Dead Roots (The Analyst) (23 page)

Artie drew a sharp breath and folded his arms.

“I don't have to leave until tomorrow,” Tom said.

“You wanna go check it out?”

Before he could answer, the door opened, startling them both. Keda stood in the doorway, holding a garbage bag. Something was in it, weighing it down.

“Sorry,” Keda said with a small grin.

“No, it's fine. What'd you get?”

“A snake,” Keda said flatly. He shut the door behind him and drew the curtains over the window. The room was suddenly very dim.

“A snake?” Tom said with a grimace. “What for?”

“A conduit,” Keda responded, just as nonchalant as before. “A sacrifice.”

“What the hell,” Artie said. “I hate snakes, Keda. Fuck you, no snakes.”

“I'm afraid it was the best thing I could find on short notice,” Keda said. “I'm going to need that table.”

“I fucking hate snakes,” Artie protested. He got up like a shot and retreated to the bathroom. Tom laughed at him.

“Don't be a bitch,” Tom chortled.

“Fuck you, Tom.
Snakes.
”

“Try to be strong, Artie,” Keda said with barely detectible sarcasm. Tom picked up on it and sniggered openly. Artie peeked out from behind the bathroom door. Keda picked up the papers and moved them to one of the beds.

Keda opened the top of the garbage bag and reached in. Tom saw the Medium’s shoulder tense. His arm came out of the bag slowly, carrying with it a thick black snake.

“There's something very Freudian about all this,” Tom said sardonically.

“I'm not sure what you mean,” Keda replied curtly. “Try to focus. Can you get my kit for me, please?”

“Sure. This one?” Tom stood up and pointed at a duffel bag by one of the beds.

“Yes. I need the candles, incense and goblet.”

“Spooky,” Tom muttered, zipping open the bag and pulling out the items: A plastic-wrapped set of red candles; a cardboard box of Nag Champa; an incense burner and some candle holders; and a simple silver drinking cup, more the shape of a wine glass than a goblet.

“Bring that here,” Keda said. Tom obliged, placing the incense burner and candle holders on the table. He unwrapped the candles and set them out.

“Any particular shape?”

“No.”

Tom pulled out his lighter and lit the candles, then the incense. A sweet smell began to fill the room. Keda, holding the snake by the head, drew a Swiss army knife from his pocket. He held the snake over the goblet. Tom averted his eyes for a moment but was betrayed by his curiosity.

Keda flicked a blade out of the tool and jabbed it into the snake's neck. It stopped wriggling in his grip and he slid the cutting tool down the snake's front, making a slice a few inches long.

“Brutal,” Tom said with a cough.

“Yeah, fuck that snake,” Artie said, pumping his fist. He stepped out gingerly from behind the bathroom door.

“Hold this over the cup, please,” Keda said, proffering the snake to Tom. Tom did as he was told. He screwed up his face and let the snake's blood dribble steadily into the goblet.

Keda started removing his clothing. He was pale and thin underneath, with narrow shoulders and bony hips. Once he was naked, he reached up and pulled off his hair tie, then shook his head from side to side to let a cascade of jet black hair free to reach his shoulder blades. Tom noticed a long vertical cut up Keda’s right side, from his abdomen all the way into his armpit.

“Where’d you get that?”

Keda didn’t answer. He stood nude with his arms at his sides, slipping into deep concentration.

Tom and Artie watched in silence. Tom shifted his hand, noticing some blood dripping down his knuckles. He tried to avoid getting it on the cuff of his sleeve.

“How long does it take?” Tom piped up. Keda didn't answer. His eyes were closed and he was mouthing something to himself that Tom couldn't make out.

“That's enough,” Keda suddenly said, not moving. Tom nodded and placed the dead snake on the garbage bag. He wiped his hand on his jeans, leaving a dark smudge.

“Something's happening,” Artie said hesitantly. Tom agreed. A draught seemed to wind through the room, gently brushing the candle flames and making the incense smoke waft towards Keda.

Keda remained stoic, continuing to mouth his incantation. The gentle breeze picked up. The candles’ flames flickered to and fro. Artie swallowed.

Suddenly Keda seemed perturbed. He opened his eyes and the indoor wind increased. Suddenly Tom noted activity in the goblet of snake blood: a gentle ebbing, then a bubbling as if sitting on a stove.

“This isn't right,” Keda said.

“What isn't?” Tom asked, fingers checking for his gun. Still there.

“It's coming out Visibly,” Keda remarked, leaning over the goblet with his eyes wide. “Tom… did you take another pill?”

Tom didn't answer. He took a few steps back. Keda looked at him for a long moment with an expression Tom couldn't place: Judgment? Disappointment? Anger? Sympathy? Keda's eyes returned to the cup. The blood was bubbling furiously and Tom felt as if a fan had begun to blow in his face.

“Stand back,” Keda commanded calmly. Tom and Artie obeyed. The blood splattered out of the goblet onto the table, and then began to overflow the goblet as if more was being poured in. It dribbled over the sides of the cup, until finally it was flowing freely onto the wood.

“Is this bad?” Artie choked out, standing against the wall.

“It isn't good,” Keda remarked, “But it's manageable.”

Tom heard a sound from somewhere, like a rasping in someone's throat. Someone choking out a breath or trying to breathe through a throat full of mucous and blood.

“Where is that coming from?”

Keda didn't answer. Tom watched the puddle on the table grow until the surface was drowned in it.

“Christ,” Tom said irritably. He rubbed his face in anger. Blood was drooling off of the table and soaking into the carpet. There would be questions from housekeeping.

“What's that?” Artie spoke up. Tom watched. Something, somehow, was rising up out of the blood. It was indistinguishable at first, but then began to take on shape. A little black island formed in the lake of snake blood. It grew bigger and bigger and finally a white, smooth surface appeared as well.

Tom choked back a shout of surprise when he recognized what he was seeing: Black hair on a white-skinned human head.

The choking, rasping sound grew louder. The head came up slowly from nowhere and Tom could see it had no eyes in its sockets.

A nose, then a mouth became distinguishable. It coughed out blood-- its own or the liquid it had just risen from, Tom wasn't sure. Long black hair hung over its face. It was female, or appeared so. Having cleared its throat, it issued a high-pitched, nasal whine. It looked up and continued to rise. Neck became visible, then more neck, then more neck.

“Oh, fuck,” Artie exclaimed. He fled into the bathroom, shutting the door. Tom was about to ask what was wrong before he figured it out: the neck rising from the blood was not a neck at all, but a long, narrow, scaly mass. Though it was skin-colored, it was a snake's body.

Blood lined the undersides of its scales and ran down its body. The snake coiled up to rest on the tabletop. Its eyeless sockets glanced around the room. It less resembled a predator than a confused child. The creature's human tongue hung out of its mouth, flicking this way and that.

“Eda miash ka,” the snake-head-thing stated sharply in confusion as its human head bobbed around pleadingly. “Miash ka beh alay da. Miesh ka.”

“Calm yourself,” Keda stated. He knelt down and put a hand out as if to stroke the creature reassuringly. Its tongue flicked towards him and the creature bobbed its head backwards in hesitation.

“
Kaaaaa medesh
alay maga ka,” it groaned. Tom felt his stomach turn over. Nothing about this situation made him comfortable.

“My name is Shinichiro Keda,” Keda said soothingly to the creature. It hissed at him curiously and slithered a little closer. He reached out and thumbed its cheek, as if calming a child or a pet. It had no eyes in its dark red sockets, but Tom knew it was looking at Keda.

“Sha, Kirisha, alay,” the woman's head responded.

“Hello, Creeping Wind,” Keda said calmly, with a small grin. “Can I get you anything?”

The head looked around, and then seemed to regard its own body, tongue flicking around curiously.

“Mato shege neke ka,” it said, frowning at Keda. “Alay maga mesu ka.”

“You have taken the form of a snake,” Keda explained. “Your conduit was the blood of a snake, but you have come out physically. I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“
Maaaga
mere desh ishi,” came the reply.

“What language is that?” Tom asked. Creeping Wind, as Keda had called it, or her, suddenly jerked her head towards Tom as if only just noticing him. She hissed angrily, baring crooked fangs.

“Peace,” Keda said to her. Creeping Wind drew back her head hesitantly. “She is speaking the language of the dead.”

“The dead? Is she a ghost?”

“No,” Keda stated flatly. “She is a spirit of this place. She helps to ferry the dead from here to the other world.”

“So she's... Death?”

“No. 'Here' meaning this valley, Orchard. Not the entire world of the living.”

“I thought that was a one man job,” Tom chided. He instantly regretted his jovial attitude when Creeping Wind grinned at him toothily. She issued a low, raspy laugh.

“It's not,” Keda responded coolly. “Creeping Wind, what can you tell us about Akebara?”

Creeping Wind's eyebrows narrowed. She let out a long hiss before answering.

“Akebara shige mato ri,” she growled. “Akebara shige alay magra deku ti.”

“That's not right,” Keda answered. “How can we help?”

“What'd she say?”

“Please, Tom. How can we help, old one?”

“Agi muh shiri
mesu
teilu Akebara. Hige fere
atsu teilu
ase ka.”

“We intend to,” Keda responded. Tom folded his arms and wished for a cigarette. “How can we find him?”

“Shige mat
teeeh,
” Creeping Wind responded, looking to concentrate for a moment. She tapped her chin with the tip of her tail, as if it were a finger. “Satsu gore alay kimge grodu ka. Maga teilu atsu bo ay.”

“That's very helpful. Can you tell us where to find these?”

“Shike maka,” was the hissed response. “Atra maka shibu motu grodu hatu ti.”

“Thank you. We'll start in the morning.” Keda nodded gratefully. “I release you.”

“Shendra metu shadu bo lu retu ka,
Aki?
” Creeping Wind said, almost a whisper. Tom's ears perked up.

“Aki? Did it call you Aki?”

“I release you, Creeping Wind,” Keda repeated forcefully. He narrowed his eyes at the creature. Creeping Wind broke out into a wide, wide smile. The edges of her mouth formed a grin no human could match, each tooth visible and stained red.

“Aki,” the thing repeated. Her head leaned towards Keda, who took a step back, but then stood his ground. Creeping Wind came face to face with him, laughing hoarsely in his face.

“Be gone from here,” Keda demanded. The entity laughed again.

“Aki. Aki.
Aki. Aki. Aki.”

“
Be gone,
” Keda spat, his voice louder than Tom had ever heard it. Keda drew his pocket knife and plunged it into Creeping Wind's cheek. She shrieked in painful surprise, slithering back along the table.

“Aki.
Aki. Aki. Aki,
” she crowed at him. Her chant broke away into a throaty cackle. She arced forward and her head plunged into the pool of snake blood, disappearing, returning from where it came. The snake body followed with it, the whole creature of Creeping Wind descending into an invisible hole, leaving no trace of its presence behind. The indoor wind picked up again, blowing the candles out and leaving them in darkness. The incense remained, the thick smell giving Tom difficulty breathing.

“Why did it call you Aki?” Tom asked, gripping Keda's shoulder firmly.

“Aki's presence still stains me,” Keda started. He tried to push Tom's hand off of him. Tom reacted by tightening his grip around Keda's bare arm.

“Why?” he repeated. Keda sputtered.

“You better answer him,” Artie piped up, emerging from the bathroom. “I can't be responsible for what happens.”

Keda gave an uneasy look around the room. He tried again to dislodge Tom from his arm, but it wasn't happening. He sighed again.

“I told you... Aki's left his prints on me.”

“Yeah, but why would that... thing care about that? How does it even know what Aki is?”

“Aki is... an important figure in the other world. From an important family. He is known.”

“Like royalty?” Artie offered.

“No,” Keda said, shaking his head. “Not royalty. But infamous. His lineage is very old and very influential, in its way.”

“Give me an example,” Tom said, his grip starting to loosen.

“One of his ancestors possessed Vlad the Impaler,” Keda explained. “One also took flesh in several of the Catholic popes-- though that was stamped out by the fourteenth century. How long they had been there is not known, for sure. Tom, we really need to focus. Do you want to know what Creeping Wind had to say?”

“My God,” Tom said, taking a few steps back and sitting down on the edge of the bed. “This just gets better and better. Yeah, let me hear it.”

Keda began clothing himself. He pulled on his tight black jeans, talking as he buckled his belt.

“The town of Orchard is situated in a great valley. Creeping Wind is the arbiter of this valley. She takes those who die in this valley and helps them to the other world.”

“Right. And how is Akebara interfering with this?”

“The tree has laid its foul roots somewhere into the forests of this valley. It is taking people-- taking them into itself. Adding them to its form. Keeping them as trophies, building its strength with the twisted forms of the dead.”

“One by one,” Tom said, stepping back and sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Are those what those things are that we saw? Those people?”

“What we saw... Creeping Wind referred to them as the roots and branches.” Keda pulled on his black turtleneck and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows. “They are copies, I suppose, of people. Homunculi. Parodies of those Akebara has taken for itself. They have no mind or essence, really.”