I sit down on the floor in the Art class. I piled desk, boards, and moved the closet in the room in front of the door. Looking at the text message of items I need. I glimpse at Experience's limp body. She's gone. The text message from Headcount has me pondering. I didn't expect him to send it.
Counter999: U can use White paint.
He sends with a devil emoji attached. I'm not using white paint. The tradition is salt, if a soul enters a home—body that is made by white paint. It will burn. I'm looking at Experience again. I could be heartless and eat her right now. But a bit wouldn't hurt. She's dead anyway.
I lick my sharp fangs, whatever the hell is wrong with me. She can cure it. As big as I am. It scared the hell out of me. Wings popped out of my back, Drunks tearing at me, I thought I would have a heart attack.
My mother taught us emotional control. I almost lost myself. "Just a bite, E" I hold her arm and part my mouth. I need a band or something. I get up for a minute and search the room for a tie or something equal to tie around her arm.
I have plenty of time.
They use rope in art, right? In the upper right corner, I find a piece of torn rope. Good enough. Going back to the body, I bend down and tie the rope around her elbow as tight as I can get it. I press her forearm a bit, summoning the blood in one place. The skin reddens, my fang punctures her skin. I don't know what it is about dead blood, but it tastes better before it leaves the body.
I take a break, breathe, and start draining her again. My body is tingling, I feel the blood flow in my core. My heartbeat speeding up. My wounds are healing. A pressure building up in my back. I hear a pop in my left ear. "AH!" I squeeze my shoulder. What the fuck did I do to myself? I flex my back, still feeling a pinch in my neck. There's a mirror near me. I stare in it.
My skin is so… light. A light beige tone, I should drink more. I pull my eyelids down, it's white on the inside. I'm something… I open my mouth. I still see my fangs. That, I start to think, I'm that.
Back to the task at hand, I need to bring Experience back. I need another body… which means I have to leave the room and I'm not keen on doing that. I go to the window and look outside to the courtyard. Gargoyles are patrolling the grounds. I'm not fighting a stone beast; I'll never live it down. And not because I'm scared of dogs or some shit.
Plan B, I bring her back. But I'm going to be her lifeline. Where's that white paint?
.
.
.
.
I took off my top and left my pants on. I laid Experience in one circle and made another for myself. Around the circle, a row of candles I found in the Art room in drawers. In between us, I found a small notebook in her pocket. In between the pages, a small coin. "I'm living off pennies…" I chuckle to myself. "FIE," my breath escapes me, the word itself calls a flame that covers both circles. I turn to Experiences body, "You lucky I don't charge rent."
My body is a temple. I could have left her, but I wasn't raised to be a fucking fuck nigga.
"Mihi vita-maisha," I close my eyes after releasing the word. The coin in the middle shines and
Mshauri, the Judge of Permanence. Where graves have keepers, the over seer to these things is Mshauri. He's a giant skeletal being with empty eyes. He dawns a black robe that brushes his toes.
tsol si efil sihT.
struoc dna seinomerec.
uoy ot denepo eb lliw ti dna ,kconk ;dnif lliw uoy dna ,kees ;uoy ot nevig eb lliw ti dna ,ksA
I wince at the sharpness in my chest. A chain lashes out of me and Experience. The chains do not connect as they would usually do in this ritual. It is an act of bickering. Experience's chain fights with mine, slapping it away. "What's happening?" I peer at Experience's body. Mshauri opens his jaw, a clump of smoke leaves. "eb ot hsiw ton seod luos sihT."
"What does that mean?" My chain falls to the floor and disappears along with Experiences'. "hguorht semoc esle enoemoS"
.
.
.
.
//"I'M NOT DRUNK. I'M NOT DRUNK."//
"You took too long to get here." Announces a disembodied voice.
I'm surrounded by black square 3D wall panels. The floor is a mix of polished black and white tiles. Behind me two vases holding the same white flower with a red bulb. "My name is Toda. Welcome to Castle Día De San Valentín."
I lift my head up, a speaker in the left corner near the door. "Did you kill Agradecida? That's unfortunate."
Is this really happening? I stare at my hands, for a brief second, I see blood and it disappears. 'Magna!' a female voice rings in my ear. "Headcount has a deep way of fucking with people. But to be honest, we're just bored."
I look at the speaker and all I want to do is tear it down. "Your confused what's happening, I know. To be honest, I'm fucking drunk as hell and out of my mind."
"What the fuck is going on!" as if I would get an answer? Where is my brother? "I'm trying to trigger a memory. Honest, Honest, Honest, Honest, Honey."
"Enough!" I shout. "I don't wanna play this fucking game. Who is Headcount?"
"Grandpa… I think," her voice is fruity. It changes to a high tone. "we used to do this all the time in the club. It's fun!" it goes back to a fruity expression. "Your mother back then used to do it to. Then she shot us. She's a sociopath."
"My mother isn't fucking crazy!"
"A controlled crazy. But still crazy." She breathes through the speaker. "I'm smoking weed. So, where is your mama? Headcount won't tell me."
"What is all this for! What do you want?"
She grunts, "I was made by Headcount. I'm a demon." I don't take that as a threat. "So, when are you going to start seeing Thankful for what HE is? Or have I fucked you up enough you can't see that."
I'm not expecting a straight answer anymore. "This is what your mother did to us. She's a doll collector. She found out I sold my daughter and sons into slavery for money. She should have minded her damn business."
"You deserved it!"
"Maybe… but I don't like interruptions in my playtime. I don't like breaks, I don't like nap time, I don't like endings." My head hurts. "My name isn't Toda. To find out, you're going to have to find me in the castle."
"Find you?" I raise a brow. "What did my mother do to you?"
"Thankful fought hard to give you yourself back. If that makes any since."
"It doesn't make a damn bit of sense bitch!"
"Well…" she pauses, and I hear glasses breaking. "I have your little boyfriend. He's a voodoo doll. I'll make a bet with you—just like mommy made a bet with us. And I lost my fucking head."
"What was the bet."
"She's an angel that can't die. She betted her very life." Not my mama. She's not a gambler, not like this. "I can read your mind. I put a pin in you; put a pin in Thankful. But now let's cut the bullshit."
"Please."
"Henielle is a bitch and cheater. Her mother built a Hole in Norway. So, her daughter would grow. She was a frail child with no clear breath." States Toda. "She fed off men who learned to love her. Olishia hid that her daughter was a goddamn murderer. She had no control."
I snort, "We must be thinking of two different people."
"I don't think so…" says Toda. "Basically, your mother created vampires. Your dear father used to be a doctor visiting one of her husbands. She treated us like pets. Damn African—"
"STOP BAD MOUTHING MY MOTHER."
"Fuck the bitch," the speaker crackles. "When her 'pets' didn't listen, she tore them up and made them dolls. I'm a doll, she called us the DAMNED. Poked us with needles that kept us bound to the dolls. And then she claimed she would fix us later."
I squint my eyes. What is she? A doll that's mad her childhood friend stopped playing with her? "NO! I AM NOT A TOY!" she screams. "Fuck it! Get your ass to the top! Or I kill your bitch!"