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Remmy...

Remmy waited in a locked windowless room. His blindfold had been removed after he entered the massive upscale home. The excitement his captors had exhibited during the long drive had left him on edge. He very much did not want to be part of their evening’s entertainment.

Before they’d locked him in, Orp had taken him to a proper bathroom on the premises and allowed him to shower. Remmy had scrubbed his skin under the hot water until he was raw. Even after there was no hot water, he’d lingered in the sheeting cold, trembling, with his teeth chattering. How long had he been their captive? He didn’t know.

They had drugged him that morning, before wedging him into the backseat of a Lexus. On the trip, through his dazed fog, he’d listened to them describe this evening as they described being included as an honor. He didn’t think this box of a room was a fair reward for his hard work. Orp had told him that he was proud of him as he locked him in. The last thing he had heard the man say was he believed Remmy had potential.

From their conversation in the car, he knew there were others coming. People outside of their twisted brotherhood. During his time in the basement, he’d been skimming along their threads of communication. Online, there were others who shared the delusions of his captors. They believed all of these guy’s shit.

Their fans thought Remmy was a hero, and praised him for being the brave man who exposed the underbelly of transformation, for what it was… something attainable. The internet fools were convinced that the wealthy and privileged had been gatekeeping sacred arcane knowledge. They thought Remmy’s lunatic captors were bringing an elixir to the masses. Hope that they could be something more drove them. From what Remmy could tell, money was pouring in. People would pay a lot to feel like they were in on a grand secret. It made them feel special, as if they were made for something more, to be more.

If he hadn’t had an up front seat to the lunatics on the floor below him, he might have been tricked into believing. They didn’t know what an average, boring, batshit girl Kennedy was. In another life, he might have been driving here, just like one of those idiot fan boys, paying some ridiculous amount of money to be able to see proof of something supernatural.

All he’d been shown so far was a few twisted pieces of animal hide with fur on them. And now… Orp had told him that he wasn’t the only captive. The specially trained dogs, the leader’s pet project, had found a werewolf child.

Was she scared like he was? He looked around at the sparse room, gaze lingering on the real bed. He couldn’t admit, even to himself, how much his heart leapt for joy at the sight of it. This morning, after his shower, he’d crawled into the gloriously clean sheets.

The sleep had been better than any sex he had ever had in his life. When he woke up, he had wept to find himself still here in this nightmare. He’d had food twice today, which was something. Orp had even asked him, the second time, what he wanted. He’d almost dropped to his knees in gratitude.

Who would have ever thought that lemon chicken could overwhelm him with emotion? He saved some by packaging it as best he could with the plastic that had been wrapped around the container. When they had come to pick up his trash, he had been grateful they had simply taken the bag without any inspections. It wouldn't do for them to know he had kept some back. He might need it.

What if they didn’t feed him again? He knew what hunger was now, real hunger. The kind that makes you chew your fingernails raw and work free strips of fabric to chew. He shuddered. Remmy sat down on his crisply made bed and placed his hands in his lap. He didn’t know when they would come, but he was ready. This time he would prove to them he was trustworthy by helping them convince the soon to be believers.

Stolen story; please report.

*

Kennedy…

The unearthly screaming rising from the woman’s throat didn’t sound like Terry’s mother and filled Kennedy with raw panic. She edged backward toward the door. Shock, then fury, rattled the woman’s naked body, as if a giant child shook a disappointing doll. Blood burst from the woman’s wrists, seams spreading across her body with no order or sense, forming a wild spiderweb. Kennedy stumbled and fell backward as Terry’s mother, even as she was coming apart, began walking down the hall, blood splattering the wall, tissue unraveling. Kennedy pressed her hand to her mouth, lungs aching, afraid to take in air.

The sister puppeteered the body until her hand came to rest on the door and every internal lock turned. On its own, the door yielded and swung inward. The spirit hadn’t known the woman’s body was a set trap. There would be no bear to ride and claim. A length of entrail slid down the woman’s hip and looped along her thigh. The whole of her being was unspooling without order or sense. Her face turned back toward Kennedy once, eyes sightless.

Kennedy knew in her heart that this act was to protect her, a sacrifice. Into the freshly sealed mother’s room, she disappeared, carrying the ghost trapped within her dying body. The door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the windows of the home. Kennedy shuddered as she heard each of the seven locks and bolts slide into place. The closing of the door freed her from the hold of her terror, and she ran for the gaping front door.

As Kennedy she slid free of the house, the door slammed shut and locked behind her. The window they had opened slammed down to its sill and locked. Creaking, the house swayed as it sealed. Kennedy stumbled down the steps. Kennedy got as far into the yard as she could before her lungs forced her to take a breath. A burst of ash and sparks shot upward from the chimney, twisting in the air as it lifted into the darkening sky, moving ash, swirling and twisting into itself. Wings opened, and darkness swept across the sun for a blink of an eye. And it was gone.

As Kennedy backed away from the house, searching the sky for more danger, a flash of light at one window caught her gaze. There, at the end of the house, she saw Terry’s mother standing behind a young woman holding a child. She placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder as the second sister bent to gently place a kiss on the infant’s head. With eyes as blue as the center of a fire, the sister radiating malice. Her eyes locked with Kennedy’s,

Oblivious, the mother’s lips moved as she smiled down at the baby, talking to him while her sister lifted the stuffed bear from the floor. The solid object rose and swayed in the air before the hazy image of the happy ghost baby. Tiny hands reached upward. When they contacted the sister, she looked down and faked a smile. For the first time, she recognized the baby for who he was. Her own tiny perfect nephew. The rage within her gave a single final beat before it released. The last of the fire left her eyes, and they cooled to a warm chestnut brown. A splatter of sparks lifted from the smoking chimney.

Through the walls, one after another, three spectral mothers entered the locked mother’s room. The slowest was heavy with her pregnancy and carrying two small children. Kin and family followed. The fathers, like oaks rising, reliable and protective, settled to stand around the edges of the room. She watched a handful of acorns roll through the grass toward the crawlspace of the house as if summoned. Kennedy saw what would happen, felt the oaks that would begin their lives in the crawlspace. They’d soak in life and gather love. They would grow in the dark.

Nature would reclaim the house now. The fathers would pull the house apart board by board now that spirits were no longer tied there. His mother had broken the curse. When Terry’s mother smiled at her, Kennedy took an involuntary step backward. The last to enter the room was Terry’s father. He looked so much like his son; he was easy to recognize. One by one, the specters faded and lifted through the ceiling until only Terry’s parents remained. His father turned his face in her direction and raised his fingertips to touch his chin, expressing thanks. Kennedy nodded to him. Dry lightning sparked across the blue sky and clouds rolled above the house and beyond. She raised her hand and mouthed, “I’ll keep them safe.” The specters turned away. Their white staring eyes flecked with stars were the last thing to fade. Kennedy took a step back toward the house and two boards on the porch cracked in half.

“You aren’t keeping her bones.” she hissed at the evil old house.