Authors: Sandy DeLuca
Darkness Conjured (10 page)
“And they always know what we’re doing and saying.”
Footsteps shuffle down the hall as though on cue. Locks unhinge. Maureen is
standing there.
standing there.
Marsha is by her side. She speaks in a low voice. “Did you get some sleep, Meg? Flora you look scared, honey. Sorry about what
happened, but we had a lot to handle already.”
happened, but we had a lot to handle already.”
“Linda,” I whisper.
Maureen shakes her head. “She lost the baby. Stillborn. Rescue took her to the hospital. She’ll live.”
“You gave it up to Moloch.”
Maureen’s eyes narrow and then Marsha shakes her head. “Meg, the sedative will be wearing off. You need to get your head straight.
Sometimes meds fills your mind with crazy stuff. Nobody
took
Linda’s baby.”
Sometimes meds fills your mind with crazy stuff. Nobody
took
Linda’s baby.”
Flora doesn’t speak. She rubs her swollen belly and then takes my hand.
“This house. It’s evil. You’re all evil,” I scream at them.
Neither woman answers me. They just turn their backs, move to the door as though
in a trance and then it slams behind them.
in a trance and then it slams behind them.
“I didn’t want to spook you, but you see it for yourself,” I tell Flora.
She nods. “I tried to leave once. Then Marcy Long told me not even hammers and screwdrivers
can break the locks. Not even somebody who’s got experience with that kind of stuff. Did you know that?”
can break the locks. Not even somebody who’s got experience with that kind of stuff. Did you know that?”
“I know.”I think back to lies Marsha told me when I arrived here, making me believe I
could take walks, visit the cathedral.
could take walks, visit the cathedral.
“I’m so tired,” Flora says yawning.
“Me, too.”
Flora closes her eyes and I feel her shiver as sleet pelts the window. I’m afraid, but I’ve got to be strong. I’ve got to get away from here one way or another.
8
I ask myself if this is a dream. It feels so real, but how can it be that Beth
rocks me in her arms. She’s away at school, isn’t she?
rocks me in her arms. She’s away at school, isn’t she?
“It’ll be alright,” She tells me as the sound of drum beats echo in the hall.
“Beth, you’ve got to get me the hell out of here. They take the babies. Kill them. Burn
them.”
them.”
“I know.” My sister smiles sadly. There’s a lily in her lap.
“What?”
“They took my baby. That’s
really
what happened.” She picks up the lily and tosses it on the floor.
really
what happened.” She picks up the lily and tosses it on the floor.
“Oh, my God.”
“Mom paid the price. Remember her last pregnancy? They said the baby died. Cord
wrapped around its neck. Choked it. It was a lie.”
wrapped around its neck. Choked it. It was a lie.”
“What makes you think that?”
She lets go of me. Her face is ashen.
“Daddy makes deals. People he owed money to would have got to him if he didn’t. I remember creepy old women coming to the house late at night. I think they
conjured demons or something. I know you saw them, too. Remember how Daddy kept
the attic locked? In the beginning he did his angel rituals...or whatever the
heck he was into. Years later nobody was allowed up there. Not even Mom. He was
so drunk one night he forgot to lock the door behind him. I snuck up the
stairs. He was fucking naked, standing in front of a statue. Moloch. He was
praying to that thing. Promising it his own flesh and blood so he could keep
his house—his nights out...and his life.”
conjured demons or something. I know you saw them, too. Remember how Daddy kept
the attic locked? In the beginning he did his angel rituals...or whatever the
heck he was into. Years later nobody was allowed up there. Not even Mom. He was
so drunk one night he forgot to lock the door behind him. I snuck up the
stairs. He was fucking naked, standing in front of a statue. Moloch. He was
praying to that thing. Promising it his own flesh and blood so he could keep
his house—his nights out...and his life.”
“He prayed to angels. Just like you said, Beth. Not anything bad.”
She interrupts me. “He was sloppy. Evil things came through—not angels.”
“You believe in that stuff?”
“Not until I saw what happened and then I did some research on magic, conjuring
spirits and angels. People have done it for ages.”
spirits and angels. People have done it for ages.”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore.” I want to wake up. This is insane.
Beth pats my hand. “It was after Mommy lost the baby. He was holding something wrapped in a pink
flannel blanket. He opened it. It looked like a doll, but its eyes. Its eyes
were human. Daddy didn’t see me standing there. He rushed down the stairs, outside to meet him.”
flannel blanket. He opened it. It looked like a doll, but its eyes. Its eyes
were human. Daddy didn’t see me standing there. He rushed down the stairs, outside to meet him.”
“To meet who?”
“He was sitting behind the wheel of his truck.” Beth bites her bottom lip. “It was dark. It was snowing like hell. What I saw was terrible.”
“What did you see?”
“He had no face. Just a skull...a fucking skull. Daddy gave the bundle to him.
Then the guy drove off, leaving Dad staggering around in the snow.”
Then the guy drove off, leaving Dad staggering around in the snow.”
“Beth, it was a dream.
This
is a dream.”
This
is a dream.”
Beth smiles sadly, “I know, but doesn’t it feel real? Makes you wonder how much of it is true.”
“Your baby’s father...” I stop in mid-sentence fearing what the answer might be.
“A kid from school.” Beth shrugs.
“And Dad was the father of Mom’s?”
“Oh, shit, yeah.” Beth giggles.
“It was different with me. Ken. He’s...”
“You were the special one, Meg. The one who wouldn’t just settle.” Beth kisses my cheek. Her lips are cold.
“Help me then.”
She rises. “I can’t help you. Bye, Meg.”
“Bye?”
“You’re the one he wants. All for himself.”
I awake.
Flora is gone.
The sheets are wet. There’s a spot of blood on the blanket.
Someone is screaming.
I fear the worse. I know that the sacrifices are not yet over and that darkness
conjured years ago will come to claim its price.
conjured years ago will come to claim its price.
9
May 10th, 1968
I’m alone now. I miss Flora. I wanted to call for help, but they took the payphone
away. Hung a watercolor painting in its place.
away. Hung a watercolor painting in its place.
There are new girls here now. I don’t know their names. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to get close to anyone. I don’t want to feel pain when they go away, or wonder if they’re dead or alive.
Time has gone by slowly. The horror has continued.
It won’t end. No one can stop it, not angels or women who brew white magic. I realized
that the night they unlocked Marcy Long’s door.
that the night they unlocked Marcy Long’s door.
* * *
The house was cold even at the end of March. From my window I saw people
strolling on the walk below. Cars breezed by with open windows and men in
leather jackets raced down the street on motorcycles. The first signs of Spring
were beyond my reach, in another reality where I was not allowed.
strolling on the walk below. Cars breezed by with open windows and men in
leather jackets raced down the street on motorcycles. The first signs of Spring
were beyond my reach, in another reality where I was not allowed.
Sleepless nights continued to plague me. Nightly strolls through this dark and
wicked house became a habit.
wicked house became a habit.
I’d been pacing the hall, listening to whispers behind closed doors. Shadowy
things loomed before me, but there was more to fear than wispy ghosts and
voices calling from beyond.
things loomed before me, but there was more to fear than wispy ghosts and
voices calling from beyond.
I approached the landing. I heard sobbing and smelled something coppery. A few
more steps and I realized a girl sat on the stairs. Her hands were raised
slightly. Palms open. Her head was bent.
more steps and I realized a girl sat on the stairs. Her hands were raised
slightly. Palms open. Her head was bent.
“They took her.” Marcy Long’s voice echoed on the stairwell. Odd. She’d been imprisoned in her room for a long time. She ate her meals behind locks
and bolts. They even stopped taking her to the clinic. She used a urinal rather
than the hall bathroom and every other day Irene Kendall escorted her to the
shower.
and bolts. They even stopped taking her to the clinic. She used a urinal rather
than the hall bathroom and every other day Irene Kendall escorted her to the
shower.
“My baby is in the fire,” Marcy sobbed.
She miscarried her child two nights before. At least that’s what they said.
Now her sobs grew louder.
I moved closer. The coppery smell grew stronger. Only a ten watt bulb glowed
above the stairwell.
above the stairwell.
“Marcy?” I was closer now.
“I can’t do it again.” Her voice was strained.
Still closer and darkness gave way to a chiaroscuro scene. A face dappled by
streaks of light and inky shadows. Ashen arms and legs. Dark liquid dribbled
down her chin and onto stairs. She held up her arms, revealing ruined wrists
and then the color red blended with shades of blacks and white.
streaks of light and inky shadows. Ashen arms and legs. Dark liquid dribbled
down her chin and onto stairs. She held up her arms, revealing ruined wrists
and then the color red blended with shades of blacks and white.
We both screamed, but no one came. I left her. I promised to find help. Marsha and the others had taken their sacrifice; set events of Marcy’s life in motion. I had to find Davika, Mr. Greely or one of my friends.
I called and searched the house for what seemed like hours. Corridors stretched
out before me. Rooms filled with carnage and decay lined those wicked halls.
Mournful shapes hovered above; young girls crying before a twisted God. Blood
stains spattered walls and the dead beat hell-made drums. Sweat drenched me and
my stomach churned, but I forged ahead in vain. It was as though the house
shifted, creating an endless maze were only specters resided.
out before me. Rooms filled with carnage and decay lined those wicked halls.
Mournful shapes hovered above; young girls crying before a twisted God. Blood
stains spattered walls and the dead beat hell-made drums. Sweat drenched me and
my stomach churned, but I forged ahead in vain. It was as though the house
shifted, creating an endless maze were only specters resided.
When a clock chimed midnight, I turned a darkened corner and stepped into the
hall. I heard a creaking noise. The house settled, turned inside out, hiding
what it had revealed. The surface of this Hellish place visible again; diabolical deeds buried in an alternate world. Fowl smells filled my nostrils
and mocking laughter sounded from shadowy corners, foretelling disappointment
and defeat.
hall. I heard a creaking noise. The house settled, turned inside out, hiding
what it had revealed. The surface of this Hellish place visible again; diabolical deeds buried in an alternate world. Fowl smells filled my nostrils
and mocking laughter sounded from shadowy corners, foretelling disappointment
and defeat.
Marcy was dead when I returned to her. So I held her cold body, watching black
night slowly turn to gray. I mourned for her and others who died inside these
walls. I cried until my eyes were dry and sore. Marcy’s blood stained my skin and clothes. I pressed my hand against marble flesh. I
looked into lifeless orbs fixed on phantoms floating above. I stayed there
until Mr. Greely came.
night slowly turn to gray. I mourned for her and others who died inside these
walls. I cried until my eyes were dry and sore. Marcy’s blood stained my skin and clothes. I pressed my hand against marble flesh. I
looked into lifeless orbs fixed on phantoms floating above. I stayed there
until Mr. Greely came.
“I couldn’t find anyone. Where were you?” My legs and arms were sore. I watched as Mr. Greely cradled Marcy like a child
in his arms.
in his arms.
“You should be asking
why
,” he told me and then he carried her away.
why
,” he told me and then he carried her away.
I knew the answer.
For every good thing there’s something evil. One child is born from light. Another goes into darkness.
* * *
I can’t remember the last time I saw Lacey Wright. I snuck into her room. Her things
were packed in cardboard boxes. There was a blood stain on her bedspread and
spatters on her window. I went back late last night. It’s bolted now. Just like Flora’s. Just like Marcy’s. Sounds are coming from those rooms. Soft cries and mournful wails.
were packed in cardboard boxes. There was a blood stain on her bedspread and
spatters on her window. I went back late last night. It’s bolted now. Just like Flora’s. Just like Marcy’s. Sounds are coming from those rooms. Soft cries and mournful wails.
I miss them all—even Marcy.
Nobody talks about them. It’s as though they were never here.
I tell myself I’m stronger than the others and I’ll find a way out of here before the baby comes.
Despite Irene’s warnings I’ve been coming to the library, finding things I don’t think were meant for the residents of the Amelia Leech Home. Books piled in
the corner of that closet. Most are esoteric, old grimoires supposedly written
by King Solomon. Studies about binding demons to do magic, about calling
angels. I think about what Beth said in my dream.
the corner of that closet. Most are esoteric, old grimoires supposedly written
by King Solomon. Studies about binding demons to do magic, about calling
angels. I think about what Beth said in my dream.
“...I did some research on magic, conjuring spirits and angels.”
There are other books containing manuscripts by an English man named John Dee.
There are pages filled with geometric symbols. They are formulas he devised to
conjure angels. A caption beneath an elaborate grid says Dee once conjured an
angel named Lailah. She watches over all souls from conception to birth. I
wonder where she goes once a child is born and why she allows some to be taken
into the dark.
There are pages filled with geometric symbols. They are formulas he devised to
conjure angels. A caption beneath an elaborate grid says Dee once conjured an
angel named Lailah. She watches over all souls from conception to birth. I
wonder where she goes once a child is born and why she allows some to be taken
into the dark.
I shrug and pick up a book called
Angelology
. It’s simpler than most of the others. The cover is lovely, a choir of angels stand
beneath an archway of roses, their eyes look to heaven. I think of the
beautiful paintings in art museums, works by Renaissance artists in books my
sister Jen brought home from school.
Angelology
. It’s simpler than most of the others. The cover is lovely, a choir of angels stand
beneath an archway of roses, their eyes look to heaven. I think of the
beautiful paintings in art museums, works by Renaissance artists in books my
sister Jen brought home from school.
I turn a page and gaze at a painting. An angel dressed in white robes. His eyes
are kind. There are children at his side. He holds a baby in his arms. The
image makes me feel safe. At least for now. I gaze at the closet where once I
saw ghost girls taunting me. Where bones of the dead were piled high. There are
old coats, books and hangers there now and I refuse to allow fear to overpower
me.
are kind. There are children at his side. He holds a baby in his arms. The
image makes me feel safe. At least for now. I gaze at the closet where once I
saw ghost girls taunting me. Where bones of the dead were piled high. There are
old coats, books and hangers there now and I refuse to allow fear to overpower
me.
I close my eyes and drift to sleep, my hands pressed against the angel painting.
I feel my baby moving, drifting inside water. My blood pumping into its veins.
I feel my baby moving, drifting inside water. My blood pumping into its veins.
Now I float upward, past a pot-bellied Buddha and into a star-studded sky where
an ever expanding universe explodes with vibrant blue, violet and gold. Without
warning a voice erupts.
an ever expanding universe explodes with vibrant blue, violet and gold. Without
warning a voice erupts.
“Coming to get you...”
I awake. I’m so frightened.
I don’t want to end up like Marcy. I just want to live my life and be away from here.
I remember a star I wished on when I was a child, envision it in my mind and I
ask to be set free.
I remember a star I wished on when I was a child, envision it in my mind and I
ask to be set free.
* * *
It’s midnight. I’m restless. Images of a strange dream flash before my eyes. It was Ken’s voice in that dream. I feel him like I used to each Friday before he arrived
at Luke’s. I wonder if he’s here in this house. I wonder if he’s come back for me and I ask myself if I really want to confront him.
at Luke’s. I wonder if he’s here in this house. I wonder if he’s come back for me and I ask myself if I really want to confront him.
I rise from my bed, throw on a bathrobe and pray that my door is unlocked. I
turn the doorknob and the door creaks open. I sigh relief.
turn the doorknob and the door creaks open. I sigh relief.
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