Will they/Won’t they
by
David C. Daoust
The sun still shone from the heavens as the small girl in the pink dress approached cast iron gates; Gates that sealed away many a great secret, and held within her salvation.
Salvation from what was to come when the sun finally sank beneath the horizon and the shadows collected to change the world from the clear sought day, to the ever approaching darkness of night. Where hungry things prowled, and scared things crouched in terror.
It was an old house, a mansion, a thousand years old? Fiona Hart didn’t really know. That was her guess. She was now, only what? five years old? She looked to be a young adult- though this was by design. She was created, concocted- an amalgam of the purest spirits, bound and wrought with the vilest. It was meant to be a disguise. A camouflage to hide her- meant to be a vile collector, an assassin bent to her father’s whim- to reap only those that would fall– lost.
Fiona was to be a harvester of lost souls.
That is, if her father had her way.
It was the lost souls that interested them; it was the lost souls that could power their machines beyond the veil. The world behind the veil was a far cry different than what she’d found on this side. Beyond the veil- the ‘truth’ was substantial, hard like iron, malleable to forge, to create- and of it the Spirits formed all manner of creation. From weapons, to vehicle, even her original home. A jail she’d escaped- known only as the ‘Ghost Train’- Four years ago, this day.
For this day was Halloween.
Halloween was the day her father need not track her. He could peer without and just know, know exactly where she was… as could his minions. The vile Outriders hounded her through the night, once a year, every year, until of course she found this house. Professor Goodwin’s house…
She hitched the overnight bag higher up on her shoulder, before she leaned all her weight upon the gate. It creaked loudly, in need of oil as it swung open. The house itself was a ways away; her trek was not yet over. She made her way through, retracing where she had first entered this place—she had charged through these very gates in a stolen ghost car two years prior. The distance from the gate to the house crossed almost instantaneously at the speed she was going. Now she was forced to walk, one step in front of the other.
This was her second year under the houses protection, not counting the remainder of that first night. The stone gargoyles, perched around the grounds, kept the spirits of darkness away. Well, those smart enough to know what would happen if they entered these grounds… swallowed whole. Fiona dreamed of the day her father was foolish enough to enter. She doubted it would ever come to pass- but the image was pleasing, the thought savory.
Fiona was surprised no one was there to greet her. Last year Prof. Goodwin, and his mysterious man servant Wilhelm, were there on the stoop to welcome her. She noted a small piece of paper stuck to the door as she approached. Maybe they had been called away?
Fiona read the hastily scribed message:
Fiona,
‘ Called away- use the key.
My house is your house.
Have a good night,
Prof. Charles Goodwin
P.S. Remember- don’t go
out the back door.
Fiona didn’t know what that was about. It was the only request the old man had ever asked of her, ‘don’t go out the back door’. She had no problem with it, though, to be honest, it did make her curious.
>>>
It had only been a year since he broke his curse.
The weekly trials, at last, had come to an end.
To his delight, he found, while before, at least once a week, he found himself thrust into the life of some vile darkness, some ancient evil out to feed itself, empower itself, or corrupt the innocent… now, at least once a week… ever since that night… he’d find that girl. Always the same one, shoulder length blond hair, with a taste for pink dresses, uncanny really, if he’d not broken his own curse, he’d suspect she was some vile demon in disguise.
He’d yet to find the gumption to talk to her. Being hounded by monstrosities, for so many years, tends to strip the social skills. But once a week he had his chance, without fail. And once a week, he couldn’t seem to do it. He’d smiled at her a few times, the words never formed. As these incidents increased, it only made it harder. Eventually, he started ducking away until she passed. He found himself hoping, she’d forget him, less he become a stalker in her eyes.
The weekly trials had ended, yet the monthly trial still stood.
He found himself out in the wilds this night, for this night, was the night of the full moon. This night, heralded his change. When his blood would boil, and his body would shift, he would lose his humanity; descend to the mind of a ravenous beast.
The sun was getting low. He had driven far into the country and hiked quite a few miles into the wilderness. His skin was getting warm. He knew the change was eminent. Through the trees he spotted it, through the trees and above, an old stone mansion.
He grimaced.
He must have gotten turned around. There were no homes where he had intended to go.
The sky was growing darker; he had to get clear of here fast. He turned to run, but something tripped him. He fell hard, and felt pressure behind him, holding him to the ground. The words slipped from his mouth, and his eyesight shifted; a spell to see both worlds. A Spirit held him tight. The Spirit was red, a crime of passion; its single act that had born it. Some such spirits could be reasoned with…
It was too late, the spell vanished as the curse took hold. Spells don’t work on werewolves. The pressure released as the full moon shown in the heavens.
>>>
Fiona sat comfortably at a windowsill, peering out into the night from one of the higher floors. She watched as the change gripped the world around her, casting darkness in every shadow until the shadows enveloped the light.
She raised her hand and watched as her alabaster skin shifted in tone- to that strange eerie blue. In the past, this meant it was time for her to run, to play cat and mouse with the outriders. She was safe here though, as she was the year before.
A howl heralded the coming of night.
Her eyes searched the darkness, seeking it out. She’d seen it before, always outside the gates. She’d first seen it after crashing into the grounds. Last year it sat out in the woods, watching her, as she watched it. It was one of her father’s minions, a Spirit. It did not cast the cold eerie blue so common behind the veil. It cast a red light, warm. She knew it was strong, but clearly no match for the gargoyles.
The red streak caught her eye. It was actually what she was waiting for. What was it doing? It streaked straight for the gate… she leapt to her feet as it crossed through—on to the grounds! Then noticed a dark form… it was being chased. The gate swung forcibly open with a load screech as the dark form burst through.
Fiona watched as the gargoyles began to shift. Why would it be so foolish? She was ready to run, though found herself mesmerized by what was below. The red streak darted from her view– the dark form followed, though not before letting out a roar that sent shivers up her spines.
The gargoyles began to visibly move, their heads seeking out the easy prey.
She heard the door burst open below, and the snarl sounded throughout the house.
Casting one last glance back out the window, she witnessed the red streak depart. With its departure from the grounds, the gargoyles once again went still. She found the red form out in the trees, sitting, waiting…
She could hear the commotion below- it was in the house!
What was it?
>>>>
Fiona crept out into the hall. Quietly as she could, she positioned herself over the banister that lined the walk, all the way to the grand stairway that filled the room. The door was burst from its hinges, splintered wood hung from the hinged and the door itself lay in halves. She gripped the banister as she listened.
All was quiet, eerily so.
Daring, she crept to the stair. Ever so lightly she began her descent, half ready to run, half ready to fight. She didn’t know what was in the house… whatever it was, it seemed to hold no interest for the gargoyles.
Quarter of the way down she stopped again to listen… the wind? Perhaps.
Halfway down, again she stopped to listen. Something moved.
Something took a step.
Before she knew it, the salivating beast was behind her, having leapt from the darkness below the stair to grip at the banister; it pulled its weight up and over.
Fiona lashed out with a backhanded punch- the blow barely stunned it, but the roar that followed pushed Fiona to full flight!
She jetted down the remaining stairs, to the left into the main sitting room. She could hear as the creature followed, its padded feet, only detected, thanks to its hooked claws gashing the hardwood floor as it forced itself forward.
She grabbed an old stone sculpture in passing, hurled hard, the creature bashed it way, easily– Barely bought her time enough to slide open the way to the study. She tried to slam the door shut, found the claws gripping the wood, stopping it, she fell back in fright.
The creature pushed the door all the way into the wall, breaking it to splinters, jamming it open. Fiona rolled back to her feet as it snarled. She fell forward into the next door, no time to open it; she felt its claw on her shoulder as she struggled with the door knob. She was ripped from her feet, thrown back through the broken sliding door to skid through the sitting room.
The creature was toying with her, it snarled as it prowled back into the room.
She leapt to her feet- again, retraced her steps back to the front door. She could not risk leaving the house, she could not risk letting it chase her from the grounds- from the protection of the gargoyles- that was just what they wanted.
Fiona ran for the other wing of the house, in hopes of a door, a door strong enough to hold the beast at bay. She noted the silence, as she raced for the next room. Was it toying with her? Had it lost interest? Headed back out into the wilds?
She stopped at the door, just long enough, to see its silhouette appear.
Fiona turned and ran, jetted down the hall, to the back rooms of the house. Into the kitchen, she slammed the door shut behind, grabbed a chair and pried it under the knob.
Door sealed, she searched the room- grabbed the largest butcher’s knife from the rack above…
Fiona realized she’d just backed herself into a corner, the only exits, a pantry, and the back door to the house.
The one door she was asked never to use. ‘Don’t go out the back door,’ echoed in her mind.
The creature was pounding, clawing and gashing. Fiona was forced to wait, hope that the door held… as the moments ticked by, the door began to splinter. Until finally it burst open, and the creature was charging at her, she lashed out with all her incredible strength. Forced the knife deep within the creature’s chest, she pried it free for a second attack.
The two hurled back in their struggle, broke through the back door… it’s fangs just barely touching her flesh as she held its maw just out of reach…
They fell in a heap. The light, the light of day welcomed her above. Fiona found herself looking up at a blue sky! The creature seemed to lose strength, went limp the danger had passed, and she was able to force it off enough to regain her footing.
The creature suddenly entered into convulsions. It shrank before her eyes, the hair seemed to be swallowed by its skin as the bones began to shift and brake… reform… she looked at her own hands; found the eerie blue had faded. She was a real girl again. And the creature– appeared a man in tattered clothing.
Looking back up into the sky… she could only guess.
Fiona raced back into the house. Nothing changed- her flesh still pink. The man was groaning as he began to stir. She left him there as she raced to the front of the house. The front door intact, the kitchen door too, she just realized, was completely unscathed in passing.
Opening the front door she found, again, the day awaiting her. The gates opened, as a carriage drawn by two powerful horses was led onto the grounds. They pulled up, a man climbed down, opened the carriage, allowing a young couple to climb out.
“Well, hello there. Who might you be?” the woman asked, glancing at the open door to the house.
“Yes, and what are you doing in our home?” the man asked, agitated.
“Come now, Richard, don’t be crass… the girl looks a fright,” the woman slowed the man, “Surely she was in need.”
With that a young boy dropped down out of the carriage, walked briskly forward and said, “Well hello Fiona. I’m Charles Goodwin. I received a letter just yesterday- to expect you. I was told to say ‘I told you not to go out the back door!’ I imagine it is going to be a few years ‘til I figure out what that means.”
>>>>
Happy Halloween!
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