Demon Lights Read online

  “You were…” Ellen didn’t want to say addict. “Doing drugs.”

  “Yeah, I liked to party. A lot. Still do.” Marlo stared at Ellen. “Don’t tell me you’re a fucking Christian. I’ll kill myself if I’m stuck in here with a born-again.”

  “No,” Ellen said. “After everything I’ve been through, I have no idea what I believe in anymore.”

  “God, that’s a relief. The Christians in rehab are the worst, always rubbing the higher power bullshit in my face. Anyway, I ran away from there, so he took me to West Virginia to stay with some of his friends to get clean. I guess he’d run out of options at that point. Well, guess who this couple turned out to be.”

  Ellen felt dizzy. “Oh, no.”

  “The Bitch and the Buggy Dude. That’s what I called them. They must have convinced my dad they could help me get straight if he left me there for a couple weeks. Which was hilarious, because the minute he left for D.C., Crawford got me high as shit on some trippy drug he cooked up.” She laughed, but it was full of bitterness. “The three of us partied all night. Hanging out by the pool, swimming, just doing a shitload of drugs. But then right before the sun came up, they started doing something to me, talking all weird, in some other language, and she was in my face, just staring into my eyes. It was like being hypnotized, I guess. And I woke up in my bed, and I could tell I’d had sex. I just didn’t know with who.”

  “Jesus,” Ellen said. “How old were you?”

  “Sixteen. I’d fucked lots of guys. Older guys. So it wasn’t a big deal. I just didn’t want to be pregnant with Buggy Dude’s baby.”

  You poor girl, Ellen thought, but kept quiet.

  “So the night before my dad came to take me back home, they took me out in the gardens. Crawford said all this nice shit about me—he’s good at making you feel special. They wanted me to keep an eye on my dad. Just to make sure he was okay and not getting into trouble. They gave me this little burner cell phone so they could contact me. So every once in a while they’d call. Ask me questions about where he was going, who he was seeing, have me go into his email, stuff like that. It was fun—like being a spy. And they would send me money. And really good drugs. All of a sudden I had lots of friends.”

  “So what happened? Why are you here?”

  Marlo sat up. “I got lazy. Well, I was fucked up, too, when they called. I’d been out all night with my boyfriend. My dad heard me talking to them—he was in the next room and heard everything. I was telling them he had a trip to Turkey coming up, some bullshit like that, and who he was going with, one of his weirdo art collector girlfriends to see some special rock. Jesus, he was fucking pissed. I was never so afraid he might beat the shit out of me. So I had to ’fess up. He said, ‘Do you know who those people are? What they can do to us?’ He was freaking out big time. He was actually scared, and I never saw the asshole scared. And that freaked me out.”

  “What did he say about them?”

  “He said they were powerful people, more powerful than many of his government friends. That they were really dangerous, but he didn’t know any of that when he let me stay with them. When they convinced him they could fix me.” She laughed. “Yeah, they fucking fixed me, all right.”

  “So what did he do?”

  “He told me to just keep playing along. As if he hadn’t found out. Because he was scared. Really fucking scared. He was sweating and shaking and not making any sense.” She stood and started pacing. “Talking about this shit makes me really need a smoke.”

  “Me, too,” Ellen said. “And I haven’t smoked in years.”

  Marlo stared out the window. “About three weeks ago, he went to someplace he couldn’t tell me about. Because of martial law, I guess. Somewhere secret. He was in his dress uniform and a Humvee pulled up and boom, he was gone. We had two guys working security at our house, and all kinds of cameras and alarms, so I was always being watched. The next night I was in the bathroom. In the shower. And suddenly the door flies open. I screamed, and then these two dudes in ninja costumes grabbed me. Jabbed me with a needle or something and knocked me out. When I woke up, I was handcuffed. And there she was—that fucking smile on her face.”

  Ellen shook her head and covered her face.

  “She slapped me around. Told me I was a useless junkie fuckup. I spit at her, and she had one of her goons squeeze this spot under my arm until I was screaming like a baby. It hurt so bad I pissed my pants. I thought I was going to die from the pain. Then she said she was going to make the best of a bad situation—that I’d be useful to keep my dad in line.”

  “Sounds familiar,” Ellen said. She had been clenching her fists. “That’s why she’s keeping me around. So William cooperates with whatever she’s doing with him over there. Otherwise…” Her voice trailed off. There was no need to think about that.

  Marlo sat back down on her bed. “That sucks.”

  “And when I get to talk to him, when she or Regardie decides it’s okay, I have to pretend like everything’s hunky-dory. She made that very clear. If I don’t, I might never hear his voice again.” Now she really wanted a cigarette.

  “I want to kill her.” Marlo smiled. “But not until I torture her. For a really long time. Like, pull out her eyeballs and make her eat that shit. Yank out her teeth with pliers. You want to help me?”

  Ellen smiled grimly. Maybe her new cellmate wasn’t so bad. “I get first whacks.”

  Marlo laughed. “I knew you were a redneck. And hey, you didn’t finish your story. So your boyfriend—this Ray guy. Do you think you’ll ever see him again?”

  Ellen’s throat went dry. Icy snow rattled against the window. “No,” she said. “No. I don’t think so.”

  —

  Marlo threw her tray across the floor. Brown stew splattered on the wall and floor.

  “It’s not that bad,” Ellen said.

  “I’m so sick of this food. Can’t they bring us a fucking pizza or something? It’s all shit.”

  “Well, now you have to clean it up.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It can wait. Let the roaches have it. Want to play cards again?”

  Ellen shook her head. “Want to exercise with me instead?”

  Marlo laughed. “Ugh. I’d rather go eat that crap off the floor. Why do you exercise so much?”

  Ellen lifted her arms. “See this? I used to have flab. You’re in your twenties. You couldn’t get fat if you wanted to, but when you start getting my age, it’s a whole different ball game.” She lowered her arms, then leaned close to Marlo. Whispered with her lips almost touching Marlo’s ear. “And there’s another reason. I don’t plan on staying here. Before I got here I was locked in a cage by a narco asshole in Guatemala. A hairy, gross pig and a murderer. He called me his little bird. His little fucking bird.”

  Marlow’s eyes widened.

  “Well, guess what? I’m sick of cages. I am going to get out of here. And if you want to get out with me, you need to focus on that. Because if you don’t, I’m going myself and you’ll be stuck here until they decide you’re no longer worth it.”

  Marlo stared. “Shit, Ellen, now you sound tough.”

  “I have to be tough. Otherwise I’d have been dead a long time ago.”

  “Well, what are we going to do? The dickhead guards are out in the hall twenty-four/seven. With guns.”

  Ellen held her finger to her lips. She grabbed the Word Search Xtreme! in front of her and wrote in the margin. They hear and see everything. We have to plan in writing. Then erase. OK? Passed it to Marlo along with the pencil.

  Marlo read it and nodded. She erased the message, then wrote a reply.

  Ellen smiled when she read it.

  Fuck yes. You are BADASS.

  —

  Ellen showed her another technique to avoid their omnipresent eavesdroppers—the one she and William had used in El Varón’s compound. They spoke quietly to each other while Marlo was showering and Ellen sat on the toilet, or vice versa, hoping the sound of the water concealed
their whispered conversations. They debated their options. Try to distract the guards and go for their guns? It was risky, and unlikely to work—the goons were enormous and well-trained. Fake an illness to get the guards or Dr. Regardie into the room? Maybe, but hadn’t that been done in just about every movie or TV show? Would they fall for such a hackneyed trick? And what then, anyway? There were more guards, undoubtedly. And they were in the middle of nowhere, with everything around buried in snow. Where would they even go?

  And so it went, but nothing seemed possible.

  But to Ellen’s surprise, Marlo started the workout program with her. She bitched about it incessantly and threw up the first time she managed twenty-five pushups. But the girl was competitive at heart and didn’t like to see an older woman besting her. They had to be inventive, doing pull-ups on the bathroom doorframe and squats holding on to chairs, but it kept them from boredom and sniping at each other, and Marlo’s thin frame showed her new musculature within days. “You’re gonna wish you hadn’t gotten me doing this shit,” she said one evening as she finished her pull-ups. “When I kick your ass.”

  Ellen shook her head. “In your dreams, little girl.”

  But despite her increasingly strong body, the young woman had moments that scared Ellen. She’d wake up screaming, cursing out people from her past, and nothing Ellen could do would console her. Some days she refused to talk at all. It was like she was a different person—morose, brooding, and violently angry. When Ellen asked her about those episodes a cold “Fuck off” was the best she could get. And those outbursts and sulking periods were getting more frequent.

  Marlo had been ignoring Ellen all day when Dr. Regardie showed up.

  “Ladies,” Regardie said. He reeked of cloying pipe smoke. Two guards flanked him.

  Ellen stared, expressionless. Marlo had her back turned to Regardie and didn’t respond.

  Regardie cleared his throat. “I have some good news for both of you. Ellen, we have arranged for you to speak to your son.”

  Ellen’s heart raced. She tried to retain her composure but it was difficult.

  “Marlo,” Regardie continued. “Your father would like to speak to you. I can arrange that.”

  No response.

  Regardie raised his eyebrows. “Well, you let me know if you’re up for it.” He turned back to Ellen. “William has been doing quite well in his studies. He’s had a remarkable turnaround, in fact. So we’re allowing him a phone call. Tomorrow afternoon.” He smiled.

  Ellen forced a smile in return. “Thank you.”

  “It will be subject to the same restrictions as before,” Regardie said.

  Ellen nodded. She just needed to hear William, to know he was okay.

  “Miss Skinner,” Regardie continued. “You could follow tomorrow afternoon. If you wish. I know the general would be very happy to hear from you.”

  “Tell him to go fuck himself,” Marlo said.

  One of the guards, a young man with thick black hair, smiled. Marlo’s eyes locked with his. Was she flirting with him? Jesus. If she was, Regardie didn’t seem to notice. “Your choice,” the doctor said. When he left, the young guard closed the door behind them. His eyes lingered on Marlo through the window as the lock mechanism clanked. Then he was gone.

  “What was that all about?” Ellen asked.

  “He’s cute,” Marlo said.

  “He’s also one of them. Are you crazy?”

  “Crazy like a fox,” she said, then flipped Ellen the bird.

  —

  Dr. Regardie sat in on Ms. Fortune’s class, way in the back of the classroom, holding a yellow legal pad and a marker and chewing on his unlit pipe. Ms. Fortune had arranged a select group of nine children in a circle, while the others sat at their desks, watching quietly. In the center of their circle was a pile of what looked like human bones, some nondescript rocks, and a plain ceramic bowl holding about an inch of something that looked like silver paint. Victoria sat next to William in the circle, though she was studiously ignoring him.

  “Children,” Ms. Fortune said. “Today is very special.” She stepped to her desk and pulled out blue plastic gloves, the kind William had once seen in the doctor’s office. She snapped them onto her sausage fingers with some difficulty. “We’re going to try something new. Something very exciting.” She stepped between William and Victoria into the circle’s center. “These are artifacts. They were found in a cave very close to here. The bones and the stone tools belonged to people who lived on this land, but very, very long ago.” She lifted up the ceramic dish. “This bowl is more than two thousand years old. So I’m going to hold it very carefully. If you look inside”—she held it at the children’s eye level—“you will see liquid mercury. Now don’t be afraid of it—I’m going to dab a teeny-tiny bit of it onto your foreheads. Just don’t touch it, or rub your eyes or get it anywhere near your mouth, okay? And then I’ll lead you on one of our inner journeys. It’s going to be fun, isn’t it, Dr. Regardie?”

  “Oh, yes,” Dr. Regardie said.

  Ms. Fortune addressed the rest of the class. “I know the rest of you are wondering why you are not part of this circle. It’s quite simple. Those of you who scored the highest on last week’s tests, and showed extra talent in ritual and meditation, were chosen to take part in this special event.” She turned to the back of the room. “And there is another important reason. Isn’t there, Dr. Regardie.”

  Regardie pulled the pipe from his mouth. “Indeed. Those of you who scored highest in playing Merkaba were given a special bonus.”

  Several of the students exchanged puzzled looks.

  “Merkaba isn’t just a game,” Regardie continued. “As you will see. I designed the game to teach all of the necessary rituals and symbols for the journeys you will be taking. Those who have mastered the ten levels of the game have internalized all of the necessary workings—banishings, invocations, evocations, and the like.” He seemed particularly satisfied with himself. “So who says computer games can’t be educational?”

  Ms. Fortune laughed, then abruptly cut herself off when Regardie glanced at her.

  “That’s why you are so lucky to be at this school,” he said. “You are all extraordinary students doing extraordinary things. And not just for yourselves—for everyone in the whole world. That’s why we call it the Great Work.”

  “You’re superheroes,” Ms. Fortune said. “Like Heracles, or Hermes, or, for the young ladies, Ixchel, or Sekhmet—”

  “Ms. Fortune.” Regardie cleared his throat. He made a hurry up gesture.

  “Of course, Doctor,” she answered, shifting on her chair before struggling to stand. Victoria had a running bet on how long it would be before the chair splintered into pieces. Ms. Fortune walked inside the circle up to each student, dabbing each of them with a tiny bit of the mercury from a gloved finger. When her index finger touched his head William felt a weird jolt, a sudden disconnection from his body.

  Around him all the other kids reacted to the mercury. Some blinked hard, others got wobbly-headed, some closed their eyes. Ms. Fortune walked to a small table and lit a piece of charcoal. Incense. She was always burning incense.

  “Close your eyes, children,” she said. “And follow along.”

  —

  It happened surprisingly quickly. His body was there, in the circle, sitting on a pillow, but then somewhere else, too. A cave. He didn’t like caves. Hated them, in fact. Because that was where that thing

  Camazotz

  had taken him over. And all that blood. Slashing knives. He was covered in it. Strands of gore wrapped in his fingers, bits of it staining his vision. Was it in his mouth? And suddenly he could taste it again. And smell it. And he liked it.

  No.

  It was Victoria. But only her voice.

  William was himself again. The bloody scene dissolved and he was back in an ordinary cave. Standing in front of him was something like an angel, with enormous wings, but the head of a lion and thick, taloned bird feet.


  “Victoria?”

  The angel before him shimmered. Its lion head turned; the tongue came out and licked its face. Just as quickly, Victoria was her normal self. “You looked really scary,” she said. “Don’t do that again.”

  “So did you,” William said. “You looked like Mr. Winston.” They were talking without using their voices.

  It may take a few moments to settle into your normal forms. Ms. Fortune’s voice, from far away behind him. Just breathe deeply and your physical form will return. Now trace the sigil for banishing in bright blue light.

  William traced the sigil in front of himself. The other kids were doing it, too. Some of them wavered and looked insubstantial, like ghosts. Others, including Victoria, looked perfectly normal. They were still in the circle, and their sigils glowed in front of them, suspended in the air.

  Now the evoking sigil in bright yellow. We’re energizing the bones in front of you, children. We’re bringing forth the spirit of the man who once inhabited those bones.

  William drew his sigil. Just like in the game, only this was real.

  “Look,” Victoria said.

  The bones in the center of the circle rose and knitted themselves into a skeleton. It was quickly covered in muscle and tissue, then layers of fat, and finally skin and hair, like a reversed video of a melting candle. A man holding a torch, naked except for a leather skirt and ragged boots. His skin was mostly hairless, his eyes and features Asian. His face and chest were heavily tattooed with odd symbols and interlocking patterns.

  Ms. Fortune spoke in a strange language. The man replied, his eyes closed. Like he was praying. He was shaking. Maybe she was a god to him.

  Good work, children. Now follow him wherever he leads you.

  The man opened his eyes and moved down a passage deeper into the cave.

  Victoria led the way. William followed. It was bizarre—feeling himself walking in this dream-place while also feeling himself sitting on the floor, in the circle. And which was the real him? His feet pressing against the rocky cavern, or his butt on the pillow? And what if something happened to him while he was here? Would it also affect him there?