The Unseen (33 page)

Cassidy focused on the little spider for three hours.  The kid did not complain a bit about the needles rapidly jamming brown ink into his skin.

Dan, like most people she saw, had his own transparent parasites around him.  They resembled malformed spiders themselves, as though they’d take the shape of his fear by feeding on it.  As Cassidy inked the lifelike brown recluse inside Dan’s arm, the little spiders seemed to jitter and blink in and out of focus, something she’d never seen before.

At eleven p.m, Cassidy finally left work, walked right down the street to the Five Fingers Tavern, and ordered a tall whiskey from Barb.  It was Sunday night, which meant the crowd was small.  The place would close at midnight.

“How was your semi-date with hot physical therapist guy?” Barb asked as she poured.

“It started out promising, then seemed really great, but then it all fell apart.”

“Hey, the exact story of our lives.” Barb gave a thin smile and watched Cassidy drink. “You need solid comfort food.  I’m taking you for late-night hamburgers when I get off.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I do.  I’ve been craving them for at least two hours.  In fact, I bet I can get out now, it’s dead in here.  Let me check.” Barb ducked into the back.

Twenty minutes later, Barb and Cassidy were down the street, walking through the mouth of the giant skull entrance to The Vortex.  The crowd of bikers, hippies, and hipsters had mostly cleared out as closing time approached.  It was officially too late to order food, but Barb knew most of the staff, and they made an exception for the two of them.  This was especially lucky at The Vortex, where the menu included a long explanation of how the restaurant was an “idiot-free zone” and the staff could throw out any customer who annoyed them in any way.

“Now we have time to talk,” Barb said. “What went wrong with your guy today?”

“Do we have to talk about that?”

“Yes.”

Cassidy sighed. “First, he seemed great.  He was hot, and then he started saying he’s lived in all these places—West Africa, Egypt, New York...but he doesn’t
sound
African.  I believed him at first.”

“
But then?”

“
He started talking about demons and that same cult I keep hearing about.  The Church of First Light.”

“
Oh, those guys again?”  Barb asked. “They’ve been all over town lately.”

“
The same group.  First my brother’s into it, then Reese shows up out of nowhere and tries to pull me into it—oh, stealing my boyfriend while she’s doing that.  She’s a real multi-tasker.  Then I finally meet a guy who seems decent, but no, he has to start talking about it, too.  And then he says he’s not really a physical therapist.”

“
Then why was he at the hospital?”

“
He was in disguise.  He says he did it to meet me, to investigate me.”

“
Oh, creepy.  Why’s he stalking you?”

“
Because...” Cassidy thought of the crumbling fairy-tale book with its old story about a witch from her parents’ hometown.  She decided not to go there, since Barb would surely be much too interested. “Who knows?  The point is, I’m sick of all this creepy stuff.  I don’t want to deal with the supernatural, or with people who believe in it.  Present company excluded.”

“
It sounds like the supernatural wants to deal with you, though.”

“
Now you sound like him!  As far as I’m concerned, I had a really bad, strange week and I’m ready for life to get back to its regularly scheduled programming.” Cassidy smiled and thanked the waitress, who set down two enormous, juicy cheeseburgers onto the small table.

“
We’re closing in five minutes, so eat and get out,” the waitress said.

“
Thanks, Lili.” Barb said. “Free shots next time you come by my place, okay?”

“
I’ll see you tomorrow,” the girl said with a grin.

“
Why don’t you give me free shots?” Cassidy asked.

“
Because you’d drink yourself to death.  Also, you don’t bring me burgers at closing time.” Barb took a big bite. “Eat before we get kicked out.”

They hurried through their food and left at ten seconds to midnight, walking past clothing and consignment boutiques that had closed for the night.

“It’s officially Monday,” Cassidy announced. “I’m ready for a week of normal, boring days.”

“
Hope that works out for you,” Barb said. “I can check the Tarot cards when we get home, see if anything else crazy is on the way.”

“
No, no occult stuff.  I’m done with all of that.” Cassidy hesitated, then said, “That thing we contacted with the Ouija board.  It called itself ‘Nibhaz,’ right?”

“
Yeah.” Barb looked disturbed. “Why are you bringing that up?”

“
Nothing.  Forget I said it.”

When they got home, Cassidy walked into her room and saw the crumbling old book zipped up in its plastic bag, waiting for her on the bed.  She scowled at it, then tossed it up on the high shelf of her closet.  Out of sight, out of mind—that was the best way to deal with it, she thought.

Kieran returned to the mission on Cheshire Bridge Road every day after summer school let out.  There were always chores with which he could help—folding pamphlets, cleaning and organizing the mission.

The teenagers had study groups, usually led by Deena since Matt was always busy with other things, and they would discuss the teachings of the church and share personal stories about themselves.  Deena always wanted them to talk about situations where they’d been afraid or embarrassed or felt weak and powerless.  She would then have them re-tell the story as if they’d had enormous power to do anything they wanted in the situation, so they all ended up sharing a lot of revenge fantasies and occasional sexual fantasies.

Deena also took time to sit with Kieran and a couple of other kids who were in summer school, insisting they do their homework and helping them as needed.

Aside from the group activities, there was some downtime, and guys and girls usually drew apart into their own spheres, the girls chatting and gossiping while the guys played video games on the old TV in the activity room.

Kieran was mostly interested in Zoe, the chestnut-haired girl who’d blown him a kiss that first day. He was so interested, in fact, that he couldn’t bring himself to speak directly to her.  Each time she happened to glance at him, he felt his heart thunder and heat rise into his face.  He had little experience with girls because the more he liked one, the more tongue-tied he became.

He hoped discipleship would give him the power to overcome that weakness.

On Thursday evening, he and a couple of other guys helped clean up the small kitchen after a cheap group dinner of macaroni and cheese.  As he washed dishes in the sink—the mission didn’t have a dishwasher—he heard the voices of girls approach from the activity room.  Zoe and her friends entered the small kitchen, bringing the last of the dishes.  When she looked at Kieran, his heart thumped as it always did, and he quickly looked away.

“Hey, Kieran,” she said, walking right toward him.  Her friends followed, whispering and giggling among themselves, which made him more nervous.

“Hey.” Kieran expected her to pass him by, but she stopped and looked him over, one eyebrow raised.  He made himself look her in the eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Why do you blush every time I look at you?” Zoe asked, and her friends snickered and giggled a little louder behind her.

“I...what?  I don’t...” Kieran felt his face turn hot and red, and everybody laughed at him, guys and girls alike.

“Somebody’s got a crush,” one of the girls said.

Kieran didn’t know how to respond to this, so he said nothing.

“Do you want me to be your girlfriend?” Zoe asked, and the other boys laughed.

“I...” His brain couldn’t work fast enough to find an intelligent answer.  Of course he was interested, but he didn’t get why she was approaching him like this.

“Can’t decide?” Zoe asked, and her friends laughed again.

“I...just...I like you,” Kieran said. 
Weak
, he thought.  What was he supposed to say?

“
So you
do
want to be my boyfriend?”

“
Yeah, okay,” Kieran said.  He tried to keep his hands from shaking.  Was she being serious?  They’d hardly spoken to each other at all.

“
Okay what?” Zoe asked.

“
Okay.  I’ll be your boyfriend.”

All the girls laughed now.

“I’m sorry, Kieran,” Zoe told him. “I can’t be your girlfriend.  I don’t feel that way about you.  So you can stop looking at me every time I turn around.” More laughter from everyone.

Kieran just stared at the floor, crushed by humiliation.  He wanted to ask why she was treating him like this, but they would probably all just make fun of him no matter what he said.  He wished he was home, or even breaking bottles with Devin in the old parking lot.  He’d barely spoken to Devin since he’d gotten involved with the church mission.

“I can’t be your girlfriend,” Zoe said again, as though he could have missed it the first time. “But I can be your eternal friend in discipleship.”

“
Aww,” a couple of the girls said.

Zoe stepped closer, wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him.  It wasn’t just a quick hug, either, but a deep, long full-body press, the best kind of hug a girl could give.

Another girl, as though moved by this, hugged both of them from the side, and a third girl embraced them from the other side.  The last girl joined in, and then one of the guys hugged Kieran from behind, followed by the other one.  It was a little odd for a moment, being embraced by guys, but he quickly relaxed.  The group embrace was beyond soothing to him, especially after he’d just been cut down.  A warmth filled him from their touch, a feeling of acceptance that made him want to cry.  He never wanted it to end.

Kieran left the mission at ten, since that was the time it closed on weekdays.  Matt and Deena stayed there, along with a few runaway kids who had nowhere else to go.  Everybody else had to be gone by ten on weekdays and midnight on weekends.

He walked with several kids to the nearest MARTA stop, including Zoe.  The girl had managed to break him down and rebuild him in about thirty seconds, and somehow he felt entirely comfortable with her now, and with all of them.

As they walked, Zoe told Kieran about the Church of First Light’s view of the afterlife.

“It’s very dark and empty, and normally we’re all alone, just lost souls suffering for eternity,” Zoe said. “But with the powers given to us by the celestials, by the angels, we can construct our own palace there, we can all be together, and the weaker souls of the damned will be like servants and slaves to us.”

Some of the other kids nodded along.  Kieran admired how confidently Zoe talked of such an arcane subject.  Maybe Zoe was the messiah everyone was looking for.

Kieran was thrilled when she got on the same bus as him, and more thrilled when she sat down beside him.  He tried to act calm.

“
I don’t do boyfriends,” she explained, settling in beside him. “It’s not just you.  I’m also really not into the facial piercing thing.”

“
That’s okay.” Kieran shrugged like he didn’t care.

“
We can be friends, though.”

“
Okay.”

Zoe surprised him again by slipping her hand into his.  He held it quietly, afraid to spoil the moment by saying something stupid.

When she got off to change buses, he watched her through the window.  She was mean, she was smart, she was affectionate, and he thought he might be falling in love.

Don’t be stupid
, Kieran told himself.
  She already told you she doesn’t like you.

When he got home, Kieran looked at himself in the mirror.  He removed his nose ring, a small lip ring, then went ahead and took out his earrings, too, leaving his face bare.  He thought he looked like a boring nobody, but maybe Zoe would like him more.

He was in bed by eleven and up early for school the next day.  Deena had helped him study for his math test, so he sailed through it, knowing that he was finding the right answer for every question.

Cassidy’s attempt at a return to normalcy lasted almost a week.  She worked as much as she could, eager to make money and stay busy.  She also drank heavily and took more pills than ever, because the parasites were growing clearer and more numerous, and it took much more of a chemical push to make them go away.  She saw them everywhere, spiders and worms and insects feeding on nearly everyone. 

On Wednesday, she went to Front Page News to get a thick, spicy gumbo for lunch and sat at a small outdoor table by the water fountain.  An obese man at the next table was eating three enormous po’boy sandwiches—one with shrimp, one with fried oysters, another with fried fish.  Only Cassidy could see the fat, pulsing worm curled around him, as long as a boa constrictor but much thicker.  Its round mouth was attached to the back of the obese man’s head, and its sickly-white segments swelled and shrank as he gorged himself.

Cassidy had ordered another drink and forced herself to keep eating.  She thought of what Ibis had said, that the parasites fed on the energy leaked when people gave up their own power to indulge in some addiction or other lowly activity.

She wondered whether they were on her, too—she never glimpsed them feeding on her, but some part of her really didn’t want to look.

Part of Cassidy wanted to call Ibis, regretting how she’d left things.  Another part of her was still angry at him for lying to her. 
He’s creepy
, she told herself.
You don’t know anything about him and you can’t trust what he says.  It does not matter if he’s cute. He’ll probably serial-kill you and put your head in the refrigerator.

She told herself she was avoiding Ibis and not answering his calls because of his lies, and not because she was afraid he was going to open the door to an insane supernatural world that she was trying to avoid.

On Thursday, she discovered that particular door might have opened itself anyway, creaking open like an old door in the attic of a haunted house.

Manuel, the sushi chef with the Picasso obsession, walked into Neolithic Tattoo late Thursday afternoon, his face pale with either shock or fear.  He wore a sleeveless black shirt.

“Hey, Manuel,” Cassidy said. She was at the front, sketching a Jolly Roger tattoo for another customer who’d already left. “Are you okay?”

“
I have a problem,” he said in a low voice. “This...eye.”

“
What’s wrong?” Cassidy peered at the diamond-shaped, Picasso-style eye she’d inked on his upper arm. “I thought you liked how it looked.”

“
The problem is not how it looks.  The problem is how it
looks
.” Manuel stared at her, waiting for her response.

“
I don’t understand.”

“
This eye.” He waved his hand in front of the tattoo. “I can see out of it.”

“
What?” Cassidy wasn’t sure she’d heard him. “Can you say that one more time?”

“
I can
see
out of it.” He said it louder, through gritted teeth.  Cassidy glanced behind her to see Jarvis watching her through the glass window into the office, pulling at his lip.  The other artists were busy with customers at their workstations.

“
You can see out of your arm?” Cassidy asked.

“
Look.” Manuel closed his eyes and turned away from her.  The eye she’d inked stared at her over his elbow. “I can still see you.”

Cassidy, feeling like she was having a bizarre dream, made her fingers into a peace sign. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two.”

Cassidy raised her ring finger.

“Now it’s three,” Manuel said, and she took in a sharp breath.  This was so weird that it definitely had to be a dream. 

He opened his eyes and nodded at the stunned expression on her face.

“You see?” he asked. “It never closes.  I need complete darkness to sleep now.  I can’t wear sleeves.”

“
This is insane.” Cassidy reached toward the tattoo to inspect it, but he scowled and pulled back.

“
Don’t.  That’s like sticking your finger in my eye.”

“
I’m sorry!” Cassidy rubbed her head as it began to throb. “I’m really sorry.  I have no idea how this could happen...”

“
My grandmother would call you a
bruja
,” Manuel said.

“
I am not a witch!” Cassidy shot back, thinking of the fairy-tale book stashed away on her closet shelf.  A couple of the customers looked up at her, as did the piercing artist Kelly, who was polishing nipple rings in the jewelry case. “Um, don’t mind us,” Cassidy told them.

“
Then how is this possible?” Manuel pointed to the inked eye. “I didn’t believe in the supernatural, but nothing else makes sense.”

“
Nothing like this has ever happened before, I swear,” Cassidy said.  She felt dizzy.  The world seemed to tilt under her feet, and she grabbed the front counter for balance.  “I have no idea why this would happen...”

Except you’re a witch, or something like it,
said a little voice in her head. 
That’s what Ibis was trying to tell you.  Denial—it’s not just a river in Egypt
.  She thought that while picturing the incredibly detailed Nile tattoo on Ibis’s back, and she fought an urge to cackle out crazed laughter. 
Witches cackle, too
.

“
You don’t have any idea?” Manuel asked. “Are you sure?”

“
Yeah, I’m definitely not a witch.  I don’t even own black nail polish.” Cassidy began to sweat. “Listen, do you want me to try and fix it?  I could ink it out, or—”

“
You’re not sticking needles in my eye!” Manuel snapped, backing toward the front door.

“
It was just an idea,” Cassidy said. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“
I don’t want you to touch me again,” Manuel said. “I’ll call my grandmother for advice.  She knows a
curandera
.  Or maybe I just need a priest.”

“
I’m sure we can work something out,” Cassidy told him, but he shook his head and left the shop.

The day grew worse a couple of hours later, when the girl from the fitness center walked in wearing the same frightened and confused look.  Cassidy was drawing a spiked chain around the leg of a biker customer, so she apologized to him and hurried to the front, her stomach clenching with anxiety.

“Hey, how are you?” Cassidy greeted the girl.

She stared at Cassidy for several seconds, then pushed her soft pink workout shorts down, heedless of flashing everyone in the shop.

“Look,” the girl said.

Cassidy did.  The hummingbird had migrated from just above the girl’s public area to her left thigh.

“How did that happen?” Cassidy asked.

“
You tell me!” The girl pulled up her shorts, leaned over the counter, and whispered, “I can feel it fluttering down there.  Last night, it was fluttering all around.” Her voice dropped even lower. “It freaked me out and almost gave me an orgasm at the same time.”

“
I’m sorry,” Cassidy told her. “I don’t understand why this is happening.”

“
It scared the hell out of me, do you understand that?  My tattoo is
alive.
What do I do?”

Cassidy considered suggesting a laser tattoo removal, but quickly realized the girl would certainly expect Cassidy to pay for it.

“Maybe I could fix it,” Cassidy said.

“
How?”

“
I could...maybe put a branch or something under its feet?  If the bird’s perched, then it won’t fly around, maybe.” Cassidy shrugged and gave the girl a hopeful smile.

“
That’s even crazier if that works,” the girl said. “You’re sure
nothing
like this has ever happened before?”

“
Not before today.”

The fitness center girl seemed to think it over for a minute.

“Okay,” she finally said.  Then she blushed a little and asked, “Can I maybe have one more night with it?”

“
Whatever you like,” Cassidy said. “I’ll do it whenever you want.  No charge, obviously.  I promise this is as crazy to me as it is to you.”

“
Yeah, I mean it’s kind of amazing, isn’t it?  Maybe I could get on talk shows or a reality show or something!  Don’t you think?” The girl seemed suddenly excited by the idea. “I could be famous!”

“
Sure,” Cassidy said. “That could happen.”

“
Let me sleep on it,” the girl told her. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?  I want to keep it a secret until I can show it off on TV or something.”

“
Whatever you want,” Cassidy said. “Call me if you change your mind.”

Before she could return to her current customer, her manager, Jarvis, approached her with a portable phone.

“I’m tattooing,” Cassidy said.  Around the shop, that meant no interruptions, no phone calls.

“
You had time for Hot Pants out there,” Jarvis told her. “This customer sounds unhappy.”

Cassidy sighed and took the phone.

“Why are you getting so many complaints today?  What’s happening?” Jarvis asked.

Cassidy ignored him and carried the phone toward the bathroom at the back of the shop, giving her customer an apologetic look as she passed her station.  The fiftyish biker made a show of drumming his fingers and pretending to check a wristwatch, though he wasn’t actually wearing one.  He’d been blatantly trying to look down her shirt for the past hour, so she didn’t feel bad for making him wait.

“Hello?” Cassidy asked.  She closed the bathroom door behind her for privacy.

“This fucking chameleon keeps changing colors,” the voice on the other end said.  She immediately knew it was Freddy Lin, who ran a semi-questionable computer shop in Cabbagetown, selling hardware at suspiciously deep discounts, cash only.  Freddy was already inked from neck to toe, but Cassidy had managed to squeeze the little chameleon onto a narrow blank strip on his chest.

“What do you mean, Freddy?” Cassidy tried to act surprised, but she was beginning to expect this kind of thing.  The day had dragged on long enough that she’d convinced herself she wasn’t asleep and dreaming, but that left her with the very uncomfortable alternative that the tattoos she drew were actually coming to life.

“Blue shirt, blue chameleon.  Black shirt, black chameleon,” Freddy told her. “I didn’t know you could do that.  You didn’t say anything about it.”

“Do you like it?”

“Except when I take my shirt off.  Then it turns flesh-colored and disappears.”

“I’m sorry.  If you can come in, maybe we can find a way to fix it.”

“I want another one,” he said. “On my face.  I love this thing.”

Cassidy let out a small breath of relief. “Let’s make an appointment.”

When she was off the phone, Cassidy returned to her waiting client.

“Are you too busy for me, darling?” he asked. “I bet I can find somebody else ain’t so busy.”

“Sorry, Gus.” Cassidy looked at the chain outline she’d drawn around his calf and shin.  Gus wanted her to add long, sharp spikes to the chain, but now she imagined him coming back in a day or two with bloody holes all over his leg. “I was thinking, though.  I had kind of a bolt of inspiration.”

“What’s that?”

“You already have medieval weapons—the mace, the morning star, the lance.  What if this one could be something...else?”

“Like what?”

“Let me think.  Something for good luck?   Like a...” Cassidy looked at the chrome chain she’d already drawn. “A charm bracelet?”

The biker laughed. “I don’t think so.  Just do what we talked about before you get more phone calls.”

“No, but I mean one that’s right for
you
,” Cassidy said. “Things that are lucky for you, like...a motorcycle, or...”

“Four-leaf clover?” he snorted.

“But made of chrome.”

His eyes widened. “Oh, I gotcha.  Chrome horseshoe...Damn, I like that idea.  What all should I put on it?”

“Maybe you could think of a list,” she said.

“I’m gonna do that.  I’m absolutely gonna do that.  Let me drink on it and I’ll come back next week.” He stood, letting his pants leg drop into place. “A badass charm bracelet.  This is gonna be one hell of a tat, if you pull it off.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I know you can do it, sugar.  I’ll call you when I got it figured out.” He winked. “You better wear something sexy when I come back, now.”

“You just give me a fat tip and I’ll think about it.”

He gave her a twenty and winked again before leaving.  Cassidy let out a breath and let her shoulders slump.  That was one catastrophe averted.

“Did you just run off another customer?” Jarvis popped up behind Cassidy, startling her.