Two
January 1994
The night air was bitter as it leaked through cracked motel window. Saben Mariley Frost was spread on her back in the greasy hotel linen half drifting in and out of sleep. Her skin felt hot, as if possessed, simmering. Her hands slithered over her hips, callused fingertips skimmed over protruding bones, tickling the fringe of her underwear.
In moments like these there were few thoughts that penetrated the feeling all consuming desire, except his face, electric blue, a sudden soft expression and slender cuts on pale cheeks.
Those eyes that seemed to glow. Primal, magnetic and beautiful.
There was a rude banging on her door. "Sabe, let me in." It was Geoff Deckard's muffled voice on the other side.
She collapsed back with a frustrated sigh. She glanced at the digital clock flashing 3am. "Fuck off, Deckard."
"Please."
"Not tonight." She pressed her face into the musty motel pillow and closed her eyes.
"Are you sure this is right?"
The vast Victorian house looked as if it were ready to cave in. Heather Mazahura rolled her eyes to the weathervane creaking from left to right, weighing the chances as to when the house would collapse.
Saben swore under her breath. "No signal." She held up the cell phone like a sceptre trying to get a signal.
"They'll have a phone inside." Deckard said as he lighted a new cigarette eyes not quite reaching hers.
Both Saben and Heather stared expectantly, waiting for Deckard to lead the way. His eyes moved from the girls to the sinking structure and back again. "Ladies first."
"Chicken shit." Saben grabbed her guitar case and strode toward the house.
The air was biting, there was still snow on the ground in Sterback. Snow so deep her boots sunk to the ankle. Light speared through the house, throwing glittering kaleidoscope of colour across the porch. The stained glass was cut into the shape of an iris.
"I'm not sure this is the place, Sabe." Heather said softly. She was still rooted to the spot, eyes on the quivering weathervane.
Saben didn't hesitate, didn't have time to pussyfoot around, she banged on the door with a righteous fist.
It was eerily quiet.
"Looks like nobody's home." Heather said at her ear, the sudden proximity of her voice made Saben drop her hard case, it snapped one of the weak decking boards in two.
"We're too early." Deckard shouted as he climbed back into the van. "There's a town not too far back, I need to get some smokes anyway. Pin wake up and lets go."
Ignoring Deckard, Saben banged on the door again until the stained glass began to rattle.
"Wait." Heather put a hand on Saben's arm to stop. "I think I hear something."
It was the patter of footsteps, too light to be a person. Heather leaned forward, ear hovering near the door. Saben had an awful feeling in the pit of her bowel. This wasn't right.
There was a sudden furious barking, they spun round to find a rottweiler yanking hard at its chain. It's sharp teeth gnashing in their direction. Heather pulled Saben a hairs breadth from its snapping jaws and the girls collapsed across the deck.
"Holy shit."
The grand door swung open, a stout, stern unkempt middle aged man stood glaring down at them. "What do you want?" His voice oozed from between his corrupt yellow teeth.
"What the hell man? We're the band." Deckard shouted from the van door, his eyes on the slavering dog.
Heather helped Saben to her feet, mindful of the crazed dog whose teeth were bared and snapping at their heels.
"You're early." The man snapped and slammed the door shut.
"You've got to be fucking kidding." Saben muttered and kicked the door which only seemed to amplify the dog's distress.
"We'll come back later." Heather gripped that part of Saben's shoulder that seemed to pacify her. Her posture sagged and with a dramatic sigh she heaved her hard case into her arms and trudged toward the van.
"I've got a bad feeling about this place." Saben muttered, as if saying it would help the others to believe it.
Deckard rolled his eyes, stubbing the remains of his cig on the dash. "We're not ditching this show, girl. We need the cash."
"For what?" She challenged. They had once lived on twenty bucks with no place to stay and working dive bars in exchange for stale leftovers. She knew Deckard owed some bad men a lot of money and he was mixed up in al weird types of shit but that was not really her concern.
He met her eyes in the mirror and they stared one another down. Saben wasn't scared of Geoff or his seedy little world of drugs and star fuckers. Though she hated that he had seen her naked, had touched her so intimately that the memories still made her blush.
"Don't start this now." Pin Cushion said, fingers nervously drumming on the wheel.
"Let's get out of here." Deckard sighed eyes moving away from her reflection.
They drove into the small town of Woodbridge a few minutes later, the van felt as if it were ready to come apart. Saben gladly stepped onto the slush decorated side walk, kicking clumps of snow into the road.
"You want anything?" Pin asked before locking up the van.
Saben shook her head, already heading toward the Woodbridge Five and Ten, drawn by the glittering junk in the window. The soft tinkle of bells heralded her entrance. The store was empty, not even a clerk behind the counter.
"Hello?" No answer. With shrug she ambled around the place testing surfaces with her fingers coming away with thick grey crud on the tips.
She hated junk. Couldn't take it too far with you. This junk looked as if it had been here a long time. She passed into the back of the store, fascinated to find a different store altogether. The shelves housed neatly rowed jars, bottles, vials, amulets and baskets filled with herby looking things. It smelt earthy and the exotic stuffs left rainbow lights reflecting over the walls and floors.
"Great goddess, you scared me."
Saben spin around to see a girl seated behind a squat counter. The girl was rubbing dark brown hair out of her eyes, laughing to herself.
"Can I help?" She asked.
Saben shook her head no. "Just looking."
The girl was watching her closely. Too closely. It made Saben uncomfortable. "I'm not going to steal anything, if that's what you're worried about." Not that she wasn't prone to stealing, there just wasn't anything worth taking in this shit pit.
"Well thank the White Goddess for that because I'd have a time of it running after you."
It was then Saben saw the girl was in a wheelchair. "Sorry, I-"
"Don't worry about it." She manoeuvred herself in front of the counter. "Are you sure I can't help you?"
Saben walked out of the Five and Ten with a strange feeling of calm. It was something she hadn't felt since she had been with Baba Lucine, the house in the forest, though those memories were distant and blurred now.
The girl, Melusine had given her a gift as she made her excuses to leave and now Saben pressed the sprig of white heather to her chest. Take it, just in case.
"You okay, Sabe?" Heather asked as she returned to the van, feet dragging, reluctant to leave.
She climbed back into the refuge of the van, squeezing herself between a stack and some guitar cases. She leant against the back of Pin Cushions seat. "It's getting dark."
How long had she been in the store?
They drove in silence, Saben's head still filled with the herby stench of the shop. The girl's intense eyes imprinted on the inside of her eyelids. They got to the club by nightfall and there was an unusual life and alien weirdness creeping around the old house. Lighting it up like a beacon in the wilderness.
"Not convinced this is the right place." Heather muttered as she unloaded her bass.
"Let's get this over with." Saben muttered.
Between the four of them they ferried their equipment inside. The stocky doorman that had greeted them earlier that day fluttered around them with a scowl, complaining about each step of the process.
As Saben liberated her mic and uncoiled it from it's sleeping position the a horrid little man approached her bearing his crooked badly stained teeth like weapons. "Haven't you finished yet"
She looked either side of her, for support from her band but Heather and Pin had their heads turned elsewhere. Strange looking little man.
"Obviously you've never hosted a live band in this darling little shit hole." She said.
Deckard stepped in and placed a hand on his shoulder, the little man pulled away looking dismayed at Deckard's callused digits clamped on his threads. Deckard pulled back his hand and held it up in surrender. "It's cool, man."
"Just hurry up and start." He barked.
She had to do some vocal warm ups and test the mic, Geoff knew the routine, he'd been in and out of bands since he was fourteen and he was twenty-two now. Geoff laughed and put a heavy arm about Saben's shoulders. "Yeah man, no problem. We'll be ready, you just tug open the curtains and we'll give you one hell of a show."
"No one told us it was an acoustic set." Heather mumbled, looking up from tightening Pin's kit. "Am I on acid or have we not done a sound check yet?"
"You want perfect volume? I give it to you perfect." Saben watched the little man scurry off stage. He looked like a weasel or a little rat, a goddamn freak from Ripley's Believe It Or Not, human vermin dressed in small slacks, pin stripe shirt and waistcoat.
"Don't know why they needed us for entertainment with a little gem like him running around. The man is fucking freak show." She said.
"Certifiable." Heather agreed cradling her bass.
"Just pick up your mic and let's do it, girl." Deckard hissed.
Saben glared at Geoff as if she could pierce his heart with her stare.
"Don't say a thing, just sing." He thrust the mic into her open hand and she continued to glare as he adjusted the dials on his head, static wheezing through the cab, he turned the volume up little by little until the hum seemed to penetrate the inside of her mouth.
The curtains parted with a flourish.
Saben turned around slowly, almost dreading the sight of more of them. The people that came to the Black Iris: they were people who weren't quite right. They exude a menacing energy. Deckard nudged her and she stepped forward, turning on the mic and holding it to her lips.
"This is Life After Baba Lucine." She began as she always did and with the guitar, bass and drums pounding behind her she let loose a scream that was taken from the very depths of her being.
Half frightened she would be deafened by the feedback as the instruments broke out into a righteous down tuned cadence. They didn't, the little man was right, the volume was perfect. So perfect she was losing herself in the music again. The passion, her discontent, her frustration, her raw fury poured into growls so intense they should not be coming from a small girl.
That's when she saw him in the crowd. Blue eyes. And he was looking directly at her.
Saben's throat felt raw. Shredded. She had gagged and near passed out after the set. She had been sitting behind the musty curtain listening the beat of their voices, the ebb and flow of dark consciousness until she needed to piss.
The others were loading the van.
She crept through the house, using the secretive passages as the little man had said, wondering if the rickety house even had a concept of modern plumbing. She climbed up a staircase that creaked with infirmity, she had pulled up her sleeve to conceal her hand, using it to slide up the banister.
She pushed open the door and stuck her head inside. It was once a bedroom, some old furniture was draped with now dusty sheets. Its ancient breath stank of something rotten, like death. She covered her nose and gently closed the door behind her.
A shadow flittered between doorways, she heard the whisper of movement across the cracked and dusty tiles.
"Hello?" She called out, feeling instantly stupid at the sound of her own raspy voice. "Very fucking clever."
She pushed open the next door with less ceremony and walked inside. It was not the bathroom, maybe another bedroom though there was a distinct stench of burnt wood. It scraped the back of her throat and made her gag anew.
She spun round to go to the next room when she was stopped by a figure in the hall. He had his back to her, she knew it was a man from the broadness of his back. She reached out, grabbing his shoulder but he was already spinning around. She was speared by his eyes, she could see the heavens rolling through them, electric blue icy hotness.
"I know you." She said.
He seemed to sneer at her, eyes flicking to the heather she had pinned to her chest, before turning his back and moving elegantly down the stairs without having made a sound.
"Hey, don't walk away from me." She said clumsily half running after him except she tripped and fell hard to the ground, so hard she cracked one of those tiles and pain flared through her hand. She was bleeding.
She swore, gathering herself to a seated position. She stared at her hand, gripping her wrist, watching the blood gather in her hand, filling the cup of her palm. She was fascinated by the sight of her skin split in two like a mouth gabbling blood.
She picked herself up and made her way down the rickety stair case. A figure approached from behind a thick black curtain. She was all too conscious of her heartbeat hammering in her throat, the thick wells of blood pumping out of her hand.
"Who are you?" She asked the figure thinking it was the stranger, struggling to hear her own voice above her beating heart.
The normal sounds of the house invaded her consciousness when she saw it was Deckard. "We have to move now." Geoff hissed in her ear and grasped her hand. He dragged her out of the club quickly, away from the shadows and peculiar darkness of the old house.
"Start the fucking truck." He said to Pin Cushion, slamming a fist on the hood of the car for emphasis.
"Jesus, Geoff. Not the van."
He pushed Saben roughly inside and Heather helped her climb into the back before Geoff slammed the door behind him. Pearls of sweat beaded on his brow as he sat shivering in the passenger seat.
Saben looked out of the dark, distorted van window and saw a figure standing on the porch. Sound blossomed in her mind, screams and whispers woven together in the fabric of her psyche, vibrated through her ears. I thought I told you... Shouldn't have come here…Deserve what's coming to you…No one to save you this time…drain…you…dry…
It was the stranger, his unmistakable eyes glowing like liquid mercury, his mouth was stained with red, as red as the blood she had left on the tiles.