CHAPTER ONE
I DIDN'T REALIZE JUST HOW BIZARRE THIS TOWN WOULD BE.
Then again, the West Coast metropolis clearly stated in their slogan Keep Portland Weird – maybe I should've considered it an unofficial warning. December in the Willamette Valley meant temperatures of 35 to 46 degrees Fahrenheit, which wouldn't be so bad except the thermometer on the bus had read a record low of 6 degrees Fahrenheit. In a futile attempt to keep warm, I began rubbing my hands together. Getting off the Amtrak, I dug my cell phone out of the bottom of my leather Coach Bleecker backpack. With stone cold hands, it was a challenge trying to answer. Rushing to the nearest corner store, I managed to slide the lock screen with a few rings left.
"Tired, hungry, and freezing to death?" I said through chattering teeth.
"Very funny, how was your trip over?"
"Miserable, the bus broke down and took an hour to fix, but by then the heater had stopped working."
"I thought Rachel was driving you?"
Rachel was a longtime family friend, who had offered to give me a lift to Portland since she had a medical conference the same weekend.
"We made it to Eugene before Rachel got a call telling her the conference date had been changed. She said she could still drop me off, but I insisted on taking the bus. No point in wasting more of her time."
"I wish you would've called me."
"Don't worry. Up until the bus and heat broke down, traveling up here wasn't so bad." There was a pause. I wondered if she'd pursue the subject or let it go.
"I'm glad you decided to come visit me. I'm sorry I haven't been down there recently."
"Helen, you call me every week and before then you called me every day. I'm a big girl now. I can tie my own shoes and everything."
My sister, Helen, had a knack for worrying. Being twenty-two, made her seven years my senior and apparently mother hen. It took a lot of coaxing from me and our surrogate parents, Galen and Jean, to convince her to leave home and make a life of her own. As busy as she was, what with being a full-time student and her part-time job, she still found time to check up on me. She's the best big sister in the world and I love her for it, but there are times when a girl has to be independent even from her family.
"Really, I'm fine. How's work?"
She sighed heavily over the phone. "Today I had four adult groups to chauffeur, three high school groups, and one elementary."
I made a pained sound. "Yikes, that sounds like chaos in the making. How bad was the elementary class?"
"Actually the elementary kids were probably my favorite group, and the most behaved. The seniors pretty much led themselves while the teenagers were all loud, unimpressed, and kept trying to touch the displays. The young ones remained intrigued the entire time. They asked questions and were very excited to see Tut."
"Ah yes, the Boy King. I'd be thrilled if I managed an audience with his royal highness."
"Mummy Lover."
"Hey, I'm not the one spending hours in a museum filled with dead people."
She laughed, "Fair point, though I'm not a fan of necrophilia."
"Somehow I'm not convinced."
She laughed harder, which made me smile.
"There's no getting passed you is there, baby sister?"
As historians and writer, our parents were in love with history and books, and eventually fell for each other. Their work required they travel to distant lands, sometimes the jungle other times a scorching desert. Together they documented their life and their discoveries, and became rather famous in their world. Helen and I would hear from our parents a couple times a month. We'd wait eagerly for their postcards and when they finally came, it was like Christmas morning. Galen and Jean received gifts as well, "A token of appreciation," Helen used to say. On rare occasions, we'd receive a phone call from our parents that usually only lasted a few minutes. We never saw our parents during those years. Our only connection to them was the postcards and the sporadic phone calls. Just like the Baudelaire children from Lemony Snicket's Unfortunate Series, their presence in our lives was severely lacking. But also like the Baudelaire children, we were not alone. Helen and I had each other and we had Galen and Jean, with them and what little contact we did have with our folks, it was enough.
Then the postcards stopped.
"I have to work late. Some new artifacts for the mummy exhibit are coming in and I'm the only one who is available to sign the delivery papers."
"Isn't Charles' supposed to do that?" I asked.
Charles was the assistant manager at the museum and the one who recommended she apply. At the time, I thought he had a thing for her and that's why he offered Helen the position, but his recent marriage said otherwise.
"Yeah, he has his own delivery to be present for, so he gave me clearance."
"Charles and Vicki are having a baby? I didn't realize they had been trying."
"The ultrasound said they were having a baby boy."
"That's terrific. Have any ideas for a name?"
"Vicki was torn between Charlie and Toby."
"Charles Junior? Sounds like a fast food pitch if you asked me."
"Ha, I thought so too. Thanks for understanding, Lily. I'll bring dinner on my way home."
"Sounds good to me," I said.
"Lilith, there's something else you should know."
"Uh oh, you only call me Lilith when you're serious or mad. What is it?"
"When you get to my house, well… It's just that my roommates, they can be a little—"
"A little?"
"Unorthodox."
I snorted, "Well that's not surprising. Sometimes you get stuck with some weird people, nothing unorthodox about that."
"Trust me this is not your ordinary bad-roommate scenario. I told them to behave themselves while you were visiting, but sometimes they can be such –"
"Assholes?"
"Lilith Grove Chevalier don't speak in curses."
"I'm just saying what you obviously wanted to say, but are too chicken to."
"I am not chicken! Just promise me you'll be careful. They know if they put one foot out of line I'll kill them, but…"
"Helen, are they your roommates or children?"
"Sometimes I can't tell the difference." She sighed heavily. "I have to go, the loading truck is here."
"Alright, I have the address all I need to do is catch a cab. And don't worry, how bad can your roommates be?"
"If you only knew," she grumbled. "Okay, so I'll see you later. Love you, bye."
Hailing down a cab was harder than I thought. Turns out, it's faster and more productive if you call them directly rather than try and spot one of their crew on the streets. Lewis & Clark, named after the Lewis and Clark Expedition, is a private liberal arts college occupying 137 acres centered on the M. Lloyd Frank Estate on Palatine Hill in the Collins View neighborhood of Southwest Portland. Helen didn't actually live on campus, but in a brick complex nearby. I stood on the curb, paid my bill and watched as the taxi drove away. According to Google Maps, Helm Street was a short dirt road branching from the main neighborhood and sat just on the other side of Marshall Park. Being an apartment building, my sister's place was the only resident on the street. There were tall, overgrown hedges acting as a green fortress around the perimeter with a Victorian-style iron gate intercepting the driveway. For walkers like me, there was another entrance directly in front made of wood. As I passed through, it made the iconic horror movie creeek.
I was surprised to find the yard neatly kept. With all that she did, I didn't think Helen had the time or energy to keep up with household chores, but maybe she or her landlord hired someone. The gate opened up to a brick walkway that circled around a murky pond before leading up to the front door. In the evening, the water looked like an endless black hole and because of the clouded Portland sky, there was no reflection of stars to obscure the illusion. There weren't any koi that I could see either, but something was making the water's surface ripple all the same. Gerridae, commonly known as pond skaters, or some other insect was likely the cause. I leaned closer and caught a hint of what smelled like cooked seaweed, which was strange given I was standing beside water and not a barbecue next to the sea. Odd.
"You could use a deep cleansing rubdown," I said aloud to the koi-less pond.
Whatever it was, it hit directly on my head as I was turning away. A wet, sticky black mass that smelled like rotting eggs tangled in my hair and stuck. I thought I heard laughter and spun in the direction it came from, but no one was there.
"So. Not. Funny."
In response another ball hit me in the face and the laughter continued. I grasped at the substance, frantically clearing it from my eyes, nostrils, and mouth. Once I could breathe again, I immediately regretted it as the smell of eggs made my eyes tear up. The odor had gotten stronger than before as did the laughter.
"That's disgusting. You're disgusting. Why don't you come on out and face me or are you too afraid?" The challenge seemed to shut them up, making me think I had won. Silence ensued, maybe they had their fun and had run off to torment another innocent victim. I didn't care as long as they left me alone. Great, I thought. Now I need a shower.
The sound of bubbles escaping water drew my attention to the pond. Wide-eyed and in disbelief I watched as a humanoid figure emerged from the water's depth. The rotten egg, seaweed stench attached itself to the new arrival more potent than ever. As the figure stopped ascending, it let out a visible breath, which smelled worse. I backed away hastily, batting the stink from my eyes and cursed like a sailor.
"That was a neat trick you did there. Mind going back?"
They seemed to study me for a moment, cocking their head to the side before inhaling loudly. I'm not sure what they smelled, but they seemed to like it, which worried me all the more. They took a step forward and I mirrored the action backing away. Then they lunged revealing hooked claws that I narrowly missed sidestepping away with my back now faced to the house.
"Are you one of my sister's roommates? She warned me about you."
Nothing aside from our present location would give the impression that this thing was Helen's roommate, maybe it would clarify my suspicions or eat me. I could try to outrun it and scream hoping someone would hear and come rescue me. Helen had more than one roommate she told me and the door was just a few yards behind me. Would I be able to make it to the door before this guy caught me?
They straightened then as if understanding my words, but saying nothing in return. We stood there staring at each other, neither of us moving until they extended their arm, offering a clawed hand. I looked at it and wondered why I was actually considering taking it. My instincts were still on high alert, but their antagonistic demeanor seemed to have changed. Before I could make up my mind, the porch light turned on, revealing a fairly masculine person covered in thick, dark-green scales. They had sharp, needle-like teeth framed by webbed, insect-like appendages and wore tattered trousers, 19th century duster, and a wide-brimmed Stetson.
I heard the door behind me open and without hesitating, sprinted towards it. Without looking back to see if they were following me, a wave of relief washed over me when I made it inside unscathed, closing and locking the door behind. The comfort I felt was short lived as I turned around and was greeted by the most diabolical faces known to man.