Authors: Sandy DeLuca
Darkness Conjured (3 page)
Maureen shrugs. “OK,” she says as she closes the door. I don’t hear her move away. I wonder if she’ll stand vigil outside my door all night and if she can see inside my head. Can
she slip into my dreams?
she slip into my dreams?
Somebody coughs and then I hear shuffling down the hall. I think she’s gone.
I fight sleep now as I wonder if Ken thinks about me—if he dreams about what we did. My entire life began and ended the moment he got
inside me.
inside me.
“…hauls retail for the big stores…”
I hear Luke’s voice somewhere in the back of my mind and I wish Ken would try to find me—that he’ll save me in the end, but I realize I’ve got to do things myself. Nobody in this world is going to help. Nobody.
I hear Luke’s voice somewhere in the back of my mind and I wish Ken would try to find me—that he’ll save me in the end, but I realize I’ve got to do things myself. Nobody in this world is going to help. Nobody.
3
I open my eyes just as a door slams down the hall.
My door is ajar.
Mr. Greely is standing at the foot of my bed. The room is pitch black but for
the white halo of light surrounding him. I wonder why he’s here and yet I have a vague sense that he’s watching over me.
the white halo of light surrounding him. I wonder why he’s here and yet I have a vague sense that he’s watching over me.
“What are you doing? “ I ask sleepily.
He waves his right hand and then begins to speak. “Just checking on you. Making sure Maureen hasn’t been back to bother you.” He tips his head to one side. “You called me when you were little.”
What the hell is he talking about?
I ask myself.
I ask myself.
“I’m talking about you,” he says with a glint in his eyes. “There are angels in the world, Meg. If you hold your palms up you’ll feel the energy of your prayers. They’re in my heart.”
This is another dream. Dreams are doorways to other dimensions. They unlock
boxes where secrets lay hidden. This is happening for a reason. I do as Mr.
Greely asks.
boxes where secrets lay hidden. This is happening for a reason. I do as Mr.
Greely asks.
I feel peace as I raise my arms and hold my palms out to him.
“Are you really an angel?”
He nods. “Sometimes the angels only need to hear a simple prayer. Childlike faith is a
strength. You don’t need fancy robes and props.
strength. You don’t need fancy robes and props.
“Long time ago a man came up with puzzles, grids and devices so he could talk to
us. Silly crap. We’ll come if you believe. Be careful though, sometimes dark things sneak in.”
us. Silly crap. We’ll come if you believe. Be careful though, sometimes dark things sneak in.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I am Metatron, Lord of Light.”
“What the hell?”
The room is dark now. Devoid of angelic light and misty morning dreams. I
remember things Dad said about Metatron.
remember things Dad said about Metatron.
He doesn’t come to you unless something heavy is about to go down. Not unless you’re special and what you’re about to do affects a lot of people.
I called him a few times, but he never came. I guess I’m not that special.
I rub sleep from my eyes and realize Mr. Greely is just a man. I was only
dreaming. My prayers won’t be answered.
dreaming. My prayers won’t be answered.
* * *
Another dusting of snow covers the ground this morning, filling in places where
Davika poured her steaming liquid. There are ice cycles hanging on windows and traffic is crawling by the Amelia
Leech Home.
Davika poured her steaming liquid. There are ice cycles hanging on windows and traffic is crawling by the Amelia
Leech Home.
Several other girls are in the dining room eating breakfast. Their gazes are
sad, distant. They eat cereal and scrambled eggs like normal people, but there’s nothing normal about a girl down and out on her luck.
sad, distant. They eat cereal and scrambled eggs like normal people, but there’s nothing normal about a girl down and out on her luck.
Marsha Walker struts around the room. She studies each table and every girl. It’s as though she’s making notes in her head.
Mr. Greely is tossing dirty napkins, paper plates and cups into a plastic bag.
He stops at my table. His white hair is tied back with a red bandana. He’s wearing torn jeans and a baggy denim jacket.
He stops at my table. His white hair is tied back with a red bandana. He’s wearing torn jeans and a baggy denim jacket.
He’s next to me now. “Good morning, Meg. Hope you slept OK last night. Be careful because the floor
will be slippery for a while. Don’t want you, or any of the others, slipping and falling.” He smiles and then waves his hand—just like in my dream. I watch him move away.
will be slippery for a while. Don’t want you, or any of the others, slipping and falling.” He smiles and then waves his hand—just like in my dream. I watch him move away.
He leans over and whispers something to Linda Sinelli who is sitting at the next
table with Lacey Wright. Linda giggles and her face flushes. She’s fourteen. She’s eight months pregnant. Her Dad promised her a new puppy once the baby is born
and then given up for adoption.
table with Lacey Wright. Linda giggles and her face flushes. She’s fourteen. She’s eight months pregnant. Her Dad promised her a new puppy once the baby is born
and then given up for adoption.
Both girls watch Mr. Greely drag his plastic bag out of the dining room and over
the threshold to the kitchen. He rounds the corner.
the threshold to the kitchen. He rounds the corner.
I decide to join Linda and Lacey. I want to know what they’re talking about. I pick up my tray. I feel Marsha’s gaze on me as I slip into the chair beside Linda. Both girls are chatting
softly.
softly.
Mr. Greely always leaves a lasting impression, it seems.
“He’s so cute. Reminds me of my Great Uncle El,” says Lacey Wright. She’s seventeen, blonde and was a popular cheerleader at the local high school. Her
voice is monotone as she speaks to Linda. “Got to get this over with.” She touches her belly. “I’m worried about stretch marks. I’d die if I can’t fit into my school clothes!”
voice is monotone as she speaks to Linda. “Got to get this over with.” She touches her belly. “I’m worried about stretch marks. I’d die if I can’t fit into my school clothes!”
Linda nods absently and then bites her lip. “I wonder if I’ll think about my baby a long time from now.” Tears glisten in her eyes. “I saw something scary last night. Not sure if I’m just losing it.”
“I try not to let the stories about this house bother me. I’ve heard a lot.” Lacey’s eyes give her away, despite her outward demeanor. She touches Linda’s arm. “Why? What happened last night?”
Linda’s eyes dart to Patrick Lamont, the home’s director. He’s standing by the window. Arms folded. He looks lost in thought. He never says
much. He’s like a phantom, thin and pale, floating from room to room in perpetual
silence.
much. He’s like a phantom, thin and pale, floating from room to room in perpetual
silence.
“I think Irene, Marsha and Maureen are really in charge. He signs releases and
makes sure the bills get paid, but that’s about it,” Linda says softly.
makes sure the bills get paid, but that’s about it,” Linda says softly.
She looks to Marsha who now stands in the archway separating the kitchen from
the dining room. Her face is unnaturally white this morning. Marsha nods
slightly at Linda. Their eyes lock for a moment and Linda shivers a bit when
Marsha smiles, revealing yellowed teeth. Once more Marsha’s gaze moves from girl to girl.
the dining room. Her face is unnaturally white this morning. Marsha nods
slightly at Linda. Their eyes lock for a moment and Linda shivers a bit when
Marsha smiles, revealing yellowed teeth. Once more Marsha’s gaze moves from girl to girl.
Now Linda looks my way. She smiles at me weakly and motions for me to move
closer. She does the same with Lacey.
closer. She does the same with Lacey.
Linda looks to Marsha once more and then she speaks. Almost in a whisper. “The windows. Most times nobody can open them, but I try all the time. I tried
last night and my window opened real easy. I left it that way because it was
stuffy. I woke up around three this morning. I heard somebody breathing. I saw
a little girl at my window. She was hanging off the ledge with one hand. At
first I thought she was trying to break in, but then I realized there was
something wrong, that whoever—or whatever—I saw wasn’t human. She was pale. There was sooty stuff on her face and hand. She looked
sick. Her eyes were really weird. She was wearing something white. A dress, I
think. The sleeves were dirty and there was a burn hole on the shoulder. She
opened her mouth and smoke came out. Then she just faded away.”
last night and my window opened real easy. I left it that way because it was
stuffy. I woke up around three this morning. I heard somebody breathing. I saw
a little girl at my window. She was hanging off the ledge with one hand. At
first I thought she was trying to break in, but then I realized there was
something wrong, that whoever—or whatever—I saw wasn’t human. She was pale. There was sooty stuff on her face and hand. She looked
sick. Her eyes were really weird. She was wearing something white. A dress, I
think. The sleeves were dirty and there was a burn hole on the shoulder. She
opened her mouth and smoke came out. Then she just faded away.”
“Just a dream,” says Lacey.
“They seem so real sometimes,” I say softly.
Linda shakes her head. “It wasn’t a dream. I got up after that. The window was down. Sealed. I pulled the
curtains shut. I laid awake all night. I was so scared.” Linda’s eyes dart to Marsha. Watching us...as always.
curtains shut. I laid awake all night. I was so scared.” Linda’s eyes dart to Marsha. Watching us...as always.
“She can’t hear you. She’s just a creepy old whore,” Lacey tells Linda.
I nod in agreement thinking of what I’d seen when I passed her office.
Linda sighs and then begins to speak again. “I got out of bed when it started getting light. I heard traffic on the street
and somebody singing down the hall. I opened the curtains. That’s when I noticed sooty finger marks on the ledge. I
know
that girl—that thing— was real and she was as dead as my grandma buried at Saint Anne’s cemetery.”
and somebody singing down the hall. I opened the curtains. That’s when I noticed sooty finger marks on the ledge. I
know
that girl—that thing— was real and she was as dead as my grandma buried at Saint Anne’s cemetery.”
* * *
On that Friday I called my father on the payphone by the restrooms at Luke’s. It was early morning, but I knew he’d be awake. I knew he hadn’t sleep since he’d brought me to Luke’s around midnight. I dared not try lying to him in person. It’d be easier over the phone. There’d be no accusing stares.
I told my father I was hanging out with some girls from work after my shift
ended. I didn’t need him to come get me. His voice was gruff. “You be careful. Well, maybe I get back to my own business early for once.” He sighed. “Try to be home by lunch. Your mother’s making the potato salad that you like.”
ended. I didn’t need him to come get me. His voice was gruff. “You be careful. Well, maybe I get back to my own business early for once.” He sighed. “Try to be home by lunch. Your mother’s making the potato salad that you like.”
He sounded harsher than usual and I wondered if he’d lost money playing cards during those sleepless hours. My father bitched about
heating the house in winter, raising three daughters and the price of
groceries, but thought nothing of gambling.
heating the house in winter, raising three daughters and the price of
groceries, but thought nothing of gambling.
I thought back to a time when I was a little girl. I was a light sleeper and a
rainstorm woke me on this particular night. It was around one in the morning.
Voices blended with thunder and water sloshed as a car passed on the street. I
rubbed my eyes, sat up and lifted my shade. Two men stood on the walk,
seemingly in deep conversation. Thick fog blanketed the landscape, making it
difficult to see.
rainstorm woke me on this particular night. It was around one in the morning.
Voices blended with thunder and water sloshed as a car passed on the street. I
rubbed my eyes, sat up and lifted my shade. Two men stood on the walk,
seemingly in deep conversation. Thick fog blanketed the landscape, making it
difficult to see.
The men shook hands and parted as torrents of rain battered against my window.
Not until I heard the front door open and then slam shut did I realize one of
the men had been my father.
Not until I heard the front door open and then slam shut did I realize one of
the men had been my father.
I heard him climb the stairs and a few minutes later open and close Beth’s door. Next was Jen’s and before I knew it he was standing in my doorway.
“Not asleep yet?”
“Can’t sleep.”
He moved farther into my room and then sat at the foot of my bed. His words were
slurred. His face flush from drink and cold. “I know we have words sometimes, Meg, but your Daddy’s favorite.”
slurred. His face flush from drink and cold. “I know we have words sometimes, Meg, but your Daddy’s favorite.”
He rose, moved to the side of the bed and then pulled down the covers. He lifted
me. Kissed my cheek. “Got to show you something,” he said almost tenderly.
me. Kissed my cheek. “Got to show you something,” he said almost tenderly.
I felt safe in those arms as he carried me up the attic stairs, into the musty
place where old furniture, covered with plastic, was assembled in a corner.
Outdated clothes hung on racks and toys were stored in cardboard boxes. It had
been a while since I’d been there with him. I wondered why he chose to bring me there again.
place where old furniture, covered with plastic, was assembled in a corner.
Outdated clothes hung on racks and toys were stored in cardboard boxes. It had
been a while since I’d been there with him. I wondered why he chose to bring me there again.
My father set me down and turned on the overhead light. “I still come here. It never stopped. Never showed your sisters. Never will.”
I sat in an overstuffed chair with faded upholstery and cigarette burns on the
headrest. Daddy sat on the arm and talked to me as rain struck windows. I don’t remember much more, just listening to his voice and drifting off to sleep. He
must have carried me back downstairs later because I awoke in my bed, my
stuffed bear on my pillow and a bar of my favorite chocolate on the nightstand.
headrest. Daddy sat on the arm and talked to me as rain struck windows. I don’t remember much more, just listening to his voice and drifting off to sleep. He
must have carried me back downstairs later because I awoke in my bed, my
stuffed bear on my pillow and a bar of my favorite chocolate on the nightstand.
I felt a pang of guilt on that August morning, years later, when I first lied to
my father. For a moment I wished he’d lift me and carry me away to his secret place, talk to me until I slipped into
slumber. But that moment passed when my father whispered something deep, low
and unintelligible, I thought about that handshake as I pressed the phone’s receiver to my ear. I wondered what kind of wager he’d struck and how much money was riding on it.
my father. For a moment I wished he’d lift me and carry me away to his secret place, talk to me until I slipped into
slumber. But that moment passed when my father whispered something deep, low
and unintelligible, I thought about that handshake as I pressed the phone’s receiver to my ear. I wondered what kind of wager he’d struck and how much money was riding on it.
“Is Ma right there with you? Or is somebody else there, Daddy?” I asked once my father’s whispers ceased.
“Nobody. Hear what I said?” Dad’s voice was louder now. “Just try to be home in time for lunch.”
“Sure, Daddy,” I said and then hung up. I pushed open the door to the restroom. I’d already changed, put on makeup and did my hair. I wanted to look perfect, so I
went to the sink, laid down my bag and removed things I needed. I combed my
hair and put on more mascara. I was making sure my long strawberry strands hung
straight and smooth down my back when Lizzy came in.
went to the sink, laid down my bag and removed things I needed. I combed my
hair and put on more mascara. I was making sure my long strawberry strands hung
straight and smooth down my back when Lizzy came in.
She looked at me, arms folded. “Meg, I hope you know what you’re doing. We really don’t know much about Ken.”
I waved my hand at her. “It’ll be alright.”
She shook her head. “You’re young. You don’t know men at all yet.”
“I guess I need to learn then,” I told her as I tossed makeup and comb in my bag. Then I left her standing
there on black and white tiles with a ray of sun streaming down on the
porcelain sink.
there on black and white tiles with a ray of sun streaming down on the
porcelain sink.
As I left Luke’s that morning, I thought about my dad and how we’d clashed through the years. I stood up to him when my sisters didn’t and most times my actions got me grounded. Once or twice he’d slapped me across the face when I defied him by staying after school and
hanging out with my friends, or cruising through town with Alan Berle. Dad and
I had our battles, but once in a while he was tender, caring.
hanging out with my friends, or cruising through town with Alan Berle. Dad and
I had our battles, but once in a while he was tender, caring.
I thought about Daddy’s angels as I stood in Luke’s parking lot, bag slung over my shoulder, watching the sun rise higher. I
thought of Ken gulping down coffee an hour or so before, not bothering with
eggs, or the jukebox. I could still feel his breath on my face when he
whispered, “Be back to get you in a bit,” before he made his way into a misty dawn. I wondered if he’d eaten someplace else. Maybe he was nervous about our date and food was the
last thing on his mind.
thought of Ken gulping down coffee an hour or so before, not bothering with
eggs, or the jukebox. I could still feel his breath on my face when he
whispered, “Be back to get you in a bit,” before he made his way into a misty dawn. I wondered if he’d eaten someplace else. Maybe he was nervous about our date and food was the
last thing on his mind.
My heart pattered each time I heard an engine roar. A couple of guys zoomed by; honking, whistling. I didn’t respond. There was only one guy on my mind.
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