“It’s nice,” said Mara, leaning over Zev to get a look at the house through the driver’s side window.

Zev shut off the Prius. “Looks smaller than the pictures.”

“It’s a cottage in the woods. What did you expect?”

Zev shrugged. “No it’s nice. It is nice… The driveway needs to be repaired. I think we almost took the shocks off pulling in.”

“We’re not buying the place, we’re just spending the weekend.” Mara raveled her long scarf snuggly around her neck. “Look they have a woodpile. Think you can get a fire going?”

“Of course.” Zev peered at the house. “There are bricks missing from the chimney.”

“You’re the one who didn’t want to spend more than two-hundred a night.” Mara zipped her coat up over her scarf. “Let’s get inside.”

“And the paint is literally peeling off the door. I mean, they’re running a business, you’d think they’d at least put in the minimum effort to get the place looking like more than a rundown shack.”

Mara sighed and slumped back in her seat. “Are we gonna sit out here and complain, or are you gonna take me inside this rundown shack and fuck me?”

Zev threw the door open. “Who’s complaining?” He climbed out into the bitter cold, and as he carried their suitcases up the front porch, he could swear he heard the faint clatter of bells from the woods—though of course it was only his imagination.

#

He finally managed to get a fire lit after over half an hour, during which time Mara stood by, her coat still zipped over her scarf, her hands buried in her pockets.

“There,” Zev sat back, wiping sweat from his forehead with sooty hands as weak flame lapped around the thick log on the grate. “It’ll warm up soon.” He surveyed the small, low-ceilinged sitting room, the cramped, dusty antique furniture, the eerie oil-paintings on the wood-paneled walls—portraits of long dead women and men staring, stern to the point of foreboding. “I can’t believe they left the heat off. Not to mention left that window open in the kitchen.”

“I hear the radiators.” Mara breathed on her hands. “And the fire will help.”

“It’s just ridiculous.” Zev sat in one of the old high-backed chairs, which whined beneath him. “It must be twenty degrees in here.” He shook his head. “Should we just say screw it and drive home?”

“After all that trouble you just went through?” Mara indicated the fire, which was growing by the second. “Besides, this is why we brought whiskey.” She disappeared through the narrow doorway in the direction of the kitchen, then reappeared with a bottle.

“I guess that’ll help,” Zev said.

Mara sat on Zev’s lap and picked at the plastic seal on the bottle’s neck until it came free. She twisted it open and took a swig. “That’s the stuff.” She grimaced.

Zev took a big gulp, then pointed to a painting of a man with a horsey face and dark, bleary eyes. “You think he used to live here?”

“Maybe he still does,” Mara said, taking the bottle back from Zev and setting it on the table. “Maybe he’s hiding somewhere in the house right now.” She leaned down and kissed Zev’s ear.

“That’s barely funny,” Zev said, running his hand up her leg.

“I know how we can warm up faster,” Mara said.

“Should we go find the bedroom?”

“I’d rather be near the fire.” She slid off Zev’s lap and onto the floor.

Zev leaned his head back. There were thin cracks in the low ceiling, like broken glass. He helped Mara with the button on his pants and wiggled them down to his ankles, then closed his eyes. “Oh man…” he breathed. “You know I think this place is starting to grow on me…” He buried his hand in Mara’s hair.

Faintly, the sound of bells clattered. But it was probably just the old radiator spitting to life after who knew how long.

“Ow.” Zev winced. “Getting a little sloppy there, babe…”

Mara’s head bobbed faster.

The clattering sound really didn’t resemble bells. More like wind chimes. Wind chimes made of damp wood.

“Ow!” Zev’s toes curled.

“I can’t find the whiskey!” Mara shouted from behind him. “I think we forgot to pack it!”

Zev’s eyes shot open.

A man with a horsey face and dark, bleary eyes looked up at him. His dry lips were parted, exposing rows of crowded teeth. Too many teeth.

“What the fuck!” Zev jumped up, flailing. He tried to run, but his feet caught on his pants and he toppled forward, landing hard on the cold floor.

Mara ran into the room. “What happened?” Her eyes creased with confusion at the sight of Zev’s pants around his ankles. “What are you doing?”

Zev tugged at his pants with one hand and rolled onto his back, pointing with the other toward the chair. “He’s—”

There was nobody.

“…What?” Mara looked around the room.

Zev trembled, his breathing quick and shallow. “There was a man…” he said.

“And he took your pants off?” Mara approached Zev slowly. “…Are you hard?”

“Yeah.” Zev sat up, his shaking hands fumbling with his pants. “I mean no. I mean I thought he was you.”

The fire snapped as the flames grew.

Mara knelt beside Zev. “Are you messing with me?”

“No.” Zev’s eyes flittered around the room, finding the painting of the man. His bleary eyes stared deep into Zev’s. “It was him. That man was here.”

Mara looked at the painting for a few seconds, then sighed. “Okay, very well done,” she said. “I’m sufficiently spooked. Did you get a good angle?” She looked around for a phone propped on a shelf or table, recording, and when she didn’t see one she shrugged. “Pull your pants up and help me find the whiskey.” She stood and started back toward the kitchen.

Zev stood slowly, shaking so hard his knees clapped. He tore his eyes from the painting and looked at the table beside the chair. No whiskey. His crotch ached. He pulled the waist of his pants open and peered down. Scrapes. Scrapes along the length of his penis, like from teeth.

“Nope.” Zev buckled his pants. “Fuck this.” He stormed from the sitting room and into the kitchen, where Mara was stooped over a suitcase, clothes scattered around. “Come on,” he said, taking her arm and leading her into the mudroom and toward the front door.

“Zev what the fuck?” Mara stumbled after him. “What are you doing?”

“We’re getting the fuck out of here. Now.”

“Our stuff!” she said, pointing back to the suitcases.

“Fuck our stuff I’ll buy you more stuff.”

“What are you crazy?”

Zev dragged her to the door and threw it open.

A blast of icy air and whorls of thick snowflakes roared in.

Zev stopped in the doorway and shielded his eyes. There was already an inch of snow carpeting the Pruis, and the visibility was so poor he could barely see the tree line.

“I guess we’re driving in a fucking blizzard…” he said, tugging Mara through the door.

She came with him easily. Too easily.

He looked back.

In his hand, only Mara’s empty coat.

“Mara?” Zev scanned the empty mudroom. “…Babe?”

There was a sound from the house—the sitting room or deeper. A grunt. A moan.

“Fuck yes…” Mara’s voice, breathless. “Oh my god fuck yes…”

Zev took a half-step back inside, Mara’s coat dangling at his side in the frigid wind.

“Fuck! Yes! Oh my god—fuck me! Fuck me!!!”

“…Mara?” Zev’s voice was thin. The wind seemed to guide him back into the house.

“Fuck me—yes! Like that! Harder!” Her voice pitched an octave higher. “Har—Oh… Ah! Wait—Wait no… Wait—Stop! Stop!!!”

A freezing gust rushed into the house—and with it the frantic clatter of damp chimes—tussling Zev’s hair and whipping snowflakes around him. An animal scream like Zev had never heard Mara—or anyone—make in his life spilled forth from the bowels of the house.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

Then the door slammed shut at his back with a cruel and mocking finality.

#

Benno looked through the floor of the Shenandoah at the frozen forest below.

“Looks nice,” he said before he remembered saying something similar to Dante the first time he visited the Everson Family’s mansion.

Onus fiddled at the console. “It’s a Schema D Realm,” he said. “There is nothing at all unusual about it except for the Warden that resides here.”

There was a small clearing among the snowy trees, just large enough to land the Shenandoah if Onus was careful.

“This may not be as trivial as dealing with the likes of August Kane,” Onus went on. “August was a stupid, arrogant hedonist. And he had no reason to suspect that you could hurt him, let alone kill him. But word of his demise has likely spread. Kerr, the Trickster Warden who oversees this Realm, will be prepared. I suspect he will keep himself concealed.”

The Shenandoah kicked up a veil of snow as it dropped into the clearing, and a swarm of crows scattered into the boughs.

“Trust nothing here,” Onus said, opening the doorway in the vessel’s hull and pulling the hood of his cloak up over his head.

They stepped out into the cold air. The sun had descended below the frozen canopy, and the pale blue sky promised a cold—and imminent—night.

Onus pointed at an angle toward the tops of the trees, where, in the middle distance, a pillar of gray smoke rose lazily. “Do you see that?” he asked.

“Yeah,” said Benno.

Onus nodded, then raised his Gemstoke to his lips. “Gemma,” he said. “In exactly one hour, recalibrate both me and-or Benno back to the Shenandoah, and once we’re onboard, recalibrate the Shenandoah back to the Inn. No matter what. This command cannot be overridden.”

…DIRECTIVE INVENTORIED.

He adjusted his hood lower over his eyes, took a slow breath, and started off across the clearing toward the tree line.

Benno peeked into the collar of his shirt. “Are you warm enough?”

Holes smiled. “Yep!”

Benno draped his beard over his shoulder and followed Onus.

#

The smoke rose from a chimney. The chimney was no more than a column of black rocks extending from the thatched roof of a wooden shack standing amidst a thicket of white pines and briar. The shack wasn’t much larger than a tent. There were no windows. The door was crooked in the crooked doorway, and on it, painted in white, was a crudely drawn triangle.

“Kerr used to be a filmmaker,” Onus whispered.

They were crouched among the trees about fifty yards from the shack, watching, their breath billowing around them.

“He had a wildly successful career. Fame, fortune. That was how he met Horus.” Onus slid the hood back an inch. “His early work was compelling. Astute. There was a time when I considered myself a fan. Though the more successful he became, the more deranged his art. His films declined into tasteless smut. Pornography and snuff. And by all accounts, so did his behavior.”

Benno chuckled.

Onus looked at him. “What?”

“Nothing. I just… I guess it’s stupid, but it’s strange to me that you had filmmakers in Luridia. Though of course you did. Why wouldn’t you?”

“Kerr was not from Luridia, obviously.” Onus returned his attention to the shack. “But he was from a similar Schema A Realm. And yes, Luridia does have filmmakers. Some of the best who ever lived—Quiet…”

The dry susurrus of briar drew their focus to the left of the shack. There was movement, and then a deer emerged from the thicket. A buck, his numerous antlers speckled with snow. He sniffed at the air, turned toward Benno and Onus for a moment, then loped off.

“Do you smell that?” Benno asked.

“Cooking,” Onus said.

Benno nodded.

“And that sound…” Onus pointed up to the darkening sky.

Benno tilted his ear. “Wind chimes?” he asked.

Onus shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He closed his eyes and listened deeply, his brow furrowed. “I don’t think so…” He opened his eyes. “Let’s go. He already knows we’re here, there’s no point in sneaking around.” He stood to his full height and started toward the shack, lowering his hood from his blue hair as he went.

Again, Benno followed.

#

Onus nearly had to crawl on his hands and knees to fit through the door.

Benno also had to stoop, though only slightly, and when he straightened up he was met with warmth and the enchanting aroma of something baking.

They were in a quaint country mudroom. Robins egg wallpaper and light-wood wainscoting. A handmade wooden bench against one wall and a coatrack standing beside it. A circular, pinkish rug in the middle of the floor, frayed from decades of use. A wooden sled—like the kind Benno remembered from his youth—leaning against the wall. Old brass light fixtures with incandescent bulbs cast soft orange light. A general sense of homeyness.

The ceiling was high enough that Onus could stand upright. He and Benno shared a look.

“Trust nothing,” Onus reminded him.

From somewhere nearby, a woman hummed softly. A meandering melody.

Benno passed through the only doorway, which led to a kitchen. There was a table covered with a delicate tablecloth, a series of well-used candles on a wax-covered plate standing on one side. Four pine-green chairs lined it. Pinkish curtains were drawn over the windows. A deep cast-iron sink and woodblock countertops. Framed illustrations of farm animals lined the walls.

Standing in front of the old enamel chambers stove was a woman. She was young, maybe in her late-twenties. She gazed absentmindedly at the wall, humming to herself. She wore yellow oven mitts and a summer dress that seemed made for someone shorter. Her eyes were red and puffy, as if from crying.

When she noticed Benno and Onus she gasped, then giggled.

“Oh shit,” she said, pushing a strand of hair from her face with the thumb of her mitt. “I forgot you two were coming over.” She smoothed the lap of her dress, which fell barely halfway down her thighs. “You must be Onus.” She smiled prettily. “I heard you were tall but… wowsers. And you’re Benno.” She looked Benno up and down. “I guess you do seem a little scary. But in a cute way.”

Benno glanced at Onus.

“Ugh, how fucking rude of me.” The young woman pulled off her right oven mitt. “I’m Mara. It’s really great to meet you both.” She crossed the room and extended her hand.

Onus and Benno left their hands at their sides.

Mara stood with her hand out for several seconds before dropping it. “You guys more of the hugging type?” She looked back and forth between them from her bloodshot eyes, then shrugged. “Is it still coming down out there?”

Benno nodded.

“Before the snow started,” Mara said. “I noticed rosebuds behind the house.”

Benno frowned, not following.

“And there’s a hill. Not too steep.”

“Okay,” Benno said, at a loss.

Mara shrugged. “Well make yourselves comfortable. You know you warm up faster if you take off layers. Because cold air gets trapped in your clothes. Take off as many as you want. I don’t mind.”

A wind-up timer on the counter screeched.

“Oop!” Mara hurried to it and turned it off. “Toothpick-test time.” She went to the chambers stove and tugged open the oven door, then bent over to look inside.

Benno averted his eyes. “Is this the best he’s got?”

“Hm?” Onus yanked his gaze away from Mara. “I uh… I think he’s biding his time.”

“It’s ready!” Mara straightened up and placed a metal cake pan with a steaming yellow cake on top of the stove. “This is my mom’s recipe,” she said. “She had me really young. A lot of people say we look like sisters.” She tossed her remaining oven mitt aside and went to a row of shelves, then stood on her tiptoes and strained to reach a stack of plates on the top shelf. “It needs a few minutes to cool. You boys want something to drink? Milk? Whiskey?”

Benno glanced at Onus, who stared at the backs of Mara’s flexed legs.

“Where is Kerr?” Benno asked.

Onus cleared his throat.

Mara frowned over her bare shoulder. “Who?”

“Don’t waste our time,” Benno said.

Mara abandoned her pursuit of the plates and turned around. “There’s no one here but me,” she said. “Just me, all alone…” She hooked a finger into the low collar of her dress and adjusted it. “I’d really love for you guys to try a piece of my cake. I think you’ll like it a lot.”

Benno rolled his eyes. “This isn’t going to work.”

“What do you mean?” Mara frowned and bit her lower lip. At the same moment, a single tear spilled from her eye and skipped down her cheek. “I’m just trying to be a good host. Is there something else you need instead?” Her fingers skirted along the dress’s hem. “I have other stuff you can eat, besides cake.” Another tear sprung forth. “You can have anything you want. Anything. How about you?” She looked at Benno. “Maybe we can sit together and watch the fire. Share a blanket. Just talk for awhile. I know you like to go slow. I think that’s wonderful.” Tears flowed freely from her red, puffy eyes. “Or you.” She looked at Onus, and her lips spread into a sneer. “I’ve heard rumors about the Implacable Cock of Horus. Are they true?” She ran a hand across her chest, leaving both nipples erect beneath the fabric. “Are you as implacable as your name? I’ll bet you aren’t. I’ll bet you can’t handle me.” Her hands pawed at her dress, which rode up her hips. “Why don’t you prove me wrong. Make me swallow my words—or whatever. Go on, let’s see.” Her tongue traced the curve of her lips while her watering eyes creased with grief—her expression a bizarre and startling contradistinction. “Show me, Cock of Horus. Right here. Right now. Show me what you’ve got.”

Onus swallowed audibly.

Benno punched him in the arm, hard enough that he yelped. “She’s like a quarter your size—”

“Mmm,” Mara interjected, her lips pursed.

“—and you’re the one who’s been warning me not to trust my senses and keep my guard up. So get your shit together.”

Onus looked at the floor, sheepish, massaging his bicep. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I, uh… I was in August’s Bathhouse for seven hundred years. I’m a bit… vulnerable.”

Benno sighed. “And maybe you should’ve dealt with that before we came here. Because this is not the time or place.”

“Of course.” Onus nodded, resolved.

Benno returned his attention to Mara. “I don’t know if you’re an illusion, or if you’re real and under some kind of—I don’t know—spell or whatever. But I do know that Kerr is here. And I think he should just save us all some time and come talk to us directly.”

Mara blinked at Benno for a beat, thick tears falling onto the front of her dress. Then she tsked and shrugged. “Well,” she said. “There is someone else here. I didn’t think you guys would be interested in meeting him. But if you insist…” She snapped her fingers in the direction of a darkened doorway to her right.

Immediately, a man entered from the dark. He was Mara’s age, muscular, and wearing only a pair of small shorts. His eyes, like Mara’s, were red and watery. He smiled at Onus and Benno.

“Oh hey, guys,” he said. “Sorry I didn’t come down earlier. I got carried away with my calisthenics. You know how it is.” He stepped forward and extended his hand toward Benno. “Name’s Zev. Nice to meet you.”

“They don’t shake hands,” Mara said, leaning on the stove and grinning coyly beneath her sad eyes.

“Oh shit.” Zev nodded. “Hugs?”

“I offered them some cake, but they didn’t want any.” Mara pouted.

Zev recoiled theatrically. “They turned down your cake, babe?”

Mara nodded.

“Boys.” Zev gave Benno and Onus an sincere look. “You gotta try her cake. I’m telling you. I’ve had a lot of cake in my life. But Mara’s is… I mean, it puts all the other cake to shame.”

“Enough of this,” Benno said.

Zev frowned and looked at Mara, who frowned and shrugged. “Aw well babe, I’ll have a piece of your cake. I’d hate for it all to go to waste.”

“Really?”

“Fuck yeah. I’m starving anyways.”

“Maybe if they watch you eat it, it’ll convince them to try some.”

“Hey, that’s a good idea.” Zev looked at Onus and Benno. His eyelids fluttered as tears gathered along his lids. “You guys wanna watch me eat Mara’s cake?”

Benno looked at the ceiling, exasperated.

Onus frowned deeply and shook his head.

“Give me a big old fucking piece,” Zev said, standing over Mara and gripping her waist.

“Do you want a corner piece?” Mara asked, her breath quickening. “Or a piece from the middle?”

“You know I like the middle piece.” Zev buried his face against Mara’s neck and started to cry.

Mara wrapped her leg around Zev and threw her head back, her mouth wide with ecstasy, her shoulders heaving with sobs. Zev’s hands groped at her body, riffling her dress.

“Fucking delicious…” Zev wept as he cupped one of her breasts and stooped to take it in his mouth.

“Yes…” Mara bawled, snot running down her lips, her hands tugging Zev’s shorts down. “Fucking yes…”

Onus tented a hand over his eyes.

“We’re done.” Benno pulled his father’s Smith & Wesson from the waistband of his pants and leveled it at the weeping, copulating couple. He bent his finger around the trigger, feeling the first stage creep back…

—dlorsulwydodlorsulchafdlorsulventdlorsulemagis—

His finger eased off the trigger, and the revolver’s muzzle lowered.

“What’s wrong?” Onus asked, watching him from under his tented hand. “By all means I think you need to clear this room out.”

“I just…” Benno lowered the revolver further. The back of his head tingled, a warm sensation like breath and laughter.

It used to be his favorite thing.

“If they’re real,” Benno said. “As in, if they’re not illusions or whatever, and they’re stuck here… I just…”

I don’t want him to see me kill them.

“I don’t want to kill them.” Benno slid the revolver back into his pants.

“Fine, well…” Onus glanced out from under his hand just as Mara spat on Zev’s penis, both of them convulsing with sobs. “In that case let’s make our way elsewhere. Clearly we’re not making any progress in here.”

Benno could not have agreed more. They passed through the next doorway, and this time Benno led.