It had been three days since Veronika was attacked by the spirit of the familiar. The creature had destroyed her car. She had barely enough money in her bank account to purchase a new one. That shortened her timetable. If she didn't find a lead soon, she'd have to pack up and travel back to Wakefield more lost and confused than ever. The only difference would be the oppressive air of defeat she'd carry with her. Failure was the worst feeling.
Veronika refused to give up. For the last three days, she'd walked as far as she could around Kerryville, talked to anyone who was willing about Eileen Kiernan. They either knew little or refused to speak at all. It was a small and dying community; she estimated no more than a hundred people lived here, and most were probably so far out of town she wouldn't make it without a vehicle.
Time that she felt should have gone to researching Eileen's history, or the Cult of Ein Sof, was now spent trying to find the cheapest hunk of wheels she could in this sorry community. There was a used car lot a short walking distance away. The only thing more distasteful to her than the corroded scrap-heap was the yellow fly-tape that had to be at least a decade old hanging from the salesman's office.
He had that smarmy air about him too, like if Steve Buscemi were to play a Ferengi in some Star Trek spin-off. He stuck his thumbs behind his suspenders and whistled at her from the RV that doubled as the office building.
She'd worn a simple black dress and granny boots, and wore her thick, natural hair pulled back, in little mood to mess with it. The most effort she'd put into her appearance today was the amount it took to keep the scowl off her face when he referred to her as a "chocolate sweetie."
"Nice," she said, then made a failed attempt at a smile. Performative politeness for the sake of white men only ran so far with her. It came out as more of a grimace. She pulled her silky black shawl tighter around herself and approached the shambling RV.
He appeared to ignore her displeasure at his 'compliment' and adjusted his baseball cap. He approached her with both hands on his hips and a hungry look in his eye. "So, what can I do for ya, darlin'?"
Veronika wrinkled her nose. Did this man's religion have something against deodorant? She shifted her position in a subtle manner so as to stand slightly downwind.
"I need a car, something durable," she said, coughing.
He tipped his hat and crooked his finger for her to follow. "Well, I think I got something that might suit your particular persuasion, Miss Thang. Eh heh."
"Veronika. Please."
"Clint Hurley. Now check out this fine set of wheels. Only two thousand. We take cash only, by the way. Is that all right?"
She looked at the car. It was bright purple, or had been once. The color had faded to an ugly pastel. Most garish of all was the zebra-pattern print on the seats. They'd been chewed or shot up so the stuffing and springs were exposed. The blood-stained fuzzy dice hanging from the dashboard mirror added a cozy touch.
"Oh dear," she said, mouth hanging open. "That certainly is something. Why is there blood?"
Clint shrugged and said, "I don't ask questions about the cars I'm sent. I just sell 'em."
"Well, I'd like something with a bit less personality. 'Kay?"
She gave him as friendly a smile as she could muster. If Clint had at all detected the annoyed tone radiating from her, he gave no indication. Either he was that dense or was pretending otherwise to keep things from getting awkward. She was a slight micro-aggression away from making things plenty awkward.
Clint led her to another car. It was a faded yellow bug, not the greatest thing in the world but far from the eyesore she'd previously witnessed. He looked nervous when she popped the hood. She restrained a victory smile. Everything seemed to be in working order, but rattling his cage might get him to lower the prices to something resembling a reasonable deal.
"I like this one. How much for it?"
He patted the top and said, "Oh. I couldn't part with her for less than two thousand up front, sister."
"Sister?" Veronika snarled. "That does it."
Her hand shot out and gripped him by the throat. Before he even had a second to react she'd snarled some strange words under her breath and he felt his feet lift off the ground. He struggled within her grasp, hands attempting to pry her fingers from around his neck.
"Bet you're not used to angry black women, Mr. Hurley," she said in a calmer tone. "Now, I've had about all I can take of your backwoods bullshit. I'd like to buy this car from you. I'd like you to tell me exactly what it's worth and maybe we can make a deal. Sound good?"
He nodded. His brow was soaked with sweat. Later, as she was driving away she'd note the look of horror, confusion, and rage on his face. It was important to savor life's simple pleasures.
* * *
"Satisfied, flesh-thing?" the translucent yellow snake familiar asked while lounging lazily around her neck. It stared at her through unblinking red eyes. Sometimes they were black. Veronika often wondered if they changed based on the spirit's mood. She thought it impolite to ask.
"Satisfaction is fleeting, so I take it where I can," she said, keeping her attention fixed on the road and one hand on the wheel. With the other hand, she reached behind her to stroke the side of the spirit's head with a finger. It closed its eyes, appearing content with this.
Yiggie burrowed its nose underneath her shawl and she felt its coils relax. "Are you often unsatisfied, flesh-thing?" it asked. "We might suggest finding someone to scritch your nose and pet the top of your head. It is most comforting."
Veronika smiled at that. "Thought I connected with someone like that already, but decided against it. They'd only hate me eventually."
"Adversity sharpens you, and you thrive on it."
"I don't need to be another roadblock in this girl's life. Don't think she'd be happy with how I killed my mom, anyway. I get pissed, I lash out. Even when I was a kid, Momma said I had a temper. Think a nice girl like Kara could love someone like that?"
"Would you rather be loved for something you're not?"
"Not sure if I can love someone who'd be okay with loving me. That's the fucked-up part about it." She closed her eyes and exhaled.
Yiggie said nothing in reply. It knew better than to pry any further.
"This is the worst town to drive through," Veronika said, looking briefly out of the side window. "All crumbling buildings, deserted streets and cracked pavement. It's a town with history and a story to tell, but it's the dullest story ever told. A stagnating community feeding off itself as the youth feel forced out by the unchanging ways of their elders. No opportunity but to sink and die with the rest of them. How long do you think before this place becomes a ghost town?"
"One would be surprised at the longevity of ghosts, flesh-thing."
As she drove into the dingy hotel parking lot, she was surprised to see there were not one but two cars parked. One was sleek and black, and looked expensive as hell. The other was uncomfortably familiar. Veronika couldn't place where she'd seen the truck before. She furrowed her brow. Yiggie flattened its body against her arm and shifted its form, disguising itself once more as a tattoo.
She parked her new rust-bucket and sat staring off into eternity. A million thoughts raced through her head, none of them pleasant. That bitch, was the first thought. She curled her lip and groaned. Veronika found herself simultaneously pissed and horrified.
"What is it?"
"She's. Here," Veronika said through tightly-grit teeth.
She stomped out of the car, slamming the door angrily behind her. Dramatic, fuming gestures are fun and all, but a poor choice when one is wearing long scarves and billowy sleeves. She'd only stormed but a step forwards before her scarf pulled taut, then slipped off her shoulders into a dirty puddle below. It'd gotten caught in the door during her dramatic exit. Veronika stared. Her eyebrow twitched.
"Fucking fantastic," she whispered, throwing the car door open again and snatching the now muddied scarf. She held it in her hands in front her face and pouted before wringing it out. A moment later, she found herself regretting ever touching it as she unthinkingly wiped her hands on her shirt. She stared in horror at the mud-stains trailing down from her chest to her stomach.
"Yiggie, I fucked up. This is uh, well, this is awesome."
In an ideal world, any time we cross paths with someone who's pissed us off, we would look our greatest. Especially if this person were a lover, or some otherwise attractive figure you'd like to smugly greet before discarding them as you brush past. How fitting would it be for Veronika to enter that hotel lobby, scarf billowing behind her, eyeliner winged out to a deadly tip, and a black-lipsticked smile waiting to greet dear Kara.
Instead, she found herself staring awkwardly from the doorway, make up barely present, looking exhausted, and covered in mud. She wasn't sure if Kara had ever seen her like this, so dowdy and frazzled. Everything about her appearance was normally so tightly controlled.
Kara was standing in front the hotel desk, about to ask Rosie the hotel manager something when the bell ringing over the door caught her attention. She turned momentarily and stopped mid-sentence. She and Veronika stared at each other for a solid minute.
For weeks, Veronika had imagined what she might say to Kara when she saw her in person again. Any words had all been replaced by her showing up in Kerryville like this, especially after asking her not to. She thought she might have some angry thing to express, some perfect sentence to properly put her in her place.
Instead, they stared. All the things Veronika had to hide from scrutiny had been stripped from her. Kara could now see everything. Part of her flinched at feeling so vulnerable. Another welcomed it.
"Hey …" Veronika said in a weak voice, hating to be the one to break the silence.
"Hi," Kara said. Kara looked great, because of course she did. The universe must have dictated it somehow. She was wearing this black sundress and her Doc Martens, looking cute and ready to kick ass. That was always Kara - big, beautiful Kara.
"I told you not to come," Veronika said in a soft voice.
"Would you like me to leave?"
Veronika shook her head.
"Not really."
Kara did smile at that. She thanked Rosie for her time. The morose manager nodded wordlessly and returned to her office. Veronika watched the quiet shuffling of the older woman until she vanished from the room. Daytime Rosie's cheerful disposition had vanished in recent days.
"She is one who has been touched by loss," Yiggie whispered into Veronika's mind.
Kara turned awkwardly away from the desk to Veronika.
"Is … is she all right?"
Veronika shrugged. "Come to my room, I gotta get changed. I'll try to fill you in."
Kara followed Veronika out of the lobby and towards her room. Their first interaction had been more pleasant than she'd been expecting; that put her off. Admittedly, there was much she didn't know about this girl. They hadn't had time before Veronika had rushed off to Kerryville to investigate the cult that had abused them both as children. Kara had already made the judgment that Veronika was the type to push feelings aside until they slowly boiled to the surface. She'd be bracing herself for the explosion later.
Veronika watched a man climb out the black, shiny car. Had he been sitting there the entire time? He wore a pinstriped black suit and round sunglasses. Most striking and odd to her was the garish yellow tie he wore around his neck. He slammed his cane into the ground with each step he took. TAP-TAP-TAP.
Shiny black shoes came closer to them. Yiggie reflexively tightened its coils. She could feel her familiar's warnings of danger. Whoever this man was, he presented a real threat to them. Veronika's fingers twitched to make the signs ready for a defensive spell.
TAP-TAP-TAP.
Kara's eyes narrowed. She wondered for a brief moment if Veronika knew this creep. Her shoulders tightened. There was something unwholesome about him. He had the sort of gait and malevolent smile that promised only a desire to hurt.
TAP-TAP-TAP.
He stopped directly in front of them, long fingers curled about the top of the cane. He tipped his bowler hat politely to them even as his smile broadened. Veronika couldn't help but notice the ghastly pale nature of his skin - no, it was more than pale. It appeared stretched and loose in all the wrong places - like he'd taken someone else's skin, only to find it an ill-fitting match.
"Ladies …" he said in an oily voice. "Would you be kind enough to hear a proposition?"
Kara curled a hand into a fist. Veronika calmly and gently pushed her fist to the side. She shook her head frantically, while giving her a pleading expression. Kara grunted and let her, though the fighting look in her eye remained.
"Very wise," the man said, noting the exchange. "I'd hate to have to snuff out such promising talent."
"All right, fine. What do you want?" Kara barked.
He shook his head and clicked his tongue. "It's not what I want, it's what you want. You're both looking into the life and death of one particular woman, Eileen Kiernan. Isn't that right? Turns out she's a previous associate of mine. Oh, don't give me that look - we didn't part on the most agreeable of terms. A small-minded nincompoop with more ambition than talent, I'm afraid.
"It's come to my attention that perhaps it was a lapse of judgment on our part that allowed her to continue on with her … experiments. We'd like to make amends. At the moment, we're in the middle of putting our house in order, making preparations to ensure a more solid foundation. To do that, previous sins must be addressed."
Veronika's eyes narrowed. "Who's 'we'?"
He gave them both a smile, then said, "You'll find that out on your own in time, you're very bright. Now, I hate to be pushy, but time is pressing and my superiors will want word soon that we've made contact. Will you allow my assistance?"
Kara sneered. "And the catch?"
He blinked rapidly, looking somewhat confused by the statement. He then laughed. It was a low hollow sound, as if laughter itself was foreign to his body.
"I suppose even information might be seen as currency in this world …" he remarked. "Very well then, you'll owe me a favor. Even better, that favor will be you accompanying me to the last site I ever spoke with Ms. Kiernan. I know that to you this seems like a risk, but honestly … I'm your only lead."
Veronika stiffened. She and Kara exchanged looks. Kara only shrugged in response. Veronika sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "I'm gonna fucking regret this, I know it," she said. "Fine. Where are we going, anyway?"
He retrieved a brochure from his jacket pocket, twirling it with a flourish before handing it to her. The cover image was that of a peaceful suburban community with all the happy trappings of a photoshopped sun shining down on a crystal clear lake in the background, and a pleasant photo of a bunch of white people holding hands and smiling. The insincerity alone was enough to make Veronika hurl. In gold cursive font were the words Yellow Coasts.
"I'm afraid it's not the fabulous gated community the brochure says," he admitted. "At least, not any more. That experiment has failed, but there are still things of value there. Old memories that may be brought to light. Say you'll join me?"
Kara looked at the brochure and then back at the man. She grimaced, but her curiosity nagged at her. Eileen was her mother, and their last encounter had ended violently. Her need for closure outweighed her misgivings.
"If you try and screw with us, I swear to God I'll knock your teeth in," she said, curling her hand into a threatening fist.
The man in the yellow tie laughed.
* * *
They opted to drive in Kara's car; something about the rusty yellow bug made Kara feel less than confident in its abilities. Veronika relented easily. They'd need a reliable vehicle in the likely event that this all turned out to be a trap.
Yellow Coasts wasn't that far a drive from Kerryville. Close enough to still be technically within the city limits, but far enough out that the inhabitants wouldn't have to look on the dying hick-town. Veronika wasn't sure how to feel about that. She had her own disparaging opinions about the locals she'd met, but still the idea of rich people pushing themselves far enough out so they wouldn't have to look at them bothered her. She supposed she had more in common with the residents of the small town than she liked to admit.
"You all right?" Kara asked. "You're quiet."
"Just … thinking. Hey, I'm sorry for abandoning you like that. Back in Wakefield, that is. Looking back, I feel like kind of a bitch."
Kara smirked. "You are."
"Okay, ow. You don't have to agree with me."
"But I like it," Kara said. "Didn't you hear? Bitches get shit done."
Veronika rolled her eyes. "Then maybe I don't want to get things done. I just … I'm tired of feeling like shit about myself. I'm tired of coming across as this bitter mean asshole."
"And who calls you that?" Kara said. "They sound like assholes and like their opinion don't mean nothin'."
Veronika laughed quietly. "All right wise-ass," she said. "I mean it, though. I want to be kinder and have more patience, but people get under my skin and I just … I lose my shit."
"So be kinder," Kara said with a shrug. "Be nicer. But who exactly gets under your skin?"
"People. Assholes. Racists and homophobes mostly. Being a black lesbian doesn't exactly win you favors in this country."
"And you want to be nicer to these people? Seems like you've got the right idea."
"You're right. You are. I guess maybe just the constant nature of fighting back, the hate, the negativity - it's wearing at me, I think."
Kara bit her lip. She looked like she was trying to find the right words. Veronika waited quietly. Kara wanted to stop driving and pull over so she could hug her. Veronika looked as tired as she said; a far cry from that effortlessly beautiful girl she'd met at the party the other week. She was still beautiful - but possessed by a certain kind of weariness, like the last vestiges of hope were fading from her eyes.
"Maybe it's time to stop fighting for a while," Kara said in a calm deliberate voice.
Veronika bristled at that. "Excuse me? I don't think the whole world is gonna stop and let me take a break, Kara."
"Pipe down and listen for a sec, will ya?" Kara said. "I'm not suggesting you lay down your arms and surrender. Take a break, don't burn yourself out. The world is shit and we can all do our part to try and fix it, and it's always great to fight back against those who'd oppress you, but damn … we also gotta take care of ourselves. You have to take care of yourself. There's no crime in stopping for a second to make sure you're okay, mentally and physically. Your problems are still gonna be there when you get back."
Veronika thought about that for a minute. She rubbed the tattoo of her familiar, as if reaching out to the spirit for confirmation or comfort. She groaned and leaned back in her seat.
"When did you get so smart, huh?" she said.
Kara shrugged. "I've always been smart. People don't like to listen to the fat girl."
"That's not -" Veronika started, then clamped her mouth shut. "Why are we so weird?"
"Huh?"
"Us. This thing we've got. What the hell is it?"
Kara sighed. "We're weird. That party … and everything that happened after. I feel like I was able to form a connection with you, and that doesn't happen often."
Veronika turned her head away. "And then I left …"
"Yeah. You did," Kara said in a resigned voice.
Veronika folded her arms over her chest. She didn't know how to respond to that. "I feel like I screwed things up for us," she said. "Think we could have been great."
"So you're giving up already?" Kara scoffed. "If that's so, we haven't got a chance."
"I do want this, you know. Us. I want this to be a thing and for it to work out."
"Then what's stopping you?" Kara yelled, then lowered her voice. "I'm sorry. I don't deal well with emotional drama."
"I don't think anyone does," Veronika said wryly. "I like you, Kara. I think part of me even fell in love with you, as juvenile as that sounds. At the same time, I meant what I said when I left. There's shit I've done, shit I'm willing to do to get answers and punish the assholes who hurt me. I murdered my mother when I found out."
"Join the fucking club!" Kara shouted. She slammed her hand against the steering wheel. "Eileen came back, didn't you hear? She possessed my Dad and I had to slam their head into the kitchen counter and set the trailer on fire to get rid of her. I got to kill two parents for the price of one."
"I know!" Veronika yelled. She flattened her palms against the air and took a deep breath, before repeating herself. "I know. I'm sorry. But there's kind of a difference between what was clearly self-defense and what I did."
Kara took a deep breath. She had this wide nervous look on her face. Veronika was almost relieved. There's something freeing about seeing all your worst fears realized. It turns you into a mad animal ready to take the plunge and make the worst possible thing happen. Self-destruction is a hell of a drug.
"What happened then?" Kara said in a quiet voice. "Tell me."
Veronika shrugged and leaned close to Kara, a vindictive smile creeping across her face.
"How long does it take someone to starve to death?" Veronika said. "She might still be alive."
"Holy shit …" Kara murmured. "Where did you leave her?"
"In her bed. The venom ensured that. She'll never move again."
"Christ," Kara whispered, then shook her head. "I guess snakes are a theme for you. That's fucked up, V. But I really don't feel like I'm in a position to judge. Our mothers did unthinkable things to us as kids. I can't say I didn't enjoy bashing Eileen's face in either."
"I told you that I tortured my own mother and left her to die, and enjoyed it!" Veronika huffed. "I was expecting a bigger reaction."
"All right, edge-lord!" Kara snapped. "Join the matricide club. I'm sad for you, though. I never got to know Eileen that well. The first real conversation I ever had with her and she was trying to fucking kill me. But you knew your mother, you had a relationship with her."
Veronika slumped back in her seat. Her eyes were red and itching and she was screaming at herself to not cry. Anything but that. She wouldn't cry in front of her. It'd be humiliating.
"I think in some fucked up way she loved me," Veronika said, the words betraying her even as they slipped like drops of acid from her tongue. Her face contorted into an awful, pained expression. Tears fell, and they burned. She squinted her eyes shut so she wouldn't have to look at Kara's pitying face.
"What she did to you …" Kara said after a soft moment. "What she, and all our moms did to us … it was fucked up. It's possible they did love us. Possible they loved us a lot. But you know what?"
Veronika stared. Kara sighed. They were coming up on the gated community now - a large white wall and series of hedges long in need of maintenance leading to a tall, imposing gate. Kara stopped the car at the bottom of the hill. She turned to Veronika and gripped her shoulder tightly. She fixed her with an intense stare.
"Listen. People who love you are every bit as capable of inflicting horror upon you as anyone else. They can damage you in irreparable ways. Maybe killing her wasn't the best thing, I don't fucking know. I do know this - you've every right to hate her for what she did."
Veronika stared. She wanted to nod or do anything besides staring with that dumb open-mouthed expression. Maybe Kara was right, or maybe it was all still wrong. Pretty words and platitudes are a small comfort and do little to mend the soul.
"We're here," Veronika said.
Veronika reached into her purse and grabbed a Kleenex. She was glad she hadn't worn much in the way of makeup, it'd be all smearing down her face right about now. Veronika wiped her eyes. She still looked like shit from crying. Kara gave her an awkward, pitying stare earning. Veronika gave her a venomous glare in response. Veronika hated being pitied.
Kara hated watching her cry. Not that Kara had anything against the shedding of tears, but watching someone break down terrified her. Veronika was always so well put together, the last person she'd expect to see cracking under pressure. Seeing someone else fall apart always made her feel like she was going to be next.
They'd arrived at Yellow Coasts, the little gated community pictured on the brochure Veronika held in her quivering hands. It looked a far cry from the happy nuclear family destination promised. Big surprise. The gate was rusting and the hedges and lawns were all overgrown. Several homes had been vandalized - broken windows and graffiti, beer bottles all over the front lawns. If Kerryville was a dying community, Yellow Coasts was the cancerous growth responsible for that death - a festering corruption choking everything around it.
The shiny black car was waiting for them outside the gate. The door opened, and he stepped out: a thin man who walked with a sleek black cane and wore a pin-striped suit. His yellow tie gave something inexplicably ghoulish to his countenance. There was something Kara felt she ought to remember, a forbidden memory lurking in veiled shadows and hideous whispers; and behind it all that hideous color yellow.
The man in the yellow tie greeted them as they approached. "Welcome to the failed experiment," he said, his eyes twinkling as he led them through the rusted gate. "Not a complete failure, of course. We learned what we needed and materials never go to waste - something those cretins at Syracuse could learn a thing or two about."
Kara stopped him. "Why the hell are we here?" she asked.
He twirled his cane and gestured it in front of him down the street between the dilapidated homes. The house at the end overlooked the cliffs out towards the sea.
Kara's brow furrowed as that eerie familiarity rose once more within her.
"You remember the place?" the man said to her. "Your mother lived here with you briefly when you were a babe, before that ugly incident at Blackerly House in Wakefield. We had a few pleasant talks before she stepped too far out of line."
"What was your relationship with my mother?" Kara asked, her voice shaking.
"Call me Mr. Sharp. I was her contact for the syndicate."
Mr. Sharp led them past a procession of houses. He whistled slowly as they walked. The melody caused the hair on Kara's arms to stand on end.
Veronika hung close beside her. "Are you all right?" she asked.
Kara shoved her hands into her pockets and shrugged. It was the only response she could think of. She didn't like lying.
"What happened here?" Kara asked.
"Prying for information?" Mr. Sharp sneered. He then shrugged and went on. "There's no harm, so I don't see why I shouldn't indulge you. We closed up shop after an incident with a competitor. The true version of this place was cast into the fragmented aether and all that's left is this derelict before you, a monument to our failure. Looks better in the brochure, doesn't it?"
"O-kay," Kara groaned and rolled her eyes. "That sure clears things up."
Mr. Sharp stopped directly in his tracks. He twirled around, causing the tails on his coat to flap around and slap him in the ankles. The sight managed to be somehow comical and yet unnerving. He had a look about him like he was trying to mimic human movements but hadn't quite mastered them yet.
"That's right, you haven't spent long enough in Kerryville to spot it yet," he whispered, his eyes wide and curious. "But you have, Veronika. Surely you've begun to piece it together by now, the strange riddle of this place?"
Kara turned to Veronika looking for an explanation. Veronika could only shrug. Kerryville was a weird city for certain, and there was definitely something darker lurking behind it all, but the same could be said for any other town on the island.
"No?" Mr. Sharp asked, raising an eyebrow, then tutted under his breath. "Disappointing, Ms. Veronika."
Veronika gripped her forearm, her fingers covering the snake tattoo. Kara had noticed it as something Veronika did whenever she was deep in thought or frightened. This time it looked like both.
"What is it?" Kara asked.
"Well, there's the usual vague-cryptic nonsense you get whenever you start asking questions around here," Veronika said. "But the odd shit is, and this is gonna sound stupid, I've met multiple people who for lack of a better word, appear to have an … 'other'."
Mr. Sharp's eyes lit up. He began whistling again as he walked, turning away from them and spinning his cane merrily.
Veronika continued. "People usually have multiple facets to themselves, but deep down you know even when someone is acting completely erratic or contrary to how you expect, they're still them. It's that innate familiarity, I guess, or maybe there's some human instinct that helps us tell each other apart. The people around here don't have that. I've run into multiple people that I've seen before, and sometimes … it's like looking at complete strangers. I swear sometimes even the buildings look wrong. Like, I'll be looking down the road and I'll blink and it's like I'm staring at a wholly different city.
"And all these things they stack, you know? I put it off at first, chalking it up to either stress or your run-of-the-mill Harbinger Island weirdness, but it's happened enough that I've started questioning whether or not something else is wrong with this place."
"The fragmented aether …" Mr. Sharp said again, this time in a hollow faraway voice, as if he wasn't even speaking to them directly. He turned to face them. "We're here."
Kara looked at the house before them. Like all the other yards around her, this one was long overgrown and unkempt. An abandoned tricycle lay in the center of the walkway from the street to the door. Her fingers twitched. She could count the steps to the door.
"None of this feels real," she whispered softly.
Mr. Sharp moved forwards, kicking the rusted tricycle violently aside. He tucked his cane beneath his arm and threw open the door. Blackness greeted them from a darkened hall.
"Reality can be so fragile. I never trust it," he said giving a little flourish with his hand before gesturing inside. "Shall we go on?"
Yellow wallpaper, Kara thought as she followed Mr. Sharp through the door. Who decides on yellow wallpaper? It's gross and leaves a sickening green after-image when you close your eyes.
The house definitely had that feeling of not been lived in for some time. The wallpaper had begun to peel in some corners, and there were places where the carpet had warped away from the wall. There was a nose-wrinkling medley of foul odors all scarcely disguised beneath the heavy stench of mothballs.
Kara turned a few feet to see the dining room past the arched hallway. The floor was covered in years of dust and the linoleum was pulled up and scattered, revealing the moldy floorboards beneath. The table was still set for a family of five. Dinner hadn't been touched. It sat there, a rotten mess being devoured by a swarm of cockroaches.
Kara turned her head away and covered her mouth and nose. Mr. Sharp laughed. He looked to be enjoying her discomfort. Veronika placed a steady hand on her shoulder, but kept her face buried in Kara's neck.
"Let me guess, cast into the aether?" Kara snorted.
Mr. Sharp's eyes brightened. "You're catching on. As such though, the particular placement of this community gives those of us who can traverse the cast-out fragments an ability to look back and reflect upon our past selves."
"Enough with the nonsense please," Kara groaned. "Tell us what we're doing here."
"It wouldn't be enough for me to merely tell you about your mother's time with us, Kara-bear," Mr. Sharp said, then gave a little giggle. "You wouldn't believe me. I upset and disgust you too much. Something about the milky-whiteness of my skin, like a maggot's flesh, and the way I prance about disturbs you, doesn't it? We do try and act accommodating towards you humans but you'll never not be frightened of us, I think. It's in your nature to cower in terror at our countenance, and that you should. No, the only way to present the truth is to show it."
With that, he led them into the living room and did a little twirl. He tapped his cane harshly against the floor. Kara and Veronika gave each other uneasy looks while he danced around like a drunken circus ringleader. They were prepared to bolt at any second.
"Yes," he said, giving an excited shudder, "I remember now. Kara, you were there being baby-sat by the television screen. Oh, you were so little and your mother and I were watching you by the bookshelf while I judged her for her poor taste in literature. And well … here!"
He swished his cane like a magician flicking his wand. Translucent, ghost-like images appeared in the room. Kara staggered backwards. One of them was Mr. Sharp looking the same: sprightly and decrepit and utterly ageless. The other was yet even more frightening - the glowering, passionate visage of her mother, Eileen. Mr. Sharp noted Kara's reaction with glee.
"Don't worry," he said. "'Tis but a memory. It can't hurt you … at least, no more than memories usually can."
The projection of Eileen was picking up toys off the floor, invisible objects that couldn't be seen from Kara's perspective. Only the people carried through in this projection of memory. The images faded and distorted at times, like a bad signal on a television set.
The Mr. Sharp image turned towards Eileen. "You must be delighted about the ceremony tomorrow. Finally getting to rid yourself of that boorish husband and walking parasite."
"She's a child," Eileen countered. "Is it necessary to be rid of her? Evan is most certainly sentimental dead-weight, but the girl is useful. And anyway, I have previous contracts I've agreed to."
"Previous contracts?" The memory of Mr. Sharp raised an eyebrow. "Mrs. Kiernan, I assure you our contract holds far more weight than any prior arrangements you might have had. For your initiation into the Carcosa Syndicate to be complete, the dead weights must be severed. You must serve the King alone."
"And why is that? Why do you insist all your new recruits carry on in this barbaric fashion? You gain nothing from the blood sacrifice, no energies are poured forth. The violence and the heartache are wasted on pointless ritual."
Mr. Sharp's memory gave a cruel grin. "You're the first to have such a reaction to our ways, Mrs. Kiernan. Most are horrified at the thought of killing their families, but you take only umbrage with the reasons?"
Eileen threw back her head and laughed. "I don't like waste, Mr. Sharp. Everything has its purpose, even pain and heartache. Those are powerful materials, you know. Your organization could benefit greatly from putting them to a good use. Senseless cruelty is fun, but ultimately fruitless - a meaningless effort. My kind don't live long enough as yours, and I hate to waste what few years I have."
"If it's a matter of mortality, we will all live forever once we find Carcosa," Mr. Sharp's memory hissed.
"I know the mantra." Eileen rolled her eyes. "And tell me how long will this take? Will it come in my lifetime? I have little to spare for empty promises."
"And no time to be a part of something larger than yourself?" Mr. Sharp teased. "To utilize your talents to bring about a grand vision?"
Eileen laughed. "Save the propaganda for your pawns and servants, Mr. Sharp. I signed up because I thought you had real power to promise. A tit-for-tat, as it were. I help you achieve your dreams, you do the same for me. Clearly, there's been a problem in communication. I'm unhappy with our current working relationship."
"The King in Yellow holds true power," Mr. Sharp said. "Without us, your dreams will die."
"I'd like to alter our contract." Eileen pursed her lips. "Evan dies, but Kara lives. You've no use for the both of them. Let me keep the girl and we can continue an amicable relationship."
Mr. Sharp made a hideous clicking sound with his tongue and waggled his finger. "That won't do. We had a deal."
"Technically, the deal is that I sign my family over to you and I'm granted power and full membership to the Syndicate," Eileen said. "Seeing as neither side has yet acted upon their end of the agreement, we can terminate the contract here and now and part ways with no losses to either."
Mr. Sharp laughed. "Oh the audacity of mortals! Fine! We're not unreasonable here at the Carcosa Syndicate. Pack up your things, though; this house must be vacated for those who are more inclined to accept our terms. You won't be permitted to stay another night."
"I already had a place in mind."
"That confident were you in your ability to negotiate?"
"I like to have foresight. Little place in Wakefield. Do look me up sometime. I will miss our talks."
The present-day version of Mr. Sharp waved his hand and the images vanished. Kara kept one hand on her chest. She had to listen to the thudding of her heart to remind herself this was real.
Veronika's eyes narrowed. "Why show us this? What do you get?"
Mr. Sharp shrugged his shoulders. "As I mentioned, Yellow Coasts failed as an experiment, and it was likely this moment where it all went wrong. We should have done a more thorough background check on Eileen. We would have found that her previous contract was far more favorable than anything we were willing to offer at the time."
Kara looked to the spot by the old television set where she'd sat as a child. "And what contract is that?"
Mr. Sharp's fingers tightened around the top of his cane. "We're still investigating. That's where you come in. From this memory, we've been able to extrapolate that you were promised to someone else - another deal that Mrs. Kiernan backed out of at the last moment. She managed to legally worm her way out with us, possibly with the knowledge she wouldn't be able to take us down herself.
"But whomever else she screwed over? Well, they must've gotten particularly fucked. Someone's been prying around the old channels. We don't know who or why, only that they are pissed and out for blood. Your blood, my dear. Call us busy-bodies, but we are curious to know what the hell Eileen got herself into before she started that silly little cult in Wakefield."
Kara had to say the next few words slowly as she could hardly believe they were coming out of her own mouth. "Someone … is coming for me."
Mr. Sharp gave a full-toothed grin. He looked like a shark.
"Oh …" he said in a breathy whisper. "I'd say they're already here. Ciao!"
He turned heel and darted into a darkened hallway beyond. Veronika looked ready to charge, but then stopped. There was no point. He was already gone.
Kara said nothing. Her fists clenched tight while her entire body shook. She shut her eyes. When they opened, they were full of pain and fury.
Veronika placed a hand on her shoulder. "That guy was probably full of shit. I wouldn't think about it too much."
Kara shook her hand away. She shook her head repeatedly. Her eyes stayed fixed on the darkness where he'd vanished as if he'd somehow pop out again.
"No …" she said. "No, I've got this knack for detecting bullshit. And yeah, he was full of it - but not about this. That was certainly Eileen. This was real … well, as real as memory can be."
"Funny thing to say, but I get what you mean," Veronika said.
Kara wandered over to the place where the brief flickering memory of herself as a child had been shown. She knelt in the same position as she'd been when she was small. There was nothing to connect her to that time in her life but vague recollections, intrusive memories that felt alien but real. She drew her fingers around in the dust. This would take a while to process.
Veronika put both hands in her coat pocket and began walking around the room, surveying it. "At least you know she never intended to kill you."
Kara gave a non-committal grunt. It was the best response she could come up with. Eileen never did anything out of love or warmth. She wasn't capable of affection, that much Kara remembered. If Eileen had turned on the Carcosa Syndicate it was for wholly selfish purposes. "She had a contract," Kara said calmly after a minute's silence. "Do ya wanna do me a favor?"
Veronika was rubbing the tattoo on her arm. She looked concerned and out of place, one of the few times Kara thought she ever looked helpless. Like she wanted to do something but had no clue where to start. "Sure. Anything," said Veronika.
Kara gestured with her head down the darkened hallway. "Eileen's office is down that hall. We might be able to find something in there."
Veronika followed her gaze and nodded. "Right. You gonna be all right?"
Kara shrugged. "Maybe? Give me a minute."
"Sure."
Veronika was almost relieved to be out of the room. Lingering feelings of guilt had resurged after seeing that memory. She'd been selfish coming to Kerryville on her own, abandoning Kara like that. Of any of them, Kara had the most right to find out what happened; Eileen was her mother after all.
As Veronika walked, she had a brief recollection of Blackerly House. She was a little girl screaming for her mommy while sitting naked in a rusted bathtub, bound in barbed wire. She couldn't move or else the wires would dig into her skin, cutting her. She'd cried for her mom, over and over again. She'd no idea at the time that her mother could hear her. Mommy was the one beating her every night and cradling her in barbed wire.
The little flashback was enough to make her stumble. She placed a hand on the grimy wall to steady herself. She felt like vomiting.
"PTSD is a pain in the ass," Veronika muttered to herself.
Holding her stomach, she continued making her way down the hall. Veronika only thought about it after she found the office, but wouldn't someone else have lived here after Eileen? She turned back to look down the hall. Kara would have known that. There'd be little for them to find here and she knew it. Just more senseless rummaging around through someone else's ruin. Despite this, she found herself stepping into the room anyway. She thought that maybe it'd at least give Kara enough time alone to process some of this shit.
The desk was worn and the drawers had mold growing all along the inside. It looked like someone had cleared out most of the books on the shelves, while others had been knocked to the ground, pages torn out and scattered. Some of the shelves were blackened and there was the lingering smell of soot. Had someone tried to burn this place down?
Veronika stepped over a set of papers left scattered from a dusty folder to examine the bookshelf more in depth. She could see scratch marks all along the edges of the shelves nearest the singed corners. It looked as if a wild animal had torn through them.
Brow furrowed, she stepped back. The floor gave a loud groaning noise beneath her, as if it threatened to give way at any second. The sudden noise startled her, causing her to topple a small pile of books to the ground. They'd been blocking a section of the floor from view where the carpet had peeled back, revealing the floorboards beneath. Something bright red peeked from the corner where the carpet threads gave way. Red lines, it looked like.
"You gotta be shitting me …" she whispered.
Veronika knelt to examine the red lines closer. They looked engraved into the floorboards, but somehow remained lurid despite the decay. She pulled at the threads of the carpet, ripping it further from the floor. "Yiggie …" she said in a low voice. "What are these?"
Her snake familiar uncoiled itself from its form as a tattoo along her arm. It squinted its beady eyes, gazing upon the markings. Each marking had its own distinctive shape, triangles within circles inlaid with squares and more markings in a language Veronika could not understand.
"Fragments …" Yiggie hissed into her mind. "Ritual fragments, looks like. We'd have to see the full pattern to discern the true nature of the spell what was cast here."
Veronika raised her head and looked out the hall. "Kara! You need to see this!"
They spent the next three hours pulling and tugging at the carpet, ripping it from the floorboards. Both girls kept silent as they worked, barely making eye contact. Veronika only stopped on occasion to refresh the spells that allowed her to keep up with Kara's near-supernatural strength.
Finally, they managed to rip the entirety of the carpet from the office. They found themselves staring at a ritual circle inlaid with strange symbols and arcane geometry.
Kara placed a hand against her forehead and whistled loudly. "You know, a few weeks ago I didn't even know magic existed?" she said. "And then things got weird."
"This is pretty bizarre stuff even for me," Veronika said.
Yiggie slithered down Veronika's arm and stared hard at the ritual circle. Its voice hissed into her mind once more. "We know what took place here. We should leave, flesh-thing. Great evil occurred in this room, and it will surely call to itself."
"I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself, Yiggie." Veronika said.
Kara raised a brow in Veronika's direction. "Your familiar talks to you?"
"Often, yeah."
"Helena would get pissed. She's been attempting to communicate with hers for a while now."
Veronika petted the top of Yiggie's head. "Well when a witch makes a pact with her familiar, it can take time - even years - for them to form a telepathic bond. Yiggie, what happened here?"
"The flesh-thing called Eileen was not content with the familiar who'd come to her," Yiggie said. "So she performed an abhorrent ritual, one considered a betrayal to my kind …"
Kara watched the expression on Veronika's face change. "What is it?"
Veronika clamped a hand over her mouth and shook her head. "It's screwed up. Really screwed up."
"What happened? Was it Eileen?"
Veronika gulped and looked in Kara's direction. "Eileen murdered her familiar. Sacrificed it to call forth another spirit into this world and make a pact with it. That's what this circle is, a ritualistic sacrifice made to bring forth something evil from the outer dark."
"We should leave!" Yiggie's warnings grew more urgent.
Veronika stood quickly and retreated from the room. Kara quickly followed. She couldn't hear Yiggie's warning but had no desire to remain in this wicked place. There was a stench here different from the others, a smell of brimstone and malice that had been growing since they'd come in the room.
It was when Kara came into the hallway that she felt it. She stopped running after Veronika. There was something in the darkness with them … watching. She slowly turned her head, even as Veronika called out, her voice sounding distant and small next to the loud breathing of the thing lurking in the shadows. Kara had felt its presence before. It was possible the thing had been waiting inside this house the entire time, and had only now chosen to make itself known to her.
"It's you," Kara whispered, staring at the darkness. "How long have you lived here?"
A figure clad in a dirty hospital gown shambled out from the shadows, skin the color of ash. He had several bloody bandages wrapped around his face, covering his eyes. All that could be seen of his face were pale blood-red lips and a hideous yellow-toothed smile.
"I will have it …" he croaked in a hoarse voice, revealing his bleeding tongue.
"What is it?" Kara said. She reached forwards, feeling pity for the creature. "Did Eileen hurt you? Is she the one who trapped you here?"
The creature stumbled forwards again. "Give me what was promised …"
Veronika rushed back into the hallway, immediately recognizing the creature. "Kara! Stop!"
Some sort of invisible barrier rose up before her. It had the solidity of cold molasses. She could barely move. It felt like one of those nightmares where she was running as fast as she could but made little to no progress. "Kara!" she screamed.
It was no use. Her voice came out muffled and hollow. Veronika was trapped, helpless to warn her.
"Let me help you," Kara said. "Tell me what she promised to you."
The creature's head snapped up, its neck moving in an unnatural manner. "I was promised … YOUR AZOTH!"
It lunged forward, fingers and nails extending into horrific claws as all pretenses of a suffering being were cast to the side. Kara's outstretched hand curled into a fist and she met the beast with a full punch to the chest even as it lunged at her. The creature was sent hurling and screaming into the dark.
"Still no idea what that fucking means," Kara said, panting heavily. "But from what I've heard, it seems like I'll be holding on to it for a little while, thanks."
The barrier dispelled and Veronika was able to scramble to Kara's side. "That thing!" she yelled. "You can't fight it. We have to get out of here!"
"I have punched ghosts, zombies, cultists, and my dead mom," Kara said. "There's not a single problem that can't be solved with blunt-force trauma, Veronika. And I don't run away from my problems!"
Hoarse, hollow laughter emerged from the darkness beyond. Kara stared down the hall. She hadn't recalled it stretching that long before, almost as if the darkness made it go on into infinity. It wouldn't be the strangest thing she'd seen that year.
The laughter continued to grow louder and more alien. She and Veronika could hear the sounds of something in the dark stretching, growing. Kara was partially reminded of the awful sound fat made when it was fried - that horrible popping, squelching of grease over a fire.
"Your powers have grown …" the creature whispered, its voice coming from all around them. "Your azoth will be nice and fat. Yes. You'll make a fine FEAST!"
The boards of the house groaned as heavy footfalls approached. It was a wonder the floorboards didn't give way beneath such a massive creature. Kara and Veronika could feel the ground quaking beneath them.
Tentacles shot out from the darkness. Each tendril had eyes and mouths opening and closing with tiny little teeth ever-chomping. Kara hoisted Veronika over her shoulder and fled the house without so much as looking back.
"I thought you said you never ran from your problems!" Veronika yelled, despite a great sense of relief at having fled the nightmare behind them.
"True, but I am a consistent procrastinator and that problem can wait for another day!"
The thing appeared to stop chasing them at the edge of the yard. That didn't stop it straining to grasp at them with hungry tentacles. Kara set Veronika down gently while they both watched in fascination and horror at the ugly beast scrambling out to meet them. Most of its features were still obscured in darkness. The thing was unable to leave the house.
"So that's it, huh?" Kara gestured with a nod. "Eileen's familiar?"
Veronika squinted. "Yeah. But I don't know why it's bound to this house … to this place. Before, it was quite fine with chasing me all over Kerryville."
A well-known voice greeted them from behind. "That would be your doing, dear ladies. And well done indeed!"
Kara and Veronika turned to face the grinning man behind them. Mr. Sharp had thrown on a pair of round sunglasses. The lenses were tinted yellow.
Kara grimaced. "Think you might be taking the color-coding a little too far?"
He ignored the jab at his appearance. "As I said earlier, the Carcosa Syndicate is looking to realign ourselves for the future - make new progress and seek ever greater heights - but before that, old sins must be dealt with.
"The beast would have never come here on its own, so I'm afraid I was forced to use you as bait. The summoning sigil would also only react to the blood of the original person who cast it … that would be your blood, Ms. Kiernan, or at least the blood of your mother that runs through your veins."
Kara turned around to look at the house. The tentacles were now slowly retreating once more behind the darkness of its walls. She could still feel the evil radiating out of it, like some horrible vice tightening slowly about her soul. She turned to look at her wrist.
"I did this?" she murmured. "I trapped it here?"
"By uncovering the seals placed within the summoning sigil and bringing it once more to the place where it first entered this world," Mr. Sharp explained, "you managed to tie it eternally to its birthplace. Congratulate yourselves, girls. You've sealed away a nigh unstoppable evil."
"What happens to it now?" Veronika asked.
He smiled. "Ironic that it'd be trapped here, a place of failed experiments. Like the others, it goes to the fragmented aether. May it rot there eternally."
"Kara …" the hoarse voice of the familiar groaned pitifully. "Release me. I'm hurting so."
Mr. Sharp recoiled as if he were offended. "Abhorrent little beastie, isn't it? Like I said before, Eileen's ambitions were greater than her talent and all she managed to do was create something that grew far bigger than her control and she had to deceive it to get rid of the damned thing. By all rights, it should never have existed. Sacred bonds were broken here, and look at the result. A being birthed from betrayal and selfishness."
"What is it you think was done here, asshole?" Kara glowered at him. "How many families here were murdered? You're a hypocrite."
He adjusted his glasses. "Careful, girl. You'll hurt my feelings. The goals of Carcosa are for the good of all. Their sacrifices will bring about the golden age and the return of a rightful ruler. The blind idiot despot will be no more. Until then, my dears."
Kara raised a fist. She might have flung herself at him had Veronika not grabbed her by the shoulder. Instead she watched through hate-filled eyes as he walked off whistling that same eerie tune.
"Let's go back to Wakefield," Veronika said in a quiet voice. "I hate it, but it's better than this awful little town."
"Sure," Kara said. "I've had about all the 'closure' I can stand for today."