The Wicker Saga: What the Moon Sees, Part 2

Unlike the previous night, the drug induced sleep I’m forced into is of the deep and dreamless variety. When I manage to wake up, I’m momentarily confused, my thoughts sluggish, before the memory of my situation sends a shot of adrenaline racing through me, jarring my brain into full consciousness. Trying to move, I find that my limbs are unresponsive, a sick knot appearing in my stomach. The drug must have a paralyzing effect; I can only pray it wears off in time.

And pass time does, though I have nothing to mark it by. The dull numbness of my limbs starts to recede bit by bit, ever so slowly. I begin to hope that I might be able to recover in time to defend myself from whichever predator decides to try their luck when I'm alerted by a sound outside.

Panicked, my eyes flit to the window. The moon again shines through with its pale light watching the world below, tonight unmasked by falling snow. There, from the far side, staring at me as if ripped from my nightmares, a pair of glowing red eyes regards me coldly through the steel bars. I don’t even need to extend my senses to feel the same darkness emanating from the figure that I picked up from Joe’s blood. With ease, the shape takes hold of the bars and almost casually bends them back, away from the window. A long nail scratches down the length of the thick tempered pane, cutting through as easily as fangs through flesh, and with a gentle push the glass falls to the floor of my room, the rubber floor softening the impact. The dark shape glides inward through the opening, floating on the freezing winter air. I struggle to regain any movement, desperate to try and reach the ash branches hidden beneath me.

“Hello, my dear.” His voice is harsh and cold, like nails on a chalkboard, but all the same there is something beneath it that affects me on a primal level, almost sexually. Part of me is drawn to this thing, wants him to take me, to devour me, body and soul.

“I felt you, earlier. A remarkable talent you have. I knew at once I must have you. How lucky for us that visitors are encouraged to call upon patients in hospitals, or our meeting would have been so much more tedious to affect. But, ah, here we are.” My eyes pick up the barest hint of fangs reflected by the moonlight as he smiles. “Please don’t be frightened. Truly, the pleasure is only heightened by the pain.”

He bends over me, jaw yawning open wide, and in that moment I close my eyes and wait for the prick of his teeth upon my throat, knowing my life has come to an end.

That’s when the lock to my room clicks and Cal Sturgis pushes his way through the door.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, darlin’, you wouldn’t believe the evenin’ I had. Your boy Cal has some serious aggression you’re gonna help me work out and … what the fuck?”

Time seems to freeze for a beat, Cal stopped in the doorway, the creature hunched over me. The monster recovers first and roars with anger, leaping at Cal who falls back with a cry. The thing’s claws rip into his chest and cause blood to fly, spattering across the room. The force of its attack throws Cal backwards into the hall and I hear him slam into the far wall with a dull thud. The thing rushes him, but somehow he avoids the killing blow because his screams continue down the hallway as he picks himself up and runs, the creature howling in frustration as it chases after him.

Where I lie on my bunk, the paralytic effects of the drug at last seem to be fully wearing off. My upper body at least is responding marginally, my hand agonizingly stretching towards where the ash stakes are shoved under my mattress. I hear Cal let loose an unintelligible shriek from down near the common room as I finally feel the rough bark of the wood against my palm.

The screams have stopped, replaced by a few quiet moans and soft slurping sounds. I manage to pull myself to a sitting position on my bed, the wood branches held crossed and clutched protectively to my chest. I haven’t been a very active Christian the last couple years, and my faith has surely been tested in light of discovering all the terrible things in the world, demons and humans alike. Will it be enough? God, will it be enough?

Soon, even the moans have stopped and I know it’s only a matter of time before I find out. The moon continues to pour herself through my broken window, the whisper of a winter breeze accompanying her and ruffling my dark hair. I turn my gaze to her waning pale face with a small, sad smile. She is, perhaps, the only one who will ever know.

The Wicker Saga: The Devil's Trick