The Monocle Man Page 18

  As Garrison nears the trunk, a static crackle emanates from the surface. He doubts Annalise can hear. She’s not close enough. But as he leans over, his face inching toward the trunk, the sound grows louder. Though it’s barely more than a whisper. He reaches a hand toward the static, the crawling imaginary bugs. His fingers brush the surface of the tree’s magic and he’s jolted with electricity. It sends shivers all along his body making hairs stand on end. Garrison’s heart beats faster. His eyes widen and he pushes his hand through.

  Annalise watches as Garrison’s hand plays along the surface for a brief time. His fingers appear to slick through the surface of the trunk’s mirage. They part the jumping and bouncing dots in small waves, swirling to the touch. Her eyes widen when he pushes his hand into it.

  The sensation is unlike anything he might have imagined. Cold to the touch. Colder than outside even. His fingers clenched in a fist push to the other side, advancing through a congealed, viscous mass. He splays his fingers; the ooze runs between them, consuming the space. Frantic, he withdraws his hand. Garrison holds it up to his face, awed at the sight. He expected it to be dripping of fluids, but his hand and fingers are dry. Though his skin luminesces in a faint bluish hue. He turns, noticing Annalise looking on in horror. And before their eyes the luminescence fades and dies out.

  “What was that?” She cries.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why would you do that Gar?”

  “Had to.”

  “And?”

  “There’s something on the other side.”

  “What?”

  “I felt something. You can move through it I think.”

  “Through what?”

  “Whatever separates us,” he answers, nodding toward the trunk. “From what’s in there.”

  The disbelief in her eyes grows. He can’t blame her one bit. The realization hits him. How would he ever convince her to go through? Because he is going through. Garrison can’t even explain it to himself how he knows. Knows that the thing they’re witnessing is a door leading to somewhere. And when he steps through, Brent will be on the other side.

  He can only imagine how it happened. It’s hard to fathom Brent sleepwalking all the way out here. But maybe that’s just the way it unfolded. Or maybe Brent had sleepwalked some distance into the wood and awoke. Panicked when he realized he was lost and freezing. Ran through the woods hoping each next step would take him into the clearing around his home. Only to stumble here. In this clearing instead. Where this strange tree flitted and danced with mystical brilliance, making it hard to ignore. Taking solace in the idea, Brent stepped through, not realizing there might not be a way back. And had once again that night, found himself lost and so very much alone.

  These were all speculation. Garrison weaves these ideas throughout his mind trying to decide on one. One that proves truer than the rest, but falls short of the task. Partly because there’s no way to know the answer. Not without stepping through and finding out for himself. And partly because Annalise’s fear renders him grounded to the here and now.

  “I’ll take you back,” his voice calm and unwavering.

  “What? No.”

  “Yes. I think I should. You don’t have to be here. I can come back later when-”

  “I’m not letting you do this alone Gar,” Annalise insists.

  “But Ann-”

  “No buts. I’m… I’m going with you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “No. But I can’t let you go by yourself. Besides, what if you can’t find the way back? I’d never forgive myself.”

  “I don’t know what I’ll find, Annie. It could be dangerous.”

  “Maybe, but you’re sure he’s in there? Brent?”

  “I don’t know how, but yes.”

  “Ok, just… just give me a minute.”

  Annalise shakes her hands at her side, taking in deep breaths. Garrison watches in partial concern and partial amusement as she strolls around the clearing, making a wide arc around the trunk. All the while her eyes never leave the spectacle before them. The fireflies and glowing passage. While she steels herself for what’s about to come, Garrison inches closer again to the trunk. He squints, trying to look beyond the crawling membrane and into the void beyond. His ears pique and Annalise stops dead in her tracks. Her gaze shifts to Garrison. He knows in all certainty she heard the voice too. Faint as it was, Brent called out again. Annalise nods and walks over to Garrison, neither saying a word. He reaches out one hand which she takes up in hers. With the other, Garrison reaches back into the membrane pushing the viscous gelatin aside. Soon he’s up to the elbow. Annalise’s eyes are wide with both fear and excitement.

  “Hold tight,” he says, gripping her hand and pushing forward.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  LOCH NESS, SCOTLAND

  LOCH NESS, SCOTLAND, 1919

  The journey had been arduous. They stopped for little more than the simple manner of resupplying, and the road was long, uneventful. As if cursed, dreary weather persisted their entire trip. Rain fell in buckets, dark clouds blanketed the skies. Even in the back of the carriage, the wind managed somehow to push through the seams, chilling Jakob to the bone. But Crowley seemed unfazed. In fact, as the carriage jostled on the uneven roads the man hardly stirred. He spent most of the ride with his hands clasped before him and his head leaning back, eyes closed, mouth half-open as he dreamt of God only knew what. Jakob on the other hand, spent his time reasserting himself in his seat as he bounced up and down, left and right. He was sure the last road, precarious to say the least, left a mark, his head colliding with the side of the carriage.

  He wondered how the other man slept. No, Crowley was a lousy traveling companion. Even though Jakob had his books to occupy him along the ride, it would have been nice to have someone to exchange pleasantries with. Crowley could have even spent the time enlightening him on this Abramelin Operation he’d talked so fervently about. However, the only conversation Jakob received was the occasional instruction on needed supplies as they progressed through various towns and the stuttered snoring that never seemed to cease. He’d even, after one stop, climbed up front with Crowley’s carriage driver. But as Jakob talked, the other only looked at him to nod or smirk. So Jakob resolved himself to stay within the carriage for the rest of the journey. Everyone seemed quite content and at ease on the ride, except for him.

  Even Lillian grew silent after the first few days. Whether the thing inside her realized the futility of struggling, or she too took the opportunity to rest, he wasn’t sure. But he became increasingly worried about his sister. Her condition worsened. Twice a day Crowley would call the carriage to a halt and make his way to the back compartment where they kept her stored. And twice a day he’d try to feed the girl. Though more often than not, she wouldn’t eat. Her frailty ever increased, and this troubled Jakob most. He wondered how thin she might get before she could even stand, let alone fight the creature which lay within.

  Relief washed over Jakob as the carriage crawled toward the Loch. They left the road at one point, rolling over lush green surrounding the waters until they came to another. This one, hard-packed dirt and small stones made the going a little slower, as the tires skidded here and there on the occasional downward sloping embankments. The sound of their tires on the road echoed across the Loch, bouncing back at them after some time. Jakob breathed a sigh of release as they pulled up to a rather large two-story structure which sat some thirty yards from the water’s edge.

  He nearly toppled over when his feet landed on the ground, legs gone numb from having sat for so long. Jakob took a step toward the water, taking in the view across the calm gray surface. There were a few homes dotting the horizon. A castle off to his left, which sat on a small piece of land jutting out into the water a distance. But all of these were across the Loch. To his left and right were also homes though these were some distance off in either direction. As Crowley jumped from the carriage, much younger than his years, he push
ed past Jakob, almost toppling the young man. He wasted little time unlocking the rear compartment.

  “Quick,” Crowley spat. It left Jakob to wonder, even though he was concerned for her dwindling health, why Crowley would be in such a hurry.

  Crowley and Jakob pulled the child from the compartment. Between the two, they carried her across the front lawn and in through the front door which Crowley’s driver unlocked and held open. Jakob had little time to look around as Crowley tugged at his end of the girl, leading them down the narrow hall and into a room at the back. The room was bare with white-washed walls and a small fireplace to the right. A pair of double-doors led out the room and into the backyard. There were no lighting fixtures present. But along the walls were several candelabras. All of them tall, brass structures fitted with candles. At the center of the room a large, round rug. The design on it reminded Jakob of the orient though he considered its meaning was more mystic than that. Crowley tugged Lillian over to the rug, pulling Jakob with them and dumped his end. Jakob cursed the man as he tried to soften his sister’s landing. But his attempts were useless as Crowley had been carrying the girl’s head. It thumped against the rug as she landed and Jakob bit back the urge to smack the man. It would have been futile anyhow. Lillian’s head had barely connected with the floor before Crowley crossed the room and exited through the door.

  With as much tenderness as he could muster, Jakob lay the other half of his sister down. There, he turned her over, face up and tried to make her comfortable. He looked around the room for something to put under her head though he doubted it would provide much comfort while in the iron fittings. It was then he noticed the subtle differences in the candelabras. Most held thick, black candles. But a few… three to be exact, held white ones. One on each wall, surrounded on either side by black ones, minus the wall with the fireplace which held none. He guessed there must be some significance. And only hoped that soon all would become apparent. He looked down at Lillian and sighed.

  “Please hold on,” he whispered to her. “I will not abandon you.” He stroked the side of the metal and leather mask as if he were brushing the skin on her cheek.

  2

  2.

  “If you take part in this, you will undoubtedly put your mind and body through more torment than you could ever imagine.”

  “I understand,” Jakob returned. Crowley wrinkled his nose at the haste in which the young man acquiesced to everything he said. He knew well, Jakob in fact, did not fully understand. But he dismissed any real concern with a purse of his lips. He had things he wanted, no, needed to accomplish. And as much as Jakob wanted to take part, Crowley surely wouldn’t let him interfere.

  “But I do not think you do young man,” Crowley spewed, acting concerned. “Know this, you have another option.”

  “Which is?”

  “I do not in truth, need you to take part. In fact, we might achieve our goal more assuredly if I did not involve you.” He watched his statement sink into Jakob’s mind. And soon enough, he saw a little light behind the young man’s eyes; a recognition.

  “Then what should I do?”

  “It’s for you to decide. But if you sit out, I’ll need only one thing from you the entire time.”

  “What would that be?”

  “That you stay out of my way. I may need things on occasion. I’ll require you to get them for me without question. Your expedience must be assured. Other than that, I need you to stay out of this room and keep from involving yourself in my work.”

  “Which is best?” Jakob questioned, wanting much to help any way he can. It left an uneasy feeling in his stomach to think of Crowley alone in the room with his sister. Her the captive, him the conjurer. Especially as he did not understand how the man would go about exorcising the demon from her. “That I stay out of your way or I involve myself? My only concern is for Lillian.”

  “If your concern is as such, then I suggest you remain outside these doors unless I call for you. I doubt you’ll be of little help otherwise. And we are far too along for me to take the time to school you in the processes I’m about to embark.”

  “It’s settled then,” Jakob conceded.

  With hope Jakob lay down each evening. But dreams never came. His mind, plagued with a variety of nightmares, kept him awake most of the time. In many, the antagonist wore Crowley’s face. His mind revisited one in particular more than others. In it he looked through his monocle and saw worlds one might only dream. He saw a pit where men and woman fought each other to the death. A stadium surrounded it where forms wavering in and out of perception sat, whistled and cajoled at the spectacle before them. Arcs of blue lightening danced throughout, emanated both from and into each ghostly visage. He’d open a door and see a great staircase. One never ending. Crisscrossed by thousands of others. And then he was alone. Seated by a large tree. It was dusk, and the ground littered with colored leaves. Shades of auburn and yellow floated around him. He had one eye shut. Couldn’t open it no matter how he struggled. Through the other, the one looking out the monocle he noticed movement in the shadows beyond. The movement drew closer as the lens of his eyeglass swirled with colors. He blinked, and the thing was upon him. The eyes, slitted and reptilian. Yellow sclera dotted with the deepest red. They almost glowed. The thing lifted its head and breathed. His lens fogged. And he’d wake up to find his sheets soaked through and his chest heaving. It felt more to him like a warning than a dream. And the only thing that ever changed in it, was the occasional appearance of his little sister. Lillian would stand there, in the wood as the creature approached. And before the thing fogged his glass, she’d smile.

  He was grateful Crowley worked during the day. As he didn’t think he’d attain the small measure of sleep had the man worked his magic at night. The incantations and prayers Crowley droned seemed to vibrate the foundation of the house on Loch Ness. And he hardly slept as it was, due to the nightmares. He’d made the mistake one day, leaving Crowley to his work and walked the yard surrounding the house. Made his way down to the Loch and stared over the waters. He sent out a silent wish. A prayer of his own. When he returned Crowley’s driver stood at the front door. The sneer on his face, unmistakable. Later that evening Crowley gave Jakob a piece of his mind. He’d needed him to fetch something for him that day and could find him nowhere. So for the remaining time Crowley worked, Jakob stayed close to the house. Usually sitting just outside the front door where he could hear the man if beckoned, but far enough away from the rituals going on inside.

  The one thing Crowley had not prepared Jakob for, was the amount of time the so-called Abramelin Operation would take. Each morning the man would rise long before dawn, dress in little more than a sheer white robe. He entered the room where Lillian resided, changing out the white candles, lighting these and the black, and began his incantations. No longer restrained in the manacles and headgear they’d put her in, she sat in the room's center within a circle drawn on the floor with a white powder, nearly coarse as salt. As a precaution, Crowley’s driver and Jakob secured several long ropes to either side of the room. At the end of each of these were iron clasps. Lillian's ankles and wrists were strewn through. The apparatus kept her from moving very far, her arms always elevated, the girl always on her feet. Crowley expressed the importance of this. It helped to keep the thing inside her weak. In fact, one could understand how it wore on her. She was wild when they released her from her initial bonds. But now, she rarely offered any more than a sigh. Even though she was possessed, it still fed off of the life force within.

  At night, after dusk, Crowley would walk around the room and blow out all the black candles, leaving the white ones lit till morning. He’d then retire to bed, sleeping only four to six hours. Once or twice a week he’d bathe. He’d speak with Jakob even less. It tormented Jakob so, wondering how his sister faired. If it was working at all.

  Days passed slow at first. Then weeks. But it all seemed like a dream of sorts. Jakob grew tired of the ordeal, exhausted from the nigh
tmares and lack of sleep. His constitution thinned in his worrying about Lillian. The only marker he had to signal the time spent on the Loch, was that of his face. There were few grooming utensils around. And Jakob had not thought to bring any. Crowley’s head and face remained shaven and smooth, but the man refused to let Jakob use his things. For if Jakob were to touch anything of Crowley’s, he might disturb the process at hand; somehow taint Crowley’s very being.

  Jakob looked in the mirror one morning after the sun rose and Crowley had already locked himself in the room with Lillian. His face told a thousand stories. And upon his countenance, grown lengthy with time, the beard he now sported acknowledged they’d been there for at least three to four months already.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  BEYOND THE VEIL

  BEYOND THE VEIL

  Annalise shivers when she comes through as if the cold from the other side accompanied them. But the reaction, her legs and arms quivering, results from breaking through the Veil. Garrison tries to shake off the viscous sensation of having passed through the membrane to wherever this is. He knows there’s nothing on him, but that knowledge does little to satiate the discomfort. He looks up and sees Annalise doing the same.