The cemetery was old as the town, a white snowy field studded with regular headstones and messy meandering tracks. A couple of larger monuments stood for miners and long-sent soldiers, but there were no crypts, no pits, nowhere for a monster to hide. Therefore Karen lurked in the trees beyond the fence, school bag hanging from skeletal branches, coat hugged against the chill, eyes keen and ready.
As soon as Irene came to preen about the Siren, she would see.
If only they would hurry up, she’d been laying in ambush for an hour since school and there was still no sign. She’d be warmer in griffin form, but more challenged as far as speech and stealth went. Unless it was more conspicuous that she wasn’t seen flying around the sunset sky? How did anyone manage conspiracies, they were so exhausting!
Her phone- well, her old, borrowed brick phone- buzzed and she flinched, cold fingers almost dropping the device as she quietly answered, “Hey, hello?”
“Evenin’ stranger,” Pa rumbled, voice cold, “Surprised to hear words- you comin’ in time for dinner?”
“Ah- ooooh, no probably not,” Karen whispered, “Just keep some for me? I’ll be in later.”
“Right. An’ still got your oatcake. Plans come up?”
“Yeah, yeah, just after-school stuff. Me, Maddie, an’ Grant meeting up.”
“Mmmhmm,” He growled suspiciously, “Karen. We been over this.”
“Over what?”
“Communicatin’. You’re hush up and lyin’, kid, it’s pretty obvious. I know you’re… we’re… Just make sure you ain’t doin’ anythin’ dangerous, alright?”
She wrinkled her nose, pulling her knees in close. Even Pa had been unbearable for the week since her birthday. “Yeah yeah.”
“An’ no huntin’, remember? Don’ wanna get in trouble like you did bef-”
Another buzz startled her, and she glanced at the old blocky screen, Maddie’s number accompanying a single word text,
“Shit,” She snarled.
“What? Karen, what happened?”
“Yeah- I’m fine, I just… argh, they told me the wrong place!” She stood, veering this way and that as her mind turned. Irene’s cryptic hints about the ancestors had meant the defunct tourist trap? Worse, Maddie’s short text probably meant she’d done it in a rush, so her friends were probably sneaking in there with Irene right now. The Colliery Museum was on the other side of town, she’d be noticed if she sprinted there.
“Right, well, I know things’ve been difficult lately, maybe their plans just changed, don’t take it persona-”
“Gotta go Pa, love you!” She hung up the call, grimaced, and shrugged off her jacket.
Goosebumps fluttered across her bare arms as she loosened her hair, tightened her amulet, and extracted a small vial of turquoise Veil potion from her bag- Logan’s contribution to this plan. As when she’d tried it before, this liquid looked particularly pungent, like old milk- was stealth really worth this?
“Anverath.” She swigged it, the sour thick potion almost making her wretch before the pain set in. Every muscle twitched as if struck by lightning, and her teeth chattered as the enamel fused into a short sharp beak. Her figure shrank down, down, down, ribcage bowling out and shoulders wrenching back so that her arms could flatten into awful paddle shapes. Legs thinned with dark scales covering slender talons, while a dreary iridescent plumage coated her now tiny frame.
Which was the point. Unlike the old falcon potion, Logan had skipped the pigeon instincts entirely, out of fear that they might allow the Siren to influence her mind. Its usual telepathy was bad enough, let alone the prospect of being possessed, so Karen had agreed, and her brief test to be smuggled over to Maddie’s had proved okay. Which just left the small issue of figuring out how to fly as one of the winged vermin.
She cooed, plumage fluffing up against the cold, amulet heavy around her neck, and hopped a few paces from her discarded clothes and bag. She’d come to get them later, but for now the longer she delayed, the more chance of trouble for Maddie and the boys. Flying was quickest.
Her wings rose and fell. With such a tiny body, there was no need for a running start. A hop and a flap was enough to catapult Karen skywards, and then frantic adjustments to her feathers and muscles saw her flop into a snowdrift. Another try nearly impaled her on the fence, and another actually got a controlled landing at least. As with the falcon, such a light body needed more delicate adjustments and balance to manoeuvre than her proper body, but on the fourth she got truly airborne.
The trees and cemetery flitted past below, then streets lit hazy colours by gaudy christmas decorations. Noone looked up to see a pigeon haphazardly hurry by, and no birds scattered in fear, and nothing seemed to notice.
The Colliery Museum was a crooked corpse of a building, its sandstone walls overgrown, its windows boarded like closed eyes. Once it had been a prestigious grand home with marvellous views of the lake, then a hopeful collection of the region's history and lore. But such times were long past, and the rotten husk now lurked behind newer shops, too unstable for the owners to afford repairs, and yet too historic to be demolished. One corner of the three storeys arose like a tower, conical roof bare of snow, and plenty of small gaps in the eves might be good access points for a pigeon. But not for humans. Fluttering down, the main doors were barred and graffitied, but at the back a dumpster had been shoved over to allow access to a dusty draughty window.
Karen orbited once more, then flew in.
Acrid chemical stench of a wretched bathroom greeted her within, the tiles cracked and mouldy. The haphazard stalls were coated with ancient boastful graffiti, but a more recent trail of slushy footprints led into a chill corridor. At the sound of voices ahead, Karen landed, and carefully hopped closer on old planks painted with garish rail tracks.
“-going to get yerselves killed!” A ragged snarl came a towering biped in the lobby, shaggy hair spooling out under a beanie, flashlight clutched tight like a truncheon. A cluck of disgust escaped Karen at the sight of Seb, only for the thug to swing his light suddenly towards her. She shot into the air in response, flitting past as he hollered in alarm, “Grah, bloody vermin! Why’s this place so infested!?”
His torch lost her, running over pallid mountain scenes painted over the walls, before settling on the blonde witch. Irene was perched idly on the reception desk, long nails tapped idly at her phone, “Because it’s like, super old and the Mayor’s not interested in fixing up town, just letting our history rot away.”
Great, the witch and a wildcard, the worst combination. Karen landed quietly on a light fixture above, taking her bearings. Where were the others?
“Bloody freakshow. And a death trap. Ought to bring the whole place down.”
“It’s okay to be scared, Sebastian,” Irene sighed, “Just, like, admit it. You’re spooked. Got the heebie-jeebies. That’s normal. So you might as well go through with it.”
Seb turned the light on her, “Why would I take one more step into your madness?”
“Because your eyes are, like, half open,” Irene mimed spectacles, then drew a finger to the centre of her forehead, “You can sense the negative aura- all humans can, when it’s strong enough. But to actually open your third eye, you need to adjust to darkness- so that’s what Boreas can provide. Pitch black.”
“Oh, so you know your mangy pal’s an absolute nightmare, and you’re still sticking with it?”
“Misery loves company.” Irene scooted off the desk, reaching up to pat his shoulder, “Don’t worry, he won’t kill- dead people can’t feel anything.”
“That’s insane Irene!” Seb swatted her hand away, swinging the light up to Karen’s perch, “You can’t trust these freaks! They’re enemies, they’re crimes against nature- especially this rotten boris bastard, it’s using you! Why can’t you see that?”
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“I can. I know, Seb,” Her voice dropped, barely a whisper in the musty darkness, “But, like, if I feel this way, I might as well use it, huh? And maybe one day, it’ll leave me alone if…”
BAM BOOM!
Drumming impacts above startled them, releasing plumes of dust from the groaning ceiling. Karen flung herself free, sweeping away as Seb drew a knife and Irene giggled. They were upstairs then, doing this… insane hazing? Facing the Siren? Idiots!
“Anyway, can you give me a hand?” The voices receded as she winged away.
The tourist route of the museum led into a room of toppled display cabinets, broken glass and old tools, pickaxes, lanterns and shovels. A miniature map of Ranelk’s valley was half drowned in melted candle wax, and a headier scent of incense mingled with the stench of mould. Other pigeons flitted here and there on mangled stumps, but none got in the way as she flew up a staircase.
A body lay stiff at the top. Karen flinched, only to notice the dark clothes and odd posture. Only a mannequin, its faceless form wrapped in festering pilgrim clothes, bucket hats stuffed with twigs and dirt. Beyond it, other mannequins postured around a false wagon, and a table held an incongruous toy train set. A bag nestled there too, Maddie’s bulky leather school satchel, but without sign of the girl herself.
Wings rustled and a male scream came from above- probably Jamie. Karen listened for a moment, debating dropping her Veil. Seb was a threat if he followed, possibly Irene too, but not a problem for her true form. Yet for the moment no pigeons seemed to react to her presence- and if she couldn’t hurt the Siren, then alerting it would make the horror find a new nest and waste all this effort. As loathsome as it was, subterfuge was her best bet.
Shifting footsteps lured her into a new chamber, this one adorned in green curtains and grisly taxidermy. Plastic tree branches leaned against a dusty bear, and stinking squirrels and ducks had tumbled onto the floor. A phone light revealed Maddie in one corner, wiping the dust off a plaque to peer at it, notebook and pen in hand. Yet the sound of wings made her spin, drawing a ragged breath as she spied the avian shape peering at her.
“Gosh, you creeps are eeeveeeerywheeeere,” Maddie hissed, slowly rising to her feet, “So. What. My turn to get freaked out? Or is the magic lesson not till the wiiitching hour?”
Karen shook her head, then bounced down to land lower on the fake tree, the iron amulet catching dusty light off the phone. Maddie inhaled in recognition and suppressed a snort of amusement, before swinging the phone around conspiratorially.
“Huh, flew across town then? Well done. Do you know what we’re looking for?” She considered the old exhibits in disgust, then added, “To learn magic like Irene? I… I don’t reeeeally get it.”
The pigeon attempted a shrug, wings bobbing, then gestured back the way she’d came. Get out! Leave!
“Yeah, I’ll keep looking- maybe see if the boys need help I…” She swallowed, a couple of tears glistening in her eyes, “I… heard them and… I…I couldn’t move my feet. I’m not brave like you.”
Karen disagreed but couldn’t deny the point- Grant and Jamie were here because of her too- so she took wing once more. Past broken shelves with yellow photos of miners and mountaineers, past racks of old medical tools, saws and drills, past diagrams of blackened lungs and caged canaries. Another pair of mannequins guarded a staircase lined with black felt, creating a claustrophobic false mine with tattered scraps hanging low.
More pigeons circled and wove here, congregating in a maelstrom of mist, feathers and fowl flesh that twisted with verminous coordination. Two light beams silhouetted figures in the eye of the storm, one broad and collapsed to the floor, clutching his head, while the smaller one stood and waved his flashlight like a baton.
“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” Jamie roared, his voice cracking, “I’m the editor in chief, I’m the boss, so talk to ME!”
Whatever the Siren whispered back, Karen didn’t hear. She orbited the chaos, watching as Jamie grimaced, but stayed standing bravely, and Grant punched at his own head, gasping, “N-no, no I’m- I… I’m… sorry Dad… no, you’re… you’re gone. You’re not real. Not real. Gone. Gone.”
“No it’s- it’s a trick, but I’m here- I’m here buddy!” Jamie dropped the torch to grab his hands, to stop the panicked flailing. “COME ON, IS THAT ALL YOU’VE GOT? WHAT ABOUT ME!? WHAT ABOUT MY MOM?! WHAT ABOUT THE BUTCHER!?”
As if to answer his tears, the frenzied swarm wheeled about, and Karen barely threw herself free. She somersaulted, bounced off a felt wall, then grabbed a spar only to see it.
One moment there was a cloud of pigeons coordinating within the frenzy and mist, forming a rough shape. Then there was the rotten skin, the patchwork wings, the scarred flesh, the missing digits. And the awful gouge within its back, where five bony pinions jutted from filthy meat, like putrid, melted plastic. But the abominable anatomy was certainly injured, whether it was some illusion over the pigeons or the merging of their flesh, it wasn’t whole.
“You’re the only MONSTER HERE!” Jamie screamed and struck it, his torch smashing a pigeon into bloody oblivion against the floor. Karen watched with a smidge of pride, before the swarm converged and the kid’s glasses and torch were knocked away, provoking more anguished shouts.
Again she wavered. They needed help. Grant was struggling to his feet. But the Siren was focussed on them, it was distracted- this was the perfect opportunity! And after all, Irene had been confident it wouldn’t hurt them, hadn’t she?
Her heart felt heavier than her amulet as she wove behind the false felt walls, leaving the screaming boys behind. The pigeons seemed to have come from above, and quickly she spied a break in the ceiling planks to ascend through.
The attic stank of utter corruption. Dozens of nests, hives of torn newspaper, needles, scrap and filth consumed the rafters. Scattered candles hung on with long dripping tendrils of wax, and a corpse-sweet incense wafted from bowls Irene had no doubt brought. Other odd tools of witchcraft lingered in the anarchy too- small bottles, syringes, discarded rubber gloves, and scraps of paper with strange sigils.
Karen kicked them over curiously- she didn’t recognize the markings. Would Logan know? Or perhaps pinning down Irene until she spilled every secret was best. She hopped along, ducked a nest, then froze as she saw it.
A wing hung from the rafters.
For all the horror of the Siren, somehow the sixth wing was even worse, long dead yet persisting. White feathers, so pure as to be snow-like, barely clung to its long digit, and green-brown flesh hung like wax to weep and drip onto the floorboards below. Between all of the ruined meat, mouldering yellow bone was clearly visible, marked over and over with ash black runes.
Should she cut it down? Karen battled her nausea, head tilting at the utter strangeness of this grisly trophy. Had it lost the sixth wing to violence, or willingly? Why keep it close? Why mark it? How was it solid? Was it a heart or a prison? Could she change, tear it down and fly it to Diana before the Siren noticed?
Karen hissed. Why was she so clueless?!
A scream cut through her thoughts. Too familiar, and too urgent to ignore. Maddie!
The pigeon wheeled up and dove through the floor gaps, whipping through the mangy mine, the awful exhibits, ears straining in the sudden quiet. Footsteps rumbled, someone gasped- maybe Grant?- as fear clutched her heart. Pigeons scattered in her wake, lurking and circling with yellow eyes in the darkness until- there, torchlight!
Scattered figures of the mannequins hemmed the chamber, Grant almost as bulky as them with a bloody pickaxe in one hand, torch in the other. Under the light beam huge heavy coils, over a dozen feet long, writhed and shifted across the broken train set.
“S-s-SNAKE!” Jamie cried, stumbling back in abject fear, his glasses missing, pigeons fluttering by the ceiling.
Maddie’s golden eyes narrowed to slits as the torch searched for the serpent’s head, open mouth exposing fangs, her webbed hands raised up to block the light. “N-no, no, it’s-”
“Madonna? No… nooo… what are you?” Grant’s voice sounded hollow, shaken, his scratched cheek oozing blood, the pickaxe trembling in his grip. “Who’re you?”
“I-I-It’s me, it’s… it’s Maddie,” She gasped, frozen in her worst fear, “Don’t.. I’m not a trick, I’m not it, I’m not-”
Drumming footsteps and rustling wings heralded Seb’s arrival to the standoff, torch in one hand, Maddie’s bag in the other. “Heard a scream are you alri- holy shit, that’s disgusting!”
Karen gave up as more pigeons circled and beams of light converged on her frozen friend. Her temper exploded forth, and with it, her form. She dropped heavily onto the floor as limbs wrenched in an agonising paradox- talons became paws, shoulders became new wings, and pigeon wings became dark talons that scraped across the floorboards. Her fury rumbled in a roiling scream as her majestic wings blocked the light, guarding the mermaid.
Jamie blanched and stumbled into a mannequin, knocking both over. Grant startled, torch falling as he hefted the pickaxe in both hands, eyes wide and breath rapid. Seb smiled wide, stumbling back, knuckles white.
“Karen!? Wait, no- no, we can- calm down!” Maddie cried, grabbing her wing, slithering higher, “I- I- I must’ve been cursed, or hit with Veil or- or something! I’m not- I’m not… I’m not this- I’m human!”
“Like her?” Grant whispered, unblinking at the griffin.
“More LIES!” Seb boomed, plucking a familiar lilac bottle from Maddie’s bag, loose lid spilling forth emerald potion. “Admit it- you’re a lying snake, and always have been! You’ve been swigging their rotten potion all along!”
“Whoops!” The ingrate threw it, letting the bottle tumble and spill potion across the floor, before a knife flashed in his hand, “Careful, birdbitch!”
“N-no, that’s not mine- I- I-” Maddie struggled, tail lashing wildly, “I just carry that for Karen, in case she-”
“She doesn’t use potion.” Grant rumbled, “You… you’ve been getting with the mage… been setting this up, she was working with you…”
“If… she’s a mystic then…” Jamie stammered from the shadows, that awful quick mind running fast, “Who else? She’s the mayor’s kid- so the mayor’s a… a…”
“A monster too. He’s been with the freaks all along,” A bright white flash came as Irene stepped in, phone clicking in her long nails, “And now we’ve got proof.”
Karen charged her. The witch squealed and tried to dodge, pigeons diving at her foe. But Karen’s wings slammed her aside, crashing the blonde into a wall, the phone tumbling from her grasp. A sharp pain came from her flank, by Seb, but then Maddie’s tail swept his legs from under him, and smashed the phone into the wall.
Then a pickaxe cracked into the wood as Grant stepped over Irene. “So… what? All this time you were just playing us!? Lying to us!?”
“N- no, look, I… I need this to be a secret. Please. You can’t tell anyone!” Maddie wept, hand on Karen’s neck again. Trying to keep her from attacking.
The phone was broken. Jamie was sobbing. Seb climbed to his feet. Irene scrambled away. Pigeons swooped around, landing at the spilled flask. Grant stood tall.
Her talons screamed out for bloody use. To silence what needed silencing. Dead men told no tales. But evidence and electronics and trackers told plenty. No, she hissed, taking a guarded step back.
“I thought you were one of us.” Grant muttered, eyes flickering from her, to Maddie, and then beyond. A familiar frown came, dark brows knotted in confusion, then disgust. “What the hell!?”
A cry of alarm came, and other noises- from Seb? Irene?
No. More bipeds were sprouting behind her, lolling maimed humans with missing digits and twisted feet, their naked hides pale and weatherbeaten, their hair long and matted. Their sunken eyes were somehow both malicious and absent, and green-tinged saliva dripped from unfamiliar lips as they stumbled and hopped upright, making…
Noises. There was no word for the wordless sounds native to the human throat that held no place in language, those babbles and gurgled and grunts that only crested where words failed- in amusement, fear, or distress.
Jamie screamed, Seb whimpered and Irene gasped. Maddie cried out as two of them suddenly lurched at her, and Karen bowled into the Veiled pigeons. Arms clumsily struck at her, jaws clicked, and she-
“RUN!” Maddie squealed, weaving between them and almost tumbling down the stairs. “If they die veiled, they’ll leave human corpses!”
“Get off freak!” Seb stabbed and punched at one, while Grant kicked the legs out from below another. Karen bludgeoned a third as she charged down the stairs, lunging over broken glass as the horrors gargled and giggled and cooed and fluttered.
“Scared of the reflection?” A ragged whisper came as she reached the lobby.
Karen didn’t look. Maddie was hesitating, crying, trying to remember the way out. The griffin simply charged into the front doors, her strength breaking rotten wood to tumble out into the snowy street beyond.
The mermaid followed, panting, gasping, muttering, “No, no, no, no, what do we do what-do-we-dooooo!?”
Her stomach turned. Blue lights flickered in the street. She looked up, only for her heart to fall.
A police car ground to a stop, its window rolling down. Officer Danton peered out through the old at the two mystics, and the broken screaming old building behind them.
“Evenin’ girls, you got… a moment to sit tight and answer some questions?”