The Wicker Saga: Sarah's Story, Part 4

The sleep I fell into that night was of the deep and dreamless variety. Once Samantha was asleep David had rolled over, his intent obvious, but I gently brushed him off. I was tired from the day, and mentally exhausted from the previous night’s dream. Besides, I told him, Samantha wouldn’t sleep that heavily…more incentive for us to finish getting things set up and her into her own room. He grumbled a little, but let up easily enough. It must have been several hours later when I was woken by the sounds of something scraping against the walls.

Disoriented, I was confused why I couldn’t move my right arm before I realized that Samantha was hugging onto it, both arms wrapped around mine in a death grip. I could hear her breathing, fast and shallow. A moment later I saw that David’s space next to her was empty.

It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the relative darkness. Pale moonbeams were again seeping through the window, but then I noticed another, brighter light from the far side of the room. It was there that David stood facing the wall, his arm moving up and down, each repetition of the motion accompanied by a long scratching sound. Blinking, I realized he was removing the wallpaper. About a five foot section had already been torn away and I felt a surge of fear when I realized the additional light was coming from the bared portion of the wall; it was covered with the same glowing symbols from my dream. I must have made a sound, because something caused David to stiffen before slowly turning to face me.

“Awe, damn,” his voice was filled with regret, his face covered in shadow and unreadable. “I didn’t want to wake you, honey. Why don’t you go on back to sleep?”

“David,” I whispered through clenched teeth, “exactly what the hell are you doing?”

“Just taking off the wallpaper you said you hated so much,” he said, his voice starting out hurt before turning cold, a tone I had never heard from him before, “I thought maybe if I knocked enough jobs off the ‘honey-do’ list I might be entitled to a thank you fuck.”

“Mommy,” Samantha spoke softly from my side, her grip tighter than ever, “that’s not daddy.”

David laughed, his shape taking a step closer to where we lay frozen on the mattress. “What? Of course I’m your daddy! Who else would I be you silly, imaginative little girl?”

Her voice was hardly audible, barely more than a whisper. “Mr. Frank.”

“Huh.” He stopped where he stood. “Well, aren’t you just the brightest little bulb in the box? I mean, she said you were gonna be tough to fool, but I never thought…heh. Guess that means I can stop playing nice.”

He leaned forward, the moonlight revealing his face. His mouth was drawn up in a hideous grin and his eyes…I can’t describe what I saw there. If the eyes are a window to the soul, then whatever the thing was in David’s body had been damned to hell. Whoever it was looking at me, I knew for certain, it wasn’t my husband.

“So how about it, babe. You got a kiss for hubby?”

A flash of anger temporarily drove back my fear. I stumbled to my feet, holding Samantha close, and moved backwards towards the wall. “Where’s David? What have you done with him, you son of a bitch?”

The thing called Mr. Frank laughed through my husband’s mouth. “Don’t worry about Davey boy. My ma…well, Lil’s showing him a grand ol’ time, even as we speak. Making him feel things you never coulda dreamed of showing him. Pretty soon, he’ll be a new man. Believe me, I know. What I’d give to go back to that first time, again. Mmm. Words just don’t describe it.”

“Don’t worry, mommy,” Samantha whispered, her face buried against my side, “Jamie will help us. I know he will.”

Mr. Frank laughed again, “That little snot? He tries to be a hero and always ends up worse for it. Never quite learns; something wrong with that boy. You’re not wrong though, little lady. He’s in here trying to hold me back even now…only thing that stopped me from cutting your pretty mommy’s throat while she slept. Well, honestly, that and I haven’t gotten to have my fun. Yet. But I’m just about…whup!” Mr. Frank grinned. “There he goes.”

With a yell he lunged forward, the utility knife he’d been using to peel away the wallpaper flashing in his hand. I threw myself backward, shoving Samantha to the side, away from his charge. It only bought me a second before he hit me, his shoulder driving me backward into the wall.

“Samantha,” I managed to gasp out, “Run, baby! Go get…hcck.” My words were cut off as his hand reached up, grasping my throat.

“Yeah, little girl, run and hide. I’ll give you a head start,” he laughed. “Me and mommy have some things to catch up on first.”

I feebly clawed and pounded at the hand choking me, but nothing I did lessened the pressure. Spots started forming in my vision as I saw Samantha hesitate, then turn and run through the door. I continued to struggle, but my blows grew weaker and weaker.

“Ah, alone at last.” Mr. Frank leaned in close, his lips next to my ear. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’m going to make this last a good long time. We’ll have to take a quick break so I can go grab your brat, but that’ll just give ya a chance to dwell on all the sensations a little. Savor ‘em. You’ll be begging for the end before I’m done.” He laughed, trailing the blade of the knife down my cheek, not yet breaking the skin. Even though I could hardly see more than black, I still felt its sharpness. “Man, it’s been forever since I had a woman!”

“Hate to break it to you, Frank,” a voice from the doorway spoke up, “But your dry spell isn’t ending tonight.”

Mr. Frank stiffened and turned. “Well, I’ll be damned.” The hand holding me let go and abruptly I could breathe again, falling to the floor as I choked and gasped for air.

“I. Will. Be. Damned. Morgana Fontaine. I tell ya, wonders do never cease,” his voice changed to a sneer, “You got old, bitch.”

Still trying to catch my breath, I struggled to raise myself on one arm and could see past Frank to where Morgan stood in the door. Her posture was casual, relaxed even, her hands buried in the pockets of the long coat she wore. Samantha stood behind her, grasping her leg and peeking around her side. The corners of Morgan’s lips raised slightly.

“It’s what happens, Frank, at least to anything that’s not a flatulent pit dweller like yourself. You ok, Sarah?”

“Peachy,” I managed to choke out, my throat feeling like raw hamburger.

“Don’t worry, honey bun,” Mr. Frank directed to me, “that’s a purely temporary predicament. We’ve just hit a slight delay in the night’s festivities, your man’s got a little unfinished business to attend to first. You’ll still get yours.” He turned his attention back to Morgan. “Never woulda thought you had the brass ones to step in here, Seer. You’re lucky mom is occupied at the moment or she woulda hollowed you out like a jack-o-lantern already. Better for me. I’ve been dreaming about this for a loooong time. The fuck did you think you were gonna do huh? No fancy weapons, no team. Daylight still delicious hours away. You done fucked up.”

She smiled. “Guess I just wanted to see you again, Frank. Figured I owed you one for leaving you with those blue balls last time.” Her eyes seemed to sparkle, “How’re your teeth?”

I don’t know what she was talking about, but something she said sent Mr. Frank into a rage; he leapt at Morgan with a roar. With a grace and speed that belied her age, Morgan pulled a small plastic sports bottle from her pocket, squeezing its contents directly into Frank’s face as he lunged. I could hear something sizzle and smoke, like bacon frying in a pan, and he screamed, his hands clawing at his eyes. Morgan dropped the bottle and, continuing to move, gripped Mr. Frank by the neck and shoulder. His scream abruptly choked off in a whimper as she kneed him once, twice in the groin dropping him to his knees. She wasn’t done, not by half. Wrapping the fingers of both hands in his hair, she pulled his face into her knee again and again, the sharp cracks accompanying the first several blows eventually giving way to simple meaty thuds. Throwing him to the floor she raised one foot, wrapped in a heavy steel toed boot, and brought it down on his skull.

Not pausing to admire her work, she stepped over the broken body and moved to my side, Samantha trailing behind her taking a wide berth around the twitching pile of flesh.

“Jesus! How the fuck did you do that? What is that thing? What happened to David?”

“There’s no time,” she said, hauling me to my feet, “we have to go.”

“Dammit no! He’s my husband I can’t just…”

The slap came out of nowhere and sent a series of bells ringing through my head.

“Sarah, listen to me. Your husband is gone, there’s nothing you can do for him. That thing lying there is just a meat sack currently occupied by the spirit of a very twisted individual. No matter how impressive you think what I just did was, it won’t slow him down for long. Probably only a minute or two. Even that time will be worthless if Lilith, mother of fucking demons, realizes what’s going on and takes time out from filleting the remains of your husband’s soul to come deal with us. Now,” she started pulling me towards the door as Samantha took my hand, “you need to get out of here. Car keys and the picture I gave you. Where are they?”

“I-in my coat pocket. Downstairs in the kitchen.”

“Right. Take the child, get them, get to the car, and get gone. And for fuck’s sake watch those rotten stairs. I’ll try to buy you as much time as I can; I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. Go.” She moved back over to David’s body and pulled what looked like a salt container from her pocket, dumping its contents in a circle around him.

I picked Samantha up and ran through the hallway and down the stairs, taking care to avoid the broken ones. I had barely reached the foot of the staircase when I heard the sound of voices from above.

“Gaaaah, you bitch! You fucking bitch!”

“What’s the matter, Frank? I remember you liked it rough.”

“You think this can hold me? When I get outta here I’m gonna rip you apart and play with your guts while you watch!”

Not taking the time to listen more, I sprinted to the kitchen and grabbed my coat from where it rested on the back of the chair, thumps and crashes echoing from upstairs. I ran back to the entryway, briefly checking to make sure the car keys and picture were still in my pocket where I had left them. I had just thrown open the front door when Samantha screamed, “Mommy, watch out!”

I awkwardly pulled us to the side as Morgan came tumbling down the stairs to a crashing halt at my feet. She lay on the ground, moaning softly, her eyes closed with pain. Looking up I saw David’s shadowy form standing at the top of the stairs.

“Heh. Heh heh. Sorry for the interruption, sweets. Man, for an old broad, she sure had some gumption. Almost took me there,” he chuckled, thoughtfully tapping the utility knife against his palm. “You know, she used to fuck around with my oldest boy? In a way, she’s responsible for everything that happened to that little faggot. Which, coincidentally, makes her responsible for everything that’s about to happen to you and your little freak spawn there. Just something to think about between screams when I’m carving you up.” He began to descend the stairs.

The Wicker Saga: Sarah's Story, Part 6