Submitted by girl_from_the_crypt t3_10a5ij3 in nosleep
Today started off really shitty and only got progressively worse. I had spent the night drifting in and out of a nightmare-plagued, uneasy kind of sleep, so I woke up with puffy, bloodshot eyes and all the beautiful complexion of a corpse. I tried saving what I could with a wash and some cream but I still looked like I'd been floating bottom-up in a lake for the last six hours.
Of course, this also had to be the day Jacek Hettmann arrived.
Yes, I'm glad he's here; yes, I know my appearance should be the least of my concern; but isn't it kind of natural not to want to present as a trainwreck when meeting with your ex? I simply don't want to be the kind of person that makes you wonder why you ever liked them in the first place.
Casimir and I were having breakfast when the doorbell rang. I froze up.
"That's probably him," my brother remarked with his mouth full of fried egg, pointing at the front door with his coffee mug.
“Probably,” I said meekly, taking another sip of tea.
“Well, aren’t you gonna let him in?”
“Could you do it for me?”
Cas grimaced. “What? Fiona, answer the door.”
I bit my lip. “I kinda don’t want to.”
“You’re not seriously gonna hide behind me, are you? He came all this way! He’s just your ex, not the Leshy.”
He might as well have been. “I know, Cas… just… please.”
“Oh for crying out loud! Okay, but when we come in here, you will have pulled yourself together and face him like a normal person.”
“I swear,” I said solemnly.
Casimir sighed, pushing himself to his feet and marching out into the hallway. My heart was pounding like there was no tomorrow. At the same time, I was painfully aware of the disconnect between my body and mind. Sometimes, your soul being missing doesn’t make your negative emotions duller, just worse and even more uncomfortable.
I tensed upon hearing the muffled voices of the two men as my brother welcomed Jacek Hettmann inside.
“Hey man, how’re you doing… Did you get here okay?”
And there it was again, that goddamn, stupidly thrilling voice. It had lost absolutely none of its charm, it was as deep and rough and husky as ever. “Yeah. Thanks. I travel all the time, it's nothing.”
I rose to my feet, keeping my hand on the kitchen counter for support. Cas strode right back in, sitting down across from me once more to nurse his coffee, but the man following him stopped dead in the doorway. For a moment, I just stared at him, and he stared back with those same inkwell eyes. They were about the only thing on him I recognized. Jacek had grown his hair out; it hung just past his shoulders in thick black locks, perfectly matching the neatly-groomed full beard he sported. This had to be illegal or something.
Why, oh why was this what I was thinking about right now?
He held my gaze, slightly tilting his head. I mirrored the movement.
"Is either of you two gonna say anything or should I start?" Casimir asked from behind me, which was when I realized that we'd been standing in total silence for, like, a full twenty seconds.
I opened my mouth to speak, producing nothing but a dry croak. I cleared my throat to begin again. "Hi."
"Hi."
"Thank you… so much for coming, I wasn't sure you'd go through with it."
"Why's that?"
"I just felt like I gave off a weird vibe online, you know," I admitted.
"Nothing wrong with that. It was a weird situation." He shrugged off his fluffy coat, hanging it up on the wall only for it to fall right back down. He chuckled awkwardly, bending down to pick it up.
Don't stare at his butt, don't stare at his butt…
"Alright, then. What's this about? Has to be a huge scrape you're in if you've… if you've decided to look me up… for the first time in over a decade…" The last part came out through gritted teeth before his voice trailed off.
"Should I have looked you up before?" I asked haltingly.
"What? No! Of course not!"
"So we don't like each other?"
"Not one bit," he said breathily, regarding me with oddly soft eyes.
"I wouldn't have called you if it wasn't important. And you're the most capable magician I know." Also kind of the only one, but I left out that part. "If you want money, we can totally come to an—"
"Shush," Jacek muttered, waving me off with a flick of his wrist. "I'm not taking your money. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry for what happened back there. Just so that's out of the way."
"No, I handled it horribly. I kept leading you on and—"
"And I reacted like a total psychopath. I shouldn't have done… that. I was miserable, and I wanted to make you miserable… I shouldn't have."
"You were right for… for blowing up at me, for being angry. I deserved that. And I'm sorry; I don't even fucking mind the wedding dress."
He gave me a once-over, straining a smile. "It looks great on you," he offered.
"Thanks. Has your chest healed over?"
"No, but thanks for asking."
Silence.
Casimir let out a low groan. "Alright guys, I'm just gonna step in before this gets awkward or anything. Let's have a seat, and we'll talk this out and let… let bygones be bygones, okay?"
So we did and it cleared the air a little bit. Jacek was clearly just as uncomfortable in my presence as I was in his, but he seemed surprisingly eager to assist us. "Do you still have the note?" he asked, and when I handed it to him, he examined it very closely, turning it over, smelling and ripping at it. "Here's what we can do," he said, finally rising from his seat. "We're gonna need your fireplace."
Cas was on his feet in a heartbeat. "Great! I'll get it started!"
"So… who is that guy?" Jacek asked under his breath after a short period of silence.
"Oh! I never said. Casimir's my little brother."
"Huh. The kid who walked in on us that one time?"
"The very same," Cas commented over his shoulder, shuddering at the memory. "Fire's going. What now, Captain?"
"Fiona, the note's made out to you, so the action's on your part. The cool thing about fireplaces is that they do things your normal heaters just can't." Jacek rose to his feet, walked over to the crackling fire and motioned for us to follow. The flickering lights reflecting in his pitch-black eyes, he gave us a lazy grin before smacking his lips and hurling a ball of spit into the flames. They immediately burned up, roaring so loudly I shrunk back.
"It's okay," Jacek said, soothingly laughing. "It's ready now. You've gotta talk to it. First, tell it who you love the most in the world."
I smiled hesitantly. "Casimir Novak," I called into the fireplace.
My brother let out a soft cooing noise beside me.
“Now who you hate the most,” Jacek instructed.
“Wannabe internet cryptid hunters,” I shouted.
Jacek snorted. “That’s not gonna work. It wants names.”
“Well, there isn’t really anyone in particular,” I argued.
“Just think of someone, there’s gotta be someone.”
“Uh… Joelle McKenna.”
“From highschool?” Cas inquired.
“Mhm, she was super mean.”
“Don’t worry, last time I heard, she was doing crappy. Her husband divorced her ‘cause she was having an affair and then the fling-guy left her, too.”
“How do you know all that?” I asked.
“I was the fling-guy.”
“Okay, people, focus,” Jacek commanded. “Now, the person you miss the most.”
“Ania Novak,” I said softly.
“Right, Ania,” Jacek mumbled. “Can we talk about that later? I never found out how she passed.”
I nodded, and he handed me the note. “Toss it in,” he instructed.
I did, and the flames roared again, this time however, I found my own voice being thrown back at me. "Tom Hayes," the fire uttered, sounding exactly like me. Then the flames collapsed into ashes, leaving the fireplace in total silence. Cold anger crept its way into my core and I balled up my fist.
"Tom Hayes," Jacek repeated. "There you have it. That's the one who wrote the note."
"That's one of my employees," I confirmed, nodding along. "I guess it's good to know, but my hands are still tied. I want my soul back."
"About that… why'd you never tell me you were soulless back when we were together?"
"Could you have done something about it?"
"Yes. And I gladly would have. So why not?"
I didn't respond, only buried my face in my hands.
"You didn't trust me, did you? You were afraid of me." Jacek's voice was flat and subdued.
"Can we move on from this? Please?"
Jacek swallowed audibly. "Okay," he said very, very quietly.
"Wait, no—I'm sorry. I know I fucked up, I swear…"
"It's okay," he repeated, and I spotted a muscle tensing in his jaw.
"So about Mom," I began, wishing desperately to change the topic. "How'd you hear she passed?"
"Friends. Downstairs. You know." He held both his index fingers to either side of his head to indicate horns.
We got comfortable on the sofa again and Cas joined us with something to drink. Resting my hands in my voluminous skirt, I cleared my throat. "Jacek, I never meant to keep you away from her. She'd ask about you all the time and I'd just feel so shitty. I'm really sorry."
When he replied, it was with a set jaw and deeply sorrowful eyes. "That was on me. I could have visited anytime. Sure, I didn't because I was scared of seeing you, but it was still my decision, you know?" He took a sip of his coffee. "So what happened to your mother?"
I let out a deep sigh, bracing myself. Here's what I told him. Of course, writing this down allows for a lot more personal reflection, but Jacek got the gist of it as well.
My mother was never a meek woman. She had long since lost her sense of wonder at what the forest had to offer. Most of the time, unless one of the creatures we encountered presented an immediate danger to us, it would rather annoy than frighten her. I don't think there was much that ever could truly scare her, and yet, she spent the days leading up to her death riddled with fear, slowly going insane within her own four walls. Nothing could have prepared us for how she would meet her end. When the signs began to show, it was already too late.
It started with the two of us standing on the porch one sunny winter day, looking out at the treeline and the red meadow in the distance. Mom cocked her head, frowning at something I couldn't see. Eventually, I asked her what she was staring at.
"There's a face in that tree trunk over there," she said softly, pointing at a large, wide pine.
I squinted. "I don't see anything," I remarked.
"Oh." My mother's voice was absent as she let out a soft little chuckle. "Sounds like I'm in trouble then."
"In trouble? Why?"
"The huldufólk, honey. The hidden people."
"Should I know them?"
"No one should," she muttered, "I didn't think I'd ever have to bring them up to you."
“Are you okay, Mom?”
“I don’t think so.”
I said nothing more, only hugged her. I could already tell that something bad was about to happen, but I had no idea what we were actually in for yet. The real horror began that same night. Mom had been weirdly quiet the entire time, uncharacteristically so. We were sitting side by side, watching TV together when she started… mumbling. I couldn’t make out what she was saying; it all sounded like freakish, incoherent gibberish. It reminded me of how the Bannik spoke, but with this, I wasn’t able to make out any actual words in-between. The familiar feeling of dread started creeping up in my chest, but this time, it was much more intense considering how relatively mild the situation itself was. This wasn’t some kind of ghost thumping around in the house or the Leshy glaring at me with his glowing eyes, this was my mother, acting incredibly strange.
“Mom?” I cautiously placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
Her whispering got louder, more frantic, but remained completely intelligible. I broke into a cold sweat. “Mom?” I asked again, even more tentatively.
She raised her voice into an ear-piercing screech, her mouth opening wider than I’d thought possible. It lasted for around three seconds before ceasing abruptly. Mom sank back into her seat, an empty, absent look on her face. Her chest was slowly rising and falling, shallow breaths slipping through her lips. She then turned to face me.
“Fiona, forgive me. You need to forgive. And you need to…” She trailed off, suddenly wheezing for air before leaning in a little closer. “You need to take the fire. The fire and the flesh, Fiona.” She slumped over before throwing her head back in one sharp, swift, violent motion. A grumbling, rough laugh erupted from her throat. “God, I miss my sons.”
I was close to tears at this point, shaking like a leaf. I was clueless as to what was going on, but I knew it was not good, I knew it was detrimental. “Marion and Jem?” I whispered, trying desperately to wrap my head around what she was trying to tell me.
“Everything’s going so green,” she pressed out, every syllable that left her mouth a hard cough. “For you, too, my child. Not now, not soon, but someday.”
“Please, Mom… I don’t understand…”
She fell silent, then got to her feet and started walking towards the staircase, her gait robotic and unnatural. I immediately went to follow her, feeling a tad woozy upon rising. Dad was standing at the foot of the stairs, and she pushed him aside with astounding force, sending him screaming and tumbling onto his back.
“Ania, what the fuck!” he shouted, then turned to me. “What’s going on?”
I shook my head. I think he could see the panic in my eyes as I hurried after Mom, only to realize that she was heading for the bedroom. Why my parents still shared a sleeping space despite their obvious distaste for one another was beyond me. She slammed the door shut behind her, leaving me to stand in the hallway, gaping like the terrified idiot that I was.
The only thought that was of any comfort to me was that perhaps, she’d be back to normal in the morning.
Quite the opposite turned out to be the case.
After a night of uneasy sleep, I went downstairs, expecting to be the first one awake. The second I reached the foot of the stairs, I was hit by a wall of stench. I could hear flies buzzing somewhere in the kitchen. It was loud, really loud; there had to be a whole swarm of them. Why were they here? How had they gotten in?
Pinching my nose, I proceeded into the living room, step by cautious step, my wobbly legs carried me closer and closer towards the kitchen. I stopped in my tracks upon laying eyes on the long table, or rather what was on top of it. There, lying smack in the middle, was a doe’s carcass. Bones were jutting out of its flesh in places and its limbs were twisted, sticking out at weird angles. The flies had already gathered on nearly every inch of the body. Plates had been set up all around the cadaver, along with cups and cutlery. At the top of the table, reclining in her chair, was my mother. In her hand, she was cradling a glass of what I dearly hoped to be wine. She turned her head to face me, her features a stiff, unreadable mask.
“Some breakfast, honey?”
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