The dead atmosphere, the sense of being watched by hovering presences, oppressed Jane as she moved carefully through the thick brush and dark, looming trees. Her feelings weren't helped any by the fact that when she looked behind herself, she saw the marks her feet made in the powdery ground were slowly filling in behind her, leaving no sign she had ever been there. Moans and whispers almost unheard, filled the air around her, though she never saw who or what made the sounds. An accidental glance at her hands sent her hurrying forward. The flesh there seemed even grayer, dingier, almost tattered, with a faint hint of purple corruption. If she had a sense of smell in this place, would she smell her own flesh rotting?
Jane shuddered, then set her lips together firmly. Daria in her arms, dying in Quinn's bedroom, next to the frozen bodies of Jake and Helen, focus on that. If she had a chance at all to save her friend, that's what she had to focus on. Daria didn't belong here. Nobody did. This was a vast graveyard, with people trapped as motionless plants, still being able to think and feel. What shook Jane the most was the sheer impersonal evil of the place. People were just here. There were no laughing devils to jab you with pitchforks, punish you for whatever sins you might have committed. You were just here, courtesy of a blind, uncaring, universe.
Jane shuddered, focusing on Daria, the way the little cynic made her feel when they were together, just hanging out, talking over pizza, or Daria laying in her bed, reading, while Jane painted, sarcastic statements flying back and forth. Slowly, the panic faded, though not the horror. Jane pushed on, the images of Daria settling down into one picture, Daria's "Mona Lisa" smile, that quiet smirk which meant Daria was happy, content.
Still, what was causing all this, what was the key to the things that were happening? Su-sa-no-o's presence came to mind. The blast of information from just seeing him had burned into Jane's thoughts. The Impetuous Male. A god of the sea. What did he have to do with the mysterious force connected with Quinn and her friends, the force which killed Helen and Jake, which apparently had caused Jane to draw that picture of the snow-covered torii, and the shadowy shape inside it?
"My sword, yes, to correct my sins, my mistakes!" What had he meant by that? What wrongs could a god(or spirit?) commit? Thanks to her parents New Age thinking, Jane had a passing knowledge of pagan religion, mostly Wicca oriented. Mother Earth, Gaia, people dancing "sky clad" around tree groves. She stopped and stared at the trees and shrubs around her, then shook her head and continued on. Japan and Lawndale. There was a "Good Time's" Chinese Restaurant where she and Daria had that disturbing linked hallucination about the Holidays taking human form, and wandering the streets. No Chinese gods had appeared, though. Not that she would have known them, anyway.
Jane suddenly noticed that her path seemed to become more and more sure, that her body moved without hesitation, threading easily through the brush and trees. A gift from Su-sa-no-o? Or had something noticed her, was reeling her in like a fish? Jane stopped for a moment, and discovered that she still had control over her own body, though she could feel a tugging at her spirit. Reluctantly, she started to follow the pull again, though moving more cautiously than she had been moving before, almost at a run. Far away, she thought she could hear the screeching of birds.
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Daria had forced her drifting body out of it's curled up fetal position, standing straight, her small fists clenched at her sides. The eternal winds of the Abyss caressed her bare skin, sometimes hot, sometimes chilled. Their ever present roar filled her head, making her want to scream or shout just to drown them out. The despairing cries of her fellow captives were slowly building up to their previous level after the abrupt silence that had filled the place after Sandi's scream of fury had echoed though the place like a thunderclap. It had shaken Daria out of her misery, and she knew that if she gave into it again, she wouldn't ever stop.
I might be in a hypothermia induced coma, or an hallucination. I might even be dead. But I will not spend the rest of my life or death whimpering like I was. I have to focus, remember who I am, what's happening to me! This place isn't anything but a king sized sensory deprivation tank. I..., I died in Jane's arms, asking her,"Why?" She was trying to help me, rescue me. Mom and Dad were already dead. Are they here, too? Will I hear Dad ranting about his father for eternity, or Mom's business calls? No, in this place, that would be too easy, merciful. Floating here like this, terrified of hands reaching out for me in the darkness, but never again touching anybody at all. No hugs from Mom, Dad, or Quinn. No friendly pats on my arm from Jane. Nothing at all.
Daria bit deeply into her lip, welcoming the pain as a distraction.
Sandi screamed that she was sorry. Sorry for what? Did she hurt Quinn and the others? Did they have a car wreck? In spite of everything Andrea told us, I still can't believe that Sandi Griffin would be desperate enough to commit, what do you call this? Oh, yeah. Necromancy. Sandi Griffin? Still, that business with her mom, and Sandi's image in the mirror were spooky to the extreme. And Jane. Why would she scream for Jane to help me? Unless she knew what was going on. But how would Jane know? Did she and Andrea find something out?
Fire and Ice. Each one constantly destroying the other, with all existence huddled between the two extremes. The Snow Woman, the Yuki-onna, the "Snow Whore." A mocking temptress dancing naked over the snow. Images flickered through her mind, a legacy of the darkness she had been swallowed by. Daria struggled to see them. Then, far off, in the absolute darkness, there was a light. It was an uneven, flickering light, pale as the first star in the evening. The sounds around her cutoff with a suddenness that shook Daria, even in this place. Shivers shook her small frame.
Daria had just discovered something about her new existence.
Even the damned still feared Death.
Even as the pale illumination lit Daria's body, a corner of her mind noted that she still saw no sign of her fellow sufferers. The air chilled around her, immobilizing her in the rigid posture she forced her body into. Daria was unable to move so much as a finger, but was able to close her
eyes, unwilling to meet the gaze again of her beautiful, horrifying killer. A tinkling chime filled the air, and an odd image of delicate bells, formed of frost in some lonely forest glade filled her mind. Daria felt her flesh grow chill, cold, and the agonizing memory of her death in Quinn's room racked her small frame, forcing a choked gasp from her. Her sheer helplessness tormented her, floating naked in death, her superhuman murderer facing her, only inches away. She felt the inhuman gaze of those dark eyes focused on her. She would have sworn she could hear the rustle of her silken robes in the silence that now filled this place.
Whatever the Snow Woman had been before her current form, Daria had a flash that even then, she had been more than human. One of the images that had appeared in Daria's mind flared to focus. An incredibly beautiful child, playing by herself in a thick forest, dancing barefoot in the snow, more spirit than human, shunned by her playmates. But she had been human enough to feel the pain of the isolation, not understanding why. Tears had rolled down her perfect skin, spun away from her to lie sparkling in the deep snow. Then suddenly, she was her. Daria looked around herself, startled. She was standing in the snow, surrounded by dark, twisted trees. A heavy bundle weighed down her weakened, shaking arms. The cold bit into her, through the heavy robes she wore. Through a slight gap in the thick trees, she saw a mountain, famous the world over.
Mount Fuji-Yama..
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Lester's scream cut off mercifully short. Not so the grunting, the sounds of flesh being gnawed off bone. Lauren's arms were locked around the silent Tricia. Tad stood next to the door, trembling, the suddenly flimsy baseball bat still at the ready. A wet, heavy thud echoed through the room, as something struck the door, and slid down to the floor with a heavy plopping sound. Lauren was breathing in short, sharp gasps. Tricia was limp in her mothers arms, her skin cool, damp, her wide eyes focused on the door. Lauren closed her mouth with a snap, and gently caressed her daughters hair. She cleared her throat, and spoke softly.
"Tad, honey, over here, please."
Tad backed toward his parents bed, not taking his eyes off the door. His eyes flickered toward his mother and sister for just a second. His breath whistled shrilly in and out of his throat, through his clenched teeth.
"Tad, I want you to take your sister, and when I open the door, go upstairs to the attic, alright?"
"Mom, no! We can't open that door!"
"Tad, you have to. You have to go, now, while, that, that thing is, is busy!"
His voice grew shrill and broke off, and she fought to regain her composure. Her eyes went to the bedroom walls, to their family pictures, to her wedding picture, of Lester standing there proud and dignified in his gray suit. He had always been there for her, always steady, always dependable, good for every need in her life.
Now, never again.
She looked down at Tricia, then up at Tad, now the man of the house. Her little boy.
"Tad, You take Tricia, you have to take good care of her. Now, when I open the bedroom door, you take her upstairs to the attic, and hide there."
"But, Mom, what about you?"
I'll be right behind you, okay" But you have to take Tricia for me, and hide in the attic. And whatever you do, don't come back down, until the police come. I , I just want you to know, that you and Tricia have been the best children, and your father and I love you both very much. Please, please always remember that."
"But, Mom! Dad's dead!"
I know that, honey, I know that. Just do what I've told you to do. You have to take care of Tricia, she's your responsibility now. I, I have to go call the police."
Tad had always been an intelligent boy. He stared at his mothers face, memorizing it, like he had never seen it before.
He somehow knew he would never see it again.
He quietly took his sisters hand, and followed his mother to the door. Lauren stopped just before she reached the door, listening carefully, and very slowly unlocked it. The faint click of the lock sounded like a gunshot. Lauren and Tad froze, then Lauren reached forward again and gently turned the knob. Something slid greasily on the outside of the door, and a spurt of blood flew under the door, soaking into the carpet.. Lauren bit her lip, but continued easing the door open, thankful for Lester's regular oiling of the door hinges, a fussy as it might have seemed before. She gasped when she opened the door wider, and Tad heard something fall to the carpet with a slight thud. The noises from the kitchen didn't stop, and Lauren roughly pulled her children across what lay on the carpet, but not before Tad glanced down. With a burst of strength, he helped lift Tricia up, not letting her see it. The gold ring on the remains of his fathers hand gleamed up at him.
His mother pushed him toward the stairs, and he hurried up them, supporting his sisters limp weight. Tricia mumbled incoherently, like she was dreaming. At the head of the stairs, he looked down and saw his mother standing resolutely at the bottom. She gave him a weak smile, and made a shooing motion. Tad turned the corner, hurrying to the pull down stairs to the attic. Lauren trembled, but she walked steadily down the hall to the shattered kitchen door, hanging crazily from the upper hinge.
"What am I doing? It killed my Lester! But maybe, if it takes me, it'll leave the kids alone."
She stood there for a long time, shivering in the wind coming in through the shattered back wall.
The smell of fresh wet blood hung thickly in the chill air. The gnawing sounds in the kitchen ended with a grunt. The only sounds Lauren heard was the snow hissing outside, as it blew across the drifts surrounding her home, their home Dimly, Lauren heard the hissing become words, words that she strained to understand..
I am the Spirit of the lonely places, the spirit that devours man, woman, and child. Who are you, woman, to stand against those who were fathers to those you called gods? You are my prey, your flesh my food, as it was so long ago. As I took your husband, so shall I take you, and your children. The first of my children now hunt in your village, and soon, so soon, the Eldest comes again, and your people will be prey.
"Leave my children alone!"
As Lauren stood there, shaking, the falling snow in the kitchen condensed in a massive, ungainly, form. Her numb mind dimly recognized ribs falling to the floor. The creature turned to face her, and came into sharp relief. The bulging eyes, the thin lips and jagged teeth.
"What's the matter, Mrs. Gupty? Aren't you going to tell me how happy you are I'm alive?"
The familiar voice hammered into Lauren's brain. The missing girls, Tricia's nightmares.
"Quinn? No, NO!"
"Yes, Mrs. Gupty, I'm back in Lawndale! Aren't you glad to see me?"
"Quinn, what happened to you!"
"I survived, Mrs. Gupty, I survived, aren't you proud of me?"
"Why did you kill my husband?"
"Why not?"
"What?"
"He was in our way. So are you and Tad. But not Tricia. I want her, she'll keep me warm for a very long time, and I'm so cold. I'm so very cold. I've been so cold for such a very long time."
She smiled then, almost tenderly, and Lauren held her breath. Was Quinn winning her fight, inside the gruesome form? The massive paw's shot up, grabbing the woman roughly, and tore her in half, spraying her remains across the once pristine kitchen. The children hiding in the attic felt their hearts stop at the bestial howl that erupted from beneath them.
"Wen-di-go!
And Quinn's soul shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.