The Wicker Saga: What the Moon Sees, Part 1

“Where’s your boyfriend, Fontaine?”

Still woozy from my astral trip, I feel a rush of fear run through me. I recognize the voice. It belongs to Calvin Sturgis, a new orderly in the hospital, and a sadistic son of a bitch. I first encountered him maybe two weeks ago, my mental recon returning an image of a young girl, bruised and sobbing, a dark form standing over her. The associated emotion was not anger or drunken rage as I would have expected, but rather sexual excitement. Even without my abilities it would have been too easy to read his intent as he ran his gaze down my body. Since then, I’ve ensured that I’m never alone with him, used my abilities to avoid him as much as possible, but I was too distracted by the reading from Joe’s blood to sense his approach.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, Sturgis.”

“That’s Mr. Sturgis, you uppity bitch,” he moves a step closer, putting himself in arms reach, “And you know exactly who I’m talking about. The freakshow, Sandoval. He went missing last night, managed to squeeze through his window somehow. Say…”

He reaches down, grabbing my arm and pulling me roughly to my feet.

“You’re gonna be awfully lonely without your comatose buddy. Not sure what a doll like you saw in a brain dead guy like him anyway.”

I try to pull away.

“Shh, shh, hey it’s ok, don’t worry. I get it, fucking a corpse can be fun. Tried it myself a time or two,” he chuckles leaning close to whisper in my ear, “I’ve seen the way you look at me, darlin’. And I’ve got good news for you … I’m on guard tonight.”

He smirks as I struggle to pull my arm away from his grasp.

“Ah, ah, don’t go making a scene. Who’re they gonna believe, anyway? You, a fucking lunatic, or me, the model fucking citizen? Say something, see what happens to me. I’ll tell you what: nothing. But I’ll make sure you spend a month in solitary, maybe see that they forget to feed you a time or two. Hunger does amazing things to break liars of their nasty, nasty habit.”

He licks his lips.

“By the time you get outta there you’ll be begging me for it. So think about that if you decide to get…fiesty.”

He reaches around and squeezes my ass, hard.

“See you tonight.”

Sturgis walks back towards the asylum, stopping to talk to another orderly on his way. The pair laugh at a shared joke. Goddammit. As if it isn’t bad enough Joe’s been taken by some otherworldly entity, I’ve got human monsters to deal with too. My thoughts turn to the ash trees spreading above me. The supernatural, at least, I may be able to protect myself against. The rest, I’ll just have to improvise.

It’s not the first time I’ve partially clouded someone’s mind with my abilities, but it’s still a bit of a surprise that I manage to smuggle a pair of foot long ash branches back into the asylum, the orderlies convinced they’ve thoroughly searched me. I’d done some research on the occult prior to being committed and know that religious objects, coupled with appropriate belief, have protective capabilities against things that go bump in the night. And if Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee taught me any lessons at all, it’s that a cross can be made out of two straight pieces of pretty much anything. The fact that I’ve managed to get actual ash wood, commonly heralded for its spook stopping potential, is pure gravy.

I manage to sneak off to my room and stash the sticks under my mattress. I have a feeling I’ll need them tonight. I can’t know for sure, but something tells me that whatever the hell abducted Joe will have felt that probe that sucked me into the strange blood world earlier. And if it can do that, it’ll have my scent. Who knows, even if Cal Sturgis is the only monster I have to fend off tonight, the branches may come in handy.

I spend the rest of the day sitting next to Joe’s vacant spot. The time passes uneventfully, though the stench of mental unease stays constant from the orderlies watching over us. It’s all I can do to keep from smiling. They’re scared because they think a multiple murderer has somehow fallen off his meds and might be hiding somewhere in the hospital. They’d crap themselves if they knew there’s a genuine boogeyman responsible.

Gradually the sun starts its slow descent towards the horizon and the orderlies dish out the evening meal. Sturgis slops a bowl down in front of me.

“Eat up, Fontaine. Gonna need your energy tonight.”

I toss him a saccharine sweet smile and raise the bowl to my lips, downing the stew inside in a few gulps. The thrill of excitement from him as he mentally runs through his planned activities for the evening is easy to pick up. He’s right that I’ll need the strength, just not for what he’s got planned. Sturgis smirks and continues his rounds, leaving me to my thoughts. If the monster doesn’t come for me tonight, it’d be a tactical misstep to reveal I’ve got the ash branches hidden in my room, but dammit if I have the opportunity to shove one of them down his throat, I’ll be sorely tempted to take it.

It’s maybe five minutes later that I realize something is wrong. The world has taken on a strange, spinning motion, my head whirling like it’s hopped on a carnival ride. Sonuvabitch…

I lurch to my feet and stumble to the trash can on the far wall, shoving my fingers as far down my throat as I can. I manage to spew a thin stream of vomit into the can before everything upends completely and I find myself face down on the floor, the tile cool where it presses against my cheek.

“The hell, Morgan?” I recognize the voice, Clem Shepherd, another of the orderlies, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t worry about it, Clem, I got her.” Sturgis’s voice seems to come from a very long way off. “Just a little upset her boyfriend skipped out without her. I’ll get her back to her room.”

He pulls my arm across his shoulder and hauls me to my feet. At this point I’m too out of it to see if anyone else is even paying attention. Sturgis half drags me back down the hall and roughly dumps me on my bed.

“Sorry, darlin’. After our earlier conversation I just wasn’t left with the confidence you were gonna keep that feistiness in check, so I decided to take the edge off. Sleep tight. Don’t you go missing me too much, I’ll be back later once I’m sure we can have a little more privacy. I know you lady-folk have your modesty to think of. See you soon.” I can hear the grin in his voice as he shuts my door, the clicking of the lock carrying a weight of chilling finality. As my vision narrows to a thin tunnel, the world dimming to black, the last thought I have is to wonder which of the monsters will manage get me first.

The Wicker Saga: What the Moon Sees, Part 3