Touching Evil

Out of the Dark

The rain stung her face and dribbled down her neck.  She walked through the deluge with hunched shoulders and hands shoved into her pockets.  Adrenaline still rushed through her body.  The last few minutes had been close – a near disaster.  She was coming up on a crosswalk, the traffic rushed past.  She waited, her eyes searching for a cafe or diner.

Izzy spotted a small coffee shop directly across from her.  Its large, glass windows were ablaze with warm light.  She could see well dressed business men sipping frothy lattes.  The place screamed of old fashioned coziness.   The signal changed and she hurried across the street.

A little bell rang as she swung the door open.  An immediate warmth wrapped around her.  The cafe was half-desserted, a few young people grouped around a table in the back, deep in discussion.  A young woman waited behind the brown counter, her face appropiately cheerful.

Izzy ordered a large cappicino.  The girl, college age, rang her up and asked for payment.  Payment!  She didn’t have her purse, no credit card,  nothing.  She dug through her pockets, not sure why because it was a hopeless gesture.  Her fingers brushed against a couple bills.  She pulled out two ten dollar bills.  She stared at them.

“Miss?”

The cashier had her hand extended.

“Oh, right.”  Izzy handed her one of the bills.  The girl took the money and gave her a funny look.

Izzy got her coffee and settled down at a table.  Her hands gripped the cup, slowly warming up.  That’s when she noticed the young man sitting near the window.    Was he staring at her?  No, no, it was just her raw nerves.

The man’s face radiated sweetness.  His tousled brown hair completed an impression of complete openness.  She felt an instant compulsion to like him.  But more, she felt a vague need to talk to him and hear his voice.  But a sixth sense kicked in.  The sort of instinct which sucker punched her and insisted she listen.  There was something otherworldly about the man.  At first it was soothing but there was a wrong note somewhere.  Something about him was an F sharp when it should have been a neutral E.

He gave her the creeps and she didn’t know why.  It was utterly irrational, this sense of unease.  He smiled in her direction.  A brillant smile filled with memories of sunset walks.  But, still, she didn’t feel right.  She sipped her coffee and tried to look lost in thought, which wasn’t very hard.  Her hands nervously searched her pockets.  She came across something smooth and hard, it’s surface sleek like metal.

She pulled it out and fussed with it, running her fingers over and over the shiny surface.  At first glance, it looked like a black rock, probably obsidian.  It must have been sanded or polished.  It was an oval shape, about the size of a large egg.  There was nothing remarkable about it and she was puzzled by its prescence.  Why would anyone carry around a rock?  And where had the money come from?

She glanced in the stranger’s direction again and saw an empty chair.  She felt an immediate sense of relief.  The cafe had emptied out and left her alone.  The cashier came over and announced the store was closing in a few minutes.  She nodded and started to head to the door.

“Miss?”

The cashier was looking at her with an odd expression.  It was the sort of expression usually reserved for the one legged homeless guy on the street corner.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Izzy nodded, “I’m fine.”  It wasn’t very convincing.  But the cashier seemed satisfied. She said goodnight and went back to her work.

Izzy lingered for a moment outside the door.  Her figure illuminated by the bright lamps.  She glanced up the block, scanning an array of nightclubs, dark shops, fast food, and the occasional gas station.  She pulled the coat tighter.

Where was she to go?    Her family?  No, they thought her dead.  But, then again, they must know her body was missing from the morgue.  She shook her head.  It didn’t matter because the shock would be too much.  She brought her hands up, blowing on the dry skin.  It was too cold to stand about forever.  She had to make a decision.

Chris.  She had met him while volunteering at the local homeless shelter.  He was a pastor at the local Lutheran church.  While she didn’t share his belief in a divine God, he never pried.  If there was anyone who would take her current state of undeadness in stride, it was him.  She set off down the block.  A few blocks and she’d be at a bus station.  And, hopefully a phone.

Within a few minutes she became aware of footsteps behind her.  She slowed down, trying not to show panic.  She glanced behind her but couldn’t see any familiar face.  She kept walking.  There it was again, the soft echo of hard soles on concrete.  There was an alleyway coming up.  A short tunnel between two tall buildings.  She ducked into the alley.

It was darker than she expected.  All of a sudden she was aware of making a terrible, dreadful mistake.  This was madness!  It was the last thing anyone should do!  But she didn’t have time to contemplate her mistake.  Because without any warning the man from the cafe materialized in front of her.  She gasped, her face white with shock.

The boyish good looks were gone, replaced by an errie coldness entirely unhuman.  She should have been running but her feet were frozen in place.  She couldn’t look away from his eyes – they filled her world with a cold dread, nothing else existed.  Not the pavement beneath her feet, not the steady drip of rain, not her hands curling into white fists.  There was only his terrifying face, getting ready to rip her world into shreds.  It couldn’t get worse.  She was young.

Two large wings uncurled from her back, large black feathers.   His forehead sprouted two red horns and his eyes turned into yellow reptilian orbs.  He started glowing, but not with a warm yellow light.  His body radiated a red glow, she could feel the heat, could feeel sweat trinkling down her back.  She was going to die.  Again.

The man smiled and moved his face closer.  His lips pressed against her throat.  She felt a mix of fear, terror, and sorrow rise up inside her.  The man, no creature, was sucking it out of her, feeding on her emotions.

Then he jerked back, a large steal arrow sticking out of his chest.  He stumbled back a little.   She couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t move her numb body.  The creature pulled the arrow shaft out, a some black goo oozed out of the hole in his chest.  As she watched the wound healed itself.  The creature started towards her again and she managed to scream.  Two more arrows thudded into his chest, one after the other.  The creature bellowed in pain and tumbled to the ground.

Killian rushed up behind her,  pulling her away from the alley.  She could see another man in front of him.  They flew down the street, Killian and his friend clutching large, medieval crossbows in their arms, long, black trenchcoats flying behind them.  They rushed past open bars and late night joggers.  Their feet splashing in puddles.  She glanced behind her and saw a police car pulling up to the alleyway.  She could see cops pushing people back.

Everything receded behind her and they turned a corner, past St. Andrews.  The huge cathedral  harbored a small graveyard.  This is where the three runners stopped, sucking in huge gulps of air.

“What the hell was that?!” screamed Izzy.

Killian looked lost for words. He was chewing his lip, obviously trying to come up with the right wrods. Or maybe deciding if he should acknowledge her words.

A wave of nausea. Her ears ringing. The graveyard disolving. A woman tied to a stone slab taking its place. Torches encircling her. Her body stripped naked, skin covered with blue tinged lettering and unrecognizable signs. Men and woman with paler than pale skin swaddled with robes. A primal scream rising from the woman as a man leaned over her with sharp canine fangs extended.

The graveyard swam back into view. Killian had his hand on her shoulder.

She threw his hand off her shoulder, backing away from him.

“What the fuck did you put into me?” She screamed.

“You’re going through the AfterStirrings. I need you to get back to the house.”

“Oh no, you’re not getting away with it this easily. Take it out! Get it out!”

Killian didn’t speak. He was, for all intents and purposes, a wax statue. His face no more revealing than a block of wood. She rushed him, grabbing him by the shirt. She was seeing red, feeling nothing but rage. She blinked with shock as he flew across the graveyard, crashing against a marble angel.

Her instincts took over. She was not going back to the mansion.  Izzy ran from the graveyard, going full tilt towards the bus station.

Hello.  I’m Dead.

Chris looked up from his mac and cheese when a flash lit up the window, followed by a sharp rumble. The lights flickered for a second. He held his breath, letting it out when the lights steadied. It was a chilly day and he shuffled his feet now, rubbing his arms to bring warmth into them.

He opened the door. Celeste stood before him. She barely gave him a second glance before pushing past him into the house. The mug of hot cocoa dropped, shattering against the hard wood floor. He didn’t even flinch when the hot liquid splattered him.

She shifted her weight nervously. Her eyes had a strange, feral look to them. No, it was just a trick of the storm. “Wow,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re not running for the hills.”

He blinked. Blinked again. His face book into a huge grin. He wrapped her in a enthusiastic bear hug. “I knew it,” he said. “I knew it had to be a rumor.”

As the rain beat against the roof, they sat across from each other holding hot cups of coffee. Her hands were white knuckled. He reached across the table and touched her fingers, pulling back sharply. She looked up, startled.

“What?”

“You’re hands feel like ice.” He looked at her with a strange wariness. Her hand was a block of ice, despite the steam rising from the coffee.