underway. The fluttering of the space between, gone.
Maria scowled at me, the tip of her blade dripping with my blood. Whatever she had done, it had failed. Now she was intent on finishing the job.
If I was going to live, I needed to act first.
Just as I raised my crowbar in an overhead swing, the ballroom began to melt; turning into a whirlwind of colour. Metal bit hard into soft ground as I found myself in what appeared to be a forest, the trees arching overhead to look like a tunnel. Where it led, I could not say.
Of Maria, there was no sign. Hell, the entire ballroom was gone. And so were my allies.
I was alone.
Fear spiked through me, throbbing in time with the wound to my shoulder. The pain more intense than it had been before. I’d ignored it earlier, fuelled by adrenaline, but finding myself now in a new environment, it had vanished.
The rustle of leaves behind me saw me whirling round. From the corner of my eyes, I thought I caught the shadow of something familiar.
“Michael?” I called out. “Mike. It’s me, Jordan. I’ve come to rescue you!”
Silence met my words. Seconds turned into minutes. Still I waited, though disappointment laced my tongue with bitterness.
It was always the same when it came to Mike. For the briefest moment, hope had filled me; had given me something to cling to. But as with many things, it was ripped from my grasp. Once more, I had been left wanting. Left alone to stew in my feelings of inadequacy.
And then, as despair washed over me, I heard a faint voice on the wind.
“…here.”
I whirled towards it immediately, calling out before I could think better of it. “Mike! Where are you?”
The response, when it came, was distant; weak. I couldn’t tell if it was because he was losing strength or if he was also on the move.
Heart thumping wildly in my chest, I started down the forest path and felt the darkness envelop me. All thoughts of Patrice, Copernicus, Adeline and Rachel were pushed to the back of my mind. There was naught I could do to help them, trapped as I was.
Branches snagged on my shirt. Roots tripped me. All around me was a deathly quiet. This forest I found myself in, as I headed ever deeper, was as silent as a grave.
That should have been my first warning.
But I was desperate. My fate and Mike’s felt deeply intertwined. And if I could not rescue him, I knew the failure of it would sit on my chest like a crushing weight.
The path felt endless. After what felt like hours, I had gotten no closer to its end. Nor had there been any sign of Mike. By then, my lips were chapped and my voice was hoarse.
Still, I pushed on.
And then, as I stepped into what looked like a forest clearing, I was blinded by a sudden flash of light.
“Jordan.”
Blinking away the afterimages, I squinted at the figure standing before me. Where they had come from, I could not say. My hand tightened around the crowbar. If this was a new threat, I was not afraid to take them out. Not if it meant saving Mike from something worse than death itself.
It was the shoes that clued me in. I would have recognised them anywhere. Though they looked much more scuffed than they had before.
My gaze trailed up. Taking in the ripped jeans and the tailored shirt hanging from a gaunter frame. Then I reached his face. Mike’s cheeks had hollowed. His hair was a mess. And there was something awfully frightful in the way he looked at me. As if he couldn’t tell if I was real or a nightmare.
“Mike,” I said, taking a step forward.
He recoiled. “Stay away,” he warned. “I know what you are.”
“It’s me, Mike. I’ve come to rescue you.”
The laugh that emitted from Mike was harsh and bitter. Unlike anything I’d ever heard before. It tore at something deep within my chest. Even during the worst of our fights, he’d never been like this. What exactly had he endured in this hellish realm? His eyes fixed upon me again. The hate in his glare knocked the breath from my lungs.
“Do you think I’m fool enough to believe such an obvious trick? Leave me alone. I won’t go back. No matter what you send after me.”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “Mike, I don’t know what you’ve gone through, but I’m here now. I’ll keep you safe.”
He smacked my hand away, the one I’d reached out to him, hissing like a feral cat. “Stop lying to me. You and your illusions. Always trying to mess with my head!” Mike pressed his hands over his ears, crouching down low. “I don’t want it. I don’t want it. I don’t want it.”
The crowbar dropped on the ground next to me as I cupped his face with both hands. “Hey, hey, hey,” I said, tracing his chin and wiping away tears. “This is real, Mike. I’m here. And I’ll never leave you alone. Never again.”
Mike looked up at me then and something flashed across his face.
Before I could react, an invisible force smashed into my chest and sent me flying. I landed face-down on the ground with a heavy thud, wheezing from the blow. It took me several moments to catch my breath and force myself to my knees. Whatever had struck me down had not gone in for the kill.
That should have been my second warning.
Looking up, I scanned the clearing for any sign of Mike. Was he hurt? Or had he managed to get away?
Standing now, back straight, was Mike. One hand was outstretched, shaped into a claw. Trembling, the claw became a fist. One he raised upwards. The forest seemed to tilt as the ground next to me erupted. His eyes darted to the side, focused on something I could neither see nor hear.
It was then, as I tried to steady myself, that I felt a tugging in my navel. A pull leading me back home.
What time I had left was limited. If I was going to bring Mike back to our world, I needed to act fast.
Rising to my feet was easier than I expected. As I stumbled towards Mike, I felt his eyes settle on me. Cold. Piercing. Aloof.
I pushed the sight of them away. They did not belong to the Mike I knew. The Mike I loved.
Rather, they were the products of what he had borne witness to in this Hell dimension. A scar that might never heal. But it didn’t matter. Not to me, anyway. I would be there for him. Through thick or thin.
He flinched as I wrapped my arms around him in an embrace. Tried to push me away. I only held on tighter.
“I know you’re scared, Mike, but I’m really here. And together, we’re going home.” I squeezed. “I love you.”
Mike struggled in my grip, trying to break free. I wasn’t going to let him. I’d lost him once. I wouldn’t again.
Screwing my eyes tight, I willed the world to right itself. We were going back home. To a cramped two-bedroom apartment in New England. And while our life there had not been perfect, it had been ours.
The heat started low. Down near my navel before it travelled up into my chest. Mike continued to fight me. His nails raked down my arms, leaving deep scratches. I ignored it. What was a little pain in exchange for a life with no regrets?
Heat suffused my very being. Then, when it felt all too much, the heat exploded outwards.















